#Happy International Pigeon Day

[vagabond-umlaut]

Sojourn In The Sun

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

Oneshot From Series: One Day, Three Autumns

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But why?"

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

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

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

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

He has.

He so, so has.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A palm glides cautiously over the planes of his back.

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

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

So easy to read.

So easy to hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Masterlist

[palaeoiris]

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL ASEXUALITY DAY! 🖤🩶🤍💜

(Jacobin) pigeon + Aegosexual Pride Flag, requested by @kaseth

When we received a pigeon request it was a perfect opportunity to indulge myself and draw one of the flashiest pigeons out there - a Jacobin pigeon! And I had a blast trying to incorporate this specific flag as a plumage pattern. ^^

Personal use with credit welcome and encouraged!

🖤🩶🤍💜

Today our ace artist has decided to gift fellow Natural History enjoyers who happen to be ace (or know someone who is) with sketches of animals and ace-umbrella flags you've requested some time ago.

Join us throughout the day as we post brand new sketches every couple of hours!

[joey-marvel14]

Holding on..(oneshot)

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: you notice Bucky is been more quiet then usual. He’s not talking to anyone, not even you. Bucky becomes withdrawn, his eyes are more puffy and sleep deprived, you notice he’s not eating as much either.

Warning: ‼️ ANGST, MENTIONS SYMPTOMS OF DEPRESSION AND SLIGHT GORE, SOME COMFORT, PANIC ATTACK.

———————————————————————————

I’m usually up at ridiculous times in the morning, I’m quite productive in the early mornings. So I simply walk around the avengers tower until I feel sleepy enough to go back to bed.

This was one of those mornings.

I travelled down to the kitchen to go and grab a snack, I looked out of the big windows to see the beautiful pink and yellow sunrise. I smiled at how gorgeously detailed the sky was. I continued to walk downstairs. As I entered the kitchen I saw a figure, I immediately recognised who it was. I smiled widely, happy to see him

“Hey Bucky-” Bucky turned around. My smile slightly faulted.

My eyes travelled to his face..

His eyes seemed like they were sunken in by the dark eye bags it looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I took a closer look at his eyes and they looked red and puffy, like he’s been crying, fresh tear stains glided apon his cheeks. My stare slowly appeared downwards to his chest and ribcage, his body looked skinnier, malnourished. I stared at him not completely recognising the person in front of me. What happened to the other Bucky?

I looked at all of him…together. A concerned feeling settled in my chest.

I thought about a way to approach him. I softened my tone and eyes

“Hey buck, Are you alright?” Bucky responded with a nod and a grunt. His face was expressionless, numb even.

Bucky pushed past me and quickly walked to his quarters. I instinctively ran after him. I approached his door to his room. And softly knocked on.

“Bucky..” I called apon him softly. There was no answer. I decided to push down on the handle, I wander into Bucky bedroom. It was dark and messy.

“Bucky?” I gently called out to him.

My eyes wandered throughout his room, until I saw his balcony doors were open, the curtains were softly blowing towards me, almost leading me onto the rail. I gulped hardly, I felt sick to my stomach, wandering what i could find. Hopefully an alive Bucky I thought.

As I got closer I saw a silhouette of a figure sat down. I breathed out a sigh of relief. I got closer to Bucky, Bucky didn’t even looked over to see who it was, he was curled up, leaning against the railing. A shiver went down my spine. I decided to sit down with him I sat the other side. Not once did he look at me, to which I found bizarre. I saw his Adam’s Apple bob up and down. He looked so tired…

I spoke up.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk. But I won’t be leaving you like this. We can just sit here in silence if that’s what you want. But just know that I’m here for you.” I placed a hand on his knee to let him know that I am actually here. I saw Buckys jaw clenched and his eyes quickly glance at me then to the hand on the knee.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes looking down. It looked like Bucky was having an internal conflict

“I can’t cope anymore.” I sat there in silence waiting for him to say more

“I hear there screams…there screams. The ones that I killed” his voice broke a little.

“There cries for me to stop, to have mercy on them. . They haunt me. Every goddamn face is attached to me in my dreams. There’s not one moment of peace where I get to just take a breath, without the reminder that I’ve killed someone.”

I nodded gently, still listening.

“I am….bearly…hanging on and nobody can see how much pain I am in.” The tears in his eyes began to fill, as his voice cracks.

“I just can’t do it…anymore.” Bucky broke down, his breathing became unsteady, as tears streamed down his face his chest rised up and down quickly, as I could hear him struggle to keep calm. I slowly moved myself closer to bucky. I cupped his hands, and brought them forward so he looks at me.

“James. Breathe.” My gaze was soft I looked him in his eyes, and took a breath, held it, and let it go.

He repeated the action. Slowly he began breathing more steadily.

“What was that?” Bucky asked, he averted eye contact.

“It was a panic attack.” I responded.

“Bucky look at me. You need to understand that you didn’t have a choice in becoming the winter soldier. What you did…it wasn’t your fault, You hear me?. You fought back for as long as you could. You did your best. You tried, and that’s all anyone could ask for.” My words were firm but reassuring. I saw buckys body somewhat relax, however I could tell he was still on guard.

“Can I hug you?” I asked, he looks like he could use one. Bucky slightly nodded.

I moved myself next to Bucky, I held my arms open. He moved in slowly, I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze. He let go first and instead rested his head on my shoulder.

“Your not alone James, you’ll always have someone in your corner even if you don’t think you do”

“Mhm” he responded, I looked over and saw that Bucky was drifting off, his eyes looked so heavy, he looked like he could just collapse at anytime.

“Come on buck. Let’s go to bed” I slowly began to stand up. I grabbed Buckys arm and hinted at him to stand up too. He reluctantly got up. I led him to his bed. To which he shook him head and said:

“No. I don’t sleep there.” He pointed at the floor I saw a thin cushion, and a blanket filled with holes. I turned around to him.

“I understand however, just for the rest of the morning sleep on the bed please” I compromised with him, hoping that it would get him to understand that sleeping on the bed for one night wouldn’t hurt him. He nodded. I pulled back the black duvet, Bucky sat down on the bed, and eventually laid down, I saw he had shoes and a jacket on so I took them both off, too make him slightly more comfortable. I placed the duvet over him, and moved the hair out of his face.

“Goodnight” I smiled.

“Wait. Could you stay here until I atleast fall asleep ? I would feel better if I had someone in the room…” he looked a tad guilty.

“Sure” I smiled. I went over the the cabinets and picked out a soft blanket. And made myself comfy on the small chair he had in the corner.

Eventually quiet snores could be heard from Bucky. I felt like I could take a breath. I felt tired as well, so I decided to take a nap..

———————————————————————————

helllloooooo thank you for readingggggggg I hope it was okay :)

Goodbyeeee

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Flies

Ineffable Bureaucracy Week Day 2: Flies ***

“Can I ask a question?”

“You just did.”

“Well, can I ask another?”

“You just-- heh. Fine, fine. Ask away.”

“Why Lord of the Flies, of all things?”

“Well, I designed them.”

“Ah.”

“You sound surprised. Were you expecting a more sordid tale?”

Leaning back on the wooden bench, idly watching the swarm of flies feeding on the remains of what had been a fish before the small stream dried out in the heat of summer, Gabriel shrugged. “It never occurred to me that someone had the task of creating these… smaller… life forms, at some point.”

A huff, the sting of an elbow against his side. Not a lot of sting, to be honest. Beelzebub could certainly do worse, which meant they were holding back. The thought made Gabriel smile just a touch. 

“They took as much work as bigger ones, you know. There are hundreds of thousands species still in existence, and there used to be more. And besides, I didn’t just work on life forms. I made my fair share of star systems, I’ll have you know, while you were starting out your career as a messenger pigeon.”

The smile turned into a frown. “Delivering messages was vital in order to ensure all of us were working according to the same--”

“Lord of the Pigeons. Has a nice ring to it.”

“No one ever called me pigeon, thank you so very much,” Gabriel informed them. “Although some did refer to me as the Peacock of the Angels…”

“Let me guess. You took it as a compliment?”

Gabriel blinked. “Wasn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of it.”

“Humans like peacocks, don’t they?”

“Symbol of vanity. It does fit you. How did you even live with yourself in the millennia before tailored suits and silk ties were a thing?” Beelzebub asked, and Gabriel was almost annoyed. Except that they causally leaned the side of their head against his shoulder, and he promptly forgot how to be annoyed.

“Well-- I believe we’re getting sidetracked here. You haven’t told me why it’s Lord of the Flies. I mean, you surely made more impressive things you could make your title about, no?”

A soft scoff. “Absolutely not. Flies are my masterpiece.”

“... Because they fly where they’re not wanted, make noise, and are annoying?”

“I’m sorry, when did this conversation turn to angels?” Beelzebub asked, looking up, and Gabriel laughed, placing a hand over… the approximate location where a heart would be, if he had human internal organs. 

“Oh, ouch. A low blow, that.”

“Thanks. I’ve been practicing.”

They both turned their gaze back to the small swarm of flies; Gabriel would have been perfectly content to let the matter drop and focus on nothing but the unnatural warmth against the shoulder Beelzebub was leaning on. Except that he didn’t.

“So, what is it about them?”

“About what?”

“Flies. What makes them so perfect?”

“Aside from being emblematic of putrefaction, death, and decay?”

“Well, yes. Aside from that.”

Still leaning on his shoulder, Beelzebub held out a hand, and a few of the flies separated themselves from the swarm, coming to buzz around their hand, landing on their fingers. 

