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dev1lm4n · 1 year

Text

shroom

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

summary: in which you tried to help your grumpy mentor get over the mushroom's aphrodisiac side effect.

word count: 3.9k (gosh yea i went over the top with this)

warnings: explicit (18+), no actual penetration, thigh fucking, slight age-gap and reader's implied to be an orphan.

notes: honestly this is just a reason to write desperate joel but oh well :)

What lies beneath the gray-ish rocks were dove gray with a subtle hint of purple. Fresh air broke through your nasal cavities, gusts of wind combing your loose strands gently like a doting mother. Even in a photograph you could quickly take into account that it was peak summer, for the steep valleys are finally visible and pretty asters bloom abundantly on every inch of green.

You would’ve guessed mid June was the cause of these heavenly blessings. The rest of the year the ranges were as white-peaked as any storybook mountains and they were especially cruel to visitors. Summer was just more so your cup of tea.

Despite the relentless sun rays burning your skin and the itchiness from sweat and mosquitos, it’s a lot more inviting. Felt a lot like a long awaited vacation, one where you’d get tanned with friends on seashores and gossip about boys like it was the most important thing on earth. Things like that are simply left for your imagination. The United States of America hasn't been as liberating, ever since Cordyceps happened.

It’s not the first time you scaled along the wilderness in order to get to your destination unharmed. Without getting bitten by chomping, pestering infected, or worse, people. Nature is just naturally serene. A hug of browns, a shelter of long dwindling limbs, and a variety of edible materials that’s free to use. You were a quick learner and a considerably great adaptor.

From dusty books piled up in your home, a FEDRA orphanage, you picked up knowledge on a collection of plants and animals native to the country. Being a resourceful forager might’ve been your one and only redeemable feature, and perhaps the only reason why Joel Miller agreed to bring you along on his trips.

Tess was the one who scouted you in the most bizarre fashion possible. You remembered vividly how she interrogated the fungi you picked on the city’s outskirts, asking why you’d pick up the one thing people refrain from eating these days. You remembered the amused look she had on her face, but it was all too long ago. Too long you’re starting to forget what she looked like smiling and full of hope. Time has passed and you’re not the same snotty, bratty teenager anymore.

Though, you’re not exactly grown.

Still budding with youthful stupidity and brashness.

Which is where Joel came in handy. He was your tamer. The one who’d put a rough hand down when you’re being too rash in making decisions. The one who’d tug on your leash when you’re an exploding mess of fury. Tess was kinder and sweeter and.. more of a makeshift mother figure to you, while Joel was whatever he was. He wasn’t introduced into the picture until last winter where you managed to get two different people hunting for your head. Which you still insist wasn’t entirely your fault.

Tess was worried, you understood, but he’s a real mood killer at times.

You watched along the trees, how they swayed in a warming breeze. Hands tied behind your back as you hummed a nursery rhyme fondly. This time it was ‘London Bridge is Falling Down’ on repeat for a billion times, which you’re sure is going to get some unappeased comments from the ball of grouch behind you. He always hated anything fun. Always chalking it up to being far too dangerous or distracting. You were even banned from keeping a firearm around him. What a joke.

“Quit singin’. You’re going to attract trouble.”

“Fucking hell.”

“What was that?”

“You’re such a bore, Joel.”

You could feel his gaze on the back of your head, probably looking at you as if you’re a foul harm to society. Tess always said that it’s just the way he looks but you don’t buy it. You’ve seen the way he smiled at a thing she said, even when it’s closer to a shy grin than a full ear-to-ear smile. An exasperated sigh was all you heard from him next, then a few grumbles about how you two are going to set camp next to a large pine tree as it’s getting late.

“It’s getting late or are your old knees aching?”

“What’re you doin’?”

Joel’s voice almost shook your skin off your bones. There was a delicious moment when you turned on your heels to face him, face washed blank with confusion, like your brain cogs couldn’t turn fast enough to process the information. It’s like you’re caught popping his favorite pills, when it really was just another one of your fascinating finds. You weren’t planning on sharing with him out of all people, so you were visibly annoyed. The distasteful twist of your lips had him scowling.

“It’s just food. Reishi mushroom.”

You showcased the fungus, waving it in front of his scrunched nose. The mushroom was reddish brown varnished with kidney-shaped caps that fanned out the closer it got to the ends. It’s supposedly bitter tasting, but it wasn’t poisonous. You looked convinced enough it wouldn’t straight-up kill the both of you upon tasting, even when it’s your first time encountering such a species.

