#whale miraculous

[taldigi]

had this idea floating around for a whale now. It would be a fun scenario where the heroes must outrun Remm's shadow, scale the tower, and jump onto them in order to figure out what is going on. Just a non-villainous accidental-antagonist that maybe gives them some info on the faeries or some guidance before they must keep on moving. Also, just the idea of an absolutely gigantic faerie is so fun.

[cobrawolfmeiji]

Brawnn: Kwami of Strength

Name: Brawnn

Aspect: Strength

Animal Form: Blue Whale

Color: Dark Blue and Light Blue

Miraculous item: Lapis lazuli medallion

Miracle Box: Atlantian Box (The Father Box)

Transformation Phrase: Brawnn, Flex some Muscles

Detransformation Phrase: Relax Muscles

Owner: N/A

History: Brawnn is one of the Kwami of the Atlantian Miracle Box, which was thought lost with the sinking of Atlantis until discovered by the Jagged Stone and Anarka Couffaine 16 years ago. in the present day, The Box is in the procession of Juleka Couffaine and may be the only thing that can save Paris from Monarch.

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

Please share all you can about Toa the orca calf, I think his story is very important. I don’t know too much but it seems like a case of activists being but in charge rather than actual experts.

Yeah it was a mess from start to finish. Toa was found stranded on the rocks, with witnesses saying the waves had thrown him up there. Already he would have been distressed and had been on his side on a hard surface for a few hours at least.

They got him back in the water and then videos of these interactions started to surface:

No PPE, giving Toa belly rubs and ignoring any formal rescue protocols (if you're trying to refloat a whale, you're not letting them turn upside down)

The sun was going down and DOC wanted people out of the water. Ingrid was on her way and giving instructions to her team. The decision was made to put Toa on a trailer overnight - it's unclear if that was her decision or not but it's clear that, despite not having any rehab facilities in New Zealand, people were determined to rehab this calf and release it back into the wild at any cost.

So they cobbled together a "sea pen" on a boat ramp in a dirty harbour. This is where Toa would eventually die in a few weeks time. Whale Rescue was already selling the story of a miraculous rescue and the plan to "reunite" Toa with his pod. And lying openly that orca calves had been successfully released in the wild before:

He wasn't injured, they said. He was fine. They just had to find his pod now.

When asked reasonable question about where the PPE was for volunteers, Whale Rescue immediately became defensive:

The call for PPE went ignored for about a day while people were in close contact with a sick orca. And the call went out for more "volunteers" aka anyone with a wetsuit. This sparked immediate concerns from the Advisory Group.

Photos like this started showing up - 6 people crowding Toa in a circle, no where for him to go if he wanted a break from people:

The excuse was that Toa needed help swimming. Yet he was swimming okay and avoiding the fences without any obvious issue. And so the habituation began... Despite continuing advice from the Technical Advisory Group - including Loro Parque and SeaWorld, who both have extensive calf raising experience.

"There is no need to have people 24/7 in the water when the animal is able to float and swim alone."

Finally PPE was being used but the habituation and intense contact with Toa continued. Ingrid gave it the okay and other inexperienced members of the public continued to encourage it.

Whale Rescue continued to affirm to the public that they are merely "duplicating natural behaviour" for Toa

And the cultish and unquestioning worship of Ingrid Visser allowed this to continue - note the amount of people in the water for Toa's "massage." They only started wearing PPE when people started questioning it.

If you're wondering what I mean by cultish behaviour see the comment thread below:

They actually believe that Ingrid was communicating with Toa. Because that's what she told them she was doing. And they believed it without question.

When Toa was moved into the freshwater pool due to storms, it got even worse.

This photo was quickly deleted but look how absolutely foul the water is:

There didn't appear to be any sort of filtration or pump system.

At this point volunteers and Ingrid were being fed by donated food from the local pubs, Ingrid was sleeping on site in a donated campervan and the entire community were rallying around trying to "help." Note how close they're all set up to the pool.

Putting him in the pool also made Toa a lot more accessible. Concerns were raised about the stress to the calf and an exclusion zone was agreed upon. Buuut it was immediately disregarded.

7 people! In that tiny pool! And the photos of the complete flouting of the rules continued to surface.

The comments find it all very amusing!

Roll up, roll up! Come and see the dying baby orca calf!

And then, as we near the end of this animal's torment, Ingrid brags to the press about how she's now TRAINING the animal she intends to release into the wild. Because we definitely want to be training cooperative care and making life saving feeding and hydrating procedures all about Choice.

