woman with bird in her hair

Possibilities

the Trees pant as I walk by
rushing back to spots
bark red and flushed
- I almost caught Them in flight -

the Birds, round, stretch out feathers
clucking distractions
Clouds puffing still from Their heads

The Sidewalks stare, hold back blinks
One turns over s l o w l y
- left Its soft underbelly
exposed -
and that Woman I always see
is tucking in Their white whiskers

the Stop Signs are dripping still
- with esculent Oceans -
and that Woman’s Hair,
always wild, curled, white with salt,
- is giving Her away -

I yearn to be let in
to leap off to what Could be
but Her eyes, soft with feathers,
- say no -
You’re still one with them
refusing to see
anything but reality

@katrinnac

So I had this dream...

Its the Season Finale of Season 7. Negan’s killed some minor, unnamed, and unknown characters. And then he sees Maggie.

“Ahh… so you shit birds thought you could hide Ole Preggie from me, huh? Gotta hand it to ya. Almost worked.”

He points his Lucille in her face and smirks.

“This poor, unborn child will never know life… Perhaps that’s for the best.”

He swings the bat, only to get hit in the back the head before Lucille can connect to Maggie face.

A masked woman stands over him, wearing a hood, boots, and dark colored jeans. (Essentially Boots) helping Maggie up. We get a back view of her, the mask coming off and hood coming down. Beautiful blonde hair falls, fishtail braids flying out.

Her face gets revealed. A beaten, battered, recovering Beth Greene stands above her sister. She stares her down, and the episode ends. No coda. Nothijg else. The song has finally ended where it was intended.

Beauty & The Beast: Chapter One

The sweet scent of roses mingled with the crisp morning air as Beauty skipped down a narrow path around the sparkling lake. A slight breeze produced a few ripples on the surface of the water and caressed the young girl’s rosy cheeks.

“Beauty?”

The girl paused and turned around to face the dark gray mansion behind her. She grinned, then sprinted toward the handsome woman calling to her.

“You look quite refreshed, darling,” the woman laughed, brushing a stray lock of dark brown hair behind her ear.

“It is so beautiful this morning, mother! The birds have been singing to me for hours and the flowers are perfect for a bouquet,” Beauty rushed, her eyes twinkling. “Have you ever seen a morning more exquisite than this?”

“Exquisite? And which book did you learn that word from?” her mother asked in amusement.

“The book Father gave me before he left on his trip, An Exquisite Day in Paradise. It’s a murder mystery!”

Frowning, Beauty’s mother shook her head. “Why do you not read normal books about love, like your sisters do?”

Beauty wrinkled her nose. “Love is boring. Mysteries are exciting. Father says that romance books do not teach anything useful.”

“Speaking of your father, he just arrived and would like to see you.”

“He did?” Beauty squealed, her face flushing with excitement as she presented a handful of colorful wild flowers neatly arranged in her tiny hands. “May I take him these flowers?”

“Beauty?”

“Yes, mother?”

Silence.

Beauty tilted her head and stared up at her mother. The former elegance of the woman began to fade as her face paled and she began to shake.

“Mother? Mother, what’s wrong?”

“Bea…uty…” her mother murmured quietly, then her body vanished into thin air.

“Mother!”

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Marines' Bonus II

The first time it’s just curiosity.

Red Hair may be capable of stealth, but Mihawk’s eyes catch everything, even a glimpse of that photo his former rival holds so close to his chest. It’s not a picture of Riskua, though it inspires a grin nearly as sappy as one of the little bird they both influence would.
So when he clocks the woman after first arriving upon the island that now serves as Riskua’s new place of residence, he takes note.
Once he is done with Riskua (she’s growing, growing stronger and taller; there’s so much of Red Hair in her but those eyes are all Raowl) he stops by the bar.
The bartender is a pretty thing and though Mihawk purchases no drink, he does see what Red Hair must, does realise why she appeals to his former rival.

