#thirsty pigeon

[bammtoris]

Khonshu drinks like this i don't take criticism.

#moon knight #khonshu #fanart #my art #listen animation MY WORST ENEMY i have never done it in my life yet #also why he squeezes his eyes if its eye holes hes a dead egyptian bird obsessed with the moon idk if u are in any position to question #my decisions on making him a lil scrunkly #anyway #thirsty pigeon

[ayakashibackstreet]

My empathy is all over the place, I almost cried because I felt bad for letting my computer overheat like that, it must have felt so awful, its insides were basically cooking... meanwhile I still have pretty much zero empathy towards humans ✌️

#felt really sad for the pigeons too since it's so hot and they're probably thirsty #still nothing for humans #autism is funny sometimes #it's harder to be kind when you're like this to be honest #but the effort is worth it

[themotherofhorses]

Handmaid!reader and Aemond having a picnic with Vhagar in the background and playing with their children.

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

notes: dad!aemond makes my ovaries hurt so fucking much.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

The morning of their planned family picnic dawned bright and sunny, with only a few puffy white clouds scattered across the sky. Such a perfect summer day, and his twin boys were beyond excited, nothing more than a pair of pups bouncing and wagging and yapping at their sire’s feet. Large, twinkling violet eyes and small pouts they gave him, and he could not say no to them.

So Aemond called for a royal cook to pack them a lunch before telling his sweet girl to dress comfortable, in one of the pretty and thin dresses he had tailored for outside events.

At midday, they settle outside King’s Landing, along the Blackwater Rush, tucked within a flowered grove with cool green grass and shade. The currents are wicked and treacherous, they warn their children. Do not venture too close, lest you be drowned in the waters.

But the boys are too taken with Vhagar, who slumbers behind them, to care the slightest about the river.

His handmaid sits beside him, upon the thick fleeced blanket, nursing their new daughter at her breast. Her back is to their sons, but Aemond has a feeling she’s aware of their every move around his dragon. Mother’s instincts. But gods, she’s so pretty in the sunlight, he thinks, with her arms filled with his own, and he’s stricken with lovesickness once again.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” Aemond asks.  

She lifts her head to look at him. “Hm?” Her voice is soft, airy and calm. “What is sweet?”

He gestures around them, to their woven picnic basket and the great rushing river, and their children and the beauties of the land. Scattered about the blanket is half a suckling pig and buttered turnips and a piping nutty bread loaf, as well as a pigeon pie, at the request of their twins. “Everything in this very moment.” He lifts his chalice to his lips, taking a quick sip of his mead.

“It is peaceful, quiet, and just our family- the way it should be. We ought to do this more. There is no need to worry about bloodshed and wagging tongues and wandering eyes. It’s just us.”

We’re husband and wife, he wants to add, but instead remains silent.

The elm, the alder, and the black cottonwood see us as nothing more, and nothing less.  

She smiles. “Yes, my prince,” she agrees, before glancing back down, to stroke their daughter’s browbone with her thumb, and coo at the little noises. Alysanne, they named her, after her own grandmother and the Good Queen Alysanne. She had been born during the early springtime, while a thunderstorm raged outside, and her father wept tears of joy inside. She has her mother’s features, to his delight.  

“Ah, well, it seems you were quite hungry, my little one,” she tells the babe, giggling.

“She’s a dragon, my love. Perhaps she wishes to grow as big and strong as Vhagar.”

“Maybe.”

Aemond snags two pieces of the bread and hands her one, before plopping the other in his mouth. It’s still warm on his tongue, and he can taste the sweet walnuts and hazelnuts, and the pumpkin and oat seeds.

It’s then that one of their boys- the youngest of the two, Aenar, creeps behind his father, before flinging his arms around his neck. “Hello, father,” he whispers, nuzzling his plump face against Aemond’s cheek. Aemion slides next to his mother, kissing her on the cheek. Both boys are red-cheeked and bubbling with breathless laughter, clutching their tiny wooden stick swords in their hands.

Their mother clicks her tongue. “Are you thirsty?” she asks, reaching for the water jug. “And look at you! All sweaty and soiled, what shall we ever do with the both of you?” Aemond takes the little Alysanne from her arms as she tends to the boys, washing the sweat and dirt from them with a cool, damp cloth. But she’s laughing too, and it soon makes him laugh as well.

Aemond leans in, sniffing Aenar. “You smell more dragon than human now. Should your mother and I be worried you’ll sprout wings tonight?”  

“Vhagar allowed for us to climb her legs!” Aenar exclaims, wiping his fingers on his tunic, then chewing on a piece of meat he stole from his father’s plate. Aemion nods from where he’s seated in his mother’s lap, nestled against her chest.  

“We felt like you, father! Big and strong and ready to claim a dragon of our own!”

Aemond smiles, and his handmaid giggles, and he reaches out to hold her hand in his. As their sons keep recounting their previous enjoyment with Vhagar, their fingers twine together as husband and wife.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #dad!aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

[toxintouch]

Love the thought of Mhin’s monster being terrifying; a true threat to your (the MC’s) safety, an insurmountable burden that has destroyed Mhin’s life and that’s why they are so desperate for a cure.

But also…

Thinking about Androcles removing the thorn from the lion’s paw…

The thought that maybe if the monster doesn’t successfully kill you the first time, it will recognize you the second.

