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greenwitchcrafts · 4 months

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January 2024 Witch guide

Full Moon: January 25th

New moon: January 11th

Sabbats: None

January Wolf Moon

Known as: Bear Moon, Chaste Moon, Cold Moon, Disting Moon, Goose Moon, Moon of Little Winter, Moon of Strong Cold, Quiet Moon, Snow Moon, Stay at Home Moon, Sun Has Not Strength to Thaw Moon & When Snow Blows Like Spirits In The Wind Moon

Element: Air

Zodiac: Capricorn & Aquarius

Nature spirits: Brownies & Gnomes

Deities: Freya, Hera, Innana & Saraswati

Animals: Coyote & fox

Birds: Blue Jay & pheasant

Trees: Birch & Hazel

Herbs: Cones, holy thistle &marjoram

Flowers: Crocus & Snowdrop

Scents: Mimosa & musk

Stones: Chrysoprase, garnet, hematite, moonstone, onyx & jet

Colors: Black, blue-violet, grey, silver & white

Energy: Adventurous, ambitious, awareness, beauty, beginning & conceiving; business, career, conserving energy, energy below the surface, organization, political matters, potential, protection, recognition, reputation, reversing spells & spirituality

The name for the January full Moon is believed to have originated from Celtic and Old English roots, which European settlers then brought to the New World.

At one point, gray wolves were among the most widespread land mammals on our planet. According to the Wolf Conversation Center, gray wolves “inhabited most of the available land in the Northern Hemisphere.” Habitat destruction and persecution by humans have reduced their range by about a third worldwide and 90 percent in the lower 48 states.

The wolf’s adaptable nature to survive in a wide range of habitats and ability to prey on the largest mammals living in those regions made it widespread. Basically, if there are enough deer, moose, elk, caribou, bison, and musk ox, wolves can survive. Predation of domestic animals caused friction with European settlers and early Americans who aggressively hunted the wolves.

Werewolf myths can be found in ancient Greek and Roman societies, throughout European history and among some Native American tribes. In modern storytelling the transformation from man to wolf has been closely tied to the full Moon in films like “The Wolf Man” and “American Werewolf In London.”

Howl at the Moon means to waste energy pursuing something unattainable. It’s shorthand for doing something crazy. However, howling is hardly a waste of energy among wolf packs. And they aren’t howling at the Moon. The Moon just happens to be shining during times when wolves most often howl.

A wolf’s howl can be heard miles away. The vocalization helps wolves locate separated members and even communicate between packs marking their territories. One study recorded spontaneous howls and responses happen most often between 11 p.m. and 6 a.m.

The cry of wolves doesn’t play into the Sioux name for the January full Moon, which is known as “The Time When Wolves Run Together.” Wolves do plenty of running to defend territory that can stretch hundreds of square miles to find enough prey to support the pack.

Other Celebrations

• Hogmanay | January 1st: is the Scots word for the last day of the old year and is synonymous with the celebration of the New Year in the Scottish manner. It is normally followed by further celebration on the morning of New Year's Day (1 January) and, in some cases, 2 January—a Scottish bank holiday. In a few contexts, the word Hogmanay is used more loosely to describe the entire period consisting of the last few days of the old year and the first few days of the new year. For instance, not all events held under the banner of Edinburgh's Hogmanay take place on 31 December.

The origins of Hogmanay are unclear, but it may be derived from Norse and Gaelic observances of the winter solstice. Customs vary throughout Scotland and usually include gift-giving and visiting the homes of friends and neighbours, with particular attention given to the first-foot, the first guest of the new year.

• Compitalia/ Feast of Lades | January 3-5: was an annual festival in honor of the Lares Compitales, household deities of the crossroads, to whom sacrifices were offered at the places where two or more ways met.

Dionysius said that Servius Tullius founded the festival, which he describes as it was celebrated in his time. Dionysius relates that the sacrifices consisted of honey-cakes (Ancient Greek: πέλανοι) presented by the inhabitants of each house; and that the people who assisted as ministering servants at the festival were not free men, but slaves, because the Lares took pleasure in the service of slaves. He further adds that the Compitalia were celebrated a few days after the Saturnalia with great splendor, and that the slaves on this occasion had full liberty to do as they pleased.

During the celebration of the festival, each family placed the statue of the underworld goddess Mania at the door of their house. They also hung up at their doors figures of wool representing men and women, accompanying them with humble requests that the Lares and Mania would be contented with those figures, and spare the people of the house

Sources:

Farmersalmanac.com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living

Wikipedia

Encyclopedia Britannica

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cryptidclaw · 6 months

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I for one think bignose should be a medcat bc as funny as the idea of there being a borzoi on the battlefield is, I think it’s so much funnier for him to not want to fight and a new cat joins the clan then goes to the medcat den and goes all “WTFFF!!!! WHY IS THERE A DOG HERE!??!?” And everyone is just like, “oh yeah that’s bignose and we live him”

Ok this is really cute, but I also love the idea of him being banned from battle (he is simplytoo powerful) and just being an epic hunter. Like thats literally what borzoi were originally bred for, he brings home the best rabbits, pheasants and fish!

He could also be a good camp guard, imagine breaking into a rival camp only to find the dog equivalent of the slenderman staring you down

#cryptid answers #bignose #bignose oc #my ocs #warriors oc

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royalpain16 · 4 months

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Wood Farm, Sandringham Estate

Wood Farm is a farmhouse on the British Royal Family's Sandringham Estate in Norfolk, England. Historically occupied by members of the Royal Family and their guests, the house was a long favourite of Elizabeth II. From his retirement in 2017, the house was home to Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh.

Wood Farm is a five-bedroom cottage located in a secluded part of the Sandringham Estate, overlooking the sea. It has been described as a “comfortable open beamed cottage two miles from the ‘big house’”. The house is half a mile from the Wolferton railway station and is located near the stables and pheasant shooting grounds.[1] Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, reportedly decorated the walls with his own art, redesigned the kitchen and bedrooms.

In 1904, the farmhouse was referred to as “Marsh Farm" by local residents. King George V and Queen Mary sent their youngest son, Prince John, who suffered from epileptic seizures to reside at Wood Farm in 1917. He tended to a garden alongside a flock of chickens, occasionally receiving Queen Alexandra as a visitor before his death in 1919. The cottage was subsequently rented out for a number of years, including to James Ansell, the royal family's physician, before his retirement in the 1960s.

Elizabeth II and her family began using Wood Farm in 1967. Prince Philip chose the cottage for the family or guests to stay in without the huge staff or costs presented by the main house. Staff have been reported to not wear uniforms at the cottage. The Queen has also been described to have cooked and done the dishes while in residence. Charles III, when Prince of Wales, began to host shooting parties at Wood Farm during his college years, and continued to use it as a country retreat in adulthood.

The cottage is also a guest house for visitors who want "complete privacy". Diana, Princess of Wales, stayed at the farm with the Queen during a shooting party before her engagement. Divorced spouses of royals such as Sarah, Duchess of York are often put up at Wood Farm during holiday periods so they can be close to royal children without officially being at the Queen's festive holiday celebrations at Sandringham House. Catherine, Princess of Wales, stayed at the cottage during her visits to Sandringham early in her relationship with William, Prince of Wales. The couple reportedly continued to host shooting parties at Wood Farm after their marriage.

After his retirement, Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh lived at Wood Farm. He was often visited by the Queen, and reportedly ran a truffle farm on the grounds of the cottage.

- Wikipedia

#sandringham #royal estate #royal residence #wood farm

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fatehbaz · 11 months

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Americans [...] would sip the rich cocoa as a hot drink. Cocoa made its way to North America on the same ships that transported rum and sugar from the Caribbean and South America [...] and was heavily reliant on the labor of enslaved Africans throughout the diaspora. [...] [B]y the early 1700s, Boston, Newport, New York and Philadelphia were processing cocoa into chocolate to export and to sell domestically. Chocolate was popular in the coffeehouse culture and was processed for sale and consumption by enslaved laborers in the North. Farther south, in Virginia, cocoa was becoming [...] so popular that it is estimated that approximately one-third of Virginia’s elite was consuming cocoa in some form or another. For the wealthy, this treat was sipped multiple times a week; for others it was out of reach. [...]