“First of all, they can outmaneuver any angel or demon. See how they fly, hover, land upside down? I made them some balancing organs to function like gyroscopes. They are the greatest aerial acrobats of all Creation. And this is just one of the families - the parasitic ones are a marvel of their own. There is this genus that lays eggs in ants, and once the larvae is big enough, it decapitates the ant to keep growing--”

They talked, on and on, and Gabriel was all too happy to listen. It had been a very, very long time since he himself had felt anything much about the wonders of Creation; it had sort of grown old, like gorgeous scenery you pass by every day to work and back until it’s really nothing more than a backdrop. He’d even forgotten which parts of it he’d had a hand in making himself. How ironic, he thought, that the Grand Duke of Hell never forgot what they made.

All things bright and beautiful, as a famous hymn went, and they’d all been so very proud of it all, once. All things wise and wonderful.

Nothing had really seemed bright and beautiful in a very long time. Nothing had seemed all that wise, and nothing had seemed all that wonderful.

Until now.

Beelzebub got so animated when talking, and Gabriel found himself marveling at each minute facial expression they made while describing a type of fly that looked like a spider and lived in the fur of bats to feed on their blood. Probably not something that fit most of the known universe’s definition of bright, beautiful or wise, he thought.

But most of the known universe never got to sit under the scorching August sun with Beelzebub’s head against a shoulder, listening as they talked about their most complex and beloved creations, watching said creations dance around their fingers.

No one else but him, and Archangel Gabriel-- I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God --had never felt luckier in his entire existence.

[queen-susans-revenge]

Things My Momma Taught Me

(reprinted: I actually wrote this years ago, but just stumbled across it again. And we're not too far off Mother's Day, so.)

So I was walking around the Tenderloin looking for stray twenty-dollar-bills that might have fallen into gutters, and I was thinking, as I often do, about my mother.

A few years ago my mom got all upset because she heard that today's youth lacked moral guidance. So she sat me down and she said, "Daughter," she said:

Don't ever cross a picket line.

Work for Greeks.

Don't you ever eat something that you find dead at the side of the road, unless you were in the car that killed it.

I'm not sure where my mom got her fine Depression-era set of ethics, except that I think she heard the last one on a radio show. Her enduring affinity for Greek employers (and her corresponding loathing for the French) probably stems from her experience working as a waitress in Alsace and Italy. Apparently, if you innocently drop a plate full of spaghetti in somebody's lap, and they have to go and make a big stink about it, your Greek boss will defend you, whereas your German boss will take the comp'ed meal out of your paycheck, and your French boss will probably slap you across the face.

Anyway, it's the first point that really stuck with me: I'm convinced that, in the Final Judgement, when the goddess Ma'at weighs our hearts on her golden scales, the murderers will make out better than the scabs. (And bad tippers will be thrown straight into the jaws of the crocodile.)

But speaking of my mom's international wisdom:

It's best if you don't eat raw oysters in a Mexican street market.

Here followed a tale of heartbreak and amoebic dysentery. But my mom survived both the oysters and the French, and pulled herself up by her bootstraps to become the world's leading eastern North-American paleoethnobotanist, which was always a lot of fun to write in the little blank under "Mother's Occupation." Now when she calls me up, her conversation tends to go something like this:

"It turns out you can tell the species of acorn just by looking very closely under the microscope. So that's very exciting. I'm going to have to try that on my own acorns when I get home. Mmph. Excuse me. I was pulling a cork out of a wine bottle, with my teeth."

But all intrepid globetrotting archaeologists need their endearing phobias. For Indiana Jones it was snakes. For my mom it's blimps. I don't know if she was a Hindenburg victim in a past life or what, but it's really no fun being in a car with her if there's a Goodyear Blimp in sight. She keeps scanning the sky anxiously, wondering if it's following her, wondering if it's watching us. Also among her bizarre phobias is the conviction that I'll be sent to jail someday…ha ha! Trés absurd!

Laugh, damn you.

Anyway, back to the blimp thing. For a woman of science, Mom is actually very attuned to signs and portents. There was this one time that a headless pigeon fell from the sky, literally at her feet.

These are bad times.

"These are bad times," she told me. "Bad times, when headless pigeons fall from the sky." And I can't deny it.*

But the last thing my mom taught me, the biggest thing really, and more important than Fortean events, is the definition of love. I remember when I was a little kid, I got worms. Just like a dog. Tiny little white wrigglers that squimed around in my asshole. And they itched and would keep me awake at night. So I remember that, in the weeks it took for my de-worming pills to work, my mom would spend an hour or so every night picking these worms out of my butt so that I could get to sleep.

That is love, in all its shocking profundity. When you spend hours picking worms out of somebody's buttcrack, that is love.

So, I love you too, Mom. Thanks for picking the worms out of my butt. Thanks for getting me drunk all those times. Thanks for teaching me right from wrong, and thanks, in advance, for posting my bail.

Happy Mother's Day.

*later she called me back up to tell me it was a good portent actually. It happened because a hawk had moved in to the neighborhood.

[the-not-so-silent-back-up]

The Love We Choose

Geraskier ModernAU

a big THANK YOU @cherrychapsticksteve for helping me out figuring some stuff out

Summary: Geralt is a Firefighter, but more important he is a single Dad to 4 y/o Ciri. Regularly they go to a cute little Coffeeshop where Jaskier works. And little Ciri is on a mission to help her Dad to find somebody to love.

Chapter - 1 -

Geralt is waiting outside the Kindergarten to pick up his daughter, there are a few other parents who are talking. But Geralt only knows one of them really so he just waits in silence. He has been alone with Ciri for a few months now, but it's still a weird feeling to come home and see Yennefer's desk empty. 

They have loved each other, they really did but he is bound to his hometown and she needed to be flexible and be able to go on Business trips all the time. Geralt believed that after Ciris' birth things would be different, and things were different for a year at best. But then everything went back to the same old routine. Yennefer was in New York or London or Berlin and Geralt sat at home, the only thing that was truly different, Geralt wasn't alone, no there was Ciri, his daughter, his whole world that he needed to protect. 

When Ciri was old enough to go to the Kindergarten Yennefer and Geralt figured out that they needed to go separate ways. Yennefer loves her Job to much, she really was the unpaid intern that made it to the top of this really big Marketing firm. And she isn't a family person, she tried to be one for Ciri, but she was afraid that she will regret that and will blame Ciri for it in the future, and her daughter didn't deserve this. 

So now when Yennefer is in town, the three spend time together as a little family. It wasn't the family Geralt hoped for, but it's real. And some parents might not believe it but they are all really good with this. In the time they spend with Ciri they are really happy, and the phone calls Ciri has with her mother weekly are really good for their relationship. 

Geralt came to the conclusion that having a family that is really happy and working is much better than to force a family together to fit the image everyone has. 

Roach is pulling on the leash, Ciri has to be in sight. This Dog really loved this Child, and she would do anything to protect her. She once growled at a pigeon because it scared Ciri.

"Daddy, Daddy did you know that hedgehogs eat slugs?" 

"No ,I didn't know that, where did you learn this from?" Geralt picked the little backpack up and took Ciris tiny hand. 

"Miss McHall read a book about hedgehogs and there was a list of what they eat. And then in the garden Benni searched for a slug to try it himself, but he didn't find one." 

"Hmm" Geralt didn't know how to reply to that. 

"Daaaad is today a hot chocolate day?"

"sadly not sweetheart, I forgot my wallet at work but tomorrow is a hot chocolate day I promise" 

"Oh Daddy, you really forget everything when I don't remind you" Ciri shakes her head a bit "But this time I wanna try the strawberry pie for real this time"

"I think Benni wanted to impress the girls," Ciri said at the dinner table "with the slug". What a strange topic at dinner. Geralt frowns in surprise.

"He always does those stupid things and then he runs up to the other girls and shows what he did. When Dara and I were spies we saw that." 

Geralt carefully listens to his daughter. 

"I mean finding a slug isn't impressive, and eating one is kinda mean because what will the hedgehog eat ? What you do is impressive Dad, you save people and teach other people how to save people." 

"Thank you darling" Being a Father and a Firefighter isn't always the best mix but everytime Ciri says things like that it makes Geralt so proud.

"Uhm Dad, did you see that woman again, the one you went on a pizza date with?"

"Hmm no, she called me this morning and told me that I am nice but she has some family trouble and needs to focus on her family." 

"Oh okay"

Yeah Geralt had a few dates every now and then. Yeah Ciri is his whole world, but he still is a Human and he misses the Romance in his life. The truth is Geralt hasn't the best dating game. He doesn't know what to talk about, when he doesn't talk about Ciri or his work or his Dog. He doesn't mention his daughter on the first dates, and when they actually reach a second or third date and Geralt tells them he is a single dad, most people refuse to see him again, it's just a big commitment for them. But also some of them just saw the big strong firefighter with all the muscles and not the man behind them and that's when Geralt says this isn't working out. 

Ciri lays awake in bed, she could hear the TV from the living room. For sure her dad is lonely, but all this adult stuff is so confusing. In Kindergarten everything is easier, like you ask someone if you wanna be friends, then they ask you what you like to play and what's your favorite animal and then you are friends. And one day you draw a picture just for them and you are best friends. But adults don't work like that.

"My Dad needs my help to find someone to watch those silly romantic movies." Ciri whispers to herself. And she already has someone in mind and she has a plan, sort of.

