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bethanythebogwitch · 7 months

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I am a survivor of Florida, having gone to college there for 4.5 years. There's a lot (a LOT) to not like about Florida, but the wildlife is not one of those things. So for this Wet Beast Wednesday, I'm gonna talk about the most famous Florida resident, the manatee. And why stop there? I'll discuss all the sirenians in one go.

(image: three manatees facing the camera. They are rotund, resembling a potato in shape. Their heads are smaller and end in squarish snouts. They have two flippers at the front of the head. The tail is flat, wide, and round. They are grey all over)

The sirenians are a taxonomic order of marine mammals consisting of 4 living members: three species of manatee and the dugong. They are the only herbivorous order of marine mammals, a trait that has given the the nickname "sea cows". The name Sirenia comes from the sirens of greek myth. In the original story, the sirens were bird with the heads and breasts of women, but later stories turned them into mermaids and that's the version that's stuck. There are unconfirmed stories that European sailors (the most common story uses Christopher Columbus) mistook manatees for mermaids, which is why they're named after sirens.

(image: a manatee facing the camera. Its face is visible, revealing two nostrils on a broad, flat shout covered in whiskers. It's eyes are located above the snout and are small and black. It is grey, but has patches of greenish algae growing on it)

Sirenians all have a pretty similar body plan. They are fusiform (bulky in the middle and narrower at the ends) and very bulky animals not built for speed. They don't ned to be fast (though are capable of short bursts of speed) because unlike other marine mammals, they are herbivorous. The vast majority of a sirenian's diet consists of sea grass and most of the rest is other aquatic plants. All species have been known to supplement their diet with invertebrates, mostly during times of poor food availability. When feeding, they move their snouts through the sediment, letting sensory bristles detect plants. They then use their flexible and muscular lips to pull up the sea grass, roots and all. While an individual can eat up to 15% of their body weight a day, they are known to seek out seagrass patches with higher nitrogen content instead of eating everything they can get. This reliance on seagrass limits the range of sirenians to shallow coastal areas, rivers, and estuaries in warm climates. Hearing and touch (with the bristles that cover their bodies) are their main senses. Their eyes are weak, making them almost blind. Sirenians are large, with the largest ever known, Stellar's sea cow, growing up to 10 meters (33 ft) and 11 tons. Mature sirenians are large enough to have no natural predators. Like all marine mammals not named sea otters, sirenians have a thick layer of blubber to keep them warm. Their bones are extremely dense and likely act as ballast to counteract the buoyancy of the blubber. In the marine mammal breath-holding competition, sirenians do pretty bad. They can hold their breath for about 15 minutes at max.

(image: a dugong. It is similar in appearance to a manatee, but skinnier. Its tail is a fluke with two points. Its head is larger and the snout and mouth point downwards)

Sirenian reproduction is somewhat poorly-understood. They only have a single calf at a time (with a gestation period of about a year) and mothers will raise them for one to two years. Calves mature quickly, reaching sexual maturity in around 2-5 years in manatees and 8 years in dugongs, though most females do not give birth until between 6 and 15 years. Their nipples are located behind the flippers, making a nursing calf appear to be sucking its mother's armpit. Sirenians are solitary animals who typically only congregate in groups when females are in estrus. Males are believed to compete for the right to mate and may engage in lekking. Lekking is when a male will claim a territory and mate with females in this territory while chasing opposing males out. Sirenians live long lives, with the oldest known individual being a female dugong that lived to 73. Despite how long they live, each female will only get pregnant a few times in her life.

(image: a manatee mother with calf. The calf looks like a smaller version of the mother and is suckling, making it appear to be biting the mother's armpit)

As with all marine mammals, sirenians are descended from land mammals. The study of sirenian evolution has led to a surprising conclusion: the closest relatives of sirenians are elephants. It sounds weird, but there is substantial DNA evidence supporting this conclusion. In addition, the tusks of a dugong (see below) and flexible and prehensile lips of sirenians are based on the same structures as the tusks and trunks of elephants. It gets better, the next closest relative of both groups are the hyraxes, who look more like rodents than anything that should be related to an elephant or a manatee. All three are part of a clade called paenungulata, which is part of a clade called afrotheria. The other main group within afrotheria is afroinsectiphilia, which consists of aardvarks and various shrews. The afrotherian family reunions must be wild.

(image: a scientific diagram showing a cladogram of afrotheria and the groups within it. source)

The dugong (Dugong dugon) is the last surviving member of its family, which also included the now extinct giant Stellar's sea cow. The easiest way to tell a dugong apart from a manatee is its tail, which is shaped like a dolphin's fluke instead of the round tails of manatees. Internally, there are also multiple differences, many of them relating to the skull. The skull has a very distinct shape, with the upper jaw bending down at a sharp angle. The tip of the upper jaw has two short tusks emerging from it. These tusks are found in moth males and females, but develop differently. In males, they emerge when the calf reaches sexual maturity, while those of females only emerge later in life and sometimes not at all. It is believed that these tusks are used by males to fight over females, as males are often found with scars matching the shape of the tusks. Dugong teeth as simpler than those of manatees, being simple pegs. While manatee teeth will be replaced continuously through life, dugongs only get one set and have to make it count. Dugongs reach an average length of 3 m (10 ft) and 420 kg (930 lbs). Dugongs have the largest range of any sirenian, stretching from east Africa to the Solomon islands east of Australia. This range is fragmented rather than continuous and dugongs are separated into multiple isolated populations. The largest population is believed to exist in northern Australia.

(image: a dugong feeding on seagrass, seen from the front. It's snout is being dragged through the sediment, leaving a cloud of dirt behind it. Small yellow fish surround it)

The west Indian manatee (Trichechus manatus) does not live in west India. It lives in North America. I dunno who named it, but you had one job. The species is divided into two subspecies: the Florida manatee (T. m. latriostris) found in the Gulf of Mexico and east coast of the United States, and the Antillean manatee (T. m. manatus) found in the Caribbean and down south to Brazil. The Antillean subspecies is much more poorly known compared to the Florida subspecies. The Florida manatee may be the most well-studied of all manatees due to the extensive conservation efforts regarding them since the 1970s. Like other manatees, the WI manatee has a round, paddle-like tail and fingernails on its flippers. Their diaphragms are divided into two hemidiaphragms, each of which contracts one lung. They have the northernmost territory of all manatees, which comes with some consequences. They are susceptible to stress and even death when exposed to water under 20 degrees C (68 F). They travel south during winter, usually to southern Florida, but conservationists still have to rehabilitate manatees harmed by cool water every year.

(image: tourists in transparent kayaks observing a west Indian manatee swim below them)

The Amazonian manatee (Trichechus inunguis) is the only sirenian that lives entirely in freshwater, residing in the Amazon river basin. They move seasonally inhabiting flooded areas during the wet season and lakes during the dry season. They fast during the dry season, subsisting off of their fat stores. There are believed to be multiple relatively isolated populations of Amazonian manatee, but studying them is difficult due to them preferring to live in areas away from humans. The Amazonian manatee is the smallest sirenian, reaching between 160 and 230 cm (5 ft 4 in to 7 ft 7 in) and 120 to 270 kg (265 to 595 lbs). Scientist Marc van Roosmalen has proposed the existence of a related species, the dwarf manatee, that lives only in one tributary of Aripuanã river, which is in the habitat range of the Amazonian manatee. Their existence is debated, but most manatee scientists think that they are misidentified juvenile Amazonian manatees.