The art of chocolate-making – roasting beans, grinding pods onto a stone over a small flame – was a labor-intensive task. An enslaved cook would have had to roast the cocoa beans on the open hearth, shell them by hand, grind the nibs on a heated chocolate stone, and then scrape the raw cocoa, add milk or water, cinnamon, nutmeg or vanilla, and serve it piping hot.

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One of the first chocolatiers in the Colonies was an enslaved cook named Caesar.

Born in 1732, Caesar was the chef at Stratford Hall, the home of the Lees of Virginia, and in his kitchen sat one of only three chocolate stones in the Colony. The other two were located at the governor’s palace and at the Carter family estate, belonging to one of the wealthiest families in Virginia. Caesar was responsible for cooking multiple meals a day for the Lees and any free person who came to visit. [...]

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The work was oppressive in the plantation kitchens at Christmas time. [...]

[T]hose working in the big house kitchen and as domestic laborers were expected to work around the clock to ensure a perfect holiday for the white family. The biggest task at hand was to cook and serve Christmas dinner, and chocolate was a favorite addition to the three-course formal dinner. [...] Oyster stew, meat pies, roasted pheasant, puddings, roasted suckling pig and Virginia ham are some of the many dishes that would be served in just one course. The night would finish with the sipping of chocolate: toasted, ground and spiced [...] and served in sipping-cups made specifically for drinking chocolate. [...]

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Decades before the two well-known enslaved chefs, Monticello’s James Hemings and George Washington’s Chef Hercules, [...] Caesar was running one of the Colonies’ most prestigious kitchens inside of Stratford Hall, and making chocolate for the Lees and their guests. [...] [H]is son, Caesar Jr., lived nearby and was the postillion [...].

The stress of cooking the most important dinner of the year was combined with the fear of what was to come on Jan. 1. New Year’s Day was commonly known as heartbreak day, when enslaved folks would be sold to pay off debts or rented out to a different plantation. Jan. 1 represented an impending doom, and the separation of families and loved ones. [...] Caesar disappeared from the records by the end of the 18th century. By 1800, his son Caesar Jr. was still owned by the Lees, but as that year ended, Christmas came and went, and Caesar Jr. was put up for collateral by Henry Lee for payment of his debts.

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The world Caesar lived in was one fueled by the Columbian Exchange, which was built from enslaved labor [...]: pineapples, Madeira wine, port, champagne, coffee, sugar and cocoa beans. These items traveled from plantation to dining room via the Atlantic trade, and were central to securing the reputation of Virginia’s plantation elite. The more exotic and delicious the food, the more domestic fame one would reap. Having cocoa delivered directly to your home, and having a chocolatier in the kitchen, were exceptional. It was through Caesar’s culinary arts that Stratford Hall became well-known throughout Colonial Virginia as a culinary destination.

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All text above by: Kelley Fanto Deetz. “Oppression in the kitchen, delight in the dining room: The story of Caesar, an enslaved chef and chocolatier in Colonial Virginia.” The Conversation. 21 December 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

#abolition #ecology #imperial #colonial

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flowerandblood · 11 months

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Sweet kiss, sweet blood (2)

[ dark vampire! • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, profanation, fluff ]

[description: A centuries-old vampire lives in Victorian England, bored and discouraged. His old friend sends him a letter, inviting him to his new country house. Aemond arrives there to rest. Next to the property, there is a small chapel, visited by the faithful. It turns out that at night, a young lady prays in it. Slow burn, sexual tension, profanation, murder, blood drinking.]

I owe the idea for this wonderful series to: @qyburnsghost

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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When he returned to Ser Criston's mansion he hurriedly drank the entire cup of pheasant blood that he had left to drink in the morning. He couldn't wait. The presence of this young girl unnerved him and aroused in him a thirst he had not known for a long time. When he drank the last drop, he breathed a sigh of relief, putting the cup on the table.

Criston looked at him surprised. He had never seen him like this before. For as long as he could remember Aemond had been one of the most composed people he'd ever known, including hunger. He hesitated to ask the question.

"What happened?" He asked uncertainly. Aemond wiped his mouth with his hand, looking away. He covered his face as if he wanted to shut himself off from the world for a moment and lock himself in his head.

The girl came in a nightgown and a shawl. She couldn't live far away. The thought terrified him and excited him at the same time. He wondered if he shouldn't go back to the city as soon as possible, before it was too late. Nevertheless, instead of saying he was leaving earlier, he said something else.

"Do your neighbors have a daughter?" He asked low and indifferent. Criston looked at him uncertainly, frowning. He didn't say anything for a moment.

"Did you kill her?" He asked suddenly, and Aemond shot him a look of disapproval.

"No." He grunted, looking away. He wondered if he should talk to him about what he felt. Even though they were friends there were some things that was better to kept to themselves. “She is the one who stays in your chapel every night.”

Criston sighed softly in relief, rubbing his temple. He paced a bit around the living room, shrugging his shoulders.

"Like I told you, it doesn't bother me. She may be the Whaterfields' youngest daughter. Her father was my broker when I bought this property. He boasted that she was getting married in a few months." He said, looking at him carefully.

“I've only just moved in here. I wouldn't want any problems, my friend." He said carefully. Aemond stared blankly ahead.

"I know."

After that conversation for several days he did not return to the subject and tried not to think about it. He managed to do this until at night, when he laid on the great, low windowsill and looked through the huge windows towards the chapel, waiting for her to come.

She always sneaked out at the same time, around midnight. First he could see the dim light of the candle, then her. She prayed every day for about an hour and a half, then left and returned home. He wondered what she was praying so fervently for.

One day she didn't go out for longer than usual and it made him nervous. He sat staring at the building, playing with his fingers involuntarily. For some reason he was obsessed with her.

He swallowed loudly, fighting hard against the temptation that was tormenting him. It didn't help that Criston had gone out on a little hunt to provide them with a supply of fresh animal blood. He thought he couldn't stand it.

He got up and gulped down the entire cup of blood that he had left for the morning. He needed to control himself better around her. He took his old, tattered Bible from his coat pocket and left the property, making a determined stride toward the chapel which was still dimly lit.

He walked in noiselessly, feeling himself trembling with excitement. He saw, surprised, that she had simply fallen asleep. Her face was resting on her hands on the armrest in front of her, a barely burning candle and her book beside her. She was bent over, her face pressed against her hand with her cheek, her lips slightly parted.

He felt a tightness in his throat and pants at the sight of her bare arm, the sleeve of her nightgown had slipped down. He wondered what to do. He thought that if he went over to her and woke her up, it would scare her. He decided to just sit in the back and watch her.

He was in no rush.

He watched her chest rise and fall, her mouth parting slightly and closing in a breath. Her whole body felt hot and soft, all throbbing with life. He thought that if he touched her, he would feel a pleasant tingle.

He wondered how she could fall asleep in such a place, especially knowing that she had once met a strange man there. He flinched as she rolled over suddenly, her eyelids fluttering open, looking sleepily around. For a moment she didn't know where she was. She noticed him, her pupils narrowed in horror.

"It's a dream, isn't it?" She asked, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. He smiled involuntarily at her question, though his expression was not cordial.

"Yes." He replied briefly, wondering what she would do with the information. She shifted in place, thinking for a moment, then frowned.

"You're mocking me, sir." She said it in a way that he thought he heard a note of regret in her voice. He raised his eyebrows in amusement at her statement.

"Perhaps it's all just in your head, miss." He purred, narrowing his gaze, looking at her like a cat looking at a mouse. He saw her swallow hard at his words, her hand trembling slightly against the back of the bench.

"Do you think I'm mad?" She asked, as if she herself wasn't sure if that might not be true. He looked at her intensely, her pleasant scent melting in his nostrils, filling his lungs. He felt like he was in a trance because her.