The next day Geralt brought Roach back home before he went to pick up Ciri, and he checked for his wallet three times. He waited as usual in front of the kindergarten. Ciri is running right up at him, in her beautiful green dress. This morning they had an argument because Ciri wanted to wear her favorite dress so badly and Geralt was afraid that she would mess it up in the Kindergarten, but as Ciri promised it's all fine and she looks like the little princess she is to Geralt. 

"Hot Chocolate Day!" Ciri is chanting as she is running to her Dad.

"Yes Sweetheart today I am fully prepared for the Coffeeshop."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

The Coffeeshop is near the Park where Ciri's favorite playground is. That's how they discovered it. Geralt pushed Ciri on the swing when a heavy rain surprised them. Geralt covered his daughter under his jacket and ran in the next building he found. The sweet little Coffeeshop at the Park. Geralt liked it because it wasn't that big and not many people fit in there and Ciri loved it because it's near her favorite playground and because they have so many beautiful cups and mugs. 

They arrived at the Coffeeshop and because they already became regulars so they got greeted nicely. At first Geralt didn’t like it that strangers knew Ciri’s name, but he got used to it and the staff here is really nice. 

A young tall man came up to their table and Ciri jumps up and ran towards him 

"Jaskier! Look that’s my favorite dress” 

“Oh hi Ciri it’s really beautiful, you look like a princess” 

Geralt watches the scene with eagle eyes, but he knows Jaskier is no harm for his little girl, he is usually their waiter when they are in the Coffeeshop.

Jaskier lets Ciri twirl around herself, so the pretty green dress starts flying. 

“My Daddy says that too.” Ciri stops spinning.

“Your Daddy says what ?” Jaskier seems to be confused with that statement.

“This morning my Daddy also said that I look like a princess. And when I am a princess my Dad must be a king right?”

“Then lead me to your king, princess Ciri.” 

Jaskier could clearly see Geralt sitting at their favorite spot at the window, but he likes to play along with Ciri’s little games. 

“Your Majesty I present to you, your daughter princess Ciri” Jaskier takes a bow in front of Geralt and Ciri tries to stay in character but could resist a little laugh.

“I have been sent directly from the kitchen to ask what the King and his daughter would like to eat and drink today.”

Geralt is a little lost for words, normally these silly games stay between Ciri and Jaskier, but now he is dragged into it like a theater play and he hasn’t learned his lines. Geralt tries his best to play along because he knows how much it means to his little girl if he does.

“May he bring us hot chocolate and strawberry pie for the princess and mint tea and cheesecake for me the King.” 

Ciri giggles again.

“I like Jaskier he always so funny and nice to us”

“Yeah that is true” 

Geralt stares out of the window, and he just enjoys the quiet coffeeshop. It wasn’t actually quiet but it wasn’t stressful like his day at the fire station. There was a fire near in the forest this morning, just because some stupid assholes had Barbeque last night and didn’t end their fire properly. 

He turns around and on the table are the ordered pies and his tea but no hot chocolate is there and Ciri is gone too. 

Panic runs through Geralt's veins, where is she?  He was just looking away for a second. But then he saw her holding on to Jaskier’s hand as they picked a cup for her hot chocolate. How could he forget that she always picks a new beautiful cup to drink her hot chocolate from. She walked back to her Dad and sat next to him on the bench.

“I picked a cup with stars and the moon on it”

Jaskier walks over to their table and places Ciris cup right next to her pie. 

“I saw there was smoke in the forest, was there a fire?”

At first Geralt is confused because he never told Jaskier that he is a Firefighter, but then he remembered that Ciri talks a lot with Jaskier if he has the time.

“Yeah there was a fire, but gladly it was near the forest not directly in there.” Jaskier looks relieved.

“Some people made a barbeque there and the remaining hot ashe lit the dry grass on fire”

Geralt could see the disbelief in Jaskier’s face, he really couldn’t hide his emotions.

“I hope you and your crew are okay”

“We are good, it was just another fire because of careless people”

He didn’t wanna say drunk people in front of Ciri, but the look on Jaskier’s face showed him that he did understand what he meant with “careless”.

“Ciri, your Dad is truly a hero, he and his crew saved the forest”

Ciri grinned and cheered “yes they are all heroes, my Dad, uncle Eskel, uncle Lambert and Vesemir” 

New customers enter the place and Jaskier has to  leave Geralt and Ciri. They eat and drink and Ciri told stories from the Kindergarten and from her best friend Dara. Even more people entered the coffeeshop as they left. They waved Goodbye to Jaskier and left the busy place. With Ciri’s tiny hand in his own he was so happy he had a daughter like her and this little coffeeshop they could call their special place. 

[comixpets]

Happy International Pigeon Appreciation Day!!!

[andmaybegayer]

14 and 30

14. what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

Learning how to ride a motorbike. Unfortunately it's real damn hazardous to be just loose in the wind on the road, because the motorcycle is perhaps the finest class of internal combustion vehicle one can have. Someday I will get into that.

30. what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

Sometimes you will be having a bad day and you will look out the window and there will be a pigeon that you have known for a few years and you'll be like hah. I saw you when you were a scrawny flightless baby and now you're fluffing and strutting and trying to impress a girl. And you'll feel a little better.

[practically-an-x-man]

Roses and Tulips (Copia x Silas)

For @can-of-pringles, Happy Valentine's Day bestie!

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Silas Petersson (Pringles' OC) Word Count: 1.2k Content Warnings: none! cute little fluff-bomb

____

It took all his courage just to knock on that door.

It's not the door that's intimidating, Copia reminded himself, You've knocked on worse doors. You had to knock on Sister's door before you were made Cardinal, and that was twice as scary. Three times, even. This is a piece of cake compared to that.

That helped a little. Not much.

Copia shifted his grip, feeling the waxy stems of the flowers squeak under his gloves. He wasn't sure Silas liked flowers. Especially roses- was that too presumptive? Maybe he should have stuck with chocolates. Or... were chocolates more romantic than flowers? Did he want them to be more romantic? He didn't want to overstep, but he didn't want to understep... if that was a thing.

He was overthinking this. He would open that door, give Silas the flowers, ask him to dinner... and that would be that. Easy-peasy.

In theory.

In reality, he couldn't make himself move.

You have stood before a hundred thousand people. Many times. Your band is made up of underworldly ghouls, and they live down the hall from you. This should not be as intimidating as it is.

But somehow, the thought of being disemboweled in his sleep because he'd stolen Pigeon's Sour Patch Kids was less frightening than the idea of being rejected by Silas.

Just do it, he told himself, It'll only get worse the longer you stand here and think about it. Just... knock on the door. Just lift your hand and knock. Just-

"Copia?"

He spun, a little too fast, and almost tripped over his own feet when he saw Silas standing there. He must have come straight from his shift - Copia had been so wrought with anxiety, he forgot Silas worked on Wednesdays. He had a broom in one hand... and a handful of Queen of Night tulips in the other. Silas shifted on his feet.

"I was, uh, trying to find you," he said, dark eyes flicking up and down Copia's figure before settling on the roses in his hand. Silas chewed his lip, clearly swallowing his own anxiety, and held out the tulips. "Jinx?"

"Doyouwanttogotodinner?" The words tumbled out too fast, just a blur of syllables, and he stuck out the roses almost mechanically in Silas' direction.

That went... better than expected.

Silas blinked and took the roses, though his brow furrowed as he tried to process the words. Copia bit his lip, forcing his lungs to take in a full breath of air.

Silas still held the handful of tulips out in front of them. He'd been holding them for a long time. Copia internally winced, wishing he'd taken the flowers a little sooner, but reached for the tulips. He found himself fiddling with the leaves as he tried to work through his thoughts.

"Do you want... to go to dinner?" he tried again, this time managing something almost coherent, "With me. Tonight."

There. He'd done it. He'd said it. He'd be crushed if Silas turned him down, but... at least he'd worked up the courage to ask in the first place. The hard part was over.

Well, except for all the other hard parts. Like hoping his anxiety didn't melt him into a puddle of goo while he waited for Silas to respond. Not only would that be utterly humiliating, he imagined Sister would make Silas clean it up. Some Valentine's Day for him, Copia thought.

"I'd love to," Silas said, smiling at him. Copia wondered if he'd melt anyway - not from his anxiety, but from how warm and fluttery that smile made him feel. He beamed, resisting the urge to bounce on his toes in excitement. Silas lifted a hand towards his door. "Just- um, let me get changed first? And put these in a vase... and then I'll meet you in the courtyard?"

"I'd like that." Copia managed, "I'll see you soon."

Silas' smile widened, just for a moment, and then he brushed past Copia and slipped into his apartment. Copia was frozen for another moment, flooded with too much surprise and excitement to even think. Then he kicked his mind back into gear and hustled back down to his own room.

His rats greeted him from their enclosure in the back of the room when he entered, and Copia smiled at them.

"He said yes!" he told them, "We're going to dinner!"

Clara chirruped at him, her tiny paws hooked onto the rungs of her enclosure as she stretched up to look at him. She seemed happy for him, Copia thought. He held out the tulips to them, just a few inches away from their enclosure. Rats had poor eyesight.

"And look- he brought me flowers!"

Bella wiggled her nose at him, dark eyes bright and shiny. Her tail flicked back and forth.

You brought him flowers, she seemed to say.

"You're right, I did." Copia agreed, "But I didn't expect him to bring me flowers too. Look at them, they're so pretty."

You should put them in your nice vase, Alessa seemed to suggest, wandering across her enclosure and tilting her nose at the kitchen, The one that looks like stained glass.