That transformation looks like it hurts.  Before, after, during.

The idea that it will be a slow process, a dangerous one, but if you can survive, if you can calm it down–

Preening broken feathers.  A slow and methodical process, but your heart beats like you’re running for your life.  You keep retreating, feather by feather, because you’re not sure how stable this moment of calm is, how long you have before it will try to kill you again. 

You gain Mhin’s trust the same way.  Slow and methodical.  Showing your hands at all times.  No sudden movements.

Mhin knows you ran into their Monster–knows that you know.  They hate the thought of putting this much faith in another person but they hate the thought that the monster might get out and harm people even more.  You could be an ally in this too, they suppose…

They hand over a key to their safe house, show you how to use the security measures they have in place for when they transform.  They explain to you how to safely lock them inside–it can be done from either side effectively but Mhin never gives any thought to which side of the door you’d choose to be on…

You start asking Kuras for medical supplies, unable to give any information regarding why you need them.  You see someone selling hunting birds and carrier pigeons in the market so you ply them for information, paying them back by shelling out a ridiculous amount of money on whatever care products look like they might be moderately useful.

More preening broken feathers.  It seems to–they–seem to understand that you mean to help, now.  The process becomes easier.  You start carefully removing bits of broken glass you find embedded into them–you’re not sure how it got there, if the glass is something mystical or if they went on a little rampage before you were able to lead them into the safe house.  Maybe they’re just like a regular bird and they ran into something by accident.  Maybe it’s been there for years because no one’s been around (or able to) take it out.  

Does it hurt Mhin, too?

You’re even more determined with that thought, though you have to be so-very-careful because if you startle or hurt them, they become agitated.  You’re not sure if they would hurt you on purpose anymore, but they sure as hell could kill you by accident.

It burns your heart to leave some pieces in before Mhin changes back, but you know you have to.  You can’t help if you don’t stay safe. And Mhin always makes you promise to look after yourself when they can't.

Mhin transforms back and realizes that it didn’t take so much from them this time, that the usual pain is a little lesser, that they still ache but it isn’t debilitating.  They write it off at first but the thought sits at the back of their mind. Filling them with unrest. A thorn in their side that they cannot quite reach...

They go to their safe house to check how the locks are holding up and they notice some things.  A large basin for water. Your supplies.  A music box, of all things.

Needless to say, they’re horrified.  They demand to know what you’re doing.  Are you trying to get yourself killed?

“I knew you had no sense but–”

You assure them that you’re taking every precaution.

Besides, aren’t you doing the right thing?  It’s totally logical that they (–it , Mhin insists) can get thirsty, of course Mhin is feeling better when they aren’t being locked in an empty room deprived of water half the time.

The monster looks so sad, now that they aren’t trying to hurt you.  As they became more used to you, you began to see the parts where they and Mhin overlap.  Shared habits.  The way they settle down to sleep at night is the same…

Mhin hates the monster inside of them, but you don’t.

#i wrote this so fast i am omw out the door forgive me the are for sure mistakes this is the energy today that we are bringing #Something something loving the parts of someone that they think make them Bad And Terrible #but not in an ‘i can fix you way’ but in an i’m here to support you even when you’re at your lowest’ kinda way #Soft Mhin Hours ft. The Bird Monster #mhin touchstarved #Touchstarved Fanfic #Touchstarved game #grammar edits made next day #the music box is so Atheris-coded btw u know they gotta play their bird some tunes even while their hands are occupied #toxintouch writing #touchstarved Wishlist: Mhin

[quock-ko]

At July 10 2011, in the evening, I've realized that the pidge was gone from balcony! I worried, thinking how she's feeling outside, is she thirsty etc. Will she be able to find the way back if she wants to? But July 11 brought me a surprise: the pidge was back, sleeping peacefully in the morning sun! She introduced herself to the outside world for the second time after that hot windowsill in her chickhood, and came back for the water and food. Maybe already acquaintanced with some other pigeons. I guess that night she slept on the roof, and in the morning found my balcony again.

#pigeon #bird #sleeping #loafing #bird loaf #forehead #ruffled #cute birds #mine #pet pigeon

[loreleywrites]

Enough folks said they were interested in me posting about my ttrpg charcters, so I guess I'm gonna set up a poll and see who y'all are interested in hearing about. Character, game, and brief description in each option:

#loreleys OCs #nova maria rosalia moretti #matricks #legion #february “freddy” wayne gretzky dawson #bryce gallant #prism #kalliope vex

[neonbrutalism]

Would it be weird to want to read a small drabble of Miguel, who in the middle of training Miles, gets hit in the face by a drone? Cuz if it happened to Peter, and it happened to Miles, who's to say Miguel should be spared of that fate?

Miles is pretty sure the drone is buzzing them.

He gets it. He's the cool, new Spider-Man! The people of Brooklyn want to know more about him. See his tricks, his Js, his whole New Spider Thing. They want to know the ins and outs and ... probably maybe want to see if he's gonna die horribly like the last Spider-Man and catch it on video this time. It's like they didn't realize New York's heroes were human under their masks and now that they do, they have some kind of death pool going. Miles just wishes they'd go put their bets on Daredevil instead of on him.

Miguel is kind of aggro about the whole thing. The first drone that creeps on them, he just glares at for a minute before shooting it out of the sky.