“You sure it’s not poisonous?”

“You could have the first bite if you’d like.”

He looked at you with that expression– the same one he put on when he’s interested in taking on your challenge instead of diffusing the bickering. It’s harder to see what he’s conspiring when the darkness is borderline blinding. You couldn’t cater to every wrinkle and divot on his face, even with great concentration. Joel reached for the mushroom and held it lightly against the rough pads of his fingers. Examining it much closer under moonlight’s glint.

“We’ll have it tonight as soup.”

His words were absolute, even when Tess is around. You knew that and he knew that. It was unspoken. You surrendered your merry bounty willingly without throwing a childish tantrum this time. He can be cruel and unapologetic; you weren’t exactly eager to go through that route with him. Especially when your first filling dinner is on the line. You simply nodded at his decision, twisting your tactical knife back into its shell and stuffing it deep into your cargo jeans. Slightly sour about the entire ordeal.

There was always something cathartic about having a filled stomach after a long day of trekking, borderline orgasmic if you had to describe it in another way. It was an extremely appreciated coincidence as well that Joel managed to have in hand an actual unopened can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup. Although horrifically passed its best-by date, it wasn’t rancid or anything. Just slightly sour, but you’re sure the preservatives on that can would do you a favor this once.

You could barely breathe upon settling down on your sleeping bag. The buttons on your cargos digging into your inflated stomach, in which you hastily undid once you’re entirely submerged in the parachute-like material. You huffed. Burped and earned an irritated grunt by none other than Joel Miller. Then let the chirping of crickets and rustling of leaves create a peaceful symphony to lull you to sleep. Gentle summer breeze carried the scent of pine and wildflowers, invigorating your senses. And you’re gone in just a split second.

It felt like being coddled by nature itself, as corny as it sounded. What you didn’t expect was to be startled awake when the moonlight’s still as bright as ever. A light fuck escaped your lips. Irritated was what you are. You’re as aware as can be, ears tuned in to whatever it is that posed a threat to your goodnight sleep. But nothing came up. Just the occasional hoot of an owl, distant calls from coyotes, and what seemed to be woodland creatures rustling around the thick bushes.

Maybe it’s just your terrible paranoia cruising. Maybe you’re starting to hallucinate from fatigue, or maybe it’s just some stupid squirrel in the branches. You shuffled in your cocoon of a sleeping bag before turning ever so slightly to face Joel’s side. To face where Joel Miller, your irritating companion, is supposed to rest. Though for the first time in history, his absence crushed your heart.

You were terrified. Eyes wide and round as you stared in disbelief.

He was gone.

You scrambled to your feet. Taking unlevelled steps towards his side of the camp, you could feel your chest tighten at the confirmation of his disappearance. He wasn’t there no matter how many times you flipped his sleeping bag front to back.

Has he deserted you? Did he finally get tired of you? Were you being way too bratty today? You didn’t think you’d be this distressed at the absence of someone you hated with a passion, but here you were, waterline overrun by stray tears threatening to spill out at any given time. So weak and helpless, it’s pathetic.

Was that a moan?

You froze, as still as you could be, trying to listen intently if the sound decided to repeat itself. It did. This time you could make out what it sounded like: guttural, low, and indistinct. The way your face contorted was comical to say the least. At this point, your mind started to race with all the creative questions. Was it an animal? A person in distress? Oh, or is it something more sinister and dangerous? You didn’t have your gun on you so it’d be obvious suicide if you went on to pursue, wouldn’t it?

This is how people died in horror movies

You knew that and a part of your youthful curiosity (the chunk Tess hated so much) made you take another step forward towards the general direction. The puddle you stepped on rippled and splashed. Your wary eyes dart around, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of movement.

There was nothing of course. Just the waving branches that’s starting to make you feel a little disoriented and claustrophobic. All you could hear was your own ragged breathing above the low groan that once again was being emitted from behind the tree line. You swore it sounded more human-like the more you tuned in.

Dry branches crackled and broke underneath the heavy soles of your boots, making you cringe inwardly at the thought that someone must’ve noticed your moves by now. This is far beyond stupid you decide. You should've prepared an eulogy by now. Maybe even a few stems of the lovely aster you enjoyed so much. If this was a serial killer lurking underneath your shadows, your funeral was right around the corner. But it wasn’t. What made the noise wasn’t a stray squirrel, nor was it a stray clicker. It was Joel fucking Miller.

