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Legend says she scolded so hard the pigment quit.
Back in the early days of birds, the Vireo had bright amber eyes—soft, shimmering, and full of possibility.
But she was also… territorial.
Very territorial.
If you so much as looked at her flower patch, she’d puff up and scold you halfway to next Tuesday.
One day, a cowbird swooped in to lay an egg in her nest.
The Vireo lost her mind.
She screamed. She flailed. She dive-bombed that cowbird with the fury of a thousand hummingbirds denied sugar water.
And when the cowbird left, the Vireo turned to the heavens and shouted, “Was that really necessary!?”
At that moment, the Great Bird Beyond (who may have been napping) opened one massive eye, peered down, and sighed.
Then, with a puff of celestial wind—whoosh!
The color drained from her irises like ink from a leaky pen.
Since then, all White-eyed Vireos wear that pale, eerie stare.
Not from age. Not from wisdom.
But from the day a cowbird crossed the line, and the universe said: “Okay, that’s enough drama.”
Moral:
Some scars don’t show—unless they’re in your eyeballs.
Ericgram:
1. She Saw Red, Then She Saw White
2. The Bird Who Yelled Her Eyes Out
Sound City Files, Volume 1 - Chapter 5
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< Sound City Files, Volume 1 - Chapter 4
The water poured down with a splash, sheets flowing from her body as it cleansed her body and mind. A shower. She knew the name, but this... this was far better than she expected. Not like the rain, this water made you feel clean... refreshed.
The water clicks off.
"s̷h̷o̷w̷e̷r̷ ̷c̷y̷c̷l̷e̷ ̷c̷o̷m̷p̷l̷e̷t̷e̷"
The voice startles her to jump with a verbal squeak.
"Are you okay?"
His voice calls from the other side of the door.
"I'm fine.. This... thing? just said my shower was over..."
She's standing in the shower with the unit beeping and water dripping from the shower, now off.
He lets out a hearty laugh.
"Sorry for not warning you about that, they limit us to how much water we use. Were you able to finish?"
"Mhmm"
She dries off, squeezes her hair dry, and wraps the towel around her.
"Was there anything that you found would fit me?"
"Well, yes... but... everything I own is for men... definitely not a woman your size. I still had a few things that got confiscated when I was with CorGen and I washed them, but...."
He hesitated.
"It's fine, it can't be any worse than walking around in a towel."
Her legs were covered in goosebumps, rubbing her arms to stay warm. The heat systems at this altitude weren't exactly great. She sticks her arm out the door, cracked open just enough.
"D̴͚̜͓̳͓͈̭̀̓͐͒̇͑̐͜A̴͍͚̦̘̚T̶̨̡̘̬̰̼̪̋͂̓̋̉̒̅̓͜͝A̸͉͐̆͑͊́̾̿̕͠͝ ̸͖͎͗̒ͅÇ̸̠̻̪̦͊͗͛̍̀̃͘̚͝͝Ŏ̵̡͇̻̝̝̯͖̘̌̾R̸̨̲̤͉̣̠̼̣͎͐̈́̀͌Ŗ̴̯̰̂̈̐̽̿̏̔̎̏̐Ṵ̸̪̘̘͍̦͇̜̞̮̎́̀P̵̢̡̫̗̬͍͎͠T̶̖̰̣̲͔̗̜͖͎̪͗̈́͐̎́̃͘͝ ... you didn't really think I wouldn't be expecting you... did you?"
He kicks the ground.
"You know, I didn't even go there looking for him. Nice cover, by the way. But hey, I guess it was just my lucky day right? I owed that motherfnck3r." Vinzer smiles a vicious smile filled with perfectly aligned, perfectly white, perfectly fake teeth.
The four lapdogs surrounding her are all visibly eager. She sizes each one up carefully. One to the left. One to the right. Vinzer in front, with one flanking him on each side. Prioritize close combat targets. She thinks to herself. Remeber what he taught you. Know their next three moves. Then nine. Keep going until they don't.
"Do you give them doggie treats after each mission?"
"Is this /REALLY/ all you had?"
She sighs.
He stammers.