Remember when Ingrid Visser didn't like the "exploitation" of orcas in captivity? Remember when she said that training "tricks", even husbandry behaviours, is cruel and bad? I do!

It makes me seriously wonder if she just wanted to be an orca trainer all her life.

But anyway, Toa's getting bouts of colic (gee, maybe changing the formula without permission wasn't a good idea!) and DOC is starting to get concerned about him. At this point, people are still denying that SeaWorld and Loro Parque are involved and any mention of a facility getting involved is immediately shut down.

This is what was being said in the Advisory Group:

At this point both SeaWorld and Loro Parque have provided formulas, advice ect. Ingrid Visser was claiming she knew these things all along and that the formulas were from her hand picked experts.

So these are what the comments were:

Whale Rescue thought it was appropriate to reply to comments of concern like this:

The cult of Visser continues to fuel the anti human care sentiment.

DOC starts to report concerns with Toa's health and Whale Rescue decides to double down that everything is completely Fine. Don't listen to DOC, keep giving us money.

The donations are getting up to 20k.

Because of Whale Rescue casting dispersions, anti DOC (Department of Conservation - who put in about 10k into the rescue efforts) sentiments grow.

And, only a few days later, Toa dies. I reached the end of my image limit but I still have plenty more screenshots I can share.

I recommend you check out the documents released by DOC to see the sources of these screenshots - the other screenshots were taken from news reports, Facebook groups and posts as well as videos:

[seat-safety-switch]

Movies make nitrous oxide seem so much more exciting than it really is. Green exhaust flames, super blurry vision, cars that instantly do wheelies and jump drawbridges. Completely rad. If nitrous oxide was so cool, I ask Hollywood, then why does my dentist have a whole bunch of it? The truth of the matter is that nitrous oxide has one hell of a lot of marketing goodwill, built on the dreams of every broke-ass drag racer on the planet.

First, a primer: cars run on oxygen and fuel. As anyone who's run up a hill can tell you, there's only so much air in the air that you can breathe, and there is basically an infinity of Burger King Whoppers you can practically eat. It's not fair, so we have to make it more fair.

There's ways to compress the air, and cram more of it into the engine. Then we can eat more Whoppers – I mean fuel – and make more power. We've all heard of miraculous mechanical devices for adding air, such as turbos and superchargers, but those cost a lot of money and involve complex fabrication. Nitrous oxide, a gas that we get from whales or some shit, accomplishes the same goal just by being sprayed into the engine.

It's sort of like if you gave an asthma inhaler to a Tour de France bicycle dude. He'd go a lot faster for a few seconds until and unless his heart explodes. Or maybe not. Don't get medical advice from me. Treat your captive Tour de France bicycle dudes like you yourself would want to be treated (and for the love of Pete, get them spayed or neutered if you let them outside.)

Hollywood has largely failed to make the intricacies of nitrous, such as not being able to afford filling an entire bottle with today's prices, into a compelling narrative. The sequel to Two Lane Blacktop was never approved because the middle 40 minutes of the film consists of the two of them digging through a half-abandoned parts store looking for the exact AN fitting they need for the fuel system. That's not how you win even a soundtrack Oscar. So instead, they do this crazy movie shit, which in turn makes a lot of other people buy nitrous setups. They want to be like the famous movie star Mr. Bean.

I'm not asking for perfect realism, here, folks. All I want is the occasional admission that sometimes you forget to turn on your bottle heater before making a pass.

[jattendschaton]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @rosekasa!!! <3<3<3<3

I love you dearly and I hope you enjoy some established relationship fluff on this momentous day.

“So, I was ‘Buttercup’ all along?” It’s a little after midnight when Chat Noir taps on Marinette’s window, dropping his transformation as she opens her trapdoor. His smile borders on goofy, particularly when framed by a pressed white T-shirt with nary a wrinkle to disturb its soft fabric and his contraband Ladybug boxers. He takes off his shoes before dropping onto her bed and she already has his favorite pair of slippers ready to offer. They’re plush and fuzzy and ridiculous, one black with green googly eyes and stiff cat ears, and the other red and spotted with little black beads for eyes and antennae long past their youth, flopping exhaustively with each tap of his feet. He’s all movement, bubbling energy that threatens to spill past its container, the twist of his fingers and bounce of his legs and the way he swings his body so he’s lying back on her bed, head hanging off the end so even his hair can float and wobble with him. She loves to see him like this. It doesn’t quite match her own frenetic energy—hers usually spurred by discontent and spiraling panic—but it dances alongside her like they’ve found their own unique communication. Bees waggling to share garden locations, a whale’s waltz in the first counts of courtship, a cat brushing along its people, and them . Buzzing and swaying and skimming each other's skin like they have more to say than simple words. “Hello to you too,” she says, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “‘Hello, 'Buttercup,’ you mean.”