The internet is covered in pictures the next day of "DEATH MASK SPIDER-MAN WEBS DRONE" and resulted in about eight bazillion thirsty comments about Tall, Dark and Clenched. Miles takes a lot of joy in reading a few of them out loud to an increasingly embarrassed Miguel the next day - until Miguel snatches his phone and tries to toss it into the river. Followed shortly by trying to toss Miles into the river.

The drone novelty wears off pretty fast after a web Miles is swinging from gets chopped by a drone blade for the third time that week, leaving him plummeting to the streets before he catches himself. Eventually, he grabs a drone and tells it directly, into the camera, to knock it the fuck off.

That doesn't help. If anything, it makes things worse. Now, he's getting buzzed every day - and sometimes, if Miguel's there, by multiple drones at once. He's pretty sure three of them see him mistime a swing and see hm wipe out on the roof and hit a pigeon coop.

They're turning a sharp corner when one of the drones comes in too low - Miles spider-sense lets him down and he only notices it when it's about 6 inches from his face and coming at him full speed.

But it's gone before he can so much as blink. There's a vicious crunch of metal and concrete and when Miles lands and looks around, Miguel's grabbed on to the corner of a building, mask half-pulled up and the drone crushed between his fangs. The plastic is sizzling a little from the venom dripping on to it.

"Woah," says Miles as he lands next to his weird ass mentor.

Miguel unclenches his jaw and drops the drone to the sidewalk, where it shatters further. He looks vaguely disgusted at the taste in his mouth.

"Don't look at me like that," he says, unamused.

"Teeth first, huh?" says Miles, lightly.

Miguel says nothing and spits out a shard of plastic before pulling his mask back down, grumbles something under his breath and leaps up to the roof. Miles follows him, snickering.

When they get back to Miles' home later that night, his dad is waiting for them on the roof and looking both amused and unimpressed.

He wordlessly turns his tablet to the Daily Bugle's website.

DEATH'S HEAD SPIDER-MAN DESTROYS PRIVATE PROPERTY IN VICIOUS, UNPROVOKED ATTACK!

With a still shot of what is ... definitely the inside of Miguel's mouth, right as the fangs crack down on the drone's camera.

"... You know, you can just call the police when you boys see a drone. They're illegal in the city," his dad says.

"I'll ... keep that in mind," Miguel says, not meeting Miles's dad's eye OR looking at the tablet.

His dad turns back the tablet and scrolls down, "Ladies seem to be digging the fangs, though."

"I have to go."

"Girls these days love the vampire look."

"Okay, thank you, Mr. Morales," Miguel says as the portal back to Earth 928 opens.

"Hey, the Daily Bugle hates you and all the women love you, you're really part of the Old New York now!" says Miles.

"I'm gonna let that thing hit you next time," Miguel grumbles as he steps into the portal and vanishes.

"... At least he took the attention off of somebody else's Roof Top Poop Coop Fail," his dad says, "But there's a compilation of it. Three angles. Great cinematography."

Miles sighs. He should have let the drone hit him. At least then he might be getting some sympathy.

#i have never written a prompt in an ask before so thank you for this #Miles Morales #Miguel O'Hara #Fanfiction #Mostly Intact #Alternate Universe #across the spider-verse

[yandereloversblog]

Idk how many characters are ur limit 😭 so imma just put in Yandere Bonten and Yandere first Gen Black dragons in this context:

It’s basically a dream I had 😭: in my dream I was arguing with Andrew tate when he came up to me at a store yelling racial slurs (I’m Asian) and I said he look like the crust of an unwiped asshole and he turned into a toliet paper and suddenly I was being surrounded by tiny ppl (size of a mice) who demanded that I give them an apple which I didn’t have and I said no- but bc I said no I started a WW3 with the mini mice ppl, carrot ppl and pigeons- so I’m being chased my all three bc I didn’t give them apples which I didn’t have and then got captured by the pigeons. Then I was being dragged to their supreme leader which were 15ft teletabbies that then ask if I had apples- I said no again and then the teletabbies demanded that I Mario kart race them FR. So I was sent to a actual Mario kart race lap where I was now going aginst the teletabbies and I almost got my car shelled 5 times. I won first place but bc I did now the teletabbies are after me personally so I was now in a driving chase with these teletabbies, mjcw , carrot and pigeon ppl . I kept racing to this purple door where I went pass it and I woke up

Basically Yandere Bonten and Yandere first Gen BD being in my dream while experiencing and waking up after hc 😭 I think that’s the best way to write this. Also honestly if my Yandere gonna be with me irl may as well deal with my crack dreams

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 1𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐞𝐧

What in God's name did I read 😭😭😂😂 bro lemme tell you something- imagine you call them late at night or suddenly wake up, not only scare them but then also tell them your dream? This is how it's boutta go and since the situations would be pretty similar I merged them.

Him: Andrew Tate?

You: Oh yeah, he's actually a real person.

Him: Who the fuck- How do you know him and why is he in your dreams!?

You: Oh no *completely serious* I hate his guts and I hope he dies, he's an asshole

Him:... Continue.

You: *Continues telling their dreams*

Him: *Looks like they're calmly listening but in their mind they're just like* 'Andrew fucking Tate, you dare soil my darling's dream? If I ever see you it's on sight you bitch.'

They just heard you be dreaming about another person regardless and now that random person has a target on their back: Mikey, Wakasa

Him:... Okay *carefully letting the collar around your neck a little loose* I think we should go easier on the drugs from now on.