Then she took a drink from the water bottle in the corner of the enclosure. Maybe he'd read that wrong. But the flowers would look good in that vase, he thought.

"What should I wear?" he asked as he ran a little water into the vase, "Do you think this is good, or should I change?"

You look great! Clara told him with a squeak. He knew, logically, she was just mimicking him - he talked to her, she "talked" back. But it was cute to think that she was actually trying to communicate with him.

No, no, your other vest would look better with those pants, Alessa argued. He'd always imagined she was the fashionista of the bunch. Her fur was the shiniest, and she spent the most time grooming herself... it made sense. Alessa was the fashionable one, Clara was the down-to-earth sweetheart, and Bella was the lovable disaster who once got her head stuck in a toilet-paper tube.

"Ladies, please, you're confusing me," Copia said, setting the vase of flowers down on the table. Talking with his rats helped him calm down. He didn't feel quite so nervous about his date with Silas. Still a little nervous, of course, but... he wasn't tying himself in knots. That was good. "Should I change or not?"

He'll like you no matter what you wear, Bella promised, giving him an encouraging look with her big dark eyes. They almost reminded him of Silas' eyes, big and brown and sweet. Copia smiled.

"Thank you, Bella," he said. He reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a box of Cheerios. All three rats chirped in excitement, dancing around on their paws. Copia sprinkled a few Cheerios into their enclosure, watching them grab the cereals with their clever little paws and nibble away.

"Happy Valentine's Day, ladies," he told them. He watched them for another moment or two, wondering if he'd have to break up any arguments - Alessa had a habit of hoarding treats away from the others - but they seemed to be in a good mood tonight. Copia finally drew himself away, giving his waistcoat a little tug as he checked his appearance in the mirror. He wanted to look his best.

After all, it was Valentine's Day. And he had a date.

[moldy-mold]

Hey, long time no update! We’re almost halfway through the year and I’m only just recovering from February. :��)

I got into two car accidents (no one was hurt) back-to-back in February where I was not at fault for either, and sadly, one was a hit-and-run. Due to just… tons of issues with insurance, I am finally getting my car fixed. It was a struggle, but now we can have a happy ending!

We formed a hiking group in the spring when the weather was nice. I won’t lie, it was a really great decision. We’ve been trying to go to a new place each month to see the sights.

So random, but my mom back in FL found a pigeon chilling in the garage, so she picked him up and took care of him. His name is Jorge. Birds are my true love so I am very excited to meet him!

Work is fine and more stable now, compared to 2021 when the struggle was real. I have more freelance work on top of office work that I am kept busy 24-7. It’s been tough trying to draw fanart at home when you’re already drawing at work haha. Last month, I went a little too hard and injured my wrist and had to keep it in a brace for a few weeks. I still have to be careful, even now.

In other news, my roommate of 10 years is finally moving out to discover her life’s calling. It is a bittersweet feeling, kind of like a breakup haha. As a creature of habit, I had resisted the change. It took some time, but I’ve come to accept it. Money is still kind of an issue though (a single person apartment? in this economy?), so I’ve been trying to find a new roommate! With NO LUCK! :)

On a whim, I finally started Xenoblade 3 in April after my 31st birthday. My brother had gifted it to me for xmas, but I didn’t want to open the black hole (or “The Hole” as my friends lovingly call it) until I had drawn all that I wanted to draw for YGO. To be honest, I didn’t end up drawing all my ideas but I hit a road block in my creative drive. Well now I’m in the hole AND I have to find time to draw stuff! I have this dilemma every single day.

My friend and I booked tickets to see our friends in Mexico this October! I haven’t been abroad for 15 years, so I’ll have the pleasure of going to the beautiful city of Monterrey as my first international trip without my parents. I’m so ready…! Let me out…! *rattles the cage*

The Plant Saga

I took this photo a few months ago when the sun was finally coming out and my plants were in bloom again. I was afraid Lorenz (miniature rose) was going to die because he had spider mites… every single year. I managed to fend them off and now he’s doing quite well!

I’m most proud of my handling of MOMO (moth orchid) who is blooming again! I heard it was challenging to get orchids to rebloom, but I honestly didn’t have to do anything?

Other plants include: Zeon (taro) and Gimli (mint) and Shouyo (hens and chicks succulent) with the weird antennae.

The weather in GA has been really temperamental, and it hasn’t been as warm in May as it was last year, so some of my tubers haven’t regrown yet. Guess I’ll take more pictures in the late summer!

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 7.22

Holidays

Ask An Archeologist Day

Attorney Day (Indonesia)

Beta Blucan Day

Blackfoot Daisy Day

Childbirth Education Awareness Day

Climate Emergency Day

Division 722 Day

Dornach Commemoration Day (Switzerland)

Family Tree Day

Festival of Boredom and Reveries

Fragile X Awareness Day

George Crum Day

Guelaguetza (Primer Lunes; Mexico)

Hammock Day

Health, Happiness with Hypnosis Day

IMF Day

International Childbirth Education Awareness Day

International Love & Gratitude Day

King Father’s Birthday (Eswatini, f.k.a. Swaziland)

Lendemain de l'Aïd el-Kebir (Mauritania)

Liberation Day (Guam)

Lion's Share Day

Majdanek Liberation Day

National Be A Good Teammate Day (UK)

National Flag Adoption Day (India)

National Intern Day

National Liberation Day (Poland)

National Pajama Day

National Press Day (Azerbaijan)

National Sing from the Book of Mormon Day

National Sophia Day

National Squirt A Pigeon Day

National Thomas Day

National Water Coaster Day

One Piece Day (Japan)

Pi Approximation Day (a.k.a. Casual Pi Day; 22/7)

Preparedness Day

Qurbon Hayit Holiday (Uzbekistan)

Ranggeln (Germany)

Ratcatcher's Day (a.k.a. Pied Piper Day; UK)

Remington 722 Day

Ryegrass Day (French Republic)

Spooner's Day (a.k.a. Spoonerism Day)

Stilt Dance Day (Spain)

SNN 722 Day

Summer Leisure Day

Thulsa Doom Appreciation Day

Trae Day (Houston, Texas)

Urania Asteroid Day

World Brain Day

World Day Against Open Pit Mining

World Fragile X Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Froot Loops Day

National BLT Sandwich Day

National Mango Day

Penuche Fudge Day

Independence & Related Days

Bohol Day (Philippines)

Claveria Day (Philippines)

Organic Act Day (Virgin Islands)

Revolution Day (July 22nd Anniversary; The Gambia)

Sarawak Self-Government Day (Malaysia)

Slovenian People’s Uprising Day (Yugoslavia)

4th Monday in July

Hurricane Supplication Day (Virgin Islands) [4th Monday]

Festivals Beginning July 22, 2024

The Borderland (Alversjö, Denmark) [thru 7.28]

Corn Capital Days (Olivia, Minnesota) [thru 7.28]

Farnborough International Airshow (Farnborough, United Kingdom) [thru 7.26]

Supertoon International Animation Festival (Šibenik, Croatia) [thru 7.26]

USA Beer & Wine Ratings (San Francisco, California)

Feast Days

Abd-al-Masih (Christian; Saint)

Alexander Calder (Artology)

Aphrodisia (Ancient Greek bathing festival of Aphrodite & Peitho)

Aristo (Positivist; Saint)

Beginning of Leo (Astrology; Pagan)

Contemplate the Cosmos Day (Pastafarian)

Dabius (a.k.a. Davies) of Ireland (Christian; Saint)

Edward Hopper (Artology)

James Whale Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Joseph of Tiberias (or of Palestine; a.k.a. Count Joseph; Christian; Saint)

Karl Marx Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Leo zodiac sign begins

Loch Ness Monster 1st Sighting (Everyday Wicca)

Markella of Chios (Christian; Saint)

Mary Magdalene (Christian; Saint)

Meneve, Abbot of Menat (Christian; Saint)

Neil Welliver (Artology)

Nohra (Maronite Church)

Pete Dexter (Writerism)

Ruthie Tompson (Artology)

S.E. Hinton (Writerism)

Tom Robbins (Writerism)

Vandrille (a.k.a. Wandregisilus; Christian; Saint)

Vaughn Bodē (Artology)

The Venusian (Muppetism)

Wandregislus (a.k.a. Wandrille; Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Dismal Day (Unlucky or Evil Day; Medieval Europe; 14 of 24)

Egyptian Day (Unlucky Day; Middle Ages Europe) [14 of 24]

Premieres

At Your Service (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1935)

Back to the Shack, by Weezer (Song; 2014)

A Balmy Swami (Fleischer/Famous Popeye Cartoon; 1949)

Bikini Beach (Film; 1964)

The Bodyguard (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1944)

Captain America: The First Avenger (Film; 2011)

Crazy Drivers (Fleischer/Famous Popeye Cartoon; 1955)

The Daily Show (Late Night TV Talk Show; 1996)

Friends with Benefits (Film; 2011)

Gallipoli, by Alan Moorehead (History Book; 1956)

Green Lantern: Beware My Power (WB Animated Film; 2022)

Ice Age: Collision Course (Animated Film; 2016)

The Inverted World, by Christopher Priest (Novel; 1974)

The Island (Film; 2005)

Hollywood Sweepstakes (Color Rhapsody Cartoon; 1939)

It’s Hummer Time (WB LT Cartoon 1950)

Jaws 3-D (Film; 1983)

Join Together, by The Who (Song; 1972)

Jungle Jingles (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1929)

Lolita (Film; 1998)

Marnie (Film; 1964)

Midnight Run (Film; 1988)