"We're all mad, Miss Whaterfield." He hummed low, the corner of his mouth curved into a smile. He played with her and watching her reaction was pure delight for him. He saw that she bristled when he said her surname.

"Who are you?" She asked finally, in a slightly firmer tone of voice, looking at him intently.

He thought that she felt more confident. Perhaps because they were sitting at a distance from each other, and it gave her a semblance of security.

"I didn't see you at Sunday mass, sir." She added after a moment.

The thought of her looking for him in the church tickled his ego pleasantly. He looked at her with a smirk for a moment, toying with his book in his hands. They looked at each other intensely. He didn't speak until she gave up, glancing to the side, pursed her lips.

"I came to visit my friend, who lives in the mansion that this chapel belongs to." He finally spoke low and indifferently, tapping his finger on the armrest where he was leaning with one side of his body.

Her eyes lit up at the news. She moved a little closer, placing her hands on the back of the bench, pressing her face against it so that only her eyes and the top of her head protruded above it.

"Are you a friend of Ser Criston Cole?" She asked, this time with curiosity and gentleness in her voice.

Clearly she needed to know who she could pair him with to gain any peace of mind in his company. Aemond nodded, and seeing how quickly she blinked he thought that she was smiling. He thought that he was taking surprisingly much pleasure from this conversation about nothing.

"How long are you staying here, sir? Do you like it here?” She asked, suddenly changing from a terrified, fear-frozen girl into a chatty, warm talker.

Somehow he was touched by the change. He thought deep down that she was too trusting. That if she knew who he was she wouldn't talk to him like that. He decided it didn't matter.

For now.

"Two questions, for two questions." He said low, an amused smirk never leaving his face.

He saw her twist in her place, surprised. He had often played with his meal, but never with such delight and excitement. He thought he'd like to possess her before he tasted her blood. Feel what it's like to be inside her, hot and wet. His manhood throbbed painfully in his pants at the thought.

"Very well." She said softly and he looked at her contentedly.

"I'll stay here a while longer. I came to rest. Why do you pray here and not at home?” He spoke flatly and matter-of-factly, never taking his eye off her.

He knew that it was hard for her to look at him, his gaze burning her. She looked away for a while, embarrassed. She looked up at him in surprise when he asked her a question. She was silent for a moment, as if she was debating whether to tell the truth or make up something. He would know right away if she lied.

“I used to come here with my grandfather when I was little. He told me that God lives here. Then I took it too literally. But ever since then whenever I need private time with our Heavenly Father, I come here.” She said softly, and he grunted in satisfaction, knowing she was telling the truth. He liked what she said.

“I like it here. Are you not afraid that I will hurt you?" He asked, turning his head.

He saw her whole body shudder, suddenly losing again what little trust he had gained from her in the last few minutes. She looked down, swallowing softly, her hand tightening on the back of the bench.

“If you wanted to, you probably would have done it already. Unless you like to play with your food." She said, looking at him with a frown.

He couldn't help but chuckle lowly at her words. He shook his head, looking out the window. The moon was shining down on them.

"Your candle is about to burn out. I don't envy your return in the dark." He said and saw that her gaze fell quickly to the candle beside her.

She opened her mouth, reaching for it, and that was it. Darkness surrounded them. Suddenly the only source of light was the white glow of the moon, falling through the window onto the floor.

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with terror. He didn't move an inch, wondering what she would do. He felt her pulse quicken, her blood pumping faster through her body. He closed his eye at the feeling, enjoying her scent. He flinched when he heard her voice.

"Will you walk me away, sir?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she was really afraid of going back in the dark. He wondered if she was in such a hurry to get to the grave. He opened his eye and looked at her.

"Yes."

He saw her slowly stand up, taking her prayer book in her hands. She started for the door pressing it against her chest, as if it was going to protect her from him in some way. He thought with amusement that it was for nothing.

No divine punishment could save her from him.

He left the chapel right behind her, the full moon shining high above, illuminating the park around them. Without the warm light of her candle, he thought, everything around her must have felt cold and menacing now.

She looked around, as if to make sure nothing was lurking in the shadows. He wondered how she could subconsciously not feel that the greatest danger was right in front of her.

She went ahead, and he followed her without a word. She led him along a narrow, well-worn path, through thickets of bushes and trees. This, he thought, was where she used to go to his friend's property every day.

Finally, they came out on land that no longer belonged to Criston, into a meadow, stretching far away. There couldn't be a better place to taste her, he thought. Here no one would hear her.

He pursed his lips, using what little free will he had to keep from just grabbing her by the shoulders and biting her beautiful, long neck.

They made their way to a road that led to a pretty, little country house. He heard her breathe a sigh of relief as she saw her home. She looked at him and was confused by the intense look in his eye. They stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"Thank you, sir, for you kindness." She whispered softly, her tone warm and full of, at least to him, undeserved gratitude.

He held out his hand to her, and even in the dim moonlight he could see that she blushed. He thought that he wanted this at least.

To feel the warmth and taste of her skin.

She offered him her trembling hand, and he squeezed it gently, respectfully, sensitively. It was warm and wonderfully soft.

He leaned in, his cold, wet lips pressed against her fragrant skin. He felt her shiver hard, her breath caught in her lungs. Just as he suspected, her body quivered wonderfully and throbbed with life, her scent filling his lungs, increasing his already unbearable thirst.

He felt that he wanted her in every possible way. He wanted to possess her and devour her. He flinched as her hand tightened around his.

"You're freezing. Forgive me for telling you to come with me when you were so cold, sir." She whispered embarrassed, looking at him as if she had hurt him.

The corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily at her words in amusement. He felt a mighty shudder as she took a step towards him, lifting their clasping hands and pressing her warm lips to his skin.

She held them like that for a moment, as if she wanted to warm his hand with the heat of her body and her breath. He watched this scene in amazement, his lips slightly parted, his manhood throbbing painfully in his pants. He thought there was no help for him. He won't be able to leave her alone.

He will hurt her just like other women before her.

She pulled away, releasing his hand, her cheeks flushed with emotion. He looked involuntarily at her neck, her throbbing artery, and swallowed hard. She was so close, all he had to do was reach out.

"Good night." She whispered and turned, wrapping her shawl tighter around her as she walked slowly towards her homestead. He stood and watched her, letting her go. He turned around after a while and headed back towards the moon, hanging above him in the sky.

______

Thank you for such a good reception of this series. I plan to make this story a slow burn fit for the Victorian era. I want to add some 19th century realism to this story. 🩸

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1

Others: @talesofoldandnew @toodlesxcuddles @padfooteyes

If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

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bonefall · 1 year

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Better Bones Profile: Houndleap

"The horrifying eldritch fallen angel likes ME best because I'm hot"

[ID: The Better Bones AU version of Houndleap from Warrior Cats. He is a black-and-white tom with ginger flecks in his black parts, and a fluffy white tail tuft. His ears are burned away, and he has orange, swirly keloid scars. He also has a heart-shaped paw pad.]

Here by popular request! Holy MOLY you all jumped on the offhanded manwhore comment lmao.

Houndleap's a great example of cats who are in the Dark Forest for breaking non-violent commandments. The only thing he's killing is the gene pool, with his 6 known mates and the 16 kittens between them all. No, he wasn't in love with them all either, he just liked to play the game.

He is as close to the ideal Clan cat as one can get, and he knows it, and flaunts it. Tri-colored with beautiful ginger flecks, he fell victim to a terrible moor fire and came out with severe burns. His surviving was already a great mark of strength, but then he became even luckier when his shiny scars raised, and slightly spread from the initial injury.

Clan cats didn't have a word for keloids, they only knew it was gorgeous. As if StarClan had given him a scar that dances and shimmers.

Houndleap "abused" this gift, seeing as many cats as possible and cheating on his 'official' mate back home. In the modern era, he might have just been a very popular Honor Sire, but this was before the Queen's Rights and the Aftergathering. He was eventually caught, and after his death, he was banished to the Dark Forest for violating the Law of Loyalty on more than 5 counts.