What in devil's crack did you smoke to get a dream like that? Luckily now you get a little more privileges: Ran, Benkei, Takeomi [Bonten]

Him: You know what lemme tell you something- I had a dream like that but I was getting chased by pirates instead with their ship because I tried to steal one of their treasures but the treasure has your face carved on it so I had to- like they were riding a big ass ship and chasing me on the desert while I ran in that hot sun but get what, I fell in a sandhole and then ended up in Wal-Mart but these big birds were around me- Like I think they were called ostriches and they were wearing staff clothes but because I was human THEY started chasing me-

If he has to hear about your crack dream, so do you: Shinichiro

Him: But like Andrew Tate is such a bitch.

You: I know right? Then this happened- *continues*

Him: You were at a fucking store, you could've just ran to the next aile get an apple!?

You: I forgot! Anyways- *continues*

Him: And now you caused WW3- These bitches just thirsty for apples, like damn go get it yourself 🙄

You: Right!? Like why get me to do that!?

Gets a little too invested in your dreams and will probably bash any dream entity he doesn't like: Rindou, Sanzu [especially if he's on drugs]

Him: Sweetheart go back to bed, we'll figure what that means later.

Probably just came back for a job and now puts you to sleep, gonna get a dream book to see what the fuck you just said and try to decode it cuz it was funny: Kokonoi, Mocchi, Takeomi [Black Dragons]

Him: Don't worry sweetie, whether that Andrew Tate bothers you, those small stuff, teletabbies or WW3 I'll protect you in your dreams too so let's go back to sleep.

Probably half asleep, but trying to listen to you until he just gives up and cuddles you to bed again: Kakucho

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere bonten #yandere black dragons first gen #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokyo rev #yandere tokrev #lowkey crack #highkey crack #yandere mikey #yandere manjiro sano #yandere sanzu #yandere ran haitani #yandere rindou haitani #yandere kokonoi #yandere kakucho #yandere mochi #yandere shinichiro #yandere wakasa #yandere takeomi #yandere benkei

[zappedbyzabka]

whilst I silently die inside from having left Canada JUST BEFORE fanexpo, have some (two) rogue head canons;

Johnny is not very clingy when he knows people can give him attention but when someone he likes is working, he will do anything in his power to make them pay attention to him, including putting on slutty clothes. He also likes to wear that one black Gi around Daniel because of how low cut it is and uses the excuse of ‘I’ve got to stay in shape, LaRusso.’ when asked what he’s doing

teen!johnny fluctuated between each of the cobra’s houses when he got kicked out of his house (by Sid) so each cobra had some time alone to play with him (Daniel got lucky once when Johnny got kicked out and the Cobra’s all had things on, Daniels mom was conveniently out at a parent teacher conference that night)

—🌙

It’s one reason he started stretching again. He stayed flexible but it took him some time to get back to where he was before—and the work was another way to torture Daniel. Truly a present when Daniel walks in on him in a straddle stretch in his briefs because “his pants weren’t stretchy enough.”

Yes he can see the tent in Daniel’s pants when he acts oblivious and seductive. Yes that makes him do it more and more until he’s taking off his tops when he and Daniel are planning class together.

He thinks it’s silly that he feels a chick with her tits out somehow, like he’s indecent and should be covering up—but it makes him feel excited to be exposed for Daniel’s viewing.

Daniel strikes first for once.

——————————————————————————

Lucky Cobras. They love hanging out with one another but they’re always thirsty for some alone time with Johnny like pigeons with scraps of bread.

They told him he could still stay at their place because their parents knew him well but he declined and Daniel was there like a knight in shining armor, leading him (gently, accidentally manhandes) him into his and his moms apartment. They’re both nervous but Daniel is a great host and Johnny tries to be extra nice.

#nsft #🌙 #also: free the nipple.

[olliethescribe]

Maybe it’s the time of year and I’m really getting in my emotions, but damn, thinking about Warren and Hypno is making me super emotional. Reread one of my favorite fics tonight to decompress and wow, I sincerely love them.

It absolutely shouldn’t work, their relationship. They’re opposites of each other in all the ways that lead them to complete the other - narrative foils as I keep saying. Hypno started off as a forgettable human that never reached high levels of fame or recognition, likely wasn’t considered attractive (the guy had been tricked and toyed with romantically a few times given his reaction to Mikey tricking him in Newsworthy), and is this humble and sweet guy that’s very sincere and also quite petty (choosing to ignore the attempted murder). Being mutated made him formidable, a memorable and dazzling act. He had nothing to lose and gained plenty in becoming Hypno-Potamus. He commands attention and is actively seen as a threat. The only reason someone wouldn’t remember Hypno is if he hypnotized them. Beyond that, he has quite the presence.

Then there’s Warren. He was a famous guy that starred brilliantly on TV as a news anchor, was actively being looked for as his disappearance was alarming, and considered an insanely attractive guy. Becoming a mutant ruined his life and cost him everything; a forgettable and unremarkable person that is easily passed over. He can call himself a villain all he wants but there’s nothing anchoring that title to him. He’s more blood-thirsty than Hypno, however (hell, he killed a guy on-screen and smiled as the ELOM clapped). Warren is loud and self-serving, putting on a show for himself, essentially, as no one else puts in the effort to even acknowledge his existence (even the camera pans away from him in Newsworthy, much to his chagrin). What was once a big shot reduced to a rain drop in the ocean.