Mr. Mom (Film; 1983)

Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1938)

My Aim Is True, by Elvis Costello (Album; 1977)

Nope (Film; 2022)

North (Film; 1994)

Plan 9 From Outer Space (Film; 1959)

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (Film; 1954)

Star Trek Beyond (Film; 2016)

The Subtle Knife, by Philip Pullman (Novel; 1997) [His Dark Materials #2]

Weary Willies (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1929)

Today’s Name Days

Magdalena, Maria (Austria)

Lena, Magda, Magdalena, Miglena (Bulgaria)

Lenka, Magdalena, Manda, Marija (Croatia)

Magdaléna (Czech Republic)

Magdalene, Maria (Denmark)

Leen, Leena, Leeni, Made, Madli, Magda, Magdaleena, Mall, Malle (Estonia)

Leena, Leeni, Lenita, Matleena (Finland)

Madeleine, Wandrille (France)

Magdalena, Marlene, Verena (Germany)

Magdalena, Magdalene, Magdalini, Markella (Greece)

Magdolna (Hungary)

Lena, Lorenzo, Maddalena, Maria, Marylena, Menelaos (Italy)

Margita, Marija, Marika, Marina, Marisandra (Latvia)

Dalius, Magdalena, Mantilė, Marija (Lithuania)

Malene, Mali, Malin (Norway)

Albin, Bolesława, Bolisława, Laurencjusz, Maria Magdalena, Milenia, Pankracy, Wawrzyniec, Więcemiła (Poland)

Magdaléna (Slovakia)

Magdalena, María (Spain)

Madeleine, Magdalena (Sweden)

Mada, Madalina, Madalyn, Maddi, Maddie, Maddy, Madel, Madelaine, Madelein, Madeleine, Madelene, Madelina, Madeline, Madie, Madelyn, Mady (Universal)

Amaya, Magda, Magdalen, Magdalena, Magdalene (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 204 of 2024; 162 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 1 of Week 30 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Tinne (Holly) [Day 16 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Xin-Wei), Day 17 (Ding-Hai)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 16 Tammuz 5784

Islamic: 15 Muharram 1446

J Cal: 24 Red; Threesday [24 of 30]

Julian: 9 July 2024

Moon: 98%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 7 Dante (8th Month) [Aristo]

Runic Half Month: Ur (Primal Strength) [Day 14 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 33 of 94)

Week: 4th Week of July

Zodiac: Leo (Day 1 of 31)

Calendar Changes

  Leo (The Lion) begins [Zodiac Sign 5; thru 8.21]

[drippingheart]

THE COMPANY OF ANIMALS .

Where traditional culture and the heart of technology clash, quiet and peace are not commodities to be attained. Loneliness however, is as prominent as shadows. Tokyo — a city of noise and air pollution, tin can housing, and needing hearts desiring to connect with anyone. Anything. While Fushiguro Megumi never considered himself to be lonely, he was capable of relating to the feeling of longing. At seven years of age, recognition of blank and pallid stares on the railway was an intimate thing — just as when eyes caught sight of desperation gushing through veins as a high school boy reached out to grasp the hand of a female classmate.

Megumi knew too much as a child. Certainly not the fragile intricacies of human relationships and deep desire, yet it was enough information which enabled him to judge in silence. The city was already overflowing with people, and had it been the boy's choice, he and Tsumiki would be the sole occupants of the city. Wanting another person was a foreign sensation and, frankly, off putting, however yearning the company of something Megumi completely understood.

When stray cats gathered in alleyways, when the honking of taxi cabs disturbed pigeons from the metropolitan perches, even when moths cluttered around a single source of light when sky was pitch . . . he felt that instinctual pull to be part of an animal's life and for they to be a part of his life. Features of a little boy scrunched up in equal disgust when spotting rare displays of affection in public and when being in the receiving end of cute nicknames and head patting from a certain ivory-haired sorcerer.

Happiness, the closest the child could assume he was capable of feeling, bloomed when a dog wagged its tail in his presence. If his crazed guardian actually wanted to do something nice ( ie something Megumi would genuinely appreciate ) why couldn't it be in the form of a pet? Having been begrudgingly fed, clothed, and sheltered by the man, the child surmised he had already been deemed fortunate enough. Megumi was not a selfish child; he would trade being in Gojo Satoru's care for a living cat or dog. With no such thing waiting to be unwrapped for Birthday, Children's Day, or Christmas, he felt compelled to take matters into his own hands.

At seven years of age, Fushiguro Megumi walked with solemn confidence half an hour away from home; it was no difficult feat having traveled much the same as soon as he gained independence to walk alone. The stray cats watched him pass; they knew him well. Megumi counted sixteen on the route and like muscle memory, internally called out each feline's name. Names which Megumi had thought of the first time he met a new cat and memorized it to heart. Lacking any treats to offer the small beasts, he was not compelled to linger any longer than necessary during his trek, and the animals were thankful for that, too.

Megumi did not like picking favourites. The very notion of it felt almost like a betrayal. Every species was unique in their own way, and he was not fortunate enough to encounter every species of animal to even consider having a favourite, so how could be possibly pick just one? He had touched a fair amount of mammals ( of course not enough to satiate his love ), thus was absolutely resolute in touching those creatures which easily took to the skies. Reveling in their freedom. A longing for such freedom was also nestled within the child's heart. Often when one was looking for pigeons in Tokyo it seemed the abundant creature was nowhere to be spotted.

Had old man Tanaka not arrived to feed the animals that afternoon? A surlier pout settled heavy on the boy's face once he stepped foot in the park void of his winged companions. Still, he made the trip and had been painfully determined to make progress today. Feet dragged with iron weight as he maneuvered through the park. His guardian had six eyes and Megumi had a sixth sense, it seemed. Gravitating towards a particular spot, it quickly became apparent why no pigeons littered the ground in the hundreds. Unlike a corvid's loyalty, a single injured pigeon sat in a mess of its own feathers. Speckles of dark crimson stained the concrete, but the amount of blood was not innately alarming.

There was hope. No one had stopped to help. No other pigeons were around. Lonely — how tragic. Megumi still harbored healing scratches from his altercations with the cats he visited, so he knew well about stress and what it did for wild animals. The child approached with tremendous care. Despite the gentility, the pigeon still fluttered uselessly when he approached too closely, but an injured wing made for futile attempts at escape. Zippered jacket was removed and used to cradle the bird carefully with wings tucked, palms nestling wings to torso, and the sleeve of jacket covering the animal's face. Reduce visual and auditory stressors; he had learned that from a video.

Tiny thing was pressed securely against his torso, still within the jacket, as he made the trip back home. One hand was used to keep the pigeon secure against his body as he punched in the code of the front door and entered with the care of an undercover operative. Shoes were toed off at the threshold of the apartment, but before he had the time to slip on his own set of blue house slippers, he was there. Didn't he have Jujutsu work to attend to? Unconsciously, he bundle of injured animal was tucked closer to his torso and emerald hues cut even more sharply. Six eyes and all could sense something was amiss, yet the famed sorcerer approached with a bright grin nonetheless. Perhaps more so at the evidence of Megumi's behaviour.

" Don't tell me. My little Megumi-chan got in a little tussle with a kitty, mm? What 'cha got there? "

Just shy of two metres, the ivory haired sorcerer towered over the child and peeked a startling ominous eye over the rim of dark sunglasses. There was no point hiding anything from the man. Could he see through the material of the jacket? Megumi did not precisely know the limits of the six eyes. Instead, the child's lips curled with distaste as an equally sour huff left him.

── ❛ That was last week. ❜

Hesitantly, Megumi peeled back the flap and sleeve of the jacket, and the visual stimulus prompted the bird to blink and whip its head around. Gojo's lips peeled backwards further, but the child's eyes were too focused on the sight of the injured bird to notice. In contrast to how he petulantly spoke to his guardian, he kept his voice low. For the sake of the pigeon and for the sake of the favour at hand.

── ❛ Can we please help it? . . Please? I don't want it to die. ❜

Pointer finger tip gently nudged the tiny feathers situated at the back of the pigeon's head. Gemstone eyes still captivated at the sight of the animal. The adult straightened up his posture as a " Oh, Megumi. You have such a soft heart. " Reached Megumi's ears. It wasn't a no however, and a gentle hand landing on the child's shoulder encouraged he and the pigeon to enter the depths of the apartment.

[adarkrainbow]

Pinocchio's education (3/4)

And here is the last part of my rough translation of Apostolidès’ article “Pinocchio, a male education”. If you want to check the original in French, it is available for free here. [EDIT: Turns out Tumblr doesn't like having posts too long, so I'll need to cut the third post into two...]

Created in 1940, Walt Disney’s version presents an Americanized Pinocchio. The animated movie changed so much Collodi’s character that it was very coldly received in Italy upon its release. A first change of note: In Disney’s movie, the story is narrated by the Talking Cricket who is now called Jiminy Cricket. In Collodi’s novel, the cricket as just one voice among many – here, he is promoted to the rank of “official conscience” of Pinocchio. In the novel, Collodi has many different external voices speak to the puppet, all transmitting to him through proverbs what were usually advices born of folk-wisdom. This true concerto, played usually by animals (the talking cricket, but also the slug, the pigeon, the parrot and many more), was a double of the parental voice. As such, the entirety of nature gathered around Pinocchio to tell him which path he should follow. With Walt Disney, Jiminy becomes an internalized conscience, he is the superego of the puppet, solemnly ordained by the Blue Fairy (“So she dubbed me Sir Jiminy Cricket, Lord High Keeper of the Knowledge of Right and Wrong”). From the first to the second version, we went from a Pinocchio shaped by exterior elements to another with a more modern sensibility, determined by internal elements. This new Pinocchio does not show any rebellion against the adult world. On the contrary, he impulsively tries to take advantage of it, not able to recognizing in this adult world what is good for him, and what is bad for him. A part of his misfortunes also comes from the fact that his conscience doesn’t know what to choose either – here again, we find ourselves in an era when values were changing.