Yes. More than 5 counts. StarClan was able to see that he had even more than 5 halfclan mates (and they're not even counting the wife he cheated on) but only 5 got pregnant.

Alignment: Dark Forest, ex-WindClan

Time Period: Skyfall Era

Relations: Too fucking many

Houndleap's addition to the Dark Forest is Lover's Beck, a twisted, romantic version of a spot in the Gorge where he used to meet with his secret lovers. It's his worst memory because he planned poorly and two of them showed up at the same time and that's how he got caught.

More trivia below!

Canon said he's solid-colored and I said no. Pretty boy.

There are several minor features in his design that will be seen in modern family lines. I won't point them out but there's 3 total (so far.)

I decided to use him as an example of nearly ideal beauty standards in BB, since I famously overhauled them from canon. He is brightly colored with complicated patterns, slightly chunky, and has a HUGE scar on the face.

Personality is slut. He just wants to flirt, man. Theme song is Mambo #5 he's just like that.

He works with Tigerstar in OotS mostly because it's not like there's anything better to do. Plus some of the trainees are hot, "hellooooo Ratscar"

When Antpelt dies, Houndleap is one of the cats who needs the most convincing to come back into the alliance. It's one thing when it's funny haha Attack And Dethrone God or whatever, but PERMAdeath??

Thankfully, Hawkfrost is a fantastic diplomat.

Generally, Houndleap is motivated by whatever's fun. He was one of the first to fall in line under Ashfur and will do basically anything if he's bored.

"We're teaching people how to kill? sure lmao. Oh we're attacking the living? Ok cool. Guard the prisoners? Not like I had plans anyway. Anyway wanna get evil dinner later, handsome <3 ?"

Likes drama, tea, stories, games, anything that brings him a little excitement really.

He can usually be counted on to join whatever silly project the group's up to this time, like catching Shrewpaw's Pheasant.

I cannot stress enough how much of a normal Crummy Dude he is. He's just some standard jerkwad guy. The Dark Forest in Better Bones contains several people like him, who might be sleazeballs or jackasses, but we would generally agree don't deserve Hell.

When canon comes up with a Houndleap backstory, I'll consider what to do with it. But for now we only know that Hound came from WindClan, which I've included.

#Better Bones AU #Better Bones character profile #BB!Houndleap #BB!Dark Forest

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afeelgoodblog · 1 year

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These are The Best News of Last Week

🎼 — Meet the Grammy of the Grammys 😊

1. Man gives $12,000 worth of classroom supplies to 150 middle school teachers

Bryan Tsiliacos has the goal of completing 30 acts of kindness before his 30th birthday, and he just completed his third on Wednesday.

2. Lab-grown meat cleared for human consumption by U.S. regulator

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) for the first time cleared a meat product grown from animal cells for human consumption.

UPSIDE Foods, a company that makes cell-cultured chicken by harvesting cells from live animals and using the cells to grow meat in stainless-steel tanks, will be able to bring its products to market once it has been inspected by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA)

Reduces emissions, reduces food and water consumption, greatly reduces the risk of foodborne illness, potentially cheaper for consumers, prevents the raising and killing of animals — this is a win all-around.

3. Police dog finds lost Michigan hunter, 80, who fell in river

An 80-year-old Michigan hunter who got lost and repeatedly fell into a river was rescued by canoe after a police dog tracked down the soaked man.

The man’s wife called Michigan State Police on Wednesday evening after her husband, failed to return home after three hours. State police said her concerns grew when she heard her husband shooting several shots, which meant he was lost, MLive.com reported. The hunter was unharmed, but cold and wet due to falling into the river three times, police said.

4. Researchers Rediscover the Black-Naped Pheasant-Pigeon, a Bird Lost to Science for 140 Years

The camera’s display was tiny, but there was no mistaking the creature it showed: the Black-naped Pheasant-Pigeon, a species that hasn’t been documented by scientists since it was first described in 1882.

“To find something that’s been gone for that long, that you’re thinking is almost extinct, and then to figure out that it’s not extinct, it feels like finding a unicorn or a Bigfoot,” says John C. Mittermeier, director of the lost birds program at American Bird Conservancy

5. Puppy Mill Rescue Dog Becomes ‘Helper Dog’ for Dogs Overcoming Trauma

Lolly was one of the over 500 under-socialized, scared dogs that the ASPCA rescued from neglectful conditions at an Iowa puppy mill in Nov. 2021, and now the canine is helping other pups.

Lolly’s journey from “nervous” puppy mill rescue to hero helper dog started last year after the ASPCA pulled Lolly from the Iowa breeding facility. Following her rescue, Lolly went to an emergency shelter operated by the ASPCA for initial exams and treatment.

6. Angela Álvarez crowned best new artist at Latin Grammys — aged 95

Cuban American, who started recording career at 90 after decades of performing for family and friends, says ‘it’s never too late’.

The Cuban American musician’s crowning moment came after decades of writing songs but performing them only for friends and family — until, at the age of 90, she went to the Avalon, the historic Hollywood nightclub, and gave her first concert.

7. Lost dog hands itself in at Loughborough Police Station

youtube

A lost dog has been reunited with its owners after walking into a police station.

CCTV footage from Loughborough Police Station captured the moment the border collie arrived and took a seat in the waiting room. Leicestershire Police staff fetched some water and gave her a fuss before calling the number on her ID tag.

Good reminder to keep a collar on your dog.

. . .

That’s it for this week. If you liked this post you can support this newsletter with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Have a great week ahead :)

#Youtube #best news of last week

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googleitlol · 2 months

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No, I did not jump to the pregnancy chapter. The title is misleading, and I apologize for that.

Dove Masterlist:

Babies??

The gentle breeze brushes through the air, accompanying the sun westward as it carries on its descent toward the horizon. Golden hour approaches with pheasants flying overhead, returning to their nests. Clouds grazing the mountaintops are soft shades of pink and orange. The mountain itself is littered in dashes of colour from a thousand flowers and a vibrant green from the lush grass coating its earthy base. The world feels as though it is in blossom, though it might help that your group is spending the night at a temple in the Abbey of Five Villages.

While away for the night, the Abbey is home to a daoist known as the Lord Equal to Earth, Zhenyuan. You’ve never met him, but know enough from the occasional gossip in the Jade Palace that he is a respected figure. Already aware that your companions would be arriving, he had two of his disciples stay behind to host. While the others settled in, you accompanied Sandy in making sure the horse was properly fed. It also gave an excuse for you to gaze out over the beautiful land of the Abbey.

It also helps that you find Sha Wujing the easiest to get along with out of Tripitaka’s disciples. He’s much less boorish, more open to peaceful conversation without jabs or insults. Though, you suppose you were no better at times. “I have to admit, it is nice being off the road, even if it is only for tonight.” The sand demon hums as he guides the horse to his meal.

You nod with a smile, your sight trained on the beauty of land before you. “I agree. If we were not on our journey, it would be nice to stay longer. Looking at this view, I’m reminded of home.”

At this, the buddhist turns to you. “Where is it you come from, little soother?”

The two of you begin to head back inside the temple. “I’ve lived most of my life on the Potalaka Mountain with my master, Guan Yin. There’s a village not far from her home I would visit quite frequently.”

“Is that where you are from?” He questions, and you shake your head.

“No, my first home was burnt down when I was only a child. My master found me in the wreckage of my family’s home and gifted me with a second chance.” You explain, your companion humming in acknowledgement.

“That is a beautiful story.” He smiles, which affirms his friendly nature, despite the sharpened teeth.

You walk through the silent halls together, your steps echoing through empty halls. “Indeed, I owe everything to her.” The talk reminds you of how much you missed her, and everyone from before your trip to the heavens. Guan Yin, Moksa, all of those from the village who have now passed. But there was no point in dwelling on it. What’s past is past, and now you have but one goal. Get the Tang Monk to the west.