The differences pile up in other ways. Hypno loves his animals, even going as far as to try and resurrect his previous hippo assistant, Doug, on multiple occasions. Warren got annoyed with a pigeon once and reduced it to ashes before laughing manically. Hypno is very into fashion (“who wears knit caps?! In summer! Who does that?!” As well as the entirety of The Clothes Don’t Make The Turtle). Warren’s a bit on the frumpier side, not expressing much of an opinion on clothes but very into keeping his hair in order. Hypno sticks to his promises and Warren picks betrayal.

They shouldn’t work. They almost didn’t! Their first meeting was full of animosity and Warren was the only thing keeping Hypno from killing four children. Yeesh. But, down the line, Hypno took Warren in and they made a domestic life together work. Falling into a rhythm, surprising the other with gifts and acts of service (Warren takes care of cleaning up around the house despite there being a chore chart, and Hypno made Warren a birthday cake and jumped out of it for him), encouraging the other’s acts and schemes, willing to do anything for the other. Hypno runs away the most out of any side villain in Rise, but took several punches for Warren just so his ‘roomie’ would be okay. They cry for each other, beg their enemies for help to make sure the other can be saved, that they could resume their lives and be together at all costs.

They’re so in love. They’d have hated each other if they met as humans, or at the very least would be unimpressed. They were too different as human beings in all the ways that make them perfect for each other as mutants. To find solace in someone going through the exact pain as you, in a similar career field no less! Spending late nights making fun of game show contestants and enjoying the other’s company. And it isn’t perfect but they have each other, can relax in the security of their relationship and know that the other isn’t leaving anytime soon. They’re partners in crime, makers of magic, co-hosts as they take the airwaves by storm illegally, long term roomies, lovers, husbands even.

Ain’t that magical?

#hypnowarren #hippoworm #short essay #shitty analysis #headcanon #Canon mixed with a few headcanons #warren stone #hypno potamus #hypnopotamus #rise of the tmnt #they’re in love your honor #feeling very normal about these two - the normalist /j #rottmnt

[roastlark081]

Some disorganized musings, bouncing off another post...

Tumblr user @mmmmalo, better known for their Homestuck works, brought up several interesting points re: the film adaptation of The Silence of the Lambs. Currently, I'm interested in the fact that we have "Hannibal's snotty psychologist insisting he isn't a mere "turnkey" (sounds like turkey), only for Starling moments later to bring up an island host to "terns" (a seabird)."

Cut, yet again, for length.

In both the novel and the movie, there's a moment before Starling's initial contact with Lecter where Chilton shows her the photograph of what injuries were inflicted on that unfortunate nurse - in the novel, however, it's specified that when he does that, she feels that he's "a thirsty chicken pecking tears off her face."

To get that quote I searched 'chicken' in the PDF I have access to and though it's not really a full-blown revelation, later Lecter folds an origami chicken that pecks while being interrogated... Interesting. From the scraps the Senator's daughter is fed, she uses a chicken bone to lure the dog/lamb Precious to the pit... Also tenuous, but now it's on the damn mind.

Of course, Clarice Starling is so flagrant it hardly even needs to be pointed out, but in the first 20 minutes Hannibal tells her to "fly back to school" and softly repeats fly, fly, fly... Relevant to the ironic imprisonment by symbols of flight (phrase borrowed from the aforementioned post), first instance of such.

There's also the phrasing of "fledgling killer," used after the discovery of Raspail's head in a jar (in storage). Since we're playing the word association game, it's worth pointing out the connection between Lecter's suggestion of flight and a fledgling (a bird that has only just received its flight feathers).

Before the "turnkey - tern" line, during the Senator's daughter kidnapping scene, she refers to her cat (meowing in the window) as "little cheeper." After she's struck over the head and locked in the back of the truck, the cat is shown in the same window, stuck in the apartment, still "cheeping," a caged bird? Same position that Catherine Baker Martin is now in, maybe?

Jame Gumb's broken arm act is clearly riffing off Ted Bundy's same strategy, but it also reminds me of Killdeer and their notorious 'broken wing display' in response to predation. It apparently is a response that peaks after the young hatch, before they fledge, which is relevant to mmmmalo's point about Gumb cradling Precious the dog like both a lamb and the way a mother would a nursing baby - recall the nipple piercing with the droplet.

Hannibal is later moved to a prison in Tennessee, where he's caged in the center of a room, much preferable to his confinement in the BSHCI... A gilded cage is still a cage. I was looking up the phrase, and was made aware of the song "A Bird in a Gilded Cage," a showtune; along the same the lines as Lecter's invocation of "People Will Say We're in Love," perhaps.

When Starling approaches the Bimmel family home before the confrontation with Gumb, Fredrica's father is tending to pigeons... Doves. Gives me the sense of a more religious slant than necessarily connected to the other points, if anything... Nothing jumps to mind.

That's all I've got at the current moment... Need to get my hands on the other books, so that I might make further comparison.