"Joel?"

His name slipped out of your tongue like melted butter; unstoppable and out of instinct. He's looked at you multiple times during your stays in Tess' flat. Sometimes with gentle aloofness and other times with what you chalked up to be disgust or even disdain, and you'd always cater to his glares with your incredulous grin. This time it was.. different.

His pupils were large— larger than what you think was humanly possible with it almost swallowing the entirety of his irises. A humorous part of your brain wondered if he was turning into some sort of werewolf because of the full moon, if he'd pounce on you with his furry claws.

Your running thoughts made you steer away from what's actually presented in front of you. The more that you look at it, he looked somewhat.. pained. He's never looked pained before, not when a bullet lodged in precisely behind his arteries or even when an upset customer drove a rusty knife down his side. Joel's been annoyingly tough. But now he's visibly drenched in sweat, face adorned with a shade of crimson, while he shivered and groaned against the base of a tree. This was odd. You slowly crouched over to his side, but your attempts were futile when he's waving his arms in your direction as if shooing a dog away.

You frowned. He rolled to his side, trying to avoid your incoming slaught of confrontation.

"Were you shot?"

"No."

"Were you clawed by a bear?"

"No."

"Are we going to play 20 questions or are you going to let me help you?"

He turned slightly, just enough so that he could finally see the irritation weaved through your expression. Joel then grumbled something about how you shouldn't be out here and that it's better to get back in your sleeping bag. You ignored him, as always, inching even closer to see what he's up to.

Stubbornness runs deep in your blood and you weren't going to let him die out here in the woods when you could barely read a map by itself. You didn't even know how to determine where North is. To simply put it, you'd die without him standing up straight, whether in this unruly jungle or under the gun of Tess' customer.

"Your mushrooms are poisonous," he accused sternly, boring his deep brown eyes into yours.

"No. It's not. I'm fine and well, so it must be a you problem mister," you probed your fingers into his tough chest, not accepting any sort of insult to your own specialty. "Fuck, are you having some sort of heart attack?"

"I'm not. I'm just.. oh god," he stifled his groans with his palm. Now that you're finally seeing him in a better light, it looked like he was.. palming himself through the thick fabric of his tight jeans. Was he rocking into his own palm? Or was it just your perverted imaginations playing tricks on your silly little mind?

Your stomach lurched at the possibility, then a curl of disgust had you pressing your lips together into a thin line. This is your time to back away. He gave you that chance a while ago and you should've let your curiosity lay low. He was your goddamn mentor and worse, Tess' partner, it'd be wrong to see him in this state. But isn't it your responsibility for inflicting this kind of torment? It's your idea to harvest the mushrooms. You're dealing with some twisted version of Schrödinger's cat where no good options are presented in front of you. It's a moral dilemma.

"Are you?" you squeaked. "Are you masturbating?"

"No. Just get back to.. oh."

"Do ya need help?"

He looked at you like you're his inferno. The one that's going to drag him straight to hell from your sweet sweet words. God, he shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be looking down your loose tank top like some old geezer, you're probably twenty years his junior and he's here rubbing his inconvenience away at your expense. You didn't even know what you're offering. Did you even know what he's like?

"Please, just. You're going to regret it, sweetheart."

"How would you know?"

"I'm like old enough.. fuck.. to be your dad or something. You should just go. Tess is gonna kill me if she knew."

"Joel, this is my fault," you persisted, eyes bright with a sense of genuine worry.

Joel's jaw clenched hard at your enticing offer, a bead of sweat dribbled down the side of his temple nervously. He looked like he was struggling to pull out a coherent reason as to why this shouldn't happen. Why he shouldn't be the one to defile your innocence and corrupt you with his bloody hands. Nothing came out though, just a brief desperate grunt.

You swallowed thickly, before taking his lack of an answer as a sign of encouragement. Your hands moved painfully slow. As if waiting to see whether he'd push your hands away or try to stop you in any way, but he never did. Not even when you touched the damp denim clinging onto his bare skin, gently as if he's made of porcelain.

You've never.. done this which frankly explained the awkward touches you're prone to do, or the look in your eyes that further emphasized the fact that you had no idea what you're doing. Aside from the scarce pornographic magazine stashed in your orphanage's library, there wasn't any sort of guidance as to how you'd navigate your sexual life. But you’re almost sure that this was a good start from the way his scrunched up eyebrows start to untangle at your touch.