A blur of ochre flashes down the hall ahead, quickly returning to reveal itself as Sun Wukong. His face brightens up at the sight of his brother disciple, the stone monkey approaching rapidly once catching sight of Wujing. “Sandy, I’ve been looking for you!”

“Hello, Sun Pilgrim.” The man greets him. Monkey looks as though he’s about to say something, but stops himself when he glances at you. The bright look in his eye is quickly snuffed out and replaced by a rather bored look.

“…What?”

“I need to speak with my fellow disciple. Alone.” Your eyes roll, unsure of what you were actually expecting. “Go ahead. I’ll talk to you later, Wujing.” Not having to be told twice, you say your goodbyes to the sand demon and continue through the halls of the temple on your own.

“Of course, thank you for your help.” He calls back before you disappear around the corner Monkey came from. Whatever he needed to talk to Wujing about, you can’t find it in yourself to care. As long as they don’t cause a disturbance, it should be fine. Besides, Sandy seems quite reasonable, you doubt he’d go along with anything Sun Wukong suggests.

You soon find yourself in the main hall, Tripitaka sitting at one of the tables ahead of you. He’s massaging his temples, his eyes wide and confused until they notice your presence. “Ah! There you are! You won’t believe what just happened.” He quickly rises from his seat as you approach.

It’s rare to see the monk so highly energetic, it’s as though he’s bursting at the seams. It’d be a lie to say you aren’t curious over what could make him react in such a way. “What is it?”

As you reach the man, his hands clutch onto your arms. “Our hosts tried to feed me infants!”

You pause, the statement taking a moment for you to process. Is this some jest? “Infants? As in, human children?”

“They could not have been more than three days old!” He exclaims as you sit him back down at the table, joining him as he continues to hold onto your arms in disbelief.

Offering a buddhist monk a child to eat? Surely they haven’t mistaken Tripitaka to be some demon like his disciples, even they follow a strictly vegetarian diet. “What did you say?”

“I told them to bring the children back to their parents, what else could I have said in that situation?!” He asks. “‘Mm, how delicious, two babies?’”

Despite the distress in his voice, you can’t help but let a chuckle escape. “Surely they would not expect that of you.”

“They insisted they were grown on trees!” Yes, that does sound odd. However, the description does scratch at a particular itch in your head. You’re certain this sounds like something you’ve heard of before, but the answer escapes you in the moment.

“Perhaps I could ask the two to explain themselves?” You shrug, the monk finally releasing you from his grip.

He releases a drawn-out sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s alright, I can ask myself when we gather for the rice. After everything we’ve experienced on the road, I was just looking forward to some normalcy for the night. It only took me by surprise, that is all.”

You place your hand on his shoulder in comfort, offering up a smile. “I’m not sure I would act any different if I were in your shoes.” You let out a soft laugh before looking around the space. A thought strikes you at that moment. “Where’s Bajie? I haven’t seen him since we arrived.”

The monk hums for a moment in thought. “The last I saw him, he was in a hurry to find Wukong.” Oh, really?

A sinking feeling worms its way into your gut. Should you have been more worried about Monkey and Sandy? What does Pigsy need that ape for? Something feels off. “I should go ahead and make sure they’re not getting into any trouble.”

You rise to leave and the monk shakes his head. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. My disciples should know not to cause any disturbances while we’re here.” He reassures you, but it doesn’t help the worry settle in your stomach

“I will feel better once I check for myself.” You quickly nod to Tripitaka before leaving the main hall.

You head towards the area you left Wujing and Wukong at last, mentally preparing yourself for whatever you may find. They can’t have gotten into too much trouble, right? It’s only been a few hours since your group has been here, they can’t have done anything too outlandish. Not yet, at least.

It takes some time before you are able to find them, the three demons huddled together at the end of a hall. They talk to one another in hushed whispers, like children plotting with one another. The sight did little to comfort your concerns.

Monkey is the first to notice your presence, his back straightening before turning to face you. “Hello, Dove.” His tone is casual, contrasting heavily against the wide-eyed faces behind him.

“Wukong.” The two on either side of him straighten up as well, turning to address you like their elder brother. You eye each of them in suspicion, it looks like you were right to be worried after all. “What have you three been up to?”

The stone demon shrugs casually, his posture relaxed despite the sharp look in his eyes. “Not much, we just returned from marvelling at the beautiful gardens they have here. You should go see for yourself.”

How stupid does he think you are? Or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to properly lie. “Oh, I suppose I could later. I just wanted to make sure the three of you weren’t getting into any trouble.” Your eyes shoot to Bajie, then Wujing, neither offering you eye contact.

“Trouble?” Wukong laughs, drawing your attention back to him. “Of what kind?”

Even you had to admit, it was impressive just how smarmy this man can get. Nevertheless, you play along. If he wants to play this game, you’ll play. Stepping closer, you narrow the gap between the two of you, a smirk finding its way on your face. “I wouldn’t know. But someone ought to remind you that your actions here reflect on Tripitaka. So if you mess anything up,” grabbing onto his shirt, you tug him close enough for you to whisper, “you will have a lot more to worry about than that gold around your head.” You almost miss the wide-eyed look of shock on his face before masking it with a grin of his own. “I’m impressed, Dove. Trying to threaten an immortal being, with what? Your pointy little sticks?” He laughs, his voice low.

The assumption makes your smirk drop. “I’m not threatening you with pain.” Your eyes narrow as he does the same. “It’s a warning. This temple belongs to Zhenyuan, and I’ve heard enough about how he carries out justice on those who have done wrong unto him.”

“You think some immortal scares me? Don’t forget, woman, I’ve taken on entire armies single-handed.” A single brow raises as he gloats, and you let out a huff of air at his words.

There truly is nobody as self-absorbed as the Monkey King. “Then you shouldn’t forget what I said. Your actions reflect on Tripitaka. Whether or not you can take punishment won’t matter if the monk is the one in the crossfire.” You warn, and for a moment you see his prideful facade falter.

With the message thoroughly received, you release the demon from your hold. Your graceful smile returns as you look back to Pigsy and Sandy. “Now, I think I will take a look around those gardens you speak so highly of. I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding.” With everything that needed to be said now dealt with you turn to leave.

That is, until Sandy clears his throat.

“Little Soother… say something has already happened.” Your head whips around at that, and you see Wukong has done the same, his hands moving frantically in a motion to stop.

You knew it. “Like what?” “Disciples!”

Tripitaka’s voice carries through the halls, your face dropping as you realise whatever they’ve done has already reached its way to their master– and likely, your hosts.

#give trip a break man #pigsy and sandy are constantly victims to the tension between dove and wukong #little dove #journey to the west #jttw #jttw sha wujing #jttw sandy #jttw zhu bajie #jttw pigsy #jttw tripitaka #jttw reader #jttw sun wukong #sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #jttw sun wukong x reader

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meowcatsposts · 2 years

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Black Dragon [Italar] - Pt. 1

✎⁾⁾⁾note: this is a story about a black dragon I made up in my mind. although this is different from my usual posts, I hope it'll be something enjoyable to read :)

the link to part 2 is below, if you'd like to check it out:

[part 2]

Overview

When you were little, you stumbled across a cave inhabited by a dragon

You were terrified lmao

However, you bonded with the dragon bc he told you stories and gave you treats

But suddenly, you were banned from going to the cave

*cue lonely dragon*

Will you return after all those years, or have you forgotten about him?

“...And so Italar the dragon became a tyrannical ruler, ravishing livestock and tearing hamlets apart. He burned any mouth that spoke against him, and clawed through the throats of deserters, leaving them to gurgle in their own blood…”

It was odd hearing a story from a dragon as ancient as the tale itself, but you paid no mind to that at all. You didn’t mind the gory descriptions, either, as your child mind was too engrossed in the creature’s molten eyes and plated tail.