(image: an Amazonian manatee with calf, seen from ahead and below. they have the same body plan as the above images, but are a darker grey with a white patch on the stomach)

The African manatee (Trichechus senegalensis) is the only species found in the old world, in west Africa from Senegal to Angola. They occupy the largest range of habitats of all sirenians, from tropical islands to flooded forests, to offshore sand flats, to lakes and rivers. They will swim up river during the wet season and back down during dry season. Some isolated populations live exclusively in rivers, never venturing out to sea. They are the most omnivorous of the sirenians, seeking out invertebrates to eat and stealing fish from nets. Many cultural groups in their range consider the African manatee sacred, some saying they used to be people and that killing one requires paying a penance. Mami Wata, a water spirit revered in throughout west, central, and south Africa, has been identified with manatees by some folklorists.

(image: an African manatee seen from the side in an aquarium. It looks almost identical to the west Indian manatee)

All sirenians are classified as vulnerable by the IUCN, except for the Antillean manatee, which is endangered. As they have few to no predators as adults, the primary threats for all sirenians come from humans. Boat strikes and getting tangled in nets kills and injures many individuals, possibly more than die of natural causes. This is not helped by them lacking fear responses to predators, meaning they don't flee from humans and boats. All species were historically hunted for their meat, blubber, and bones, reducing their populations. While all species are now legally protected, poaching and legal hunting by indigenous groups still occurs. They are also threatened by habitat loss as coastal development, pollution, and climate change reduces the range of seagrass. Damming has also reduced their ability to travel up rivers, cutting off valuable feeding ground. Learning about freshwater ecology will make you despise dams. In the United States, the west Indian manatee has become an icon of conservation, especially in Florida, where they have extensive legal protections. Controversially, the US government reduced their legal protections in 2017, much to the ire of many conservation groups. The manatee is the state marine mammal of Florida, presumably narrowly beating out dolphins and meth heads wandering around the everglades.

(image: two juvenile manatees who were abandoned by their mothers. They are being bottle fed by employees of the Cincinnati zoo. Ideally, they will be able to be released into the wild once weaned)

#wet beast wednesday #sirenia #manatee #dugong #west indian manatee #amazonian manatee #african manatee #marine biology #biology #zoology #ecology #animal facts #marine mammals

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heich0e · 8 months

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THE WITCH'S SONG - part one knight!osamu/witch!reader tags: fem!reader, royalty!au, supernatural!au, witchcraft, enemies to lovers, mentions of violence/illness/death, persecution and oppression, tw blood, please read the tags on each chapter as updated and minors do not interact. crossposted to ao3 MASTERLIST

The night air is sweet.

It’s still early summer, where the days are warm and bright before giving way to cool evenings, and the smell spring unfurled with its budding leaves continues to linger long after the sun sets. The aroma is fresh and green, not yet turned to the heady fragrance of singed grass and warmed earth which will slowly seep in as the days grow longer and the sun ever-brighter overhead.

There’s something captivating about this time of year; not quite the lush, blooming spring, nor the scorching, unforgiving summer, but a deliriously pleasant in-between that keeps the best of both.

On a tall hill, overlooking the rocky coast and a quiet village in the distance, sits a small stone cottage. Ivy crawls along the rows of uneven bricks that give the home its shape, having long settled and slanted in the time since it was built, each vine curling in long stems around four-pane windows and up towards the thatched roof.

In front of the house sits a garden, full of every plant anyone could possibly desire to find in the given climate; vegetables, fruits and unusual herbs abound. The rich earth that surrounds the cottage is fertile and generous—with a careful hand to till and tend it, there’s little it can't sprout. The gardens are still not quite at their peak for the season, the plants low to the ground but flourishing as they patiently wait for a few more sun-filled days to truly blossom into their prime.

Along the western side of the property, nearest to the towering forest’s edge, sits a greenhouse connected to a shabby little shed that greatly resembles the cottage in its quaint, unassuming construction. It’s there, in the dead of this cool summer night, that you—the owner of the cottage—toil.

Your fingers hold a glass vial over a small open flame atop the work station with a set of silver pincers. Your keen, well-trained eyes watch attentively as the fire licks up along the edges of the glass, heating the contents within. A breeze, northeasterly with a faint taste of salt air that creeps in with the nearby waves, whisks through the room and a shiver accompanies it in turn.

A soft sigh slips through your parted lips and your eyes, previously fixed on the tincture held over the flame, lift towards the door.

You aren’t startled when you see him standing there, though you barely contain the sound of annoyance that threatens to leave you; the momentary glance is the only acknowledgement you make to his (notably unwelcome) appearance as his figure darkens your doorway. You return your gaze to the solution you’re in the midst of preparing—a careful balance of valerian, mugwort, and poppy heads for a woman in the nearby village who has been unable to sleep restfully since the untimely death of her husband.

“Good evenin’,” he says to you once he realizes that you will not be the first to speak. He punctuates the greeting with a light clearing of his throat.

“Is it?” you reply, removing the slender vial from the flame and swirling its contents. You closely examine the colour and viscosity of the liquid, returning it to the heat for a few moments more after some consideration.

“Sorry to show up unannounced,” the young man’s own tone is rather tight and clipped as he speaks the words–obviously equally unhappy with the turn of events that had led him to your cottage this evening, though resolute to maintain some level of decorum.

“And yet,”—you finally look up at him, meeting his gaze with a firm and unwavering stare that you have up until this point denied him—“here you are.”

Finally satisfied with the tincture, you set about pressing a stopper into the tube. You reach over and pluck up a burning taper from the candleholder resting nearby on your worktop, tipping it forward over the still blisteringly-hot glass to seal the cork. A rivulet of molten wax runs from the candlestick in a slow drizzle, and you carefully turn the thin vial to coat the border where glass and cork marry evenly. A piece of blue ribbon is then carefully wound around the warm wax before it has fully hardened, sealing the small vessel shut.

The man watches silently as you slip the vial into a velvet pouch, tying the strings together tightly to draw it closed, and then you tuck the pouch safely away in the pocket of your flowing skirt—out of sight from where your visitor stands in the doorway to the greenhouse. Your eyes scan over the bench for a moment before you extinguish the oil burner you’d been using, turning the small knob at the base until the flame shrinks down to nothingness.

“I wouldn’t’ve come if it weren’t important,” the young man’s tone has softened slightly into something closer to a mumble, weary from his journey and seemingly in grave need of something he could only seek from you. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, with grim shadows under his eyes and a pallor to his skin that doesn’t suit him.

“Now that I do believe,” you remark, almost drolly, picking up your oil lamp and crossing the room towards where he stands. He stiffens a little as you approach, as though bracing himself against a threat, but you merely slip soundlessly past him, stepping out into the dark night.

Behind you, the man sighs.

He follows.

The two of you cross the yard, a few paces separating you throughout the silent trek, with the lamp you hold in hand the only light to lead the way. You tread carefully through the well-tended garden, careful but familiar motions deciding where each foot falls, and you sense without turning that he’s following your path as you move towards the stone cottage on the other side of the property—ensuring his own steps follow your footprints precisely. There are candles burning inside your cottage up ahead, their warm glow visible through the windows, and smoke curls steadily from the chimney and into the brisk night air. The smoke is perfumed with herbs, and the scent only grows stronger the nearer you get to your home.

You wonder if he notices.

“That’s far enough.”

You pause in your stride as you reach the stout stone wall that circles your cottage in a knee-high ring, resting with your feet together at the place where a gate might be were there any need for it. Behind you, the man falters to his own stop, surprised by your sudden halt and your sharp words.

“I need yer help,” he sounds confused, and frustrated—impatience creeping into his tone again. There’s a sharpness to it, like he’s forced each word out from between clenched teeth. You don’t look back to verify your suspicion.

Another cold wind blows from the direction of the sea, and the budding leaves of the garden’s plants around you rustle as it passes, whispering amongst themselves as they spectate your exchange.