#original #Tune in next time for what I've got to say about ungulates

[memestockpile]

cheers (1982-1993) feel free to change as needed.

you know, buddy, this is a bar. if you want to make polite conversation: take it outside.

men. they’re so stupid.

the soup was so hot it set off the sprinkler system. 

well, what else can i do around here that i’m great at?

are you on the sauce again?

hit the bricks, pal.

the cologne you always wear is totally without nuance.

if you can’t say it in front of me, don’t say it, at all.

a lady does not ask her chauffeur how much he stole from her dead husband. 

don’t toy with my emotions. 

i described you in terms which were positively glowing, which is the way i’d like to see you in hell. 

if you can’t say anything nice, say it about [name]. 

yeah, personally, i say good riddance.

i hate you with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. 

never trust a man who can’t look you in the eye, never talk when you can listen, and never spend venture capital on a limited partnership without a detailed analytical fiduciary prospectus. 

you automatically spring to mind when i hear something stupid. 

it’s all cobwebby down there. 

she’s got ta-tas til monday afternoon at least.

go mate with a squid.

i don’t like the idea of somebody else plucking my pigeons.

shut up! we’re celebrating!

one murder does not a murderer make.

i succumb too easily to the pleasures of the flesh. 

you must be an idiot savant. 

do you make a drink for failures?

you know me, daddy cool. 

on behalf of intelligent women around the world, may i just say: phew!

life sucks. 

everything we strive for comes to nothing. 

don’t impose gender roles on me. 

face it: you’re a bunch of losers. 

if ignorance is bliss, this is eden. 

let me tell you something, [nickname]: when you’re eighty-seven, you’ll still be a hunk to me.

this would make a great bar story. 

you want to hear a scary story? i’ll tell you a scary story. my life, that’s a scary story. 

oh, how would you know you’re stupid?

you actually have to go with someone before you can get dumped.

i never heard you talk like this before.

oh, c’mon, honey.

oh, dear me, my worst fears are confirmed. 

let’s open up this discussion a little bit: what’s your name, son?

do you know the difference between you and a fat braying ass? the fat braying ass would. 

come on, man. don’t tell me you keep your money in your shoe.

why would she be carrying a dead rat in her purse?

i don’t want your money. besides, if i did, i could take it.

i got an attic you can hang upside-down in. 

oh, yuck! oh, i have to punish my tongue!

i’m scientifically handy.

boy, you guys really do think i just fell off the turnip truck.

your hormones have staged a coup d’etat on your brain.

oooh, a completely unprovoked personal attack. i like it!

you’re the most beautiful kid in the whole world. 

you squealed on me?

i’m a student, not just in an academic sense, but a student of life. 

where better than here to study life in all its many facets?

people meet in bars. they part. they rejoice. they suffer. they come here to be with their own kind.

you know, i think i’m falling in love with you.

i’d like to speak to the person in change of female dehumanization. 

i said that i wouldn’t call you stupid while we’re being intimate. 

i found holes in the pool table. 

[name] and i have decided we’re going to start messing around.

well, my dear friends, i want no part of it!

i certainly hope not. i’d like to think i was special.

if brains were money, you’d have to take out a loan for a cup of coffee. 

i’m tired of wasting my time and cleavage on him. 

we always get into so much trouble when we talk. let’s not. let’s just...do. 

a thirsty guy walks into a bar. you finish it. 

when the right dame comes along, you’ll know it.

if it’s true that a little knowledge is dangerous, you are a walking time bomb.

it’s a dog-eat-dog world, and i’m wearing milkbone underwear. 

if you ever open that gateway to hell you call a mouth in my direction again, i’ll snap off your extremities like dead branches and feed them to you at gunpoint.

what’s the point of winning if you can’t humiliate the other team?

after several hours of careful deliberation and weighing all of the consequences, i have decided to be playful.

i don’t know what a duvet is or what it’s supposed to cover!

he’s overcompensating for feelings of inadequacy with an ostentatious display of hormonal activity.

you know, darth vader cannot be luke skywalker’s father. they don’t have the same last name.

how would you like to take a flying leap off of a knuckle sandwich?

philly’s a dull town.

my brain must be full, now, ‘cause my hair hurts. 

thank you for the opportunity of knowing your dog. 

you’re a dink, a wimp, a thread, a loser.

your big drug companies don’t want you to find out about leeches. you know why? leeches are free.

go home and tell your mother you’re a flop.

you’re a magnificent pagan beast.

hey, c’mon, i’m smoking in any jacket.

i always meant to tell you that.

you did the right thing. you were noble.

bless the postal system and keep it from harm.

who is the biggest bigwig of them all?

i usually assume people are gay until i find out they’re not. sometimes we find out together.

bars don’t turn gay overnight.

yeah, that’s what they say: war is gross.

anybody with half a brain can see through his petty little scams and tricks.

it’s atrabilious, yet not a bit lugubrious. 

you’re dead meat on a stick. 

you don’t use a fork with soup!

perhaps on the isle of lesbos.

good news! i finally found a woman.

this country’s gone to heck in a handcart.

you should feel sorry for the flintstones.

you’re just gonna have to become a communist.

i think you should judge people for what they do, not for who they do.

it just seemed gauche.

my life is devoid of pleasure.

you think i don’t know what noodles mean in sexual lingo?

oh, step into the eighties. 

it moves me deeply to move you deeply.

now you’re saying that i’m redundant, that i repeat myself, that i say things over and over.

that’s the only line of shakespeare i ever understood. 

where is he? i’ll straighten him out.

anyone ever tell you you have a cute forehead?