“The people of the village lived in fear, making sacrifices, cowering for their lives. Until one day…”

The dragon looked at the small child poking at his scales and sighed, blowing hot air on your face. He laid his thick tail in front of him for you to play with, always wondering why you didn’t go screaming bloody murder like the other noisy brats. At first, he suspected you were bait to lure him out, or some tattletale for his head. Instead, to the lonely creature’s surprise, you kept him company, begging him to tell you stories, or to see his hoard, or to play with his worn scales and sharp claws.

The very first evening he found you, you were lost and scared, tears pouring down your chubby reddened cheeks. Oh, and when you saw those massive rows of sharp teeth and those ferocious golden eyes of his, you bursted into hysteria. To shut you up, the weary creature swiftly dragged you into his den, muffling your panicked cries in the hollows of his cave.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whimpered. Feebly, you wiped your red, runny nose on your sleeve, looking into the dragon’s eyes fearfully.

“I won’t,” he scoffed, eyeing your little frame. “You wouldn’t satisfy my appetite, anyway.”

After stewing in your wet sniffles and hiccups, the dragon glanced to the mouth of his cave. The skies turned purple as the nights kissed the sun goodbye, blowing cool breeze into the dark, rocky abode. He sighed; it would be unwise to let a child return home at this hour.

After rising heavily on his hind legs, the dragon said to you sternly, “Stay here, human. I’ll get something for you to eat.” Your watery eyes just stared blankly, so he growled, “Stay. Understood?”

As obedient as you could you nodded fervently, rubbery legs giving out.

“Good.”

You gasped in surprise as a fat pile of fruits cascaded into your lap. Small berries rolled off and a few apples and pears lay still between your legs. The dragon, like a huge cat, curled into a ball a couple meters away from you, keenly eyeing your expression.

“Eat,” he said curtly. “I’ll keep you warm only for tonight.”

Ever since that day, the dragon found you outside his den, always asking for some yummy fruit. Too tired to send you back, he welcomed you into the maws of his dark dusty home.

As he nudged a big pile of apples and berries and pears your way, he grumbled, “Your name. What is it?”

“(Y/N),” you replied, scooping the fresh treats into a bag. Out of pure, innocent curiosity, you asked, “What’s yours?”

The dragon scoffed, deep thrum of his throat shaking the pebbles in his cave; it sent tingles through your belly.

“I’ll tell you another time,” he replied.

Whilst adjusting his large wings and lowering his head to the ground, the black dragon continued his tale.

“Until one day…the people conspired to kill the beast. They pretended to offer him a grand meal of several fat pheasants, a large boar, and a deer’s head. Overzealous and inflated with pride, Italar feasted ferociously, unbeknownst to the heavy net being dragged behind him.”

The dragon growled, revealing his set of sharp glistening teeth. You giggled and he half sighed, half chuckled at your fearless reaction. His nostrils flared as you placed your hands on the top of his scaly nose, tiny fingers probing at the sharp ridges of plated armor. Disregarding the odd sensation blooming on his snout, the large creature spoke once more.

“And when he got captured, he tried his hardest to escape, clawing at the iron chains and gnashing at the sharp spears slashing his hide. His furious roars boomed throughout the town, but the people didn’t run, to his dismay. Again and again, spears impaled the dragon, until he was too tired to retaliate.

“The villagers cheered, seeing life seeping away from his eyes…oh, but how foolish they were, to think the great dragon would simply die without a final fight. With one last roar, Italar shook off the iron net and set the village aflame, taking great pleasure in the screams of burning flesh and wood. Then, he swiftly flew off with the little strength he had left, beating his powerful bleeding wings to a forest, where he took his final breath.”

“Is that all?” you asked after a short pause, looking into the dragon’s golden eyes. They glowed faintly in the dim cave, like topaz.

“Yes.” He nodded, gently sliding away from your curious hands. “That is all.”

You looked down at the rough stone floor of the cave, knitting your eyebrows. The story ended quite gruesomely, leaving a sour aftertaste on your tongue and for some odd reason, gloom spurred in your innocent little mind. Shouldn’t there be another ending, where the dragon king lived happily in the forest? Sure, he’d done terrible, unforgivable things, but shouldn’t he have a second chance at life? The more you thought about it, the more frustrated you became, and the more frustrated you became, the more your chest tightened. It was odd, feeling such sympathy for an imaginary character.

“What’s the matter?” the dragon queried, noticing your simmering expression.

“Shouldn’t there be a happy ending?” you replied, rather harshly. “I know Italar did bad things, but I don’t think he deserved to die.”

The dragon chuckled deeply, shaking the tiny rocks lying beside him. You looked so cute, mad, cheeks colored red and eyes burning with fervor.

“You’re an odd one,” he hummed amusedly. “Although the dragon king didn’t get his second chance, the village did. After he died, that little hamlet grew to a mighty empire–though I’m not entirely sure if it is in ruins now.”

Although conflict thumped at your ribcage, your child mind latched onto the prospect of a small, insignificant little hamlet rising to an powerful and almighty empire. Perhaps the dragon could tell you another story!

With big round eyes you pleaded, “Can you tell me about the empire? Please?”

The dragon sighed once more, making sure to blow as much of his hot breath on your face as possible. He suppressed a chuckle when your hair turned into an unruly mane.

“I’ll tell you next time,” he said. “If there will even be one, of course.”

And surely there was, because he'd see you for the next couple months.

“I have something for you,” Italar murmured, melting into the darkness to the back of his lair. His massive tail swept dust to the corners of the cave as he plodded to his treasure pile, hidden behind shadowy veils and sharp rocks. After clinking through his collection for quite some time, he returned with a piece of glinting jewelry.

“Take it,” he said, delicately holding the tiny ring between his claws. He then dropped it onto your palms, and it didn’t look so tiny anymore. “And swear to never lose it.”

When you returned home, however, you swore to your parents to never return to that cave, ever again.

[part 2]

grey dividers provided by: @firefly-graphics

#dragon #dragon x reader #monster #monster x reader

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the0retically · 3 months

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The Suckening #6 Spoilers

Can’t believe Shilo is fucking allergic to birds, cruel irony Bizly, as soon as he started sneezing my heart broke a little

I know I sound insane but it can really be reflective of his view of the world being this amazing and indescribable thing that he’s been sheltered away from and for 18 years he was never able to experience it beyond reading about it. He has loved the idea of pheasants and has been wanting to see one for years, but when he finally does he’s allergic, he can’t be around it without getting sick. It’s so intrinsically tied to his want to leave the castle, experience things first hand, live his own life, but when he actually gets there he’s met with danger after danger, he’s out of his depth, he just wants to go home, and be out of danger. But home is gone, his mother might be dead, he was only able to talk to his uncle, but he found his brother that he didn’t even know he had. There’s upsides to the pain of being away from home, just like with the pheasant, there’s joy in seeing it in person but he’s allergic

This is such a perfect Shilo moment for him to see and realize that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side, but you shouldn’t stay content where you’re unhappy

But the thing is, Bizly did it for the fucking bit

#jrwi #jrwi thoughts #the suckening #the suckening spoilers #jrwi spoilers #shilo bathory #bizlychannel #I’m so—#like it works perfectly for that moment and everything but bizly probably just thought it’d be a funny bit if shilo was allergic

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melmac78 · 9 days

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@katblu42 wrote: “I know practically nothing about Texas, other than it is big, and in the South of the USA. It seems to be portrayed as having fairly warm weather . . . but as large as it is, does it have regions of varying weather patterns? And in a similar vein, are there various areas of diverse vegetation/fauna?”

••••••

In short, yes. I live in West Texas and mom in Southeast (about 500 or so miles apart), and we can have essentially two seasons. It can rain there and be bone dry here, and sometimes in the winter she asks me the temp so she can prepare the next day.

And it’s no exaggeration some parts of the state you can experience at least 3 seasons in the same day. I’m personally lucky in that I seem to have adapted to this particularly go here, which it’s frequent 2 seasons a day right now, but I get funny looks being in short sleeves in cooler weather because of it.