[orthodoxadventure]

In the city of Vologda there is a unique 19th century icon, painted on a whale’s vertebra. A probable story of its origin says that the icon was ordered by a whale fisherman A.M. Latkin, as a token of gratitude for his miraculous rescue in a shipwreck.

The icon contains images of the Saviour and the Transfiguration, as well as angels, apostles and saints, including the prophet Jonah with the whale. [source]

[vampiretendencies]

for my mental wellbeing PLS PLS PLS PLS write dad to be jj again

i beg of you. i was literally in a depressive episode and reading ur last jj fic was such a pick-me up. (ps ty for that 😭)

i LOVE u & i hope ur okay love

pairing; dadtobe!jj x pregnant!fem!reader

warnings; fluff, mentions of pregnancy, throwing up, talk of feet if thats a trigger for some, suggestive

authors note; came up with this earlier. hope this helps you, even if it's a little bit.

Hell has frozen over and JJ Maybank is folding laundry.

Really, he's only doing it so he can see the small animal patterned baby socks and the wholesome footy onsies. You'd washed them in preparation, as the nursery is adorned with all things baby, and your due date is to come any day now. Creeping it's way in, however pregnancy has been somewhat of a breeze with JJ at your beck and call.

Even if you are blowing chunks in the morning, he's breaking his rest in bare skin to hold your hair and press kisses to your spine.

"S'okay baby, still so pretty.” Is something along the lines of what he typically says, unbothered by the miraculous bile that ejects from your insides— using the nearest towel to clean you up earnestly and eagerly, he couldn’t fathom his baby appearing so helpless. Carrying your limp body back to bed, in his broad, bulky arms, insisting that you rest and not move a muscle.

He is so overly passionate when it comes to soon to be family.

He’s adapting to being a father, but he’s still the same old JJ.

“Do you think babies know they’re babies?”

You sat beside him on the fluffed out couch, nose crinkled in a manner of ‘what the hell are you talking about now’. JJ awaits your answer, absentmindedly folding a small pair of new born pants. The clothes basket is about half way full now and it’s taken him an hour to simply get that done, admiring the baby clothes and dreaming of when he gets to swallow the child whole with his enamoured ways.

“What, JJ?” You sighed exasperatedly, his antics peeling beneath your skin as he’s been doing this the lot of the time being seated here. Though he’s folding laundry his finger tips still find their way to your inner thigh, squeezing at the flesh with ease. Unable to go through extended periods of time without the proximity of your fiery being.

Always touching, explains the reasoning behind you being pregnant.

“Like what if our baby thinks-“

“JJ …” he knows he’s irked those pregnant hormones a bit too far from the rolling of your eyes and the way you keep saying JJ in protest for him to ‘stop talking about something so overly stupid’. Usually there’s so much patience in your voice when a ‘J’ rolls off your tongue calling his name. “I don’t know what you’re talking about … my fuckin’ feet hurt, my head is pounding, and I feel like a Goddamn whale.”

JJ eyes bulge, gesturing his hands in a surrendering way for he knows that any little thing that agitates you in the slightest will send you over the edge— breaking closer and closer to being dilated and in a hospital room. But, he never holds it against you, acknowledging that you mean no harm, merely in aching pain every growing hour.

Kind of like a shut up while you’re ahead sort of thing.

“Sexiest Goddamn whale I've ever seen," he tries to compliment, throwing a onesie to the side, the darting of your eyes makes the mischievous smirk on his face grow all the more wider.

There's always an urge of neediness behind every smirk.

His index finger traces your cheek bone to gain your full attention rather then the slim phone in your hands, a pout is beginning to form and it's making JJ's heart burst.

"M'not in the mood J, my belly's just gonna' get in the way."

"Never, your belly would make it even better ... but that's not the route I was taking baby, let me show you, yeah?"

And you nod willingly letting him take the pain away. JJ's dropping to his knees, keeping your complaint in mind that your 'fuckin' feet hurt.' Though your eyebrows furrow, you decided not to question, wishfully hoping for his contact despite it.