The second time he stops by he actually orders a drink. Whatever the woman thinks he would like.
She pauses for a mere second at his eyes, but her smile is unquestionably warm; she clearly makes the connection between him and the little girl Red Hair dropped off.
It’s almost the kind of beverage Red Hair would partake in, only a little classier. Not Mihawk’s usual choice of poison, but acceptable all the same.
The bartender keeps smiling, introduces herself as Makino and declares he can stop by whenever he wants.
When she slips him the bill on his way out, it’s wrote on the back of a relatively recent photo of Riskua and the youngest boy she spends her time with. He should probably pass it on to Red Hair.
But Riskua is his too, niece or daughter it doesn’t matter, she’s still his relation, so Mihawk keeps it.

The third time, the bartender, Makino, greets him by name and Mihawk greets her with a tilt of his hat.
“How is he?” she asks, hands working a rag into the depths of a freshly washed glass, eyes focused upon the task.
“He misses you,” Mihawk admits, for it’s the truth.
Red Hair is a useless sap, longing to see his daughter, to see the little Monkey, to see his bartender. He stays away though, for his presence will bring nothing but trouble and that is the surest sign he cares.
Mihawk can admit to himself the real reason he is here; what does this woman have that his sister did not? The answer though is obvious.
Makino the bartender is not a jealous woman; she loves Red Hair but would never think to tear him away from the sea.

After he comes to that conclusion, it’s part of the routine to stop by the bar when he comes to Dawn Island.
Mihawk speaks a bit more of Red Hair and Makino refines her ability to choose a drink more suited to his taste.
It’s the closest thing Mihawk has to friendship with a civilian; maybe it’s only right that such a person has come into his life simply because of Red Hair’s interference. Again.
He really needs to work on finding someone he can put up with on his own, otherwise when Red Hair realised Mihawk’s circle of acquaintances are all influenced by him, he’ll never let it go.

Maybe he’ll get lucky and find a swordsman capable of chasing the boredom away, even if only for a little bit now that Red Hair has gone and made himself useless on that front.

2

Baltic mythology: Forest goddess and wind goddess

Miško motina (Forest Mother) – protector of all trees, birds and animals living in the forest. Portrayed as a tall woman with green hair, wearing a green mantle.

Vėjų motina (Winds Mother) lives in the forest near the great oak where her family’s dwelling is located. The goddess has a real know-all daughter, who can show you a needed pathway using her ball of yarn, and four sons: Šiaurys (North), Pietys (South), Vakaris (West) and Rytis (East). Vėjų motina owns a magical apple tree garden. These apples have power to bring people fertility, love, beauty and health. The goddess is portrayed with white hair, covering herself with a gray mantle.

Ludwig/Amelia, 1920s

for my darling @blitzkrieg-mit-dem-fleischgewehr

Ludwig is trying to enjoy a beer when there’s suddenly a woman in his lap. He’d heard the scuffle of course, but he’d barely had time to look up before a very drunk, very gorgeous woman is on top of him. 

The mug hits the floor, beer sloshing over his carefully shined shoes, and irritation and anger hit him hard. Before he can even get a word in edgewise, the flapper girl in his lap starts to speak.

“Whoopsy~” She says, her short hair flying around her face as she loses her small feathered cap. “Well, hi there darling~” She smiles with rouge red lips and she taps his nose. “My dance partner got a bit handsy, you see, and didn’t expect a bird like me to fight back~” 

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Rule One - Red-X/Raven Mini Shot (Complete)

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans. This is a work of fanfiction, and I am not making any money off of this.

A/N: Yep. I’m Random! No explanation for this… Lol 


“You okay, Little Bird?” He murmured, fingers fluttering against her checks. His tongue curled in soothing strokes against her neck, patiently waiting for her tremors to fade.

Her violet eyes blinked back pearls of sweat from her vision. She whimpered feeling the sharp pleasure of his teeth against her neck. “I-“ She breathed heavily, arching closer to him. “Jason, I-“

His forehead came down against her own, silver eyes piercing down. “What is it, Raven?”