•••••••

Vegetation/fauna is definitely diverse. If I travel from home to Mom’s, in that 8 hour drive I go from:

• a flat area where most trees that aren’t mesquite were planted by settlers (you can tell where a house is/was based on clusters of trees), that grows cotton and feed if they aren’t an oil town

• area with mesas and wind turbines after leaving the Caprock, another ironically heavier oil area. The turbines are increasing to the point I joke they’re “Don Quixote’s nightmare.

• areas with thicker areas of trees that are shorter, oddly at times more prickly pear cactus, and bigger cities,

(This varies if I take the longer route - uncommon but I will in December to run a different St. Jude race - through Boerne/San Antonio where you go through the mesas and rolling plains again in the middle of the state, and unfortunately experience 40 mins. of cell phone dead zone. It’s bad to the point it’s LEGAL to go 80 mph to get through it)

• heavily wooded area and gentle hills.

And then if we go to Galveston or Corpus Christi there’s some marshy areas and then the coast.

The marshiest area is around La Porte I think, which is where the battle of San Jacinto was and the Texas fighters used this to an advantage.

••••••

Wildlife varies. I see more wild turkey and pheasant here than east coast. I’ve seen a few roadrunners but they seem more prevalent in the Palo Duro Canyon.

Prairie dogs are far more common in west Texas. Amarillo’s minor league team’s mascot is Sodpoodles (a nickname) and Lubbock has one park dedicated to the black tail prairie dogs.

Anyone watching them I’d say don’t walk close: their town system underground makes it dangerous to walk lest you fall through a hole.

I definitely see more deer near moms along with raccoons. Skunks more often here: in the summer I must walk the cemetery in full daylight, not dusk as they seem to like living there more. (Just clarifying for folks: where I am the cemetery is the safest place to walk due to bad traffic and has a very high visibility).

Snakes are definitely a big issue all around. For the poisonous ones, West Texas more rattlers and coral while East copperheads and water moccasins (though up here we’ll see some copperheads).

Coast we see a lot of sea turtles nest there, particularly Kemp Ridley. There’s a lot of hatching ceremonies in the year where the state protects the turtles until they waddle into the Gulf to give them a fighting chance to survive.

I’m sure there’s even more than this, but it’s more of I’ve experienced here

Thanks for the ask.

#melmac78 observation #ask me but person specific #melmac78

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crevicedwelling · 9 months

Note

I know this is a bug-themed blog but you’ve been posting quail and I’ve been thinking of getting some eventually.

any advice? sure there’s better places to look but wondering what you might say.

be sure you know your varieties—domestic Japanese or Coturnix quail (C. japonica) are what I had, and they’re in the pheasant family (Phasianidae) along with chickens and other Old World quail. New Word quail (Odontophoridae) like bobwhite are very different birds in many respects, and if you live in North America like I do permits might be required to own them since they are native animals.

I can’t speak for odontophorids since I’ve never owned any, but if you do mean Coturnix here’s a few tips I think matter more to me & everything else can be found online:

hatch your own! it’s worth getting an incubator and waiting the 18 days or so. they don’t imprint on you like waterfowl but it’s the best way to tame them.

feed them treats early on, and often as you can. I offered a bit of sand or very fine gravel as grit, and fed them live Suriname cockroaches and baby mealworms every couple hours. it’s good enrichment for them, builds muscle, and got mine tamer than most Coturnix hear about. if you make a sort of low whistling sound while holding a prey item (males do this to tidbit their hens, and hens do it for their chicks) they might remember it and come running even as adults. if you’re not too good with live bugs, then maybe try egg yolk crumbles or something easily digestible. adults love cucumber, any seeds, and of course insects.

they love to dust bathe, so giving them a pan of sand or keeping one corner of their enclosure dry will make them happy clean birds. I also liked to bury seeds in their dust bath for them to scratch out.

even handfed and calm quail don’t like to be touched much, and Bear was really the only one of 14 others who was a lap quail. Coturnix are not as friendly as chickens at all.

keeping Coturnix is sort of like Chicken Lite; many behaviors are quite similar but not all the way there. they lay eggs often, but rarely in nest boxes. they don’t have super strict pecking order, but they do keep tabs on who’s bossy and who is deferential. males can be very violent (I assume this a byproduct of forcing a chicken-style harem breeding system on a bird that’s usually monogamous in the wild) and should be monitored closely to make sure they don’t scalp their hens. about a 1:6 ratio is good but some males can be super sweet and pair off like a wild bird would do, and others can be mean and more like a Gallus rooster.

one thing they can’t do that chickens can is free range. they have no homing instinct and rarely return if they get loose, so must be kept in spacious outdoor coops. if frightened—and they’re scared of everything—their first defense is to stay still, and the second is to flush directly up in the air. this can lead to scalped birds or broken necks, so adding a layer of netting or padding is necessary to keep them safe. use hardware cloth, not chicken wire.

they can be a little flighty and building a quail coop can be more complex than for chickens, but if you like hands-off animals that really only love you for the food, then quail are great for you. they were definitely right for me and I miss them every day

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bundrops-n-fluffytops · 1 year

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Welcome Home Agere Fic - Mama’s Boy

Characters: Poppy Partridge, Frank Frankly, Julie Joyful (at first section)

Setting: Poppy’s Barn (living room, kitchen)

Premise: Frank is having a hard time warming up to his caregivers in little space, but Poppy makes him feel right at home.

Authors Note: I wanna avoid anything angsty here, just cute fluff and cuddlin!! I hope my silly lil fics can bring some light on the WH agere community, lol

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about! That is just silly!”

“C’mon Frankie, there’s nothing wrong with being a mama’s boy!”

Frank Frankly and his dearly delightful friend Julie Joyful were having a light banter and bicker as they sat for tea one sunny morning. They had gone back and forth with whatever had come to mind - what new insects Frank had discovered, the latest play from Sally, whatever Wally would have going on - and at some point, regression came to light.

“You’re making such a fuss over something that doesn’t exist!!” Frank protested. Julie was teasing the frowning fellow because, recently, Frank had been harboring a closeness to Poppy Partridge - the town chicken. When times got difficult to handle and they felt themself slip into little space, he would go towards the feathered fellow’s comforting wings and let her take care of him and love him as a small boy. It made him feel comforted and safe, and all their worries would wash away.

And here, he was denying all of that.

“Come onnnnn, Frank!”, Julie teased, “it’s so cute! I guarantee it!” Frank felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment as he leaned back into his seat, gripping the handle to his cup.

“It is not,” he muttered, “it’s nothing more than tomfoolery, buffoonery, silliness I tell you!” Julie pouted, she just couldn’t get to him.

“What’s so wrong with it? Who wouldn’t want someone who’s arms are perfect to fall into and coddle you like a baby, isn’t that what you want? It’s like a dream you can see!” Frank huffed in response, setting down their cup and crossing their arms.

“What I want is to be clear, and dear I am quite clear that this is NOT a real thing!”, he protested, turning his head away from Julie’s sugary-sweet gaze. She sighed, sipping her tea and scooting closer to the grey and gloomy fellow.

“You are quite the stubborn bull, I can see horns growing from you right now!”

Frank rolled his eyes, scoffing.

“But, I won’t push. If you insist that this doesn’t happen, then I won’t fuss you further.”

Frank turned his gaze back, his expression softening slightly. His rosie-cheeked chum simply crossed her legs, leaning in close to his ear and raising a hand close to her mouth. A whisper slipped out.

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t cute.”

“JULIE!”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

“A mama’s boy, huh? What’s so wrong with that?” Frank had soon found himself sitting alongside the aforementioned pheasant, Poppy. She had noticed his unusually more sour mood than usual, and had invited him in for a short talk.

“That’s not the biggest issue with this, Poppy… she’s talking about you.” Poppy’s eyes widened after that statement. Her? A mother figure? A complete lie in her eyes.