Since the original context of Collodi’s creation disappears with Walt Disney’s version, the story is now inscribed in a new one: the American values of the early 1940s. Geppetto is not a poor wood-sculptor constantly hungry anymore: he is a lonely craftsman, living comfortably, and who builds toys for children. When the fairy grants him his wish to see his puppet come to life, she just says: “Good Geppetto, you gave so much happiness to others, you deserve to be rewarded”. The fairy appears in the beginning of the movie, while Collodi only introduced her in the fifteenth chapter. When the audience first discovers Pinocchio, Geppetto is almost done with his work, by painting a smile on the wooden face. As such, the puppet does not spring to life on its own: he needs both parents. The “bastard” aspect of the original character, that we highlighted before, is replaced by a conformism making Pinocchio a little boy immediately fit for social order. His father gave him his shape, his outside appearance; his mother gave him his soul and his life. It is also her mother who sets him free from the strings that restrained him: the mechanical education of the father is followed by the mother’s psychological and moral education. Walt Disney’s fairy lacks any ambivalence: she has the same physical and moral traits as the dreamy princesses of the other animated fairytales of the American master, Cinderella and Snow-White. Towards Geppetto, she behaves like a wife – a younger wife, a distant wife, a benevolent wife. She even speaks to him as if he was the child. Meanwhile, towards the puppet, she behaves as a protective mother and as a very moral figure. As soon as Pinocchio asks her what he must do to become a real boy, she lists to him the moral stereotypes of the America of the time: “Prove yourself brave, truthful and unselfish. Be a good son to Geppetto - make him proud of you ! Learn to tell right from wrong. Then, some day, you will wake up and find yourself a real boy”.

Just like the parental figures, the values offered to Pinocchio lack any ambiguity. The good characters are easily distinguishable from the villains – the villains are always dressed in shabby, poor clothes. For example, the Fox and the Cat that are seemingly ignored by a society of abundance. The same thing is true for the rascals of Pleasure Island: a close-up on their shoes show that they come from the lower class. Their transformation into donkeys is a metaphor to reveal that the only thing they truly bring was workforce.

The tragedy of Pinocchio, a little boy from middle-class, is that due to frequenting them he is threatened with ending up as a lower-class. The movie takes a great care to show who is good and who is evil: all the ambiguous characters, such as Fire-Eater the puppeteer, lose any form of complexity. Within Collodi’s work, he borrowed traits from Bluebeards: when Pinocchio arrives within the theater, the puppets of the commedia dell’ arte see him as a savior. Following his example, the puppets set themselves free from their traditional roles, and made Pinocchio triumph. After thinking about turning him into fire-wood, Fire-Eater forgives Pinocchio and sends him home with five gold coins. With Walt Disney’s, the puppeteer, renamed Stromboli, becomes a former partner of the Fox and the Cat, now reinvested in the business of theater. The animal duo sells him Pinocchio to become the star of his show. The problem introduced now is the one of the child sent too soon within the economic system: Pinocchio embodies the myth of the child-star, freshly created by Hollywood a few decades earlier. Pinocchio is not a child anymore, and yet cannot be recognized as an adult. If on one side he does a work that brings money, on the other he is tricked and exploited by Stromboli.

Within Walt Disney’s work, the conflict of values is located between the world of traditional crafts, and the world of the big industry: the world of Geppetto against the world of the little fat man that turns children into donkey (aka, into the lower class). Pinocchio would not be thinking about leaving his father’s house if the outside world didn’t offer him endless temptations. They are not solely tied to traditional forms of entertainment, such as the puppet theater – they are also focused on the Pleasure Island, where children stay for a few weeks before being metamorphosed into donkeys. On this island, carousels and games can be found, but also plenty of adult activities usually forbidden to children: smoking, drinking, playing billiard… Sexuality is not evoked in the movie, except in a minor way by “inferior” beings, such as Figaro the cat or Cleo the fish. On Pleasure Island, the children can also destroy the things that represent the traditional Western values: the traditions of literature and art. Torn books can be found in the streets, an entire palace is offered to be destroyed. When Candlewick and Pinocchio enter in said palace, a child destroys with an axe a piano ; and if Candlewick lights up his cigar by scratching his match against the Joconde, his friend destroys with a stone and great pleasure a cathedral’s stained glass.

In 1940, these scenes were clear allusions to the book-burnings that had happened the previous years within Nazi Germany. But, they could also be read as an allegory of the consumerist society that was building itself within the United-States. Geppetto, a product of the traditional Protestant mentality, belongs on a social level to a world that is economically threatened: he doesn’t have any appeal that could keep his son with him. Pinocchio will rather turn towards the outside world, and let the outside images filled the emptiness of his private life.

From a psychological point of view, Pinocchio is torn between the traditional modern (determined and shaped from the inside), and a new model. A new model that encourages imitation, an identity that forms itself with a group of kindred. Pinocchio is as much eager to look like the “others” around him as he is separated from his original nature of puppet. Another reason behind Pinocchio’s quest for a male model in the outside world is Geppetto’s age, and his behavior. The brave man is at the same time an old man, an elder, and a buddy-dad, a friend-father, with which the child plays and dances, but who is no model. And he is not a true husband for the fairy, who rather floats around the male world as a distant by protective mom. Pinocchio can only solve his contradictions by becoming a hero – that is to say by escaping into the extraordinary. By saving Geppetto’s life, by sacrificing himself for him, he takes the place of the absent father. The fairy-mother recognizes this substitution, and as such turns the child into a man, by making him a “real boy”. This promotion happens in the movie in a very symptomatic way, by the acquiring of a new finger on each hand: the puppet of Geppetto only had four fingers on each hand, but when he is transformed, the first thing Pinocchio sees when he wakes up is his human hand.

[a-chlolix-blog]

Scarabée and Kitty Claws AU

Mr Pigeon. An upset Bird Dad.

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

It's been a couple of days since Adrien's birthday and he happily posted about the many gifts from his new friends.

The rapid fangirls weren't very happy, but his classmates were quite happy for him.

What caught a few of them off guard was that Chloé Bourgeois of all people thought of something as nice and personal as a photo collage of the two of them.

💙Mari-Caroon🥐: Did you guys see what Chloé made Adrien?

❤Best Blogger📱: Oh please! She probably made Sabrina do ALL the work!

💥Alix the Awesome🥇: All that matters is that Mr. Sunshine had a happy birthday!

👑Princess Rose🌹: Yeah! And besides maybe Chloé's trying to change. She hasn't pulled any of her infamous pranks on us yet.

💜Priceless Jule💎: It's still quite early in the school year, Sweetie.

🎥Mylegend♻️: Who knows what she'll have planned....

Alix puts her phone away as she got ready for class.

Tikki: Is this Chloé girl REALLY that bad?

Alix: It's complicated Tikki... very complicated.

At Le Grand Paris, Chloé was still over the moon that Adrien loved her gift enough to post it on Instagram.

The two happily texted each other.

🐱Catty-Chlo💛: I'm so happy you loved your gift, Sunshine!

🌟Princely Sunshine☀️: It's beautiful, Chlo! I gotta repay on your birthday. How about I get Scarabée to make an appearance? It'll be tough without an Akuma Attack to find her, but I'll find a way!

Chloé couldn't help but blush as she read the text from Adrien.

🐱Catty-Chlo💛: Shut up and get ready for school!

🌟Princely Sunshine☀️: So mean! Let's hope Scarabée doesn't see this side of you!

Chloé rolls her eyes before putting her phone in her purse.