“I care very little for what you need, Miya Osamu,”—you glance at him over your shoulder, and see the way the distant light from your windows dances in his eyes—“and it will be a cold day in hell before I help a royal knight.”

The garden seems to still in the wake of your low-spoken words, the breeze dying out like the temporary peace ahead of a storm’s rage.

Before you, Osamu’s eyes have hardened. The lines of his sharp jaw set underneath his skin.

“Ya know me.”

“I know of you,” you correct him flatly. “Fortunately, our paths have never crossed.”

Until now.

Osamu’s nostrils flare, then he swallows.

“How?” he asks, his voice low and deceptively even.

“One of the king’s most trusted knights tearing through the outskirts of the kingdom in search of a healer is news powerful enough to reach even my ears, Miya.” Your lamplight dims slightly as you hold it aloft in your hand, the flame beneath the glass slowly shrinking. The oil is burning low. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you got desperate and I got unlucky.”

He flinches, his lashes fluttering slightly like he’s fighting back a more violent reaction. Like he’s accepting a blow he could easily return but chooses not to. The knight's gaze casts down to his feet as his fingers curl into fists at his sides.

“My brother's ill,” he says quietly, his voice heavy with an anxiety that rolls off of him in waves. “My twin.”

“Atsumu,” you specify, since he did not. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, and there’s a spark of something new behind it. Something more volatile. He looks angry that you’ve taken it upon yourself to speak his brother’s name.

“I know what you are,” he says slowly, wielding his next words like a blade and aiming to kill.

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side in a show of guilelessness.

“Yer a witch,” he continues, overlooking your feigned ignorance.

“There are no witches in this kingdom,” you reply. “The crown you’ve sworn your life to saw to that.”

“Our king h—“

“Your king,” you interrupt him. The unexpected interjection seems to shock him, and his shoulders square indignantly.

“Yer also a subject of this kingdom,” he counters, and your distaste is made perfectly evident in your responding sneer.

“I’m governed by no monarch, and certainly by no man.”

Osamu’s hands are still held in tightly-clenched fists at his side, the lines of his body as clear an indicator as any to his palpable anger. “You’d admit to treason before a knight?”

“You’ve already accused me of witchcraft,” you spit, your teeth gnashing together as you force the words out. “What’s another crime to be burned for?”

You know all too well the end that awaits a woman accused of such a crime.

It’s the fate your mother met before your very eyes, after all.

Seconds stretch between you in the garden—sticky, and uncomfortable, and polluted with the animosity you feel for each other. It takes root in distrust and blossoms into something ugly, like a weed.

Osamu takes a breath, letting his head hang forward. His shoulders slump.

“An old man two towns west from here told me a young woman in this cottage once cured his ailing wife in her final hours, and she lived a decade more. That she was brought back from the brink of death thanks to the woman’s care.” He looks up at you again, and his stare is insistent. Beseeching.

You know the man he speaks of, and his gentle, lovely wife. It was half a century ago now since you’d first met them, and you’ve heard the old man has gone a bit senile in his old age. You doubt he meant you any harm in his revelation, regardless of the trouble it’s come to cause.

“I’m nothing but a humble herbalist.” Your hand sweeps out in gesture to your garden, but the man before you is unmoved.

“Who’s been a young woman for fifty years.”

Even the distant sea seems to have stilled as the tension intensifies between you, the waves falling silent to make room for the hostility that spreads with every passing moment.

Osamu swallows. “They say witches have powerful healin’ abilities. That you can make potions that’ll revive a man half-dead.”

“It’s folklore,” you reply dismissively.

“It’s fact,” Osamu snaps. "I know it is."

“And what else do you claim to know of these so-called witches?” you deride, and you don’t miss the way his eyes seem to quickly trace you.

He squares his shoulders, then he meets your gaze. “They say ya maintain yer beauty and youth by devourin’ the hearts of good men.”

“Is that so?” you muse, though you seek no sincere elaboration. You look to your left, east towards the sea, and then sweep your gaze across the expanse of your garden to the right. You meet his dark eyes again after surveying your surroundings. “Well, I see no good men nearby, so I believe you should be safe.”

In the dim light, you swear you see something throb at the corner of his tense jaw.

“There’s not a healer in the royal court who’s been able to cure my brother,” Osamu’s voice breaks, taking a step towards you. “I’ve come here unarmed, and mean no harm to ya.”

Your upper lip curls at the lie and his proximity, baring your teeth.

No man has ever once approached a witch with pure intentions.

The seek only their beauty, their power, or their beating, bloody hearts.

Your mother’s screams ring suddenly through your ears, piercing and agonized. The memory makes gooseflesh raise along your skin. Makes the back of your tongue taste sour. You squeeze your eyes shut as though to quell it, but this only seems to trap the sound in the recesses on your brain. They grow louder, and harder to forget.

You see your mother on a wooden stage constructed in the town square before a crowd of horrified spectators, the gnarled boards underfoot already stained in scarlet.

The white linen shift they’d forced her to wear, and the way the thin material flowed away from her frame in the breeze.

The glittering hilt of the jewelled knife that carved out her heart, with the sigil of the king etched into its blade.

The crackling flames that consumed her as she wailed.

A witch can live without her heart, you see, so long as it’s kept close to her. Your mother wasn’t spared a second of the misery of being burned alive. She was granted no mercy in the final terrifying moments of her life.

You open your eyes and the dark sky above you seems to hang closer overhead, as though it’s more suffocatingly near than it was before. The garden around you suddenly feels colder.

Osamu’s eyes widen, like he feels it too.

Your dying lamp burns out.

“Leave this place,” you say to him, low and warning. Your voice rings clear in the unearthly still night. “And if you value your life, never come back here again.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #hq fic #hq writing #writing #tws

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jadiealissia · 26 days

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Worldbuilding Countries (Part 1)

I've lived in and visited a few countries in my life, which gave me a lot of inspiration for my fantasy novel. I'm not an expert, but I thought I'd share what I learned!

Climate

The climate will most likely come up at some point. Do you mention the cool breeze, or the orange leaves on the trees? All those nice weather descriptions will depend on the climate!

If you have a couple of different countries, it may be a little weird if they all have the same climate (especially if they are far away from each other), so there's a few things you can consider to make them a bit more specific.

Climate is of course a very complicated topic, so I will simplify it a bit.

Temperature

I like to pick a real country/city and look at its temperature graphs on Wikipedia. One important thing to note is that countries aren't simply colder/warmer than one another. I know a lot of people think that a country like Russia is cold all year round, but it is actually quite warm in summer. Some areas have a larger variation between temperature throughout the year than others (normally, the closer to the equator a country is, the less variation there is. They also tend to be warmer).

Look at Singapore:

The temperatures are basically stable all year round (the letters up top are the months). The numbers are the average minimum and maximum daily temperatures. You can see that on average the variation every day is less than 10°C.

Here is Moscow:

The temperature changes quite a lot throughout the year. Note that the maximum temperatures (summer) will occur at the opposite times of the year in the Southern Hemisphere.

You can see this demonstrated in Copiapo (Chile):

This city is in the Southern hemisphere, so their coldest months are June and July :)

One thing you may have noticed is that the bars here are taller, which means that the variation for the daily min and max are higher too. Why is that? I'm simplifying it a bit, but generally, the dryer a place is, the more variation you will get in daily temperature. Which brings us to the next thing to consider:

Humidity/Precipitation

There are a few things to consider:

Rainfall. This can vary month-by-month, and due to some complicated factors, some countries have more rain in their colder months, some have more rain in their warmer months. Some places don't follow a neat pattern or stay consistent throughout the year. Have a look at climate pages on Wikipedia to get some ideas! Even just this page on Chile has a lot of cool examples. Each city is quite different!