"I... I swear. I can go to a store and find something for you right now. Just give me li-"
"No. It's... fine."
Her face feels like it's on fire. The bodysuit barely covered anything. Confiscated? Of course the confiscated box would be from a strip club. Her body can't help but react, thinking about his eyes on her.
The door opens slowly and she takes a tedious step forward. She tries to be modest, but the tiny bit of cloth covering her made that difficult.
He's sitting on the sofa, focused on the comm in his hand when he looks up to see her. The comm drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stands up slowly, almost instinctively.
The first strike is from the agent to her left. She parries with an elbow and follows it with the muzzle of her pistol right to the female agents chest.
One.
She weaves to avoid the next shot, gunfire from the agent to her right. She swings her arms over her shoulder sending two shell casings clattering as the agent slumps to the ground.
Two.
An open shot. She moves to take down Vinzer, but the slippery rat dodges behind his own teammate to use them as a shield. Good thing it was a full synthetic. Now it's about... two-thirds of one.
Three.
He walks towards her, quiet. His eyes fixed on her. Her thighs press together, as though she can feel his eyes touching everywhere he gazes.
"w-what?" Her voice is weak, why is her heart racing like this?
He just shakes his head.
"I.. you... you're beautiful."
"It's... just this outfit. You put me in something too sexy..."
Her body is aflame. It feels like fire would erupt from her every pore. Hot. Burning.
Now only inches from her, his hand reaches up and tilts her head up by the chin to meet his gaze. So tall. So strong. So... big.
She bites her lip, making it sting slightly.
He moves forward, slowly urging her back towards the wall. It's cold against her skin. Like ice, compared to how hot she feels. She slides her calf against his, wrapping her thigh around his and pressing against him.
His hands move to the straps of her bodysuit, slowly sliding them down until they go past her wrists. They're both breathing heavily, chests heaving. She musters only four words...
"Like what you see?"
A fist slams her jaw, stars dance in her head for a moment.
The last thug grabs her from behind, arm wrapped around her neck. Thunder rings in her ears. A clang. Searing pain.
"How does it feel to take a shotgun point blank? Even your suit can't stop all of the force. I should know, I helped them test the d4mn things."
Vinzer stands holding a tactical shotgun just feet away.
"ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ, ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ꜱᴜɪᴛ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ.
ʙɪᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ:
ꜰʀᴀᴄᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ɪɴ ʀɪʙꜱ 3, 4, 6, 7, ᴀɴᴅ 12.
ʜᴀɪʀʟɪɴᴇ ꜰʀᴀᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪɴ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴏʀᴀᴄɪᴄ ᴠᴇʀᴛᴇʙʀᴀᴇ.
ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ʜᴇᴍᴏʀʀʜᴀɢɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇꜱᴏᴘʜᴀɢᴜꜱ."
The suits lecture isn't what she needed right now.
"Fnck. You."
The attack had stunned her, and now her guns were at her feet. She tugs at the thugs hold, twisting hard, and another blast roars through the streets.
The thug falls to the ground in a wet splat.
Four.
"Are you fncking serious??"
Vinzer fumes as she stumbles forward to her knees. The thug blocked most of the blast, but her back was almost numb from the pain.
She coughs. She knows now. There was never any chance of turning back. This is her judgement, and Vinzers requiem.
And not she or him could do a d4mn thing to avoid it.
Her hands slide under his shirt, the chest hair running between her fingers. His hands slide down her back, lower... lower... then lifts her up to be face to face.
She giggles softly and wraps her legs around his waist. His deep growls and firm grip send lightning through her body. His breath is warm against her chest as she runs her hands through his hair.
His scent, smooth and cool yet worn and rugged. She pulls his shirt open, buttons clatter to the floor. Feeling his bare skin against hers she leans in and bites his neck gently, letting her tongue run against his skin.
Her hands find his belt buckle and promptly release it. She moans low into his chest feeling him swell against her. He presses her hard against the wall as he drops the bodysuit to the floor.