Chloé wasn't looking forward to her own birthday, but she was happy that Adrien had fun on his.

~~~~~At School~~~~~~

Mr. Damocles is in Miss Bustier's classroom, telling the students about a design competition being hosted at the school.

The objective of the competition is to design and create a derby hat, which will be judged by fashion designer Gabriel Agreste.

Marinette, Juleka with Rose, Mylène, and Alix decide to enter the competition.

The five of them were taking about the competition during lunch.

Alya: Ladies! How does it feel to have the opportunity to create something to be judged by Gabriel Agreste?

Marinette: Very nervous! I haven't made a derby hat before, but for my dream, I'll have to try.

Rose: I'm supporting Juleka. So I know for a fact she's gonna be great!

Juleka, blushing: Thanks...

Mylène: I decided to get outta my comfort zone. So I'm hoping to have fun.

The group then notices how quiet Alix has been.

Alix: Out of all of us, I know I'm the least likely to win, given my style. But it's been a while since I applied my artistic style to clothing. So I wanna have fun too!

Rose: I'm sure Mr. Agreste will LOVE your style!

Chloé and Sabrina could hear the two from their table (Gabriel makes Adrien eat lunch at home).

Chloé wasn't entering the competition and only Sabrina and Adrien knew why.

Chloé, internally: Although it's unlikely that she'll win. I bet Ally-Kins' hat will be incredible.

Little did they know, a certain someone was planning on coping their derby hat ideas!

And her name was Brigiette Alarie!

Brigiette, internally: Once I beautifully outdo every "talented and creative" girl in Adrien's class, Mr. Agreste will see me as the PERFECT daughter in-law!

So she followed the girls around and asks to about their hat ideas, to make sure "they don't copy her idea!"

~Juleka and Rose while they're walking to class~

Juleka: Well-

Rose: It's a surprise! But it'll be super cute! Just like my Juleka!

~Mylène after she closes her locker~

Mylène: Can't say! It's a surprise and I want everyone to be surprised.

~Alix during gym class~

Alix: Even if I were to tell you, I'm only entering for fun, not to win.

~Marinette before the final day of the day~

Marinette: Since I haven't designed a Derby Hat before, I don't know just yet...

Brigiette, internally: OUT OF ALL PEOPLE, YOU'D THINK MARINETTE WOULD HAVE A DESIGN READY!

After school, the girls when home to work on their derby hats.

Except for Marinette, who goes to the Trocadéro for inspiration (unaware that Brigiette decided to follow her).

Marinette sits outside at the Trocadéro with her sketchbook open on her lap.

She sketches various versions of derby hats before ripping them out and crumpling them beside her.

Brigiette watches from afar as she does this.

Brigiette, internally: Only the very best for Mr. Agreste and my dearest Adrien.

As she becomes more dejected, a man appears, moving his arms like wings and cooing to the pigeons.

Xavier Ramier sits on a bench and calls the pigeons to him with a whistle.

He then brings out a bag of bird food, tossing it to the pigeons.

Roger Raincomprix stalks over and yells at Xavier for feeding the pigeons, stating that, if he continues to feed them, they will crowd the park and leave their droppings everywhere.

Confiscating the bird food, Roger kicks Xavier out of the park. Marinette feels sorry for him.

After noticing the many pigeon feathers on the ground, Marinette becomes quite inspired and starts hurriedly sketching the idea.

Meanwhile, Xavier sits on a bench overlooking the Seine, dejected.

Hawk Moth senses Xavier's sorrow and sends an akuma to him, which enters his bird call.

Hawk Moth tells Xavier that the police and park keepers should not be allowed to stop him from taking care of his pigeons and offers him the chance to take revenge on them.

Xavier grins, turning into the villain, Mr. Pigeon.

He takes off, flapping his arms and cooing.

At the same time, Marinette finishes her sketch.

When she holds up her book to admire it in the light, Brigiette takes a picture of the sketch with her phone and hugs it to her chest.

Brigiette, whispering: Yes! Mr. Agreste's praise and Adrien's love are MINE!

At The Louvre, Alix was working on her own hat and was almost done.

She was able to sew in her signature street art style light blue and black A into the dark blue derby hat, but felt like something think was missing.

Alix, internally: Damnit, it needs one more thing. But what?

Tikki, giving Alix a pear: You can think of something, Alix!

Alim, knocking on the door: Alix? Are you still working on your hat? I could come back later.

Tikki: *quickly hides under Alix's pillow*

Alix: Come in, I'm just taking a quick break!

When he walks into the room holding a small box, Alim's quite impressed by Alix's derby hat.

Alim: Are you sure you aren't trying to wait, Sweetie? This hat looks incredible!

Alix: It'd be even more incredible if I found out what I was missing!

Alim: I had a feeling you'd get Artist's Block. So I got these. *puts the box on Alix's desk*

Alix: What's this? *opens the box and starts to tear up* Dad... are these...?

Alim: You and Jalil loved making these little feather swords with your mother and I when you were younger. Maybe they can help inspire you?

Alix: *hugs Alim tightly* Thanks dad!

Alim, hugging her back: No problem. Now pick one! I can't wait to see which one you pick for the hat!

Alix then picks up a cerulean feather sword and attaches it to the derby hat.

Alim: Just as I thought. Perfect.

Alix: I know right?

Alim leaves Alix's room with a smile before closing the door.

Alim, looking at his own feather sword: I know you're proud of them, Dalia...

Tikki, flying up to Alix: Since you're done, let's go great cookies to celebrate!

Alix: Of course you'd think of that as a way to celebrate. Guess I'll get some macaroons to go with the smoothie I wanna make. Let's go!

Just as Alix walks up to the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, Marinette runs out in a hurry.

Alix: Whoa Marinette! What's the hurry?

Marinette: I need a pigeon feather for my derby hat!

Alix: I'll help you find one. I finished my hat before coming here.

Marinette: Thanks!

The two run to the Eiffel Tower, disturbing the pigeons until Marinette grabs a feather.

Alix walks alongside Marinette, who happily skips before bumping into officer Roger.

Roger, however, goes on his merry way after Marinette apologizes.

The two then sees a dark cloud of birds hovering over him before taking him away.

Marinette: Did you see that?

Alix: Yeah... *thinks to herself* Guess those cookies and macaroons will have to wait. I gotta make sure Marinette gets home safe. Can't risk those birds carrying her away too.

Marinette: Scarabée and Kitty Claws will handle this.

Alix: Let's just get you home. Your place is close!

While Marinette and Alix are on the bus, Alix asks the driver why they can't go faster.

The driver says that they have a situation and tells the people to get off the bus.

Marinette and Alix sees that pigeons are causing the traffic jam, along with other problems all over Paris.

Nadja Chamack, on a nearby screen, reports on the pigeons and is then told that Mr. Pigeon will make an announcement: Paris belongs to the pigeons.

Alix: Marinette, run home now!

Marinette: What about you?!

Alix: You know I'll be fine. Go!

Once Marinette was out of sight, Alix quickly runs to the subway and quickly transforms into Scarabée.

Kitty Claws was on a roof top waiting for Scarabée.

Kitty Claws: I'm so happy I don't have Adrien's feather allergy. I hope he's doing okay... With all the pigeons outside and all the presents he got for his birthday, he was more than happy to stay home.

Scarabée runs along Paris' rooftops until she sees hordes of pigeons flying in the sky, all in the shape of airplanes.

She then notices Kitty Claws a few rooftops away and leaps over to her.

Scarabée: Got any info on this situation, KC?

Kitty Claws: Park Keepers are disappearing and there are pigeons everywhere? You wouldn't happen to be allergic to feathers, would you?

Scarabée: Nope! But I do know for a fact that pigeons are taking Police Officers and thanks to your info, Park Keepers.

Kitty Claws: Where Could they have taken them all?

Scarabée: Don't know, but I got a plan on how we could find out.

~~~~~~At the Place des Vosges ~~~~~~

Kitty Claws, dressed as a Park Keeper: Itty-Bitty, you should've told me you like a girl in uniform~

Scarabée, blushing while holding Kitty Claws' jacket: I told you to put on JUST the hat! The outfit was all you! Just act natural!!

Kitty Claws: I can't help that I'm naturally good looking~

A pigeon sees her and flies off to report to Mr. Pigeon.

Mr. Pigeon praises the pigeon for telling him. A flock of pigeons takes Mr. Pigeon away.

Scarabée: Where is he?

Kitty Claws: Do you think he'll show- *gets carried away by a cloud of pigeons*

Scarabée follows the cloud to the ceiling of the hotel Le Grand Paris.

Scarabée and a now freed Kitty Claws find themselves surrounded by pigeons as Mr. Pigeon reveals himself to the two while standing on a flock of pigeons.

The pigeons surround Scarabée and Kitty Claws, trapping them in a massive bird cage.

Mr. Pigeon, under Hawkmoth's command: Give up your Miraculouses or my pigeons will attack with their poop!

Scarabée and Kitty Claws: EWWWWWW!!!!

Kitty Claws: CATACLYSM!!!!

Kitty Claws quickly uses her cataclysm on the mental bar, quickly rusting them before they fell apart.

Freeing the two heroines, who stepped closer to Mr. Pigeon.

As soon as they come close to Mr. Pigeon, he escapes by walking off the side of the hotel, shouting, "Merry Christmas."

He sends the remaining pigeons to attack the two heroes.

Scarabée and Kitty Claws run inside, slamming the door shut on the pigeons.

They head downstairs, but Kitty Claws' ring beeps; she has 4 minutes left before her transformation deactivates.

They head to the ground floor finding Mayor André Bourgeois.

André: Scarabée! Kitty Claws! These pigeons are scaring all the tourists! Please tell me you'll be able to fix this?!

Scarabée: Of course, but we'll need-

Kitty Claws, bouncing up and down: An empty room and runny camembert please!

André: Of course Miss Class! Get her to the Royal Suite!

One of the hotel's servents got a plate of runny camembert cheese and walked Kitty Claws to the Royal Suite.

Kitty Claws, to Servent: No need to wait at the door! I'll be fine! *quickly closes the door before transforming back*

Plagg, exhausted: *laying on the pillow* You need to get some of these pillows for your room!

Chloé: Hurry up and eat the cheese! If I leave Scarabée alone with my dad for too long, he'll show her pictures of me at my ballet recital when I was eight!

Plagg, with his mouth full: How do you know?