The violet haired woman inhaled sharply. “He knows.” She whispered, head falling back against cool satin sheets. Her eyes slowly met his as her breathing calmed and softened. “Robin knows.”

The thief was silent; his fingers drawing gentle patterns against her stomach.

“Robin knows,” Raven spoke softly. “And he along with the JCPD will be serving you a search warrant tomorrow evening when you get back from class.”

“No matter what,” His fingers traced her collarbone and down her arm. Their fingers laced, his other hand pushing her back her damp locks. “We agreed no work talk just sex and mockery.” His head lowered to the crook of her neck, nuzzling tenderly.

Raven sighed as her eyes drifted shut. Pale hands pushed up his back, tangling in his dark hair. “I know.”

“Then why did you tell me?” She knew better than that. 

The empath was silent, teeth sunken into her bottom lip. Her free arm coming over her face as she felt her face flush.

“Raven,” Jason’s voice grumbled, interlacing her hands and pinning them to the sides of her head.

Eyes opened slowly.

“Why?” He asked again, lips ghosting against her own.

“I love you.” She confessed.  

Baltic mythology: Goddesses of death

Giltinė (gelti – to sting) – goddess of death. Her main duty is to watch people and kill them when their time comes. She is a sister of Laima, goddess of birth.

At first people believed that the goddess of death is the owl that betokens death, blaze and other disasters with her dreadful hooting. They called her Mėnulė (Moon) or Mėnulio deivė (Moon goddess) as she reigns during nighttime and is the bird of darkness. People also respected owls as they thought them to be sacred and regarded them as birds of wisdom.

Thus the owl was the primary image of Giltinė. In time she evolved into a human-looking deity. Since then the goddess is portrayed as a tall skinny woman with blue skin and white hair, eyelashes and eyebrows. She has long thin arms and a long poisonous tongue which she uses to kill people. Giltinė covers her eerie appearance with a white cloak and collects her poison from corpses. During daytime she sometimes turns into an ordinary old woman.

People remarked quite a lot of signs that could tell about Giltinė‘s coming and warn them about someone’s death. Among which are howling dogs, mewing cats, neighing horses, owls, crows, jackdaws, magpies, hens, bees. If people noticed a cuckoo (Giltinė’s sister’s bird) flying around or a white dog running from the cemetery it could tell that Giltinė is near as well. Cracking doors, ceiling, walls and balks are among common signs too.

Giltinė has her helpers Maro deivės (goddesses of plague). Wearing all white and riding horses they spread plague in various towns and are often pictured as beastly women. Others are called pamėklės – white female ghosts. They bring various things like skulls, hair, horns, antlers, etc. on a high hill and set them on fire. Which way the smoke goes to shows where the plague will begin. During it pamėklės walk from house to house and hit them from the outside. The number of hits tells the number of plague victims. Sometimes they call people by names from what they die instantly. Pamėklės often travel in carriages.

2

Top: Young Girl Eating a Bird - The Pleasure by René Magritte, 1927.
Bottom: Le frisson des vampires by Jean Rollin, 1971.

“We find her in the heart of summer, in the shadow of a sturdy tree thronged with calmed birds unalarmed by her presence. Her schoolgirl demeanor would be excuse enough, and her modest dress, her neat hair… It is then that one notices the pallor of joy, the eyelids closed over the cruelty of her dreams, the teeth pressed to the blood-stained lips, the woman engrossed in her pleasure and savoring, through the caress of its plumage, a creature docile to the point of continuing to live. Since one has to hold one’s own, one invents, as an afterthought, the girl who ate birds.“
The Girl Who Ate Birds, Paul Nougé

Because I Love You

 It only took Lucy Dardanelle seconds to realise that she didn’t belong here, though she sat in her wooden chair silently and waited patiently for the old broad to finish her speech. The woman on the podium, who was now making her yawn both physically and mentally, had a bird’s nest for hair practically. Through all the fits of tears, hand throwing and actual screaming; Lucy was almost waiting for an egg to pop out on the floor – Wouldn’t that just lighten up everybody’s mood?