Imposing. That's how most anyone would describe him. Few people stood taller, and her arms didn't even come close to fitting around his chest. No matter how you looked at him, he was a big man. His hands grip her hips firmly as he pulls her down until she can't go any further. She lets out a sound from her mouth she didn't even know possible. Deep, for her, and growling in ecstasy. A /very/ big man.
He lifts her to her knees by her hair. The back of his hand cracks against her mask.
"Just like good old times, right?"
His fist slams between her eyes and she falls back from the force.
Vinzer tosses a clump of blue hair to the side.
"What was it that came next? I forget... was it a kick to the stomach, or a knee to the head?"
Red mist pumps from the mask as she rolls to her back.
"Fnck it, let's go for double points." The steel toe of his shoe slams into the mask, snapping her head to the side like a whip. Silence. Darkness.
His muscles flex against her, the movements smooth, steady. Her hips roll, as his soft grunts set the rhythm. Her arms wrap under his to hold his shoulders as her legs bounce in the air.
His fingers slide along her neck, his palm pressing against her throat softly. His hand moves up, and to the back of her head while the other arm wraps her waist like a massive python. He leans back, pulling her from the wall and holds her as his arms guide her body. Faster now. She gives in completely. Her body tenses suddenly, then goes limp as she lets out a muffled moan into his neck.
Her mind races as she's filled with warmth, love. His love. Her mind reels in pleasure. Nothing ever felt more right.
She lays on the sofa relaxing, crop top and panties as usual. The door latch clicks. She checks the time.
"Welcome home!" She bounces up from the sofa and does her best to tackle the man.
"Wow. You really put the shine on her, dint ya?" Jessups voice is unmistakable.
"I did nothing of the sort." He's stern, more than usual.
When she realizes, she ducks behind a cabinet. "Hey! Why are you here??" She tries to cover herself.
"Jessup is just helping me bring up some boxes from the storeroom so I didn't have to make 2 trips." He slides the box over and stacks the one from Jessup on top. "Thanks, I'll stop by later so you can check the actuator in my knee. It's been a bit glitchy."
"Ya ya, no freebies this time." Jessup shuffles to the stairs. "Full price!"
"So what have you been up to?" He pulls her close as he shuts the cabinet door she was hiding behind.
"Well, first I went out and sold myself to EVERY guy on the block." She giggles.
"Oh really? Did you make a lot?" He squeezes her.
"Oh lots, but THEN I went and bought all of the expensive clothes I've wanted." She wiggles against him.
"Oh, then I get a fashion show?" His hands sneak lower.
"I don't need new clothes to do that for you..." She looks down and pulls the loose collar of her top off her shoulder, then looks back up to him softly biting her lips as she peers up from under her long eyelashes.
His lips press against her forehead. "So what did you really do?"
"I had an early delivery, then a commute across town to get another in the afternoon. That's about all. Also... I cleaned!" She points at the floors.
"Did said cleaning involve dancing?" He chuckles, knowing the answer.
"Duh, like I would clean and NOT dance." She slithers her body against his.
He spins her around like a ballroom dancer. "I'm glad your day was good."
"Yep! Let's celebrate!" She springs around the apartment, stopping at the sofa and leaning over the back to talk to him.
"I've been here for a month now!"
"Oh, you are absolutely correct. That most definitely /is/ reason to celebrate. So..."
The word echoes in her mind.
"Where are we going?"
They lay back on the bed, content and worn. "I'm sorry... you might need another shower..." His voice is soft from heavy breathing.
She giggles and snuggles into his chest. "Want to share one?" Her voice is seductive and low.
He pulls her close and sighs contently as a moments eternity of peace gives them a tiny taste of respite.
She lays on top of him, both sweaty and panting. "Let's leave."
"What?" He blinks, surprised by the statement, looking down into her eyes.
"Let's leave. This place. It's... rotten. Maybe if there was some order.. or even just... someone that cared. This isn't the place to start a life." She draws patterns on his chest with the tip of her finger as she lays her cheek against him.
"You know I'd go anywhere with you. Just say the word." He brushes her hair back over her ear.
"I just.... I want it to be us. Just us. No CorGen. No thugs. No more operations. What if... one day... you don't come back to me?" A tear wells in her eye and drops onto his skin.