With that in mind, you traced over the shape of his confined cock, before settling on the damp tip leaking over his jeans. It felt warm and somewhat foreign. You circled over the spot several times, encouraged by his low groans. Did he feel good?

"Fuck. Okay. You wanna help me out and be a good girl?" he rasped, finally grasping your hand with his calloused fingers to get you even closer to where he wanted you. He guided you eagerly. All voices of reason vanished in his head.

You weren’t able to say anything. It felt like you're drowning in his existence; the oak-like smell of his flannel, the rough syllables he uttered, and god that terribly persuasive grin he had on. He's secretly smug about this and you knew it.

"Come here," he beckoned you to come closer and so you did, without a single complaint like what your chatty mouth is used to. You're so quiet and pliant– something he's been wishing for from the start of your journey. Joel feverishly pulled you back onto his lap, pressing his hardened front onto the thick fabric of your cargo pants.

You yelped. He let out a soft mumble of your name. His hips stuttered at the new sensation. He's more than ready to feel you from the inside, get wrapped up in your velvety walls, but the thought of Tess had him pulling on his reins. "Listen. I'm not– oh.. I'm not going to ruin you, okay? Just gonna.. Just gonna use your thighs."

Thighs? What’s that supposed to mean? Your clueless expression had him shudder in anticipation. You’re so cute and perfect to corrupt. It’s definitely not the first time he thought of you in that manner. He secretly loved each and every one of your bickering games, it riled him up beneath all the cold shoulder facade.

Without further warning, Joel manhandled you with his strong arms. You let out a strained gasp as he towered over you, the ground hard against your back. Heat and adrenaline ran through your veins at the sight of his concentrated eyes. He looked determined to go through with this, no matter the consequences.

He took in all of you, not with his touches, just with the soft brown pupils he’s blessed with. You knew that he wasn’t going to be all sweet and lovely, although you silently wished he’d be a little gentler when he pulled your cargos off. You’d wish for him to tell you how pretty you are and how much you meant to him, because as fucked up as it was, you’ve always wanted him to like you. The infatuation was cliché and stupid, but you could never have enough.

Joel was quick to fold you in half, holding your legs up by the underside of your thighs as he observed. A warm palm hovering over your throbbing cunt extinguished any last traces of your desire to rebel; the heat between your thighs only became worse at his nimble fingers dragging along your panties. Out of a need for more, you rubbed your thighs together and tried your best to buck into his touch with a shaky breath.

“I’m not a good guy,” Joel trailed off while he busied himself unbuckling his belt, the sound of the leather sliding out his jean loops ignited a fire within you. “Fuckin’ killed so many people. Stole their things and ran.”

“Do you.. oh.. do you still want to go through with this, sweetheart?”

The nickname was quick to send goosebumps down your back. He’s driving you insane and he had the audacity to ask these questions. He should’ve just seen how drenched you are beneath the scant excuse of panties. You nodded breathlessly and god was it a sight to watch his moral beliefs crumble apart at your confirmation.

“Keep your thighs together, girl,” he ordered briefly, nails digging into your plush thighs as he finally freed his cock. It’s feverishly hot against your skin and drooling with a copious amount of precum, you could even feel the head teasingly poke onto your clothed slit. You shuddered and clenched around nothing at the sensation. “Please.”

“God. Such a good girl are you?” he managed to find the time to tease you as he slid between your thighs, looking down you could see the flushed bulbous head twitching with need. Joel let out a groan he's been holding on to for a long time, even just having your plush thighs squeezing him was enough to send jolts of pleasure through every part of his aching body.

He started to thrust his hips at a slow pace; drawing them back slowly and pushing them forward with enough force to knock you back onto the tree trunk each time. Your heartbeat grew wild in your ribcage, hard and fast as he relished in the feeling of you. You weren’t sure of what the feeling was, but you could feel your clit pulse at the friction his cock made everytime it slipped through.

You admired the color of his tip which reminded you of a wild salmon, slightly pink with tinges of nudes, spilling so much of that thick milky substance which quickly coats the insides of your thighs. What a sight it was to be beneath Joel Miller. Your past self would’ve probably envied you for getting so lucky, whimpering and gasping for air as he held you with an iron grip. It felt so good, you’re at a loss for words. All those nights spent pining over him and spreading your pretty pussy to the mere thought of him is finally paid for.

“Feel good, girl?