Although of course the "wetness" of a country related to rainfall (e.g. you'd expect greener grass somewhere with more rainfall, brownish dry grass or a desert somewhere with less rainfall), it's not that simple. UK is a wet country, right? And if you've heard of Gold Coast (Australia) it seems pretty dry, right? Well, actually the Gold Coast gets twice as much precipitation (rain) as London!

To demonstrate, I took a screenshot (randomly selected street in each city) from Google Streetview.

Why this difference? I suspect it's because the Gold Coast is much hotter. Living in Australia, puddles are normally gone by the next day (often the rain even evaporates as it hits the ground!), but in UK, the puddles would always stay around for a while.

The UK is always mossy, often the clouds hang in the sky for ages. It can look quite grey. When it rains in the Gold Coast in summer, the raindrops evaporate as soon as they hit the pavement, which makes the air feel very humid and smell strongly of rain. You can use these sorts of sensory details in your stories :)

Also, one thing I noticed, is that in hotter weather, rain can be much more heavy than in colder weather. In Australia we often get heavy rain that causes flooding. In UK the rain usually dribbles all day but doesn't get heavy. In a place like the Gold Coast you can get rain that last 10 minutes but soaks you all the way through and floods the street.

The rainfall may also vary year-by-year. Australia goes through periods of floods and droughts that last a couple of years. The mechanism is a bit complicated so I won't go through it now, but it gives you something to google!

Humidity: Deserts have low humidity, which means that you can cool off more easily in the shade and the nights are colder. The breeze feels more refreshing at low humidity as your sweat evaporates.

High humidity (like Singapore) will feel much hotter at the same temperatures and it is normally still quite hot in the shade. High humidity feels really muggy, the air feels thick. The sweat doesn't evaporate as much, so you are left all wet and sticky. The breeze can feel much less refreshing because of this.

When the temperature is below freezing, the humidity gets very low, so your skin may need more moisturiser or your lips may crack.

Those are just some things to consider while describing your weather!

Generally, closer to the sea will be wetter, further inland is dryer. Have a look at some climate maps on Wikipedia, you will learn a lot! Climate is quite complicated since there are so many factors, so there's a lot you can do with it.

UV: This is one thing that people often forget about when they think about weather. In the UK, even on a very hot and sunny day, you are unlikely to get sunburnt (unless you are very pale). In Australia, you can get sunburnt very easily in even Tasmania, which is our coldest state, even when the temperatures are chilly.

You can't actually feel being sunburnt, which I fully understood when I visited Tasmania. I was freezing, but the whole time I was being sunburnt.

Normally, UV index is higher closer to the equator, which is why people who live closer to the equator tend to have darker skin. The melanin acts as protection against the sun. Still, this protection isn't perfect, so in the real world people in Africa used different methods to protect their skin, such as using clay as a "sunscreen".

Australia has the highest rate of skin cancer in the world. This is partially because most people in Australia have pale skin (originally from the UK), but the UV index is high.

This is something to consider in your story, since it can play a bigger role in behaviour than you'd expect if you live in a cold climate. In Australia, they recommend staying indoors between certain hours of the day to avoid sunburn, and if you do go out you should wear clothes that cover your skin, a wide-brimmed hat and sunscreen. Someone with very pale skin can get sunburnt in minutes. Wide-brimmed hats are compulsory at schools in Australia - you are not allowed to play if you forget your hat.

In low-UV areas, there is the opposite issue. People with darker skin can have problems getting vitamin D. Same goes for people who cover their skin with clothing (e.g. for religious reasons). However, this is a bit simpler to fix with some vitamin D supplements.

How do I use this for worldbuilding?

If you have a map of your countries, you may want to keep their location in mind when deciding on the climate :)

I like to draw up some graphs with the temperatures throughout the year for each country and some quick notes on the humidity, rainfall and UV.

You can also add some other elements to your story. Is it a fantasy? Maybe magic affects the weather! Sci-fi? You can play with the distance of the planet from the sun, axial tilt, sun size etc. (I won't go into that since it's a whole another topic and really complicated as well)

You probably don't need to know the exact details of the climate for most stories, but having a general idea will allow you to consistently describe what sorts of clothing your characters wear, the weather etc. Those are the sorts of things that comes up in almost every story (if it's long enough).

If you read this and found this useful, please reblog so I know that it was helpful. If it seems like people enjoyed this post, I will make more (I was going to talk about so much more, but this is already too long).

#writeblr #writeblr community #creative writing #world building #writing tips #writing resources #writing advice #how to write #fantasy #science fiction #climate #writing #novel writing #comic writing #worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #fantasy world #writing community #writer stuff

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sugarcloudsky · 11 months

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Helloo!!~ I hope your doing well!!

I have an request for Dark Cacao cookie x wife reader! The idea for it is, Dark Cacao ends up seeing his wife again after a very long time of being a part from one another just very fluffy and emotional moment for the two of them. Happy tears and smiles for all :)

Oh and please take your time with this request!! :D

「Intertwined」

character: dark cacao cookie

wc: 1.2k

cws: some angst(with a happy ending), reader is a little pathetic but that is okay x

HIII hello i still posted today!!! sorry for taking literal months with some these requests!!!! i love you all!!!

The Dark Cacao Kingdom.

A place you were all too familiar with. The very name sends a rush of dread throughout your entire body. It’s been such a long time since you heard that name. A place that once was a home to warm memories with your husband, was now nothing but a cold thought.

It had been many years since you left the Dark Cacao Kingdom. After the disappearance of your husband and the king, Dark Cacao Cookie, you were left to rule the kingdom on your own. After years of managing the kingdom, the troops, and the wall by yourself, the pressure of ruling with no king by your side had become too much for you to handle. So, in an act of selfishness, you fled. It wasn't something you were very proud of, but it was the only thing you thought you could do.

Grass crunching beneath your feet, you ran and ran, without looking back. Eventually, you came across a land called the Crème Republic, which is where you would end up hiding. You had remained there for quite some time, keeping yourself on a low profile, and from being discovered and being brought back to the place you once fled from.

Although your new life was much more relaxed than where you previously lived, a sense of guilt always lingered in the back of your mind. You always wondered, how is the kingdom doing now? You hoped they were doing okay without you. Sure, without any ruler to oversee the land, it may not have been the most desirable circumstances, but you knew they were tough enough to pull through. You always tried to bury your insecurities by convincing yourself that everything would turn out fine.

The only reason you had come out of hiding was because of the rumors you had been hearing as of late.

“Have you heard? The Ancient Heroes have finally returned to rescue us!”

“The Ancient Heroes have finally returned, especially when we needed them the most!”

The Ancient Heroes…?

Dark Cacao Cookie…

Has he…?

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest at the thought. The thought of your husband finally returning after so many years… Oh, how you missed him. How you wanted to see him, jump into his arms. How you wanted to kiss him. How you wanted to hold him. But your excitement was quickly overwhelmed by the immense guilt washing over you.

Did you really deserve to see him again after all this time? After you so selfishly abandoned the kingdom he had worked so hard to build? Would your old subjects even like to see you?

Would he even like to see you?

The turmoil within your head fogs your mind. No— you didn’t deserve to go back. Not after what you did to all those innocent people. You can’t go back. You were so uncaring to those people, fleeing without a second thought.

…But even so, you decided to make another selfish decision.

Which now leads to your current situation.

Aggressive cold air surrounded you angrily, as the tall doors of the citadel practically mocked you. Now that you were actually where you wanted to be, you started to get cold feet. The doors were right in front of you, yet you merely froze, allowing the cold climate to envelop you further.

“Hey! You there!”

A loud voice calls out to you, and you, startled, look up to see one of the many watchers of the kingdom pointing their crossbow directly at you.

“You, intruder, state your name and your purp—!”