"Ok. Fine. So..."
The word echoes in her mind.
"Where are we going?"
"... *crackle* to *krzzzzz*ie."
.
.
.
"... going to *digital noise*"
.
.
.
"You're going to DIE!"
It's warm, but cold at the same time. She's here, but everywhere also.
"... up."
.
.
.
"get*static*"
She looks where her hand should be. Nothing. Everything is white. There's nothing but... light.
"I knew you'd do something reckless." His voice comes from beside her, behind her, inside her. "You have to get up. If you don't, you're going to die."
"Am I dead?" She tries to look around but there's no left or right, up or down.
"I need you to listen. I wasn't... entirely honest with you. That place... where they kept you. It wasn't just a place to torture you. They did things. Horrible things. Vinzer was taking young girls from the streets and using implants to force them to do what he wanted. Murder, robbery, and... other things. But you... nothing they did would break you. I couldn't do it any more. Chasing you down, dragging you back to that place. Your screams..."
He looks away.
"I left his crew, and the moment I could come get you... I did."
"Why?" She wants to cry. "Why did you lie to me?"
"I didn't want to force you to remember. Any of it. It was wrong. Can you forgive me?"
His words are soft.
"I love you." Her response comes without any will of her own.
"I can't make it right, but I can help you... one more time. All of the VES suits, they're modeled after you. You were subject #000. When I worked on your suit, I linked it to your neural implant..."
His explanation makes little sense.
Her mind interrupts. "You're dead."
"Well, yes... technically. And... technically, so are you." His voice doesn't waver.
"Dead?" She questions.
"Yes. For now." He sighs. "All done. I love you. You don't have to do this. Please. Get out of there. Run. Don't look back. Forget me. Forget the city. Be free. I'll always be watching you, my love."
The white fades to gray. "I love you. My light." Her thought sends vibrations through her reality, shattering it to nothingness. Dark. Quiet.
The apartment is pitch black, the only sound the rain pattering against the windows.
Quiet. Dark.
"D̴̀̓A̴͍̚T̶̋͂A̸͐͠ ̸͗̒C̸͊͘Ŏ̵̌R̸͐̈́R̴̂̈U̸̎́P̵̢͠T̶͗͘???" She calls for him. Silence. Her eyes adjust, and she sees the apartment in shambles.
"D̴̀̓A̴͍̚T̶̋͂A̸͐͠ ̸͗̒C̸͊͘Ŏ̵̌R̸͐̈́R̴̂̈U̸̎́P̵̢͠T̶͗͘?!?!?!?!?!" She calls out again, and again... silence. She flicks the lights, nothing.
She uses the light of her comm to look around frantically. Calling his name, over and over. As she turns the corner to their bedroom she falls to her knees.
Her hands shake as she reaches for his... Cold. She screams in pain. It's so dark. So cold. She can't see his light.
She drags herself close to his still body and lays her head on his chest. "You can't go... you can't leave me..."
The door bangs open suddenly and Jessup rushes in carrying a flashlight. "Is everyone alright? I heard a screa-" He stops abruptly as he sees her. "Oh fnck..."
She turns towards Jessup, eyes cold as the oceans depths. "Jessup..." Tears stream down her face. "My light..." The words barely escape her lips.
"They took him from me."
-------------------------------------------------------
Sound City Files, Volume 1 - Chapter 6 >
😭😭😭😭😭*kicks and punches at the air* Go get em! RAWR!! lol
I love how this shot came out. I always proof my photos before I post them, andthis one was just sooo much fun. I took a backdrop, modified it for use in the city, then used it as a more elaborate backdrop. I think there's probably about 150 lights in that shot. Seriously. There's definitely thousands of particles. I know everyone I've shown previews to has been really amped up about it! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did taking it!
Only a couple of chapters left.... are you ready?
EDIT: I'm sorry about the formatting. Flickr feels that they should modify what you enter. I'm not sure why... but they do. I also can't use anything to format it more properly since they ignore or remove the formatting. Please reach out if you know of a way to keep formatting when I post descriptions. Thanks! :)
❤️ Epi!