He granted you a form of reprieve when his fingers finally pulled your panties aside to quickly find your clit and tease it in tight circles. His calloused fingers provided such good ridges to grind yourself onto. The sound that’s spilling out of your lips was embarrassing, almost pitiful, but it seemed that with each and every whimper Joel looked even more pleased. The expression on his face was sinful by itself. You could only imagine how foul this scenery was from a third person point of view.

“So good to me, shit, where did that pretty mouth of yours disappear?”

He bucked even faster, and so did you, eager to chase after the euphoric friction one another provided. The coil finally broke at his last press against your needy clit. You whimpered, an airy sound as your cunt clenched frantically around nothing, globs of white leaking right through your panties and onto the dried up leaves underneath.

Joel let out a smooth chuckle at the sight, dutifully rubbing circles onto your clit as he reached his high. Ribbons of white spurt out unconditionally. There was so much you wondered when his last release was. Your tank top was drenched and so were your thighs. The sheer obscenity had you buckling onto him. You felt hot, over-sensitive, and wrong.

Realization sunk into you as he pulled away and settled to your side.

“No speaking of this,” you murmured, still in a trance of blissful pleasure.

“Yes, ma’am.”

His chuckle resonated, only to mingle with your own.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #the last of us imagine #joel miller smut

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curator-on-ao3 · 1 month

Note

For the ask game: 12) what's your favorite type of seashell / beach forage?

Yes! Thank you for asking this, @fiadorable! ❤️ Let’s talk about seashells by the seashore.

So I love these bad boys:

The big conchs are grand and I love putting my ear to the opening and hearing the ocean. The small ones are so gorgeous and intricate.

But.

I’m terrified of a creature being in there and I don’t want to give a little critter a big trauma. So I steer clear of those.

Which makes these my favorite:

I don’t take the scalloped shells, of course, but I love to look at them and touch them. The ridges are so … ridgey? … and the smoothness of the underside is so … smoothy? (Mental note: improve shell descriptor vocabulary.)

“Take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints” — I’m a big believer in caring for the shoreline.

But, man, I love looking at the shells while I’m there.

And the waves.

And the seagulls.

And, if I see a pelican, especially diving, I’ll talk about it for days.

Man, I need to go to the beach.

Thank you again for asking this question, @fiadorable! ❤️

>questions from the ask game<

kinda wishing my job was beach

#ask game #i love asks #sea shells #fiadorable

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typhlonectes · 1 year

Photo

Contrary to their name, Mountain Beavers (Aplodontia rufa) do not build dams, nor do they have flat paddle-shaped tails.

In fact, they’re not even beavers! Aplodontia is considered to be the most primitive living rodent, and it looks something like an oversized gopher.

Point Reyes National Seashore, in northern California, hosts a subspecies of mountain beaver found nowhere else. Spotting one can be tricky because they spend most of their time in underground burrows, leaving only to forage for plants.

Starting this year, a collaborative project between the National Park Service and University of California Berkeley launched a survey to better understand and track this subspecies. Surveyors are searching for mountain beaver burrows across the Point Reyes peninsula. The burrow locations collected over the two-year survey will help train a model and create a map predicting where these animals are likely to live.

Ultimately, this research will help guide management practices, particularly related wildfire preparedness, to protect this unique species.

To learn more visit: https://go.nps.gov/mountainbeavermonitoring

photos: NPS, Gary Fellers | USGS

#aplodontia #mountain beaver #rodent #mammal #animals #nature #north america #PNW #california

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tipsycad147 · 2 years

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Magical Topics to Study by Type: Hedge, Green, Kitchen, Etc.

Recently, in our FaceBook group, we’ve been discussing the concept of diving deeper into our studies and practice. Many of us get stuck scratching the surface and are left wondering what to do next. Here we provide you with topics to research and/or things to try categorized by the type of witchcraft you’re interested in. By expanding your magical horizons, you can really dive deep into your practice and expand your wisdom and skills. And remember – you don’t have to stick to just one category!