For the life of her she couldn’t recall her name, not that it even mattered at this hour of day, but she was now sitting on the floor behind the stand. She watched as concerned people rushed to the woman’s aid, who seemed quite thrilled at the sudden attention she was receiving. As if on que the woman began to shriek, so much so that it ached everyone’s ears, and continued on crying.

Lucy had to work hard not to roll her eyes in public, like she felt the great urge to do now, so instead decided to look around at the owner of the event. This however was an unbelievably attractive man, though she was far too brittle for such a wild youngin’; she could still sneak an occasional peak.

Whoooey! He was mighty good to look at!

The young man now stood up and took the woman’s place behind the large stand. His face didn’t hold much concern for the now wailing woman, however his crooked smile showed his humor behind the fiasco. Lucy could definitely work with a man like that, and look of course – She wasn’t dead just yet, ya know!

“Thank you for sharing Arial, we hope your dog gets well enough to eat those pebbles” His smile stayed as he mumbled; “God forbid”

He instantly cleared his throat, stood a little straighter and his dark green eyes roamed the room silently, looking for his next victim to torture with the art of public speaking – Because who likes doing that?

“Our next speaker will be Karen Utah – She’s celebrating her twentieth week being sober!” His slightly red stubble face showed his excitement for the woman as she stumbled over.  

Now this woman, Lucy liked already! She had a yellow sun bag slung over her shoulder and her hair was much tidier; Lucy liked a tidy girl who knew what a soap bar was. The woman’s shirt was dabbled with colorful polka-dots, some red, green, blue and even yellow to match her bag. The pants she wore looked like they’d been through a shredder, and though Lucy’s opinion was almost at risk because of it, she admired the woman for the fashion risk – Maybe she was attacked by her shaver?

The girl cleared her throat and took out a piece of paper from her pocket. As she was unfolding the crinkled mess, Lucy signed once more and realised that this was yet another sad story; She began to get ready to nap.

“Hi, my name is Karen and I’ve been sober for twenty weeks now.” She paused for the classic “Hello Karen” that came in response.

She went on.

“When we’re in high school, we believe everything is the hardest thing to do, we believe it’s the end of the world when the slightest change happens.” She paused. “When we’re in college; we believe we can change the world, we can be the difference that the Earth needs in order to keep spinning.”

She rustled the paper slightly to Lucy’s great annoyance, however went on as if she didn’t care that she was now shaking.

“When we get married everything changes; we become one with someone else and we get the chance share ourselves with another human being. We end up putting all our trust into that one person and suddenly the change we wanted to make becomes a son or a daughter.”

Lucy sat straighter now, actually finding herself interested in the girl’s speech and still, the girl went on.

“My son is thirteen now and one day he looks at me and says: Mom? Why did you have me?” Tears began to brim to the surface. “I simply said; “Because I love you, Blake” She swallowed fully now.

“I found out soon after that my son is having kidney failure” Lucy gasped softly, for once surprised by a sob story.

“We’re in the hospital after a whole bunch of tests and we soon learn that my blood matches his. After wrestling with myself and my first drink of vodka, I come to a conclusion; I’m going to save my world.” Karen licked her lips softly. “I gave my son my kidney and he said: “mom? Why did you do that? Didn’t it hurt?” I simply said again: “Because I love you, Blake.”

Karen was now physically shaking and her tears couldn’t seem to be contained any longer. Lucy wished for once that she could walk like she used to and give the girl a big hug.

“After what seems like weeks of drinking, months of hating myself and my body, I soon learn my husband died, with Blake in the front seat.” She closed her eyes for only a few moments. “My only option was to donate blood to one of them and after yet another few drinks, I conclude once more; I’m going to save my world.”

Lucy placed her frail aging hand to her chest and felt her own tears well up inside.