The watcher begins to trail off, staring at you in awe, before their eyes widened in complete shock. They fumbled with the crossbow as they began stumbling over their words, unable to speak a sentence properly.

With shock present in their voice, they finally shout, “Y-you…! It’s you! You’re…!”

The watcher’s desperate cries gained the attention of the other watchers on duty nearby, and one by one, they had begun to approach you as well. Every single one of them slowly began to recognize who you were, and they all became frantic. Which is something you really didn’t want right now. The last thing you wanted was for so much attention to be drawn to you, and yet—

“The king! S-someone alert Dark Cacao Cookie, n-now!”

You knew now that it was a foolish hope.

——

Dark Cacao Cookie was no fool.

The moment he saw several of the kingdom's watchers burst into the throne room, frantic and inconsolable, he knew something was wrong. He expected to be informed of an attack on a nearby village, or even monsters from the Licorice Sea climbing the wall.

He was not, however, expecting to see his long lost lover standing at the opposite side of the room.

He noted how you avoided eye contact with him. He noted that you looked quite disheveled. He noted that you looked no different than when you did all those years ago.

Not a word from either side is said. The only noise heard was the frigid wind howling outside. The silence is only cut by Dark Cacao’s booming voice finally calling out.

“Watchers, you are dismissed.”

You jump, his deep voice causing your heart to ache. The watchers hesitate for a moment, before they meekly begin shuffling out, allowing the large doors to slam behind you. You don’t dare to look at him, not after everything that happened. You simply continue to stand in place, eyes glued to the floor.

“Come closer,” he calls to you, in a gentle yet firm command. Letting out a shaky sigh, you finally begin to slowly make your way towards the throne, feet dragging across the pristine floor. Every step feels like needles piercing your heart, as the pit in your stomach continues to grow.

Finally, you stop in front of the throne, kneeling down on one knee. Still refusing to look at him, you bow your head in respect, as if the two of you were strangers.

“My king,” a meek acknowledgement. His eyes bore into the back of your head, noting how you still refuse to look up at him. Your body curls in on itself as you hear him stand up and slowly approach you.

Footsteps stopping directly in front of you, he hesitates for a moment. Neither of you say or do anything. Then, after what felt like ages, he kneels in front of you. This is finally what urges you to look up at him.

The moment your eyes meet, his eyes immediately soften, and yours immediately fill with tears. Choking back a sob, you looked down again, many emotions overwhelming you in this very moment. Guilt, happiness, regret, sadness, everything all at once. It was too much for you to handle. You wanted to say something, but you just couldn’t.

“Hh— My king, I— I’m so—!”

You’re cut off with a squeak as he embraces you. He gently holds you as you begin to sob in his arms, choking out incoherent apologies. Your arms wrap around him tightly, fearing that if you let go, he’ll disappear again.

“I— hic, I missed you so much! I-I’m sorry! Please don’t— don’t leave me again!”

His heart breaks at your pleas. Wordlessly, he strokes your back to calm you, allowing you to cry into his shoulder. He watches as you tremble and shake, mumbling to yourself. Dark Cacao Cookie begins to quietly stroke your back as he gently grabs a hold of your face. Smiling comfortingly, his thumb swipes your tears away, ignoring how some tears have escaped his eyes as well.

“It’s alright, my love. I am here. I’ve missed you as well.”

#cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #fanfiction #cookie run #cookie run x you #crk #x reader #dark cacao x reader #dark cacao cookie #dark cacao crk #dark cacao cookie x reader

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esterzach · 6 months

Text

The price of the small pleasures

Alanna's character feels like a needed contrast that helps shape the perception of Moiraine's character. There is this whole episode where it's all about family and home. Alanna comes back home with a huge family, the kids are having fun, laughing, and playing with her Warders, it's warm, sunny, and cozy, a beautiful nature around, with lots of food as usual. Alanna is open, speaking with everyone, and making jokes. Life is good and people seem happy. Alanna is never alone and it looks like she is often home, where she is accepted and loved. And then there is Moiraine. Oh, boy... It's almost hilarious if it wasn't so fucking depressing.

This one comes back to her huge house, dark and gloomy even during the day, and revisits her memories, but it doesn't seem happy. It looks like a museum of someone long dead. Her things are covered, someone is keeping her room, all her things, but she is never home. She barely says two words to her sister and immediately they have a fight. And I get it - Moiraine is not exactly pleasant in her behaviour, even though she has her reasons. But she refuses tea. TEA! Alanna is cooking, having full meals, and enjoying life, and Moiraine refuses even that small pleasure. And tea is one of the few things Moiraine loves. It's almost as if she deprives herself of every pleasure. And it's not like she can't spend 20 minutes with her sister and say at least a few nice words.

Moiraine doesn't eat. They make a point with that one. We never see her eat. Lan eats, Nynaeve eats, Alanna( almost all the time - she is green, after all), her warders, Lan, Thomas, Verin, and Adeleas is all about LET ME enjoy my meal and wine ( half of the time she is completely out and doesn't know what happens around her and the rest of the time she is horny (now that is not exactly true, but that is for later). Perin even eats. Egwene drinks with Elayne. Everyone at some point is shown to eat. Never Moiraine.

Food is not just necessary for survival. Food is also a pleasure. It should be a pleasure if done correctly. Meals also mean connection with other people. If and when Moiraine ever eats, she eats alone. She refuses to join the others in Verin's house, her sister, and she refuses the sandwiches of her nephew. They make yet another point of showing how isolated she is, even from people, who genuinely care about her.

The first time her sister is actually nice to her, her first reaction is to get defensive and snarky and, after a couple more words, Moiraine literally crumbles and starts to cry. This is the first time in months, after The Eye she shows emotion in front of someone. And it's almost forced, she is exhausted, and hasn't slept in... a while and someone basically reads her and finds exactly her weakness and confronts her about it. That is just for a moment and she composes herself immediately. Seconds later she gets help and she shows emotion again. It sort of seems like showing vulnerability and weakness, and asking for help is something that she has no right to do, or... I don't know.

The one time we saw her doing some for her own pleasure was Tar Valon. The tea and the spa. And Siuan. And this was it. Now it sort of feels like she is avoiding that on purpose. Either she thinks she doesn't deserve it or thinks that this is a distraction.

Her baths in Verin's house are more self-punishment than pleasure. She doesn't have to carry water alone, but she does it anyway. And something tells me that this well is probably not the only one around that house. Both women are Aes Sedai, which means they can use The One Power for ... a lot of things. They have a garden and a bunch of flowers in the house, that look pretty fresh and green for the Mediterranean climate, considering the grass around is dry. Usually, every house has a well or some source of water close by. Yet, milady goes to a well, that is so far from the house, that is practically useless. Good luck bringing enough water from there for all the needs in this house, but anyway. Even with nothing to carry, in this heat, a walk like that is, to put it mildly very unpleasant. With something that heavy to carry up that hill... I don't know.