Magical Topics to Research and Practices to Try

For the Hedge Witch:

A hedge witch is much more than just a witch who tends a garden hedge. He or she is much more than a witch who works with herbs and home remedies. The hedge witch is a symbolic hedge rider, meaning he or she crosses the “hedge” between this world and the spirit world. The practice of hedge witchery is very shamanic in nature, as you will soon find out. Are herbs used in the hedge witch’s practice? Yes! But the hedge witch’s main focus is on lifting the veil between humans and spirits – being able to cross into the realm of the dead and the gods and come back again. If you’d like to deepen your understanding of hedge witchery and expand your knowledge bank, research and practice some of these topics:

astral projection

lucid dreaming

dream interpretation

increasing intuition

shapeshifting

lycanthropy

flying ointments

magical herbalism

seidr

how to make dream pillows and spell bags

meditation

trance work

poisons (herbs)

gardening

weather magick: storms, snow, rain, etc.

fairies

bird augury

animal signs and omens

elemental magic

land spirits – genius loci

familiars

wild foraging for herbs, tools, etc.

how to make your own drum or rattle

music in trance work

Tarot and oracle card reading

Kitchen Witch Magical Topics to Study and Practice:

A kitchen witch, also called a cottage or hearth witch, is someone who makes magic in the kitchen and in the home using food and everyday items as magical tools. The kitchen witch is able to center his or her energy through the making of magical meals and creating sacred space at home. If you’d like to go beyond the “basics” of making a meal and dive deep into kitchen witchery, here are some topics for you to research and practice:

magical properties of food

magical properties of herbs

kitchen tools in magical use

breadmaking

cheese making

how to make black salt and its magical uses

making wines, meads, ales / brewing

your ancestors’ foods (ancient to modern)

local produce and farms (your local resources)

local honey and honey magic

growing your own food / gardening

aphrodisiacs

making your own witchy soaps and natural beauty products

making herbal concoctions / teas / oils

medicinal and magical herbalism

baking/desserts: magical cookie cutters, rolling pins, sigils in pies etc.

using a cauldron or dutch oven

pasta making

coffee magic

grilling / smoking food

canning and preserving

kitchen altars

kitchen and hearth gods

how to make witchy cocktails

hearth spirits

types of salt

household spirits: lares, brownies, etc.

kitchen witch dolls and poppets

history of foods

how to read Tarot with playing cards

foods for the gods and goddesses

how to use food to heal

new (or old) cookbooks

cultural foods from all over the world

foraging for wild edibles

making a kitchen grimoire

seasonal foods and traditional holiday dishes

antique kitchen tools and how to use them in your magick

magical sewing: altar cloths, tarot deck bags, kitchen towels, etc.

Sea Witch Magical Study Topics:

A sea witch, also called a water or ocean witch, is someone who makes magic by the seashore and uses the powers of the ocean to fuel their witchcraft. The sea witch is able to center his or her energy by the ocean, as well as use the ocean’s powers to heal, protect, cleanse, draw abundance, and more. If you’d like to dive into sea witchery, study and practice some of the topics below:

local bodies of water

magical properties of seashells, coral, driftwood, etc.

sea familiars

knot magic to raise sea storms

how the moon effects the tides

how to use seabird feathers in magick

sea glass magical uses and properties

Sharks teeth magick

plants and trees that grow on the shoreline – their magical properties and uses (palms, sea oats, etc.)

magical properties of various types of water: ocean, stream, pond, puddle, fog, lake, rain, snow, mud, etc.

ocean gods and goddesses

nymphs, mermen, selkies, mermaids and water spirits

water element basics

why the earth needs our oceans

ritual cleansing with baths, swimming, etc.

magical properties and uses for seaweed

sea altars and tools

how dolphins and whales communicate

how to use crab-shells in magick

sand magical properties and uses

your local sea wildlife

intuition, dreams, etc. – water magical associations

seafood and its magical properties: fish, clams, crabs, lobster, scallops, shark, oysters, etc.

types of sea salt and magical uses

sea myths: mythical creatures, creation myths, hauntings, etc.

haunted ships

pirates (especially pirate witches!)

Vikings and ancient seafaring peoples

Green Witch Magical Study Topics:

A green witch is someone who works with the elements, the local land spirits, and all things green. The green witch is able to harness the energy of the natural sources around him or her by developing a close connection with local plants, trees, and wildlife as well as with the earth itself. Consider studying and practicing any or all of the following magical topics:

herb gardening

earth element basics

local plants and trees – identify and define properties and uses

land spirits – genus loci

local forests and nature preserves

forest gods and goddesses

house plant magick

growing your own mushrooms

fairies

crystal magic

the green man

forest-dwelling people

landscape magical associations: rivers, mountains, caves, forests, meadows, etc.