“My son realized my choice and got angry with me, I simply say to him; “Because I love you, Blake” Karen placed the paper down and now lifted her hair right off her head.

Lucy could feel her stomach fall to her feet with a sudden realization; the girl with the tidy hair was wearing a wig. She was now standing in front of them all bald, though this didn’t seem to bother her much as her smile stayed in place, however many tears had betrayed her façade.

“I have cancer and I’ve been sober for twenty weeks because I can’t drink while I’m going through my treatments. I’ve been judged for my paleness, but it’s not something I can help or stop. My blood is almost at it’s all time low, because it runs through my son’s veins; I’ll never regret it and I’m willingly living with the choices I’ve made.” She wiped at her tears.

“My son doesn’t believe in God, but I do every time I look into those blue eyes of his; I see my world. One day those blue eyes were crying, at my bedside blaming himself for my troubles. I simply kissed him and said once more; Because I love you, Blake.”

Karen placed the paper back in her pocket and the wig back on her head. Lucy was, for once, at a loss for words; She didn’t have a clue what to say or think. The girl cleared her throat and took a sip of the water that Lucy had forgotten was there.

“I’m going to die, I can’t work with my body like this, we have nothing left – But I believe in God and I’m proud of being sober” Karen concluded her speech softly and smiled at the crowd of crying people.

The silence after the girl’s speech was suddenly broken by an eruption of applause and Lucy joined in; making a conclusion of her own.

***

While Karen was climbing into her red beaten up bug of a car, she noticed a white envelope just poking out of her yellow bag. On it’s front was messy printing that read;

“Because I love you, Karen”

With shaking hands she opened it to find a cheque for over thirty-thousand dollars from a little old lady, who died that night in her sleep.

-Julie Appelman

uch-icoKgpE��

huntersgonnahunt  asked:

A roadrunner crossed the road but what the cloud of dust that his race created revealed was a man. A man with his face painted with some light orange lines, which also divided his chest in two, a big hair ornament made with long, blue feathers and a similar one in his back. His hair was of a sky blue color, in dreadlocks. His legs were strong and decorated with lines and symbols. He gazed at the horizon and smiled for some reason. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone.

“…” The young woman standing there froze, eyes wide and mouth hung open in a small “o”, before rubbing at her eyes to ensure that yes, she really had seen that. A bird…that was a man? It made no sense! And yet, here she was, staring at him…until she realized that staring at a shapeshifter was rude, and possibly enough to get her cursed. “F-Forgive me!”

She managed to stutter out an apology before giving a small bow.

Sansa (sort of)

For a too-brief moment in time, I was all “Yeah! I’m gonna do a sketch a day and totally improve my skills!!”, and then I got the flu, then gastro, and basically everything one usually gets over the course of a NorthEast winter in one fell swoop (and it’s not even December!), and I kinda dropped the ball on that one.

Anyways, I had come across an ad for Catherine McKenzie’s new novel “Smoke”.  The cover features a red-haired young woman looking across a mountain range, and I immediately thought “Ooh!  Sansa back in Winterfell surveying her kingdom!”.  I knew right away that I had to try copying it, thus killing two (little) birds with one stone: I could practice drawing hair (I HATE drawing hair!!), AND I could so more Sansa fanart! ;)

nullane de tantis gregibus tibi digna videtur? sit formonsa, decens, dives, fecunda, vetustos porticibus disponat avos, intactior omni crinibus effusis bellum dirimente Sabina, rara avis in terris nigroque simillima cycno, quis feret uxorem cui constant omnia?
— 

“‘Is there no woman among such abundant flocks that seems worthy to you?’ She can be beautiful, proper, wealthy, fertile, she can arrange her ancient ancestors about her halls, she can be more untouched than all of the Sabine women with disheveled hair who stopped the war––a rare bird on earth, like a black swan––yet who can bear a wife who is perfection itself?”