The other thing is - small pleasures are distractions. The only time she actually sits in the company of the others in S2 is when they are on their way to Tar Valon. And that is because she doesn't have a choice. And something happens there, that I think she thinks is a mistake. A moment of distraction, a small weakness, that threatens to ruin her plan. She is having a conversation. That scene is brilliant! Subtle, well-written, and perfect and I watched it like probably 30 times so far but I was focused on the wrong thing. The night when Lan and Moiraine travel to Tar Valon, everyone is around the campfire. Moiraine is again standing at a distance, isolated from everyone else until Verin goes to her, reveals what she knows and basically tells her "You know what I am not promising anything, you just have to trust me." They cut to other things and when are back again Moiraine folds and decides to sit with them. What could go wrong? Adeleas is drunk again, floating on a pink cloud, imagining romantic stories, speaking of sex life, and trying to make Lan talk. She asks how Lan and Moiraine met. What follows in uncomfortable silence! None of them speaks, Lan seems uneasy, and Moiraine glares annoyed. She continues to avoid his eyes. Verin tries to help, by saying that it's late and they have to go to bed. Adeleas ignores her, in her drunken haze and blabbing some imagined overly sexualized story, which gets on Moiraine's nerves. She quickly interrupts Adeleas's idiotic monologue with the true story of their first meeting. Whether it is because she is already annoyed with Adeleas' behaviour toward Lan, or wants to save him from an uncomfortable moment, is irrelevant. Lan is surprised. Moiraine speaks! But what was meant to be just a way to make Adeleas shut up, turns into a sweet moment. Because this memory is precious for both of them. Lan smiles and joins the explanation, they look at each other, and she smiles too throughout the whole time she tells the story. It turns into a banter between two very close people. Bond, no Bond, at this moment it doesn't matter - they are in synch again. This is beyond sweet. They joke! hell, Moiraine jokes! This is what they look like. This is them. For one very small moment. Everyone laughs. And then, all of a sudden, with a serious voice, a laser-sharp focus, and a very sober-looking expression, Adeleas says her great line. "And that's when you knew. Any old Warder can save you from Trollocks, that right one can save you from yourself." Adeleas wasn't drunk at all. You can pretend to be drunk when you are sober, you can't act sober when you are drunk. It was a setup for Moiraine, to open up, to speak, and she knew exactly how to make her drop her defenses and finally speak to him. An attempt to make her get close to Lan again maybe? Lan was happy for sure. Moiraine though... is on the verge of tears.

She knows what her goal is with him. She knows what the plan is and that little moment was a failure. The small pleasure of this moment would probably cost her. In order for her plan to work, she has to be awful to Lan. One small distraction, and she falls back into her normal self. A tiny moment of happiness, a shared memory, and the old, cold, and sour Aes Sedai is a normal woman with feelings. The danger - Lan sees through her and never wants to leave her side which eventually will lead to his death. That's how much a moment of weakness might cost.

#wheel of time #moiraine damodred #lan mandragoran #wot #S2

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blues824 · 5 months

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ASDFGHJLLCNDLWMSNSCJJDLWKEMAMAMXNCBCJDJAOWIRJDKDK IM SO EXCITED FOR FLUFF-CEMBER OMGGGGGG!!!!!

(also, Lowkey so flattered that you consider me a ✨mutual✨ because you are an INCREDIBLE fanfic writer~)

Okay, so, Hear 👏 Me 👏 Out 👏! The Scarabia Boys and maybe Ruggie (or one of the other boys from the savannah) for prompt 28..... But what if it was reversed???? Because I'm someone that's from an area that has really cold and long winters, so I'm pretty good at spotting or catching myself on black ice..... But these guys from hot desert areas??? I just /know/ they haven't gotten used to the ice and snow yet-

But I'm just spit balling! Feel free to stick to the original, cuz it's still pretty cute!! Can't wait to read all the beautiful, adorable, amazing fics that come from this event!!!! Make sure not to overwhelm yourself or get burnt out. Take plenty of breaks and remember we can always wait an extra day or two lol 💋✨💋💕💖💘❤️🥰😍🥳🌹🫶🫰🌹🥴

I HOPE YOU HAVE FUN WRITING AND I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT YOU DOOOOOOOOOO~~

Of course!!! You’ve commented on a few of my works, so I figured you might like to be included in the event lol. Also, I would be in their shoes, because I am from a hot desert area lol.

You requested: Being Caught Slipping on Ice [Reversed]

Ruggie Bucchi

He had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, being on the ice. This man has a vice grip on your arms as you both go to Sam’s Shop. The sidewalk and grass have become icy because it has been raining for the past few days, and the temperature has dropped significantly. Savanaclaw isn’t this cold, and he’s bundled up pretty well.

There was one spot that was a tad wet, still frozen in ice, and he wasn’t paying attention. You felt him let go of your arm, and you turned to see that he was falling backwards. Worried about him hitting his head, you quickly slid on your knees so that his head would land in your lap.

“Is it just me, or did an angel come down and save me?”

Real smooth, bro. You rolled your eyes and smiled, making sure that he was alright and helping him back up, going to place a kiss on his cheek which made him smile. He reciprocates by moving just in time for you to accidentally land it on his lips, and he snickered as you rolled your eyes once again.

Kalim Al-Asim

His homeland is literally the Scalding Sands. If you think he knows how to handle snow, you would be mistaken. However, he has a very positive outlook on it. It’s a free Slip-n’-Slide, or he gets to be a penguin sliding on his stomach. When it comes to having to walk, however, he is at a loss. One step and he’s already fallen. He needs one of those walkers that people use when skating.

Watching you walk across the black ice so easily made him feel so amazed, and he thought that if he copied you exactly, he would be fine. He was wrong, and he fell back almost immediately. Before he hit the ground, however, he felt an arm wrap around his waist. He looked up to find you, with a worried look on your face.

“Thank you, Y/N! You saved me!”

The smile on his face made any memory of scolding him dissipate as you made sure that he was steady. You then taught him how to properly walk on the black ice, as there was a particular method to it. Making sure your body was straight and stepping down so that the sole of your foot was flat against the ground, and it was weird to get used to, but at least he didn’t fall more than he did.

Jamil Viper

His homeland is the Scalding Sands as well. However, he knows how to handle snow more than Kalim does. He was prepared when he got accepted into NRC. But, nothing could prepare him for the ice that forms on the grass and on the sidewalks. After all, his sports training takes place in a gymnasium, so the temperature is warm and controlled by a thermostat.

So, when he invited you to come play on an outside basketball court, you laughed when he realized that it had a bit of ice on the ground. Because you used to live somewhere with a cold climate, you were familiar with playing a certain way so that you wouldn’t slip and fall. He was not, and after a few moments, he slipped. Luckily, you slid behind him so that you could hold him up.

“Thank you, Y/N. I guess I have not acclimated quite yet to the ice…” He said, a bit embarrassed.

You shrugged and said it was all alright, and that you could do it because you lived somewhere cold. You taught him how to walk and run on the ice, and that he needed to have his hands out of his pockets at all times so he could catch himself. It was good advice even if it wasn’t freezing outside, as you never knew when you would fall.

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reasonsforhope · 10 months

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Hey, if you're ever feeling awful because you're super overwhelmed by the news, too overwhelmed to do anything, but you feel like you can't stop without being a horrible person who's just sticking their head in the sand...

Try thinking of it this way:

Maybe the moral thing to do actually IS to never look at the news...

so that you have the energy and will and lack of huge, petrifying fear needed to help

We've seen over and over again, especially in the climate movement, how often it's small, local efforts at making a difference that really start to change things

There's no moral value to being burned out and depressed.

Yes, knowing what's going on in your state/country/the world is good if it's something you can actually sustain

But if you have to choose between following the news/doomscrolling/etc. and actually having the energy to help?

I think that in the vast majority of situations, morally, you SHOULD choose to do something to help

Showing up to your city council meetings, or cleaning up trash in your neighborhood, or volunteering at a food pantry, or registering people to vote, or joining the underground abortion pill network, or doing a fundraiser for bipoc-led nonprofits, or mailing books to people in prison, or seedbombing native grasses, or phone-banking for a nonprofit you care about, or building benches and leaving them at bus stops, or knitting hats and giving them to unhoused people to stay warm, or starting a community garden, or sponsoring refugees for immigration, or taking a stand at school board meetings, or, or, or

all do infinitely more to help other people than doomscrolling and sharing depressing news posts ever will

#not news #me #hope #hopeposting #hope posting #activism #doomscrolling

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samieree · 8 months

Text

Banished Heimdall x Reader (Goddess of Nature)

(Request from wattpad) The part where Kratos spared Heimdall. Well let's say he did spare him and he came back to Odin to report what happened but the gjallarhorn was stolen and Odin banished him to Midgard and did the same spell like Freya had. And for years being stuck in Midgard, there he meet the reader who is actually the Goddess/Mother Nature, melting the snows and creating flowers for the end of Fimbulwinter.