“Oh goodness, me? A mother?” Poppy further questioned. The frowning fellow nodded, sighing. This made Poppy think for a moment. She was aware of all the times that she had cared for Frank, little or not. On days that he was big, they would talk about the flowers and the bugs that grew around them, or he would help Poppy bake some bread or any new dessert she needed help with. On days that he would go small, she would read him small random facts about any bugs that he wanted to hear about, or just swaddle and hold him for however long he wanted to stay.

In a way, Julie was right. I mean, she sure wasn’t completely right, there were a few things she got wrong. But for the most part, she wasn’t too far off.

“W-Well, if she were right, she wouldn’t be too far off,” the feathered friend noted. Frank shot her a look, his eyebrows furrowed and a small pout on his lips.

“I-I didn’t say she was!”, she frantically corrected, “I was just… hypothetical, be-because if she were, then she wouldn’t exactly be wrong! It’s not a confirmed fact, ho-honest!” Frank simply stared for a bit, before groaning and slumping back into the sofa they sat at.

“It’s just… so embarrassing to me! I don’t want people to think I’m just some innocent and naive infant that needs someone to care for me every second. Is that so hard? To be treated like an adult?” He crossed his arms in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand. Poppy hummed and nodded, hesitantly resting a wing on his back as an act of understanding.

“W-Well, I mean… you regress, r-right?” Frank nodded slowly.

“Hmm… w-well, you can still be an, um… adult but also feel comforted by someone, can you not?” The grumpy fellow raised his head a tad, looking up at the bird.

“I mean, um… for me, back when I was a chick just molting, I thought that being seen as a child was the worst possible thing, so I began to bottle up what worries I had and completely shut myself down. It worked, but only for a while, and when it ended… well, all I can say is that I sure was a mess, haha! My m-mom saw me at my worst, and was the first to comfort me. She told me that, well… being an adult is very hard, so it’s ok to cry and-and tell others that you feel bad every now and then. It doesn’t make you feel any less older or any more younger, okay?”

Frank sat there for a moment, his gaze turned away and his arms crossed, and his mind filled with thought.

“Well, even if I did want it, why is it so embarrassing? Why does it make me feel uncomfortable even if I know I need it?”, Frank questioned. It was hours only gripe, as he really wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Umm… m-maybe it’s because you were taught before that it-it was something to be a-ashamed of?”, Poppy responded, “because really, it’s nothing to feel bad over! It-It’s okay to get a hug and a kiss every now and then, heh!”

“So… it’s okay?”

“W-Well, of course!”

It was so new to him for comfort to be something to be celebratory about. All their life he was told to “grow up” and “act like an adult”, otherwise life won’t help you. However, he never really considered that this childish behavior was something to embrace rather than hide. He was shy, but rather grateful for Poppy and even Julie for helping them discover this.

Frank untangled his arms and held them in front of him on his lap, fiddling with his hands. His head felt conflicted but fuzzy and warm, and his hands felt tingly and soft to the touch.

What ironic timing to feel small. Even more ironic that Poppy noticed it.

“Frank, dear?”, she asked, “are you feeling small?” Frank shifted a bit in his seat, nodding hesitantly after a second. He didn’t know how to feel.

He suddenly felt Poppy scoop him up into her wings and onto her lap, his face now buried between her body and her fluffy feathered embrace.

“You should never feel bad about needing a break, honey. Whenever you need one, you can always come to me, okay? My doors are always open… though n-not literally because burglars could come in, hehe!”, Poppy reassured. She kept her arms wrapped around the glum fellow, rubbing his back softly and resting her head against him.

Poppy’s presence soothed Frank, he couldn’t help but melt into her, burying his face into the crook of her neck. He smiled, though it didn’t show.

“Th-thank you, mama.”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

#OUGHH MOMMA POPPY AND BABY FRANK…..#giv me so much life #i hope I’m not too rushed with the conclusions #that’s what I’m starting to be scared of lol #i just like the fluff!!!#welcome home arg #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home agere #sfw agere #age regression #agere fic #welcome home poppy #poppy partridge #welcome home frank #frank frankly #gummunity fics

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demonadelem · 2 years

Text

Origins Origins (tag #origins orgins) is an ongoing fancomic based on the Origins SMP Minecraft modded server hosted by MCYT Tommyinnit.

Taking place before the events of season 1, it is my interpretation of the sleepy bois inc's character's origin stories. It takes a Wilbur centric perspective telling the story of how he became a Phantom.

It is not an AU, it is a Origins SMP origin story. A prequel fic if you will.

Reblogging freezes posts, click here to see lastest version of masterpost.

Community made playlist

🪶🪶🪶🦅🕊️🐔🐓🦆🦉🐣🐦🪶🪶🪶

Origins Origins masterpost

🥚Chapter 1🥚

Family photo

Grubbo & Tomchick

The pink giant bunny

Sand duo training

Sir, that's a child

Part 1/3 Fly me to the moon

🕊️Chapter 2🕊️

Part 2/3 Downed foolhardy bird

Part 3/3 Ego

Cozy burrow

Tell us about her

Fragrance man

Techno's origins

Titan oak tree hollow

Part 1/3 Laundry

Part 2/3 Shifted out of place

Part 3/3 Admin

🦆Chapter 3🦆

Phil you good?

Truth revealed

Tommy care

Brother not pet

tmmyhug

I miss you

Techno's chores

Fed up

Language barrier

Part 1/3 Benson?

Part 2/3 Argument

Part 3/3 Prayer

Last chance

🦉Chapter 4🦉

Carrots🥕

Part 1/4 Daycare drama

Part 2/4 Boys of Crime

Part 3/4 Sentence enhancers

Part 4/4 Getting along

Part 1/2 Deuteroganist

Part 2/2 Shubble

Part 1/2 Icarus

Part 2/2 Icarus apologist

Little bird, little bird

The pieces left behind

Pen pals recap

Succumb or Persist

🦜Chapter 5🦜

Part 1/5 Disruption

Part 2/5 Out of time

Part 3/5 Desperation

Part 4/5 Hope

Part 5/5 Stubborness

Respite

Persist

🦚Chapter 6 Flashback🦚

20 years ago

Crumbs (read description)

World lore

Phistin begins

Unhinged

Part 1/6 Consequences of war

Part 2/6 The fox & the pheasant

Part 3/6 Weebza

Part 4/6 Bechdel test

Part 5/6 Mortals grief

Part 6/6 We have much to do

Apple pomegranate pie

feeling protected

Tech guy

NFWMB

Why the veil

Feel alive

🐓Chapter 7 Flashback🐓

Part 1/4 Dug long ago

Part 2/4 Came from

Part 3/4 Honey just put

Part 4/4 What did you bury

Bonus Story: First Kills

Part 1 Self Insert Time

Part 2 Home

Part 3 reason to live

Part 4 Escaping Death

Part 5 Flirting with Death

Part 6 Charlie

Part 7 The Final Puzzle Piece

Part 8 Her Goodbye

Part 9 Be

🐤🐣🥚🐣🐤

Baby pictures intermission

🦤Chapter 8🦤

Welcome back

Emeralds duo for you

I won't lose you too.

Devout Phil

Malewife duo

Someone you've always known

Second hand forgiveness 1/2

Second hand forgiveness 2/2

"Do we grow old together?"

🦅Chapter 9🦅

Human disguise

Part 1 Enemy Territory

🪶🪶🪶🐦🐣🦉🦆🐓🐔🕊️🦅🪶🪶🪶

ASK ORIGINS ORIGINS OPEN

Requirements:

1. Question (make sure you direct it at someone)

2. small/medium bird you want to be represented by (not allowed example: penguins and huge birds like ostriches and emus, is allowed example: eagles, corvids, hummingbirds & other small/medium birds)

3. New rule, you are not allowed to request accessories for your bird. The reason is I want to draw a variety of birds instead of variations of one's people already know.

4. You are now not allowed to ask for baby versions of birds, there is no reason why chick would be able to fly into the tree.

5. This has to be restated, you cannot request anything that isn't a bird, no moths, no bats, no raccoons, I will not accept asks that try this.

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