magical herbalism

medicinal herbalism

trees’ properties and uses

magical teas

miniature terrariums

fairy gardens: how to build them

flowers and how to use in your practice

mushrooms: types and magical uses

building outside altars

making your own magical apron

biodegradable offerings for forest spirits

making natural mandalas

how to use different kinds of dirt, sand, soil in magick

different kinds of wood: magical properties and uses

9 sacred Celtic woods

Ogham: Irish tree divination system

Druidry

How to make your own Rune Cards and study the runes

how trees communicate with each other (root systems, etc.)

the healing power of being in nature

hiking

camping

wilderness survival techniques

how to use pinecones, seed pods, acorns, etc. in magick

plants and trees from your ancestors’ homelands

your local eco-system

magick with thorns

incense and how to make your own

different herbs for smoke-cleaning bundles (formerly called smudge)

vines

wild foraging for magical tools, herbs, etc.

Modern / Tech Magical Topics to Study:

What is a modern or tech witch? A modern witch or tech witch is someone who seeks to incorporate witchcraft into their daily lives and particularly embraces modern technology and appliances. Here’s some magical study topics for modern and techy witchery:

magical and witchy phone apps

pagan or magical themed video games

modern appliances you use in your magick and the traditional tools they relate to (i.e. the stove/oven was once the hearth-fire, washing machine was once a washboard and fresh water source, etc.)

enchanting/protecting your vehicles/modes of transportation

how to enchant an amulet for protection while flying and/or riding the bus or train

keeping your grimoire in a word doc

essential oils magical properties and using a diffuser

using a telescope to look at the moon, planets and stars

new technology and how it can be used for magick

cleansing and magically protecting your computer and mobile devices

showering rituals instead of bathing rituals

how to re-use and recycle modern materials for magical purposes

Just a few suggestions!

Obviously these are only a few suggestions and you don’t have to stick to one category whatsoever. I find myself intrigued by any and all of these facets of the craft. Research these topics online but also read a few books on the topics that really tickle your witchy fancy. Then put what you learned to practice. The practice is where the real learning comes into play. That’s where the REAL magick happens!

https://otherworldlyoracle.com/magical-topics/

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cactusprisms · 1 year

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No more gaming YouTube, I’m going back to watching people forage on the seashore

#Blabbering

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megwhiteviscom · 1 year

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Tomorrow's Menu - Research & Development

Following the critique feedback, I decided to just focus on the aspect of foraging instead of recipes, foraging, growing crops etc. Following the journey of the user experience, I wanted to streamline it a lot more to really get the message across of what I wanted to do.

More Contextual Research on Foraging

Fore Adventure

Fore Adventure are a brand from Dorset that have 'foraging and feasting' workshops and courses you can go along to. "Foraging is the best way to get outside, in your urban or rural environment, to open your eyes and to seek out the wild food that is growing around you that you can access for free. It’s a way to make a connection between your environment and to the food on your plate; to make nature into a treasure hunt for the tummy. With a focus on connecting people to nature, we create immersive experiences that connect clients to the great outdoors through wild food and adventure. We are passionate about foraging and are committed to sharing a real taste of Dorset on our experiences. From foraging along the seashore to scouring the hedgerows in the woods, using bushcraft skills to turn the foraged finds into a feast we have heaps of wild adventure offerings. Natures larder is forever changing, spring time brings us new shoots, like wild garlic, alexanders and cleansing cleavers, in summer we are treated with edible blooms and more gorgeous green goodies and sea vegetables. Autumn delivers nourishing nuts and a bounty of berries. Even in winter you can still forage and find yourself wild foods to eat. Best of all we have an abundance of edible seaweeds all year round so the larder is never empty."

Sæ

Sae are a brand that make snacks out of British seaweed foraged on beaches in the south. I focused on this company because they had a very strong sense of branding and that is what I want my project to focus on. I love how consistent and simple their branding is.