Several years have passed since Odin banished Heimdall to Midgard for losing the Gjallarhorn. But he still didn't accept this fact, and exile did not soften his character at all. The winter didn't help much either. Luckily it was finally coming to an end.

Heimdall was tired of wearing thick fur. He definitely preferred the climate in Asgard, his clothes and peace there. And now he had to take care of himself, and it was driving him crazy. Especially at the beginning, ugh... He doesn't even want to think about it. He shouldn't live in the past.

He was just coming back to his house, grumbling about how he hates this world and this winter better be over because... Okay, he doesn't know what he's going to do, but it better be the end of this cold weather. Though... Then he'd have to boat across Lake of Nine and row, so maybe the cold wasn't so bad after all...

"Stop!" He heard a scream but ignored it. He continued walking forward, still focused on complaining. At least until some vines suddenly sprouted from the ground in front of him. "Are you deaf?"

"Are you looking for trouble?" Irritated, he turned to the place where the voice came from and was clearly surprised.

You were standing a few feet in front of him. With a slight smile on your face, dressed in a fairly light outfit, considering the weather. But... The aura around you looked like spring. Your hands emanated pleasant magic, and the smile itself seemed to melt the snow that was no longer around you at all. Nature was beginning to come back to life, green grass sprouted from under the snow, and the scent of flowers slowly began to fill the air.

You've met each other before, when he happened to be on a mission in Midgard. And it seemed like your character has stayed the same ever since. And he won't admit it, but... The aura you spread around you calmed him down and warmed his heart.

"Be careful, don't step on my flowers." You said, drawing back the vines that were blocking his path. You just finished that meadow and it was about to get trampled by some bitter guy.

"Do you really think I care?" Okay, maybe not the usual bitter guy, because as he turned to walk away you saw his shining eyes. And you've only known one person with eyes like that - other than einherjers, but they've been gone for a while.

So it had to be Heimdall. Very dissatisfied with having to be where he is.

"Respect nature and it will respect you." You followed him, and with you spring aura, letting the world know that it's time to wake up from winter sleep.

"I don't need it. Go plant your flowers elsewhere."

"I seem to have planted quite a few around your house. I thought there were some people living there, otherwise I probably wouldn't be so nice." You said half-jokingly, clearing the snowdrifts from your path with one snap of your finger.

"You did- WHAT?! Who asked you for this?!"

"Do you have to ask for gifts?" You replied, tilting your head slightly and aligning your step with him. "I don't think that's what it's about..." You smiled and extended your hand towards him with a flower in your hand.

"I don't want any weeds." He took off his coat and draped it over his shoulder as it was actually starting to get warm.

You rolled your eyes at those words and ran in front of him, now walking backwards but facing him. You were still holding a beautiful flower in your hands, flower with large, white petals for now.

"Look." You ran your free hand over the flower and its petals began to change colour. In shades of pink, purple and blue. Its stem took on a white colour with golden accents. You smiled wider and extended your hand to him, offering this newly created plant. "Here, this is for you. It looks like you." Heimdall stopped suddenly, and so did you.

No one has ever been so insistent about giving him a gift. In general, no one ever even wanted to give him a gift... It was even... A nice feeling.

In order not to lose his image, he sighed a martyrdom before taking the plant from you, the petals of which matched the colours of his eyes. As he took the flower, your hands touched for a moment. Your skin was very smooth and radiated a warmth Heimdall didn't know, but he could tell with certainty that it was pleasant.

"And what am I supposed to do with it?" He asked, examining the plant carefully.

"Plant. Need help?" You asked as you started walking back towards Heimdall's house. "You could plant a vegetable garden. Oh, or orchard!" You smiled at that thought. Walking with him towards his house, you kept doing your job along the way, here and there stimulating more plants to grow.

"Do I look like a gardener to you?" He grunted, his eyes focused on the flower. This small gesture somehow warmed his heart, which was especially aching after the things that had happened to him.

"I'd help you." You suggested. "Of course, when I'm done with spring." You added, walking over to him.

You reached your hand towards his face, but he immediately pulled away. He knew what you wanted to do and he absolutely did not want to let it happen. I will look like an idiot. You froze with your hand next to his face.

"What a favour from Y/n, the great goddess of nature." He said it with a hint of mockery in his voice. "Why do you want to help me?"

"I have a soft spot for things that need fixing." You said honestly. He would know anyway if you lied.

"I'm not broken."

"Aren't you?"

Isn't he? He didn't know himself. And what does a not broken person look like? Behaves? Lives?

He was always lonely, even when he was surrounded by people. Even if he was in bed with someone, even if there was a family meeting. He always felt alone, as if no one cared about him, he meant nothing to anyone and the only value he had was what he was doing for his world. And now he didn't even have that. He lived from day to day, but he had no purpose. He just existed.

He sighed softly, then nodded slightly. After that small gesture, you gave him another warm smile and finally moved your hand. You touched his hair and tucked a flower like the one you gave him behind his ear.

"It suits you." You said, placing your hand on his cheek for a moment longer and it cost him all his stubbornness not to snuggle into it and it's warmth.

The warmth of sincere sympathy, caring, interest. Something he had never known, and it was an unfamiliar but pleasant feeling. And maybe, just maybe, he would like to experience it even more.

"Like a wreath suits a cow." He grunted, but there was no such obvious malice in his voice. "Can we go now or are you going to put so much weed in my hair that I'll never get it out?" Saying this, he started walking towards his house again and you followed him.

"I'll take them out, you don't have to worry." You said.

"Oh, and you think that I'm going to let you do that?"

"If you let me put a flower in your hair, you'll let me take it out." You answered with a wide smile, walking with him arm in arm and spreading your spring aura around you here and there.

Damn, she's right.

-> general masterlist -> God of War: Ragnarök masterlist

#heimdall #god of war heimdall #god of war ragnarok #gow heimdall #heimdall god of war #god of war #gow #heimdall gow #heimdall x reader

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quillpokebiology · 3 months

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cinderace facts :0 ? (Not forced!)

Cinderace Facts

-The scientific name for Cinderace is "Lepus Calcitrus" which roughly translates to "kicking hare"

-Cinderace are lagamorphs and are close relatives of Lopunny, with both of them having powerful legs and long ears

-Cinderace are incredibly rare to find in the wild, as many wild Scorbunny don't need to evolve since they're strategy is to just hide, which is difficult when you're big. But, the ones that do live in the wild tend to live in grasslands and live in large warrens with other Scorbunny or Raboot, sometimes other letting harmless pokemon live there as well

-It also is partly our fault why Cinderace are so hard to find in the wild. Many hunters would hunt Cinderace for their fur, as their fluff could be used to make warm coats, so many Raboot would not evolve to avoid being hunted. This has carried on for generations now

-Cinderace's kicking style is what inspired the sport, football (soccer in Unova)

-Cinderace can run up to 50 mph

-While many fire types have their heat sacs located near their throats, Cinderace have small heat sacs located in their chest and small heat sacs in their feet. Cold weather can weaken their heat sacs and make them sluggish and have weakened fire abilities. Raboot tend to do better in the cold because of their thicker fur

-Cinderace are complete herbivores, eating grasses, shoots, vegetables, and berries

-While Cinderace are strong, they were bred for League based battles, so much of their strength is for showing off or was made to look very extravagant for an audience. In the wild, when there are basically no rules for battling, Cinderace tend to not do very well and would rather use their speed to run away than fight