Spottled this Hypoblemum sp. (jumping spider) on the pink spare recycle bin in the backyard. It was very shy.
This was probably the one of the most interesting abandoned buildings I've witnessed first hand, because nature had taken over. It was like the ivy was trying to smother the building and erase it's presence, which is the perfect backdrop for a photo shoot. The day was warm, so the tones in the film were a little more orange and red, which made everything look a little older to exaggerate the decaying building covered in robust life. The outside, draped in greenery, was far more interesting than the man made rooms and dust inside, so I just had Cassidy stand at the entrance, looking at what could be explored, but hovering in the space that had already captured our attention.
The red squirrel or Eurasian red squirrel (Sciurus vulgaris) is a species of tree squirrel in the genus Sciurus common throughout Eurasia. The red squirrel is an arboreal, primarily herbivorous rodent.
In Great Britain, Ireland, and in Italy numbers have decreased drastically in recent years. This decline is associated with the introduction by humans of the eastern grey squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) from North America. However, the population in Scotland is stabilising due to conservation efforts, awareness and the increasing population of the pine marten, a European predator that selectively controls grey squirrels.
Utrecht, 16 December 2024.
At the start of the concession Qbuzz didn't have enough serviceable buses, therefore a wide variety of buses were drafted in from various other smaller operators.
Had some fun shooting two friends of mine a month odd ago for practice. It was quite windy so I let the wind do it's stuff. Here's one of the individual pics. Probably post a few more later on
Always seem to be in catch up mode at the moment but look forward to seeing what my contacts have been up to over the last week,
Happy Mondays
Pic:1/500sec | f/7.1 | 63 mm | ISO400
A cat peers out from a gap in the walls within the old town region of Dubrovnik.
To view & purchase my best images please visit my website at www.jasonwells.co.uk.
The PSRS/PEERS building in Jefferson City, Missouri. Photography by Notley Hawkins. Design by Simon Oswald Architecture of Columbia, Missouri. Taken with a Canon EOS R5 camera with a Canon RF15-35mm F2.8 L IS USM lens at ƒ/8.0 with a 8-second exposure at ISO 50. Processed with Adobe Lightroom CC.
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©Notley Hawkins. All rights reserved.
Why the House of Lords smells of wee.
The favoured cloth for suits worn by the landed peerage in the House was Harris Tweed for two reasons:
1/. It was symbolic. Each great estate had its own tweed just as clans had tartans.
2/. It was very tough - ideal for shooting on ones estate - and hence a suit could last generations.
It's one drawback was the method of it's manufacture. Sheeps' wool does not hold dye well so requires a chemical MORDANT to fix it. In the Tweed manufacturing areas this was usually stale human urine. The cloth when it came off the loom was also loosely woven and needed to be 'fulled' to thicken it up and make it weather proof. This was also done using stale human urine. The process of kneeding and beating the urine soaked fabric was known as 'waulking'.
Whilst this made the life of the tweed weaver unappealing it had little effect on the wearer of the garments - unless that garment became wet, when the faint smell of stale human urine would rise off it.
Hence after a rain shower the House of Lords, or rather the hereditary peers in their old Tweeds, would smell of stale urine.
To view more of my images, of Belton House, please click "here" ! Click any image to view large!
Please, no group invites; thank you!