i feel a cry coming on.

this is probably one of those things that we should just keep between the two of us, don’t you think?

you know, i like you, you’re a smart cookie.

i...feel...bad.

high praise from a man who thinks mashed potatoes are finger food.

you ever had a pot of chili fly by your face at the speed of light?

everything i do, everywhere i go, everything i see reminds me of her.

we don’t only eat cheese, we talk about eating cheese.

he wants to know if you boinked her, you dink.

whoever owns a honda, thanks for the lift.

i’m in far too fragile a condition. 

maybe i do tend to be a little uptight at times.

c’mon, if he was a great artist, what’s he doing alive, huh?

i’d hate to be the second member of my family buried alive by potatoes. 

just about time this old cowpoke moseyed off to the bathroom.

get your coat. we’re going dancing!

nothing’s ever obvious to me.

you know how i like to read between the lines. 

no guy touches my belly unless he’s paying for dinner.

thou lookest ridiculous. 

boy, am i exhausted.

tell you what, i bet you a dime i can drink that drink without touching the hat.

as sure as corn chiggers in august. 

i pictured you moving to a little home in the country with a rose garden out in the front and a nice little room in the back for me. 

that’s what comes from working with your hands. 

i, for one, am proud you licked it, [nickname]. 

mayday, mayday, mayday. 

i dreamed that i had insomnia all night.

forgive me for losing my academic demeanor for a few moments -- oh, yippee!

must have been hell.

for your information, my head is not flat.

oh, i’d gladly ask my parents. of course, they’re dead.

damn tropical drinks. 

you look like a large-mouth bass. 

farm boys love their halloween!

oh? couldn’t make summa? 

yes, i think we both know. 

i ever tell you about the first thanksgiving? yeah, it took place, uh, between the ancient egyptians and astronauts from a distant galaxy. 

hello, duckling. 

what could be more enjoyable than opening your heart with holiday cheer?

man, you punch a couple of guys out at a funeral, and everybody’s on your case.

i mean, i understand going out with two babes at one time.

i don’t want to talk. uh, i want to watch television. 

you haven’t lived until you seen bonanza dubbed into french canadian.

we’re gonna have to sober you up, sweetheart.

you’re just the guy i’ve been looking for. 

holy cow!

you like corn on the cob?

whew! you are so cranky when you’re naked.

don’t show fear. he smells fear.

just give me a whiskey, punk.

wait a minute, am i being hustled here?

well, there’s a shock, sex boy.

i find it also helps to listen to heavy doses of creedence clearwater revival. 

what do you want me to do? go back there, strip naked, and gyrate to funky cold medina?

you have absolutely nothing anyone could possibly envy or resent.

i mean, i worked all my life to get this mean. now you’re telling me i have to learn nice?

loneliness is a good thing to share with somebody. 

you’re a flimflam. 

i’m practicing my floating coin trick. 

here’s the ten bucks i’m gonna owe you in about five minutes.

i’ve always had a soft spot for you lunkheads.

#askbox meme #roleplay meme #ask meme #rp meme #meme #askbox #askbox rp #ask #inbox rp meme #rp inbox meme #inbox meme #sentence meme #sentence starter meme #roleplay sentence meme #rp sentence meme #sentence starters #tumblr roleplay #tumblr rp #roleplay

[flahei]

So many F1 related stuff happening on twitter and I can't tweet, like, or see anyone else's posts. I hope whoever sold twitter to that bastard hit their little toe on their furniture, turn around the pillow and it's not cold, get thirsty at night and have no water on their bedside table, step on a wet floor with socks on, get shat on by a pigeon, catch their parents having sex, etc

#f1 #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #lando norris #formula one #lance stroll #max verstappen #formula 1 #fernando alonso #formula1 #austria gp 2023 #austrian gp

[weministertomonsters]

The Dove Cage

Daphne trembled on the stoop of The Dove Cage, pulling her wet shawl tighter around her shoulders as she hesitated. Someone was crooning a soft siren song in there and the piano tinkled along like an afterthought.

Daphne was thirsty. She had never drunk alcohol in her life or afterward, but anything sounded good now. She lifted a timid hand and knocked. The door creaked open almost immediately.

"Finally," a shrill voice said from the floor. "You've been standing out there for hours!"

"Just a few minutes," Daphne said, looking at the fat honey tabby. "You're a cat."

"If you're going to tell me we can't talk, save it. Things are different here. I'd offer to take your coat, but I'm just a cat," the tabby said, flicking her stripey tail.

"It's okay," Daphne sniffed. "I can get it."

She peeled her shawl off, shivering as the damp material peeled off like a second skin.

"What is this place?" Daphne asked. "I've been walking for ages and this was the nicest place I found."

From the dusty chandelier that offered minimal light, a pigeon roosted. Its wings were ratty like a cat had tried and failed to eat it and it had loosened its feathers in its bid to get away.

"This is The Dove Cage. I'm sure you saw the sign in the window?" The cat said. "Please tell me you can read."

"I can," Daphne said.

"Then that's all you need to know. Follow me, dear. I'll show you around."

"But I want to know what this place is. Is this heaven? Or hell?"

"If you believe in those, then sure," the cat said nonchalantly. "The Dove Cage is anything you wish it to be."

"But that doesn't make sense," Daphne said, stumbling over a discarded Wellington boot in the narrow entrance hallway.