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bathbaboon43 · 2 years

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Sudden Listening To Loss

Developed by Starkey Hearing Technologies, Hear Coach is suite of listening games designed to train the auditory system in completely different listening environments. The video games are suitable for those with listening to loss in addition to those that are having bother understanding speech in noisy conditions. Children with hearing loss ages four to 10 will take pleasure in studying vocabulary with this app’s fun scenes, that includes outside water enjoyable, seashore play, pet store, swimming pool, tenting and winter enjoyable. Caregivers or therapist guide the kid in listening exercises using three completely different games for each scene to advertise listening and language growth. Hearing training apps, software and programs to train your ears and improve your hearing health. Sharpen your hearing with the most recent digital expertise. Sometimes the symptoms remain the same, and generally they get worse. In about 10% of cases, the situation interferes with on a regular basis life a lot that skilled help is needed. Blood vessel disorders.A variety of malformations and problems are occasionally the source of pulsatile tinnitus. These embody a blood vessel with a weakened, bulging patch , an irregular connection between an artery and vein , twisted arteries, or a benign blood vessel tumor behind the eardrum. Auritine Review of fatty plaque inside the carotid arteries can create the type of turbulent blood flow that resounds as pulsatile tinnitus. If hearing loss is interfering with your everyday life, then it’s time to see your physician. Make an appointment and let the physician look at your ears to find out what’s inflicting it and find the best solutions. Unclogging your ears at residence using home remedies similar to ear candlingor a cotton swab isn't a good suggestion. This listening to help has Bluetooth expertise so customers can stream TV, telephone calls, and audio on to the device. There is also a customizable tinnitus aid perform. These hearing aids use rechargeable batteries and might last as long as 30 hours after an entire cost. It is absolutely automated, adapting to the level of sound in any surroundings. A writer with a good ear for dialogue; has an ear for international languages. The echolocation of both these species is considerably much less environment friendly than that of bats – as a end result of the sounds are decrease and subsequently have longer wavelengths. Perhaps one of the best recognized of those percussive sounds is the drumming of woodpeckers. Each woodpecker, in these species examined, has its personal drumming sample so male and female birds can simply recognise each other while they are out foraging. Not all young birds study to recognise their dad and mom or vice versa instantly.

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jludkin · 3 years

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Another shell bottle vase that will be on its way to the @theleachpottery again made with the same ‘homemade’ glaze as before using materials gathered from Cornwall, however this one has a much thinner glaze application which gives a wider variation of colours (Greens, milky beiges through to toasted browns) and tends to be more of a matte finish. I will also be doing a Christmas shop update on my website too on Monday 30th November. #vase #bottlevase #shells #limpet #sea #seashore #forage #beachcombing #collect #gather #cornwall #coast #britishcoast #theleachpottery #thebrockleypotter #pottery #london #green #brown #beige #ceramics #art #design #makersmovement #nature (at Brockley) https://www.instagram.com/p/CIIUvUXjWLM/?igshid=1ehxlcin4suxb

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veganpropaganda · 3 years

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When foodies sink their teeth into a slab of cheese from one of the historic dairy farms in Point Reyes, California, their minds probably run to grass-fed cows ranging free on the lush green oceanside hills of Marin County. Over 5,000 dairy cows and beef cattle roam the Point Reyes National Seashore National Park in full view of visiting tourists. Unlike the many dairy and meat companies that slap happy animals on their labels while sourcing their product from hellish factory farms, the dairy and beef farms at Point Reyes represent an agrarian ideal of ecologically and ethically sustainable animal agriculture.

“Pasture-raised” and “extensive” or “regenerative” grazing have been watchwords in the American foodie community since at least the 2000s, when celebrated food writer Michael Pollan presented sustainable, nonindustrial practices as a way out of the ethical morass of the American food system in his award-winning bestseller The Omnivore’s Dilemma. Everyone from progressive agrarians to libertarian ranchers to multinational food companies, and even conservation NGOs such as the Audubon Society, has thrown their weight behind the idea of replacing mass-produced meat, from chickens to ungulates, with a holistically raised alternative. While some environmentalists reject beef altogether for its contribution to climate change, pollution, and deforestation, proponents of free-ranging beef have rallied under the motto, “It’s not the cow; it’s the how.” They argue that, done properly, pasture-raised cattle can replace the ecological functions of wild ruminants like elk and bison, produce food on “marginal” land that would otherwise be wasted, and eliminate beef’s carbon hoofprint (since well-grazed land can sequester atmospheric carbon dioxide). This would mean consumers could stick it to Big Ag, fight climate change, and help imperiled animals and ecosystems without actually changing their diets too much; they’d just need to eat a bit less meat and pay a bit more for the grass-fed option.

Whether these promises hold up under scrutiny is a subject of fierce debate. And in recent years, a series of lawsuits have argued the opposite thesis: that even “regenerative” cattle imperil the very ecosystems proponents claim they will “regenerate.”

This past June, the Harvard Animal Law and Policy Clinic, on