Belton House is a Grade I listed country house in Belton near Grantham, Lincolnshire, England. The mansion is surrounded by formal gardens and a series of avenues leading to follies within a larger wooded park. Belton has been described as a compilation of all that is finest of Carolean architecture, the only truly vernacular style of architecture that England had produced since the Tudor period. The house has also been described as the most complete example of a typical English country house; the claim has even been made that Belton's principal facade was the inspiration for the modern British motorway signs which give directions to stately homes. Only Brympton d'Evercy has been similarly lauded as the perfect English country house. For three hundred years, Belton House was the seat of the Brownlow and Cust family, who had first acquired land in the area in the late 16th century. Between 1685 and 1688 Sir John Brownlow and his wife had the present mansion built. Despite great wealth they chose to build a modest country house rather than a grand contemporary Baroque palace. The contemporary, if provincial, Carolean style was the selected choice of design. However, the new house was fitted with the latest innovations such as sash windows for the principal rooms, and more importantly completely separate areas for the staff. As the Brownlows rose from baronets to barons upward to earls and then once again became barons, successive generations made changes to the interior of the house which reflected their changing social position and tastes, yet the fabric and design of the house changed little. Following World War I (a period when the Machine Gun Corps was based in the park), the Brownlows, like many of their peers, were faced with mounting financial problems. In 1984 they gave the house away—complete with most of its contents. The recipients of their gift, the National Trust, today fully open Belton to the public. It is in a good state of repair and visited by many thousands of tourists each year The Brownlow family, a dynasty of lawyers, began accumulating land in the Belton area from approximately 1598. In 1609 they acquired the reversion of the manor of Belton itself from the Pakenham family, who finally sold the manor house to Sir John Brownlow I in 1619. The old house was situated near the church in the garden of the present house and remained largely unoccupied, since the family preferred their other houses elsewhere. John Brownlow had married an heiress but was childless. He became attached to two of his more distant blood relations: a great-nephew, also called John Brownlow, and a great-niece, Alice Sherard. The two cousins married each other in 1676 when both were aged 16; three years later, the couple inherited the Brownlow estates from their great-uncle together with an income of £9,000 per annum (about £ 1.17 million in present day terms) and £20,000 in cash (equivalent to about £ 2.59 million now). They immediately bought a town house in the newly fashionable Southampton Square in Bloomsbury, and decided to build a new country house at Belton. Work on the new house began in 1685. The architect thought to have been responsible for the initial design is William Winde, although the house has also been attributed to Sir Christopher Wren, while others believe the design to be so similar to Roger Pratt's Clarendon House, London, that it could have been the work of any talented draughtsman. The assumption popular today, that Winde was the architect, is based on the stylistic similarity between Belton and Coombe Abbey, which was remodelled by Winde between 1682 and 1685. Further evidence is a letter dated 1690, in which Winde recommends a plasterer who worked at Belton to another of his patrons. Whoever the architect, Belton follows closely the design of Clarendon House, completed in 1667. This great London town house (demolished circa 1683) has been one of the most admired buildings of its era due to "its elegant symmetry and confident and common-sensical design". Sir John Summerson described Clarendon House as "the most influential house of its time among those who aimed at the grand manner" and Belton as "much the finest surviving example of its class". John and Alice Brownlow assembled one of the finest teams of craftsmen available at the time to work on the project. This dream team was headed by the master mason William Stanton who oversaw the project. His second in command, John Thompson, had worked with Sir Christopher Wren on several of the latter's London churches, while the chief joiner John Sturges had worked at Chatsworth under William Talman. The wrought-ironworker John Warren worked under Stanton at Denham Place, Buckinghamshire, and the fine wrought iron gates and overthrow at Belton may be his. Thus so competent were the builders of Belton that Winde may have done little more than provide the original plans and drawings, leaving the interpretation to the on-site craftsmen. This theory is further demonstrated by the external appearance of the adjoining stable block. More provincial, and less masterful in proportion, it is known to have been entirely the work of Stanton.
It may be my imagination, but I felt a certain connection with this guy as he stopped, looked, moved out of sight, and poked his head out again.
Pristimantis sp - Buenaventura Reserve, Ecuador
Pristimantis can be notoriously difficult to ID, and this one is no exception! It comes from Buenaventura Reserve and this particular individual was found next to a river running through the cloud forest. New species of Pristimantis are frequently described, however this does not mean they are doing well. There are doubtless many species disappearing before we ever learn of their existence or they are discovered in already dire circumstances. This little frog may very well be an example of one of those as Buenaventura reserve is one of a few areas of high quality habitat in the region, the rest of the province has been largely deforested and fragmented. Buenaventura Reserve has proven to be a treasure trove of Pristimantis and new species continue being found there.
Leve de bloemetjes en bijtjes.
Het is nog klein, maar het begint al aardig op een vruchtje te lijken.