-Cinderace are one of the most vocal lagamorphs (I'm sure we all knows it's screaming sound, I sure as Hell do. Flash, I love you, but please hush)

-To intimidate predators, Cinderace will give flame-charged stomps that scorch the ground. Sometimes, they get carried away and start a fire

-Pokemon that hunt Cinderace are Liepard, Boltund, Arcanine, Ninetales, and sometimes Thievul

-When happy or excited, Cinderace will make a soft squeaking sound

-There were many versions of Primative Cinderace living around the same time, each with a different typing. The ones that lived in the field were Fire/Electric types, the ones living in the mountains were Fire/Fighting or Fire/Ice types, and ones that lived in colder climates were fire/ice type

-Cinderace can lay up to 5 eggs in a litter

-Cinderace are very social and affectiontte pokemon, and its highly recommended that you have other pokemon along with them and give them lots of attention

-Contrary to popular belief, Cinderace can swim, and are quite good at it

-Unlike Lopunny and Diggersby, female Cinderace can't lay multiple litters in a year. Their smaller litter size compared to other lagamorphs (the average litter for Lopunny and Diggersby being 9), only a 12% of Cinderace being female, and over hunting in the past has contributed to their decline

#cinderace #quill awnsers #pokemon biology #pokemon biologist #rotomblr #pokemon irl #pokeblogging #pokeblog #irl pokemon #pokemon #pokeblr #rotumblr #pkmn irl #pokemon roleplay #irl pkmn #pokedex

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thelampisaflashlight · 5 days

Text

The Feel of Coldness Only Water Brings

[I wrote more RainDrop. They're fishing. Only fishing. Song title from To Someone From a Warm Climate by Hozier.] Let's go.

He's watching Rain, the way he uses his teeth to tie knots in the line.

Something about the awkward tug, the quirk of his lips trying not to wrap 'round the flavorless nylon, it gives him pause.

It's such a quick thing, but Dew plays it over and over again in his mind.

He remembers, back when the grass was tall and sweet, how Rain would practice those same knots, plucking stalks from the ground and tonguing the green, nibbling on it when they failed to hold the tight bind he sought.

Rain's teeth aren't quite pearly white, they aren't all even or celebrity pretty, but the bite of them on the fishing line makes Dew wonder what they'd look like gnawing at something with more give to it.

His imagination runs wild, and for a moment he forgets where he is, until Rain presses the rod into his hand and moves behind him to guide his arms into place.

He presses closer than Dew thinks is necessary, his chest flush to his back.

But Dew can't seem to bring himself to mind.

A steady stream of breath sweeps across the crown of his head, displacing a few flyaway hairs.

And though they stay like this for just a second.

To Dew, it is a lifetime.

It is a lifetime.

#lamp writes #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #raindrop #rain/dewdrop

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leggerefiore · 26 days

Text

Blossoms

cw: PLA Ingo, talk of his amnesia, fluff, short

pairing: Ingo/Reader

Spring had hailed within the wilds of the Hisui region, bringing forth new blossoms and a verdant green that welcomed life once more. It was a positive change after the harsh winter blew through and laid waste to all. Those used to the wintery climate of the northern point seemed more than capable of coping and even thriving, but those from sunnier places within Jubilife struggled.

Particularly, you, of the modern day and lifestyle, felt humbled by the roughness and uncertainty of it all. But, you were not alone as Ingo, too, seemed to be at an impasse. It all mattered not now as the sun warmed the earth despite the chill of the wind. Snow melted and was replaced with a small beauty of nature reborn. You had taken the day off from your duties to enjoy the seasonal shift. Cyllene approved with little wonder. You had more than earned a day away from your duties after what you did for the region.

Finding a few wild Pecha blossoms out within a part of the Crimson Mirelands, you invited Ingo out to join you. Something of a relationship had taken shape between you both. It was only natural as two pulled from far away to this place, you supposed. Yet, despite the beauty of the flowers in the air and pokemon flying around tending to the pollen, something seemed solemn within him. His voice was still as loud as ever, but his movements seemed even more muted.

His gaze drifted out in the distance, unfocused and dim. You felt concern pang inside you. A hand upon his did little to draw his attention out of whatever stupor he was in. For a moment, you truly stared at his face. The heavy bags under his eyes and beginnings of wrinkles around the corners of them. His goatee springing forth from his chin and the beginning of a scar hidden under his mock neck undershirt. How long… had he been here? It could not have been that much longer than you, as the portal had only been recent development. You brought his calloused hand between yours.

“Is something on your mind, Ingo?” You finally asked, desperate for an answer. Ingo blinked, coming to solid mind. His pale eyes landed on your face. Something soft crossed his face for a moment before being hidden by his usual expression. The hand you held suddenly grasped your own.

“… I wonder if where I came from had places as beautiful as this,” he finally spoke, voice levelled, “Did I enjoy spring as much as I do now?” You turned your attention back to the flowering trees for a moment. Due to his ability to speak Galarian naturally and his accent, Laventon had posed that Ingo was originally from Unova. Where in Unova did he originate, though? You sighed. The region was fairly green from your knowledge, but some parts skewed my tropical, with one even being more a mesa.

“Do you feel like you did?” You tried to think of a good reply. Ingo closed his eyes. His expression became focused, as it always did when he tried to recall anything. Nothing ever came. Only distant visions of blurry figures and confusing, lost feelings. His descriptions left you disheartened. What had taken his memories? Perhaps the fall had caused a head injury, but you had heard a theory from Laventon about Uxie perhaps being the cause. A soft wind blew through the valley you two sat in, shifting blades of grass and flowers in the wind.

“… I remember feeling exhausted…” he mumbled, “I don't know why, but I suddenly feel light-headed and heavy…” You let him move to rest his head on your lap instead of sitting. His cap laid on his chest in a tight grip. You stared at it for a moment. It was a certain type that you felt unable to place exactly. Your hand moved to rest on his cheek. The skin felt oddly soft. His eyes gazed up into yours again. “… I don't think I liked spring.”

You laughed a little at the bluntness of his statement. Unconsciously, you smoothed the hair that always cupped his face so handsomely. It felt horrible to be unable to help him. If only you had known him before all this had happened, then you could explain every little detail of his life to him. Maybe that spark of recognition would flicker in his eyes, and everything finally could return to him. Instead, all you could do was offer him your lap.

“… Do you think anyone misses you back where you came from?” Ingo asked suddenly. His attention slowly moved to the hat on his chest. “I… I wonder if there is anyone waiting on me,” his finger circled the blue and white emblem on the front of the item. It was worn and damaged like the rest of the accessory. The design was familiar to you, too, but just like Ingo, you could not place it. There was so much that you wished you could do.

“Without a doubt,” you told him, thinking back to those precious to you. They must have been worried sick, but you had yet to devise a way to return to the world that you left. If you had, you would have certainly offered it to the man in a heartbeat. You leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his forehead and then bumped your nose against his playfully. “That man you described… He's probably waiting on you, surely,” you smiled at him, “One day, we'll return to those who miss us.”

A soft smile stretched his lips. For a moment, it felt as if you two were the only beings in this world. Ingo closed his eyes while you observed the beauty of the clearing and the one laid out on your lap. A Starly's song played across the valley with a few Petlil doing a spinning dance. Spring was truly a magical time, it seemed.

“Ingo,” you softly told him, “I'm glad that I met you. I really do love you.”

His hand reached to hold yours again.

“… I love you, too,” he told you with a gentle tone, “You truly have made my life brighter, dear.”

The beauty of spring blossomed a more profound relationship between you and the Warden.

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #pokemon ingo x reader #ingo/reader #pokemon/reader #pokemon ingo/reader

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