"This isn't life, dear. It doesn't have to," the cat replied. "Now, straight through these doors, you'll find a wealth of people from all sorts of life with every affliction known to man, named, labeled, or otherwise. I'm sure you'll find someone or someones to befriend if you're lucky."

"I..."

"Go on, don't be shy," the cat said, pausing to lick her paw. "I have to watch the door and welcome the next person. I won't miss welcoming a soul because I'm showing someone around. I'm fair like that. Good luck!"

Then the tabby slipped back to the door, waiting for the next person to stumble in. Daphne hesitated, smelling cigarette smoke and incense mingling from within those doors. The piano pinged now and then, played absentmindedly. That soft voice sang on.

Daphne pushed the door open and slipped in. The room was cast in shades of brown and purple. Lamps scattered around the room offered pools of gold for people to play cards in, read or do a crossword puzzle. The pianist was hunched in the dark, cigarette twisted between two fingers while the other hand poked at the keys.

The singer was perched in a window alcove, pale fingers pressed against the pane like they were looking longingly at a world they wished to be a part of. The window showed the view of a bruised sky stuck in a cycle of dawn. Their breath frosted against the glass as they sang,

On a dark desert highway

Cool wind in my hair

The warm smell of colitas

Rising up through the air

Up ahead in the distance

I saw a shimmering light

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim

I had to stop for the night

Daphne listened, wiping the tears from her eyes as they came. Her damp handkerchief hardly helped now. She stepped forward.

"I love your voice," she confessed.

The singer turned to her, masculine and feminine, with shy doe eyes and rounded white shoulders leading down to a muscular torso barely hidden by their gauzy robe. They had no mouth, but a soft indent where one should be.

"Oh," Daphne said. "I'm sorry."

They shook their head, held out a fine-boned hand, and shook Daphne's hand gingerly.

"I'm new here," Daphne confessed, "and I have no idea what place this is."

The singer took one look at Daphne's damp ensemble and slid from the window, gesturing for her to follow. Up the stairs, they went. The singer held the long hem of their robe up and away from the floor and Daphne glimpsed their feet, white and bloodless with pointy, neatly trimmed nails.

There was a faint scent of cooking food, simmering cauliflower, curry stew, and toasting bread, and the round, heavy scent of boiling potatoes. It reminded Daphne that she hadn't eaten for a long time. At least her stomach still worked. She could eat. She used her damp fingers to wipe the streaming tears from her eyes and blinked to clear her vision.

The singer stood in front of a door marked with a golden 15, waiting. Daphne came up to them, and they pushed open the door and stepped in. A mysterious light shone hazily through the windows, like the closer they were to the shrouded sun, the more light they could win. The room was a romantic nest of pillows and plush-looking sheets, the corners and angles of the walls hidden in a blur of pastel colors. There was a clothes closet draped by a curtain, and there was a path permitted to lead to the bathroom, which had no door. Everything was clean and smelled like sun-baked fresh laundry.

The singer picked a big pillow and patted it, giving it to her and gesturing to the room.

"You want to share your room with me? That's very kind but I wouldn't want to intrude-"

A bony finger pressed to her lips, silencing her. The singer shook their head, shining strands of hair whisking against the air.

"Okay," Daphne said. "I'll share a room with you. Thank you for the kind offer.

The singer lifted a hank of her clumpy, pond-scented hair and pointed to the bathroom.

"Yes, I would like to have a bath if possible," Daphne said. "I'm cold."

The singer nodded, gestured with an open hand to the wardrobe, and then left the room, closing the door gently. Daphne entered the bathroom. It smelled like the ocean. Running the water in the sink, she cupped a handful, lapped at it, and found the water tasted like the sea, like salt, fish bodies, and grit.

The water from the bathtub was warm and fluoride-scented, at least. She stripped and twisted, investigating her body in the long mirror. The bruises on her skin had faded from hand-prints to watercolor blooms, but she doubted they would fade any more than that. She stepped into the bathtub and washed her skin with the soap bar. When she ducked underneath the surface to wet her hair, she felt a hand around her neck and another on her head, pushing her down.

She thrashed and came up gasping uselessly for air she no longer needed. The hands were gone but the sensation of dying remained, the endless falling, the stuttering of her lungs as they filled with bracken water. She still remembered the algae slime on her face and mouth. She drained the tub and used the shower instead, letting it spray in hot spikes against her face, scrubbing with the soap.

She didn't need to force herself to cry, because the tears came freely.

─────────────── · · · · ✦

If you ever wanted to know the kind of dreams I have... Well, now you know!

#dream #orginal story #orginal writing #writeblr

[calyptapis]

Albert Camus, The Wrong Side and the Right Side (L’Envers et l’Endroit), 1937: Love of Life; from Personal Writings (translated by Ellen Conroy Kennedy and Justin O’Brien)

Text ID under cut

there are no limits to loving, and what does it matter to me if I hold things badly if I can embrace everything? There are women in Genoa whose smile I loved for a whole morning. I shall never see them again and certainly nothing is simpler. But words will never smother the flame of my regret. I watched the pigeons flying past the little well at the cloister in San Francisco, and forgot my thirst. But a moment always came when I was thirsty again.

#albert camus #albert camus: personal writings #prose #literature #quotes #lit #quotations #quote #literary quotes #book quotes #love #a human condition