Pushing the throw blanket that was in your lap to the side, he puckers his lips around your knee. Practically worshipping the legs in front of him. Peering up at you with sensuous eyes, short-lived as he molds his mouth with the skin of your calves, granting each and every inch of skin with solicitous osculating kisses. Delicate with the way his large hands hold them upright to meet his mouth. Suctioning and delving all he could possibly reach.

"Thank you for carrying our sweet baby."

His voice sent goosebumps, vibrations of his heavy voice elevating to the point of you not being unable to muster a 'you're welcome' or 'of course'. Instead, your head falls back to collide with the couch cushion, eyes closing. Relishing in every empyrean like movement your lover ignited; heaven bled through every sullen kiss.

It came to a halt and know he's kneading your feet, oh so soft, lathered thick of a vanilla musked lotion. From the big toe to the heel his knuckles massage the foot, almost melting the swelling away like clockwork.

"Feel better, baby?"

"Feels so much better, J."

[calp0sa]

hhello i have no idea how to start this SO i just wanted to say your art is actually so awesome and cool and like inspiring and weirdly nostalgic to me?? like ive genuinely never felt so much appreciation and calming feelings from any other art like the way you draw is so intriguing and its like nothing else ever!:!!/!:? im not good at explaining things but your stuff is just beautiful and cool and maybe im biased because im an airy fictionkin but you’re my favorite artist ever i think ANWAYS IGMORE MY RAMBLING my favorite art by you is uhhh tthe one whwre airy is sitting and there is a whale in the background yay ^_^

too nervous to not use anon option soryydfenfj

holy cucumber garden, you have delivered a pickle jar of friendliness. well i find it interesting how often my art gets described as “nostalgic”, i don’t really understand why but i think it’s very sweet nonetheless…

although nothing is truly lost to time, it just sort of becomes friends with time, and then goes for a walk with it. and you can visit that thing as much as you’d like. it’s still there. if it happened, it will always be there. time is your friend as well, we’re all going for a walk with it. maybe that’s why people think my art is nostalgic; i visited something far away, said hi to it, then started having frequent conversations and pleasant afternoons with it. so when someone says “your art is very nostalgic for me” i think “oh, my art would like to go for a walk with this person. that’s nice” anyway sorry for the nonsense tangent i’m just really fascinated with how art affects people on both sides.

(i should also add that you’re perfectly fine at explaining things. you did a good job saying what you needed to say)

and i think what’s also interesting is that i’m an airy fictionkin as well!!!! your “bias” is resonance; you resonate with the things i make because the things i make come from aspects of myself you’re able to resonate with and i know i’m speaking in tonguetwisters at this point but it’s one of the million billion miraculous things about art and i love when it happens and i love hearing about it happening and I am getting ahead of myself but anyway you’re great don’t be nervous i’m basically airy uncle grandpa

[fairytalesofthewind]

And flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight (The Fall of Icarus)

A Sunlight by Hozier x Daedalus and Icarus by Ovid x Jegulus fic

Read on Ao3 

961 words

Regulus hated his life with his parents, even more now that his brother was gone. He longed to join Sirius in his self made exile. He couldn’t imagine a world without his love, but it had now been closed off by the seas between them. 

But even though his parents, the seas, land and waves obstructed his path to Sirius and happiness, he would find another way. The land and the seas may hinder him, but the skies lie open. His mother might control many arts of magic and with that also people, but she did not possess, nor did she control, the sky. 

Regulus knew he had to resort to unknown arts, magic not even familiar to his terrible mother. A type of magic that was hidden in the deepest part of their Black library. A magic that would allow him to change his nature. 

The freckles on his shoulder blades, of which the Black brothers always claimed looked like constellations, were replaced by feathers in rows. A warm and foreign magic placed small feathers connected by thread on his skin, before adding longer ones. Then wax joined in such a way that eventually beautiful wings were created. 

He was already standing near the window of his room. Isolated from his family, sent without food after the smallest of disagreements. He looked at the picture of Sirius, grinning at him from his dresser. He was unaware of Sirius’ peril on the other side of the seas dividing them, but aware of the urgency of his freedom. 

Regulus admired the miraculous work of this ancient magic, and moved his thumb over the yellow wax. He let out a beaming smile, he could finally be free. 

Regulus, however, was still a reasonable boy. He knew not to fly too low, for then the waves would weigh down the feathers. He knew not to fly too high, lest the sun burns the wax off his wings. He would find the golden middle course, which was already very familiar to him after years of mediating in the Ancient and Noble House of Black. 

He also knew not to get distracted by other destinations, but to fly straight to Sirius. He knew he had to follow the path the magic paved for him; a dark purple string of stars. 

As the magic seized the way, Regulus did not doubt his plan any longer. He threw himself out of the window with the unfamiliar wings, and with the fear of falling and failing, his cheeks grew wet. His hands trembled, but he blamed the strong winds. Underneath the night sky, he felt the stars kiss his cheeks, until the sun greeted him again hours later. 

At first, Regulus felt like a young bird that jumped unknowingly from a high nest into the even more unknown skies. But with the magic guiding him, he soon flew like an experienced albatross, master of soaring flight.  

He did not only see the night sky turn into a colourful and hopeful morning, but he saw the lives of those familiar with the sea. At night he saw many glowing jellyfish along the shore, before the fishermen took over in the early morning. He saw how the large whales avoided the big ships moving towards the docks. He did not only see the fishermen, but they also saw him. They believed him to be a god with his graceful flying. 

Regulus, now more confident, deserted the path the magic had paved for him. Instead, he noticed another strong magic. Not purple and guiding, but sparkling and desperate. He was attracted to the desire to follow it, but the closer he flew, the more tired he became. However tired, the less distance there was, the more warmth his body received. The desire for that safe warmth spread from his fingertips to his heart. 

The vicinity of the source of this wonderful magic overwhelmed him. After hours of flying he once again felt his entire body tremble. After the long journey, he felt the wax chipping away, the feathers following also. Feather after feather fell, until it was only his bare arms and a little bit of magic holding him in the air. It did nothing to halt him, especially not after seeing his destination. He shouted their names, first in glee, but then in fear. Until the sea right before them all took their names from him. 

Both men startled into action. They found feather after feather in the waves, but not Regulus. Until one of them looked back to the shore, where a body lay protected by a purple mist made of stars. 

It was not his brother, but another man, who reached Regulus first. In the most gentle way possible, James took Regulus in his arms. The stars danced around them in approval before they dissapeared into the sea’s gentle waves. 

James felt immense relief as the boy breathed softly against the hand holding his cheek, and he felt his own tears brush over his cheeks. He felt his hands trembling before Sirius joined the embrace. Three of them shared tears of relief. 

As Regulus met James’ eyes it was not his body that took flight, but his heart and soul. Like the stars just moments before, it was as if they danced around them. 

Regulus had been a rational, reasonable boy, and had not flown too close to the sea nor the sun, but he knew that he had flown to his own sunlight. He flew like a moth to James. 

His soul, like his heart, felt like it was filled by sunlight. A soul that was born in the cold and rain, was now surrounded by the love of his brother and the burning flame called James Potter.

[wickedsick]

Ranking the shirts from the Sealed-Environment Phase: Part 1

Fancy Border polo: 4/10

I like the trim on the collar, but the design itself is too fancy for it's size and placement.

Mr Grizz: 7/10

It's a good design, but it doesn't grab me like some of the others.

Phone with arm: 9/10

Now this is a design! I'd wear this in real life.

Pointillist cat: 12/10

Incredible. Showstopping. Miraculous. I'd buy this. I'd buy multiple of this, in pride flag colors.

Bowtie button-down: 8/10

A shirt for shitheads. I love it.

Whale on fire: 7/10

I was going to give it a 6, then I noticed the flames.

Stylish dinosaur: 6/10

A good shirt, but not my style.

Fancy bird: 5/10

Again, design's too fancy for where it's placed.

Stylized peacock: 6/10

Better than the previous for having a sort of abstract stylization

Strawberry bite: 8/10

The shirt of mysteries. Why is this strawberry so juicy? How did someone take that bite out of it?

[sgiandubh]

'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers'

It is one thing to disprove and even despise The Shire and its netizens. It is a whole other affair to violently bash S's skills, based on absolutely nothing else than spiteful disappointment.

We are being told by Mordor's basement polymaths the man cannot act. It is probably by an unelucidated strike of luck or by charity that he was cast by *** to embody book boyfriend JAMMF, when he has only 5 (five) known facial expressions in his quiver. He was the weakest link of Season 1 cast: I suppose the BJ/Frank Randall 2-in-1 does have a fan club, after all. His acting is wooden. He has chemistry only with C and by Her grace only, because you know, gay as a bag of popcorn. He is a semi-literate hunk, with documented spelling problems. Even more so, when we conveniently toss aside the mounting hysteria during Quarantein Ha-wa-wee disgrace (hey Pooks and all the sock account Dobermans: I hope you remember your Twitter blaze of glory moment every single morning while brushing your teeth). And (also a favorite) he doesn't read, he doesn't prepare, he is sloppy, like that.

God forbid you'd try to set this colossal unfairness straight. You are automatically signed up to the Mommies for Sam Committee and labeled accordingly. Brainless victim (of what, since he is basically useless, but let's not embarrass ourselves with logic), unapologetic limerent inamorata, romantic whale, delusional rural shipper, conspiracy theory troll. Anything goes, really and we know the tune by heart, at this point in time.

Not so long ago, I was re-watching the oath sequence of (5.01) The Fiery Cross, for which I suppose all background/context is superfluous. The only clip I could find has appalling sound, but should still immediately take you back to the Return of the Kilt (starts at 0:56):

It immediately reminded me of this:

This is the extraordinary Henry V Saint Crispin's Day speech. Pure Shakespeare and unmatchable Olivier. It is also a well-documented kamikaze moment of the Battle of Agincourt (1415), when a heavily outnumbered English army defeated in an almost miraculous turn of events the French. Granted, the real speech must have been way more concise, but nevertheless a potent affair, with Henry's cunning use of rumors having it that the French would cut two fingers off each captured archer's right hand, to virtually neutralize them. And his army was, essentially, an army of longbows.

Whatever it was, it worked. It worked so well, that it even gave Winston Churchill the idea of asking Laurence Olivier to broadcast this speech for the BBC some time around 1942 and then make a movie of the whole play, in 1944. Again, context is important -it always is, by the way - and it sheds the right light on Olivier's performance. More than acting, it is damn effective war propaganda, a wonderful patriotic act and completely representative for the "we shall fight them on the beaches and we shall never surrender" spirit. It is also all about acting as summoning of energy: Olivier manages to channel Henry V, he is Henry V and this immediately gives an irresistible depth and truth to his performance.

For contrast, one could compare his version with Branagh's 1989 interpretation (https://youtu.be/y1BhnepZnoo), which I am not adding here for the sake of levity. The main difference is, for me at least, palpable: Olivier completely suppressed his ego, which I am afraid is something impossible to achieve for Branagh. His take on the speech aims to be more modern and natural, and yet it is still all about Branagh promoting his art. And we know it immediately. A fairly honest tableau vivant, but no depth and nowhere near as majestic as the other.

I am not saying here that S is on par with Laurence Olivier. That would really mean being a romantic whale and I am the one you start to get, I hope, acquainted with. What I am saying is that this guy you just love to humiliate and endlessly cackle about every single day God makes, really, deliberately knows what he is doing in there. I would bet handsome money on S carefully watching and re-watching Olivier's Saint Crispin's Day monologue, in order to prepare for that particular scene. The similarities are, to me, evident, as is the consistent hard work and - dare I say it?- massive talent. It's all about owning the scene and being in the moment. And it is arresting, at times.

All of this is not exactly some shipper far-fetched speculation. S wrote, after all, in Waypoints (and the reference is way too spot on to believe in a kind gesture of the ghostwriter) that he "devoured"

I see great things. I see a very gifted guy who has no ego (C was spot on and for an actor, that is a blessing) and also probably no idea of his (considerable) acting range. I also see a guy who, spare for OL, has been grossly, unfairly miscast and overlooked. And who was determined to take whatever was available or easy on the schedule, in order to remain relevant. I may not be a good client for his booze, but I would pay handsomely to see him in something along the lines of For Whom The Bell Tolls. Or even (if you want a more exotic but oh, so rewarding alternative) a still inexplicably missing Western adaptation of Bulgakov's Master and Margarita (probably not the best times for that one, but still: Bulgakov was, after all, born in Kyiv and not really a fan, to say the least, of tyrants). That's exactly how damn good he is.

How was it, Kidneystone BIF? Oh. "No boundaries. No respect. No class." Exactly, madam. You said it yourself.

[rexmarksleysnumberonefan]

"Hey Spine? What's your favorite piece of Rex merch that you own? I know it's hard to choose just one so if you can't, just name your top three. Also any merch that you DON'T have? It's important for uh....reasons." She totally is gonna get him that he doesn't have for his birthday, aka the day he was turned online for the first time. -saiiidmaybe

Howdy :] It would be impossible to choose one, you're right on that front, partner.

my favorites in no particular order are;

the specialty bean can, that is kept AWAY FROM THE PANTRY (we almost had a disaster one time. Those animals...) An adorable little jackalope plush, wearing a smaller version of Rex's hat and bandana. He has been named T-Rex (as in Tiny Rex, but also a dinosaur pun, because we like to have fun around here) and of course, my replica of the miraculous lighting gauntlet! The most glorious thing ever

there are a few items I don't own, mostly working weapon replicas, which would be awesome, but I'm not so much of an idiot to bring working weaponry in the manor. but something that does elude me is the 18-inch statue of Rex and his mighty steed. it is made of ABS plastic and was in production in '07, and has become something of my white whale so to speak...

- The Spine

[imthepunchlord]

So out of curiosity, if you do decide to go with your newer version of the miracle box, would you change to the dragon to a more normal animal? I mostly since you have stated several times that you, understandably, don't like mythical animals being miraculous, especially when their lower on the totem poll/hierarchy. Also, if you do change it, what would you change it to (since you already have a fish and two serpents), maybe a dragonfly or a whale (since apparently the Persian zodiac is basically the same as the Chinese zodiac but instead of a dragon they have a whale)

Chances are good I'll probably keep it, as it's what's expected, and Dragon is pretty iconic part of the Chinese Zodiac. But hey, I can think of reasons on why Dragon is on the lowest hierarchy so I can make it work and roll with it better.

Like, going with the idea that kwamis were fantastical creatures before, Longg could've been a carp that jumped the Dragon Gate and ascended to a draconic form. And when asked if he would host a Miraculous, he agreed, but requested to be a dragon as he worked so hard to obtain this form.

Another thought is that just as magnificent as Longg is as a dragon, he is humble, and rather be lower on the hierarchy than sitting at the top. That even in his great majesty and standing, he does not soar above others. This is backed by the factor that he doesn't come across as a egotistical or haughty kwami (at most, you can pick up self-pride).

Probably the only thing I'd really change is just making his two big horns all black. I was never a fan of his party hat horns.

If I did change it, I'd probably stick to Dragonfly, as the kwami was Longg with just wings. And it could've brought an insect to every group.

But I'll probably stick to Dragon and think of reasons for why Longg is there in placement when you'd expect a Dragon to be more elevated in position.

[bittersweetresilience]

miraculous masterpost 🦚

writing

sentitwin soulmate au (Félix and Adrien are soulmates. Amélie and Emilie used to be just as close. On hiatus.) ghost félix au (Félix just wanted it to stop hurting. On hiatus.) sentitwin omori au (Adrien wakes up. Emilie is home. On hiatus.)

never been in love (Félix comes to terms with being aromantic.) metempsychosis (Félix is in a time loop.) i've drowned and dreamt this (Adrien has a problem.) no one listens to the dead (Félix and Adrien switch places.) oh, no, not again (For Félix, time travel is a dangerous thing.) band-aid (Adrien helps Félix through a panic attack.) for what we've done (During Emotion, Marinette chooses differently.) garden of dreams (Adrien takes care of Félix when he dissociates.) i want to hold the hand inside you (Félix gives Marinette his ring.) loose leaves (Marinette shares a morning with Félix and Kagami.) come alive when the light dies (Ladybug remembers Patte de Velours in the Burrow.) in certain light, i can plainly see (Félix lets Marinette kiss his hand.) handle with care (Félix takes Adrien to meet his horse.) aftertaste (Ladybug brings Adrien to a picnic date.)

better left unsaid (Snake Noir visits Félix after Réplique.) brave, truthful, and unselfish (Five times Félix lied to Adrien.) ephialtes / reverie (Félix survives the night of the Diamonds' Dance.) sleep (Runaway Chat Noir and Félix have a conversation.)

and a couple others i haven't made posts for which you can find here!

analysis

why félix makes me insane why i read félix as aromantic why félix would go by his father's last name random félix defenses in my stash timeline of félix events

félix and flairmidable as pandora's myth félix as a classical or method actor sentitwin sun and moon symbolism

sentitwin soulmate au meta / more / more

every scene where the miraculous theme song plays in minor definitely not every scene where in the rain plays

parallels between marinette, adrien, gabriel, and émilie parallels between exaltation and chat blanc parallels between gabemilie and feligami

french history and gabriel's color palette plikki at the end of the world

adrien agreste and borderline personality disorder

webweaves

félix fathom amélie graham de vanily felinette / more / more philosophy / more the whiteness of the whale hearth and thirteen paris special chat blanc twins / more feligami ladyvelours team is a four letter word

amvs

how far we've come / miraculous ladybug i could fight on a wall / ladynoir end credits / felinette emperor's new clothes / félix fathom i can't decide / félix fathom this side of paradise / ladrien savior / ladyblanc tightrope / djwifi are you bored yet? / kuro neko way down we go / félix fathom

playlists

émilie agreste kitty section

gifs

sentitwins felinette / more / more / more feligami / more félix fathom the wish

fic recs

félix sentitwins feligami ladynoir

other

miraculous frozen au miraculous infinity train au

murder at the graham de vanily dinner party birds of a feather

as time goes by podfic

thirteen poem félix poem

in the rain a capella

[princess-of-the-corner]

I just discovered that in Russian the words for "cat" and "whale" are a single letter apart.

Now, can you think of how much mileage Chat Noir would take out of this if Miraculous was a Russian show?

Absolutely.

[gluttonygirls]

@pentuplesized

"So yeah, chat, I did it, I guess."

Trying to be nonchalant while she bragged. Calli tilted back her head. Taking a long sip of soda from a can, her other hand went down to her pants. Reaching past her belly, purposefully failing to be subtle with it, she looped one of her fingers into her jeans. Tugging them up, she fruitlessly failed to drag them any higher up her waist. The mountain of her gut overflowing her lap and filling her couch side to side bounced, shaking as her hips did the same.

"Big four digits. One, zero, zero, zero. The half-ton."

Smirking, she leaned back, tossing aside the empty can. A small belch rumbled up from her lips as she patted her belly appreciatively, just in time to see a message pop up.

[NoStomachPainNoBlobGain Donated $1,200: Nice! I just passed 1,200 pounds last week! Maybe you'll catch up sometime, skinny!]

"...Hey, Deadbeats. I know it's been a short stream, but... ufff..."

Planting her hands on her belly, the whale of a woman wheezed as she hauled herself up. Belly slapping against the floor, her wide ass leaving the couch she'd been sitting on, Calli leaned in towards the camera. Hands resting on her hips, she smirked.

"But I'm gonna call it here, k? Don't worry, I'll be back in around a week, so look forward to big things." A smile, a wave, and an odd look in her eyes as she ends stream.

------------------------------------------------

A few days pass, and you start to feel bad. Laying in your bed, an immobile, massive mountain of a person, you wobble atop your mattress as you scroll through social media. Ever since your comment on Calli's stream, no one had seen the reaper anywhere, even other Holo members commenting on her disappearance.

You hadn't meant to hurt her feelings, just teasing her and encouraging her like she did with other streamers. Sighing to yourself, you decided to just put it out of mind.

Shick!

You startle, your bed groaning as you turn your head to look around. Something had struck the wall to your bedroom, the tip of something peeking through the wall. It retracted, and with another slicing sound it came through the wall fully.

The head of a scythe.

It dragged downwards, carving through the drywall like paper. You felt something rise in your throat as it cut a wide swathe of your wall out. Corner to corner, ceiling to floor, it sliced out the entire support.

With a crash it collapsed outwards, landing at the foot of an enormous shadow.

"Hey there, Deadbeat."

Huffing, her scythe's grip digging into her belly as she held it before her, the reaper took a wobbling step forward. She was heavy enough to shake the room as she entered it, your even larger mass bouncing on your bed. You stammer, shocked to see her, but as she takes another quaking step you see something in her eyes you don't like.

"That was pretty mean, showing me up on my own stream." Stepping forward, the bottom of her belly bumps into your side, your gelatinous figures touching even with her head six feet away from yours. You can feel the haft of the scythe caught between you both, the blade facing you. "But the really mean part?"

"Tempting me."

You open your mouth to reply, but find the back of the scythe head at your tubby, triple chinned throat. The other blob pouts.

"I want to get big. Really big. But it's tough. I have to do a lot of streaming, do reaping, and it all digs into the time I could be stuffing my fat ass to get it fatter. There's only one way to go around that."

The scythe gets closer.

"And it's to eat a soul. A really plump, big, fat one. It'll add all those pounds to me, but the problem with that? I like my friends, so I don't want to do that to them."

"I don't really like you, though."

She menaces you with the scythe for a moment more before she tosses it aside. Grunting, you feel the breath get knocked out of you as Calli crawls on top of you, slow. Her belly is in the way, her knees digging into the underside of her own gut, but miraculously you can see she's making progress. You whine, groan, and burp as her weight squishes you down into the mattress, making you more helpless than you already were.

"The scythe was just for show, I'm not reaping you, I'm eating you."

Licking her lips, she opened wide.

"So thanks for the donation, I'll make sure all those pounds get put to good use."