Chloé: He does it with every important person he meets!

~~~With André and Scarabée~~~

André, picking up a big book: I hope my Chloé's okay! If you haven't noticed my daughter means the world to me.

Scarabée: As a girl with a loving dad, I'm sure you mean the world to her too.

André, caught off guard: Thank you... how about I show you some of her-

Kitty Claws, quickly running up to the two: COME ON, SCARABÉE! LET'S GO GET THIS AKUMA!!! *grabs Scarabée's hand and leaves*

Scarabée and Kitty Claws, at a higher vantage point, glances out a window and sees that the pigeons are flying in the same direction and they follow the pigeons.

They reach the Grand Palais and find the park keepers caged inside. They climb up to the roof to enter the Palais from a window.

The two make themselves known to Mr. Pigeon and their battle begins!

He attacks with his pigeons, sending Scarabée and Kitty Claws into the park keepers' cage's bars.

Scarabée uses her Lucky Charm, and a coin appears.

Using her lucky vision, Scarabée spots a support beam and a vending machine.

Scarabée runs toward Mr. Pigeon, sliding underneath him while her yo-yo wraps around his ankle.

She then jumps up to the support beam, swinging over it once, wrapping up her yo-yo's string.

Scarabée runs ahead, putting the coin into the vending machine and buying a small bag of popcorn.

She throws the bag in the air and Kitty Claws uses his staff to break it.

Most of the popcorn lands on Mr. Pigeon.

The pigeons surround Mr. Pigeon and eat the popcorn off of him.

As he is distracted, Scarabée yanks on her yo-yo, pulling Mr. Pigeon into the air.

The bird call slips from his neck, landing on the ground.

Scarabée, Kitty Claws, and Mr. Pigeon go after it.

They grab it simultaneously, Mr. Pigeon's hand directly on top of it, then Kitty Claws', then Scarabée's.

Scarabée grabs Kitty Claws' hand and smashes it down on Mr. Pigeon's hand, breaking the bird call. The akuma flies out from it.

Scarabée catches it, purifies it, and uses Miraculous Cure to return everything back to normal.

Mr. Pigeon turns back into Mr. Ramier. Hawk Moth swears revenge on Scarabée and pigeons.

Scarabée: Perfect job as usual, KC!

Kitty Claws: Thanks Itty-Bitty! *pulls her into a side hug and takes the picture with her baton*

After transform back Alix makes her way to the Dupain-Cheng Bakery to buy her macaroons and Tikki's cookies.

Marinette, running down the stairs: Alix! You're okay!

Alix: Sorry I didn't call, I was too busy dodging pigeon shit.

Marinette: EWWWW!!!

Alix: I know right? So, are you done with your hat?

Marinette: Yeah! It looks awesome! I can't wait for you all to see it!!

Alix: Knowing your skills, you're probably gonna win.

Marinette: Thanks.

Alix then buys her tasty treats and leaves.

~~~~~~The Next Day~~~~~~

At the school, the design competition is about to begin.

Nathalie introduces herself to Mr. Damocles, and he wonders where Gabriel Agreste is.

Nathalie shows that he is going to be judging via her tablet. Gabriel orders Adrien to take Nathalie around the school.

Chloé was there as well, but only to watch with Sabrina.

She rolled her eyes as Brigiette glared daggers at her though.

Brigiette, internally: SHE'S NOT EVEN COMPETING! WHY IS SHE HERE?! No matter, after Mr. Agreste sees MY derby hat, I'll be the only girl allowed in Adrien's life!

Marinette and the others weren't very happy to see that Brigiette copied her derby hat.

But they had a plan for her.

Gabriel only glanced at most of the hats for a brief second before moving on to the next one.

Alix's hat was before Marinette's and Brigiette's.

Gabriel had Nathalie face the tablet to her hat for a bit longer then the others before moving on.

Which confused Alix quite abit.

Once Gabriel commented on how Marinette and Brigiette's derby hats were the same, Brigiette puts her crocodile tears to work.

Brigiette, fake crying: I can't believe you Marinette! How could you copy ME!?

Marinette: Actually I didn't. I can prove the hat is my original design.

Gabriel: Go ahead.

Marinette: Everything is handmade. From the embroidery to the weaving of the band, to the stitching off the brim. All done by myself. There's a special design that only the designer knows about. *shows them her signature on the hat* I signed mine.

Adrien, remembering that his scarf had her signature on it as well: She's right father!

Brigiette, shocked that Adrien took Marinette's side: WHA-

Alix: Hey, did she ask anyone else about their ideas for the competition yesterday or just me?

Marinette, Mylène, Juleka, and Rose: YEAH!

Brigiette: *runs away actually crying*

Gabriel: Very exquisite creation. You definitely have the laboring hands of a hat maker, Miss...

Adrien: Marinette!

Gabriel: Congratulations on your demonstration, Miss Marinette. You are the winner.

The other girls cheered while Alix gave Marinette a big hug.

Chloé wasn't surprised one bit.

Adrien: Great job, Marinette.

Marinette: Thanks, Adrien.

When Adrien goes to put on the hat, he starts sneezing.

Adrien: Sorry, I'm allergic to feathers.

Marinette, panicking: No, I'm sorry! I'll get a fake one as soon as I can!

Adrien, caught off guard: T-thanks.

Chloé, muttering: You better replace that feather, Dupain-Cheng.

Sabrina: Are you ready to go now, Chloé?

Chloé: Yeah.

As the two walk towards the exit, Chloé couldn't help but admire Alix's derby hat abit more.

She then notices a rather familiar accessory.

Chloé, shocked: Is that...?

When Chloé got home, she immediately runs to her room and pulls a box from under her box.

Instead this box was pictures of Chloé and Alix when they were young, prize toys Alix won for her at kiddie games, and a small cerulean feather sword.

Chloé didn't know she was crying until her tears fell into the box.

"We made so many of these with Dalia..."

Inspired by: @emdoddles @princess-of-the-corner @muggle-born-princess @dcschart @justanotherpersonsuniverse @symphonic-scream

[bopinion]

2024 / 24

Aperçu of the Week

"It is an old German disease that by pointing to the best of tomorrow, one does not do the good of today, and the bad of yesterday remains."

(Klaus Töpfer, former German Environment Minister and long-time Executive Director of the UN Environment Program, died last week at the age of 85)

Bad News of the Week

Biologically speaking, humans are just one of many vertebrates. And yet we consider ourselves to be the "crown of creation" - in other words, something better. And reserve basic rights for most other vertebrates. After all, they are "only" animals. I don't want to start talking about cruel animal husbandry or the ruthless repression of habitats here, even if this receives too little attention. Instead, I would like to talk about a species that would not exist in this form without human intervention: Pigeons.

Most of the populations that live in our cities today can be traced back to pets that were released into the wild. And have since been reviled as "rats of the air". And at the same time highly stylized as a symbol of peace, innocence and loyalty. Their phenomenal sense of orientation with the help of their magnetic sensory perception makes them clearly superior to us humans, at least in this respect.

Due to a lack of natural predators, pigeon populations are getting out of hand in some places (at least in the estimation of the top vertebrate). One proven effective method - albeit relatively costly - is the construction of pigeon lofts in which their eggs are replaced with plaster eggs. The inhabitants of Limburg, a town with a population of almost 40,000 in Hesse, evidently find this too laborious.

In a sensational referendum, the majority of Limburg residents opted for a, well, rather radical method of population reduction: a falconer is to lure the animals into a crate, stun them with a blow to the head and kill them by breaking their necks. Creepy. And quite medieval. But Limburg already existed in the 10th century. It's a shame that civilization there hasn't developed in line with the times in all areas.

Good News of the Week

There have been many international summits in the last few days. Including a meeting of the G7 in Italy. There was one real highlight that all participants were able to agree on - despite many differences in day-to-day political business. Namely, further support for Ukraine. This time it is less about the promise of military support and more about cash. Specifically, Russian money. State assets that are also held in accounts in the USA, Germany, Canada, France, the UK, Japan and Italy - and have been frozen since the start of the war against Ukraine.

Legally (as if that were the point) the assets obviously cannot simply be confiscated. But money continues to "work" even when it is frozen. By earning interest. And apparently Russian money earns a lot of interest. Because the G7 is now using the interest from frozen Russian state assets to finance a Ukraine aid package worth USD 50 billion. And money can be used in more ways than weapons. Because it can not only be used to buy ammunition. It can also be used to buy medicines. And pay bus drivers. And rebuild destroyed schools. Who knows, maybe there will soon be a "Vladimir Putin Primary School" in Kharkiv. Because he not only bombed it, but also rebuilt it with his money.

Personal happy moment of the week

I play Wordle. In English and German. And I score quite good. But winning at the second try is pure luck. But it's nice anyway, when you are called "Genius!". Even if it's just by an algorithm. There are weeks when this is enough for the personal happy moment.

I couldn't care less...

...that the UN Security Council has come out in favor of the plan for a ceasefire in Gaza. Because if any country gives a shit besides the US what the UN thinks or says, it's Israel.

As I write this...

...the European Men's Football Championship is underway. And Germany is dreaming of another "summer fairytale". When Germany hosted the 2006 World Cup, a special, light atmosphere prevailed for the four weeks of the tournament, in which it was easy to forget the hardships of everyday life. Especially now, in this culmination of crises, that would be pleasant again. Even if it doesn't fundamentally change anything.

Post Scriptum

The AfD (Alternative for Germany / Alternative for Germany) member of parliament Petr Bystron - yes, as you can see from the name, there are also xenophobes with a migration background - is under investigation for money laundering and bribery. These must now be dropped, at least for the time being. This is because Bystron was elected to the European Parliament in second place on the AfD party list. And therefore enjoys immunity. At least until it is officially withdrawn at official request. It is absurd that legislators, of all people, should be above the law. Even if it is just a formality.

[snoweylily]

as someone who doesn’t celebrate new years eve cause i’m a permanently exhausted pigeon that can never stay up til midnight, one of my favourite things about new years is going on tumblr dot com the very next day and seeing all the happy new years posts from all of my followers different time zones like wow we really be an international group of disaster nerds huh