Juvenal (c.55 - 127 AD) Satire 6.161-166

Closed Rp (CyberSmithRP)

It was an unusually blissful day of silence and calmness in the forest, as the birds were singing and even the deer seemed to be joyful and content. Down the path towards her home in a seemingly hard to reach part of the forest was a woman, tall, fair, white hair that only went to her shoulders and no further. She was carrying a bag full of baking supplies, chocolate chips, flour, and the sort, when she stopped and heard a noise. “Hm… I can almost think I hear a cat.” She looked in the direction of the noise, half expecting a cat to come out of the bushes, or maybe a lion.

I am constantly delighted and blown away by the near-universal praise, admiration, respect and joy that Melissa McBride/Carol Peletier receive on a frequent basis by literally. Everyone. 

It’s because we didn’t see her coming. We had know idea what this “nervous little bird” in season 1 would become. It was wholly unexpected yet exactly what the Walking Dead needed these last few years because she stands out from the norm. It’s simply not normal to have a middle aged woman with natural looks and grey hair become such a major player and the most fascinating presence on the screen. And it’s exactly those reasons that every major news source, tv critics and most fas now love her. ALONG WITH NR SHE HAS THE LONGEST PHOTO OP LINES AT CONVENTIONS FOR GOD’S SAKE.

That’s why I know Caryl is going to happen, because just like Carol was, it’s unexpected. It’s not normal. And it’s one of the most fascinating, engaging and chemistry-filled relationships on screen. And it’s exactly what the Walking dead needs if they want to replicate Carol’s narrative success. Because add Daryl in the mix, and you’ve got a whole new concoction of unexpected by societal norms, yet completely natural and utterly right within the world of TWD. It is inevitable, just like Carol Peletier was.

Caryl on!

AU; Dragon & Hunter [ CLOSED ]

ㅡ A beautiful woman with long flowing hair sat by a closed off waterfall. She sat with her feet in the water as she fed the surfacing Koi; her full ruby lips pulling into a warm smile as the aquatic creatures nibbled on her petite digits. It was a simple day; quiet, warm and relaxing. The only sounds that could be heard were birds chirping and the sound of the waterfall thrashing into the other river water.

The woman looked as if she were royalty; her raven hair was decorated with vibrant flowers that matched her beautifully printed, silky kimono. She also held a deep red parasol that blocked the suns rays from hitting her creamy features. It was strange though; she was ㅡalone. If she were to be royal, she would never be allowed without an escort.

Raising to her feet, she found her wooden sandals, slipping them on. She twirled her parasol as her deep, chocolate orbs scanned the area. Something or more like someone, was watching her. ( legionsniper )

Cloud Queen: A blue haired woman surrounded by birds with her own set of wings. She is also capable of granting Gregory his wish to send him and his brother home.

Beatrice: A blue bird who was once a human girl who Gregory thought was a magical bird. He even thought she was going to lead them to someone who would send them back home.

I’m starting to think that maybe the Cloud Queen was how Gregory imagined Beatrice would look and be like in her human form.

PSA

Hello, so anybody in the Oregon Area especially Wilsonville/west linn and Portland Area who is trying to rehome pets that can no longer be kept, DO NOT GIVE THEM TO THIS WOMEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had 2 small birds who I could no longer keep and so my mom put an add up “free to a good home” a women replied on Facebook and came to my house to pick them up and left with them yesterday. This afternoon my mom was sent a picture message each of the 2 birds dead bodies with a caption “ha your birds are dead”

This women comes with an old woman who seems so excited about the animals for a soft spot DO NOT TRUST HER

Description:
•Russian
•Gap between front teeth
•brown hair
•large stained front teeth
•speaks broken English
•uses false profile picture on fb
•brown eyes
•short around 5 feet and give or take inches
•heavy Russian accent
•Drives new model white Toyota camry
•hair long enough to be in a bun
•Uses name “Dina jovanovic”

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SIGNAL BOOST THIS TO KEEP HER FROM HARMING AND KILLING ANYMORE LOVED PETS AND TORMENTING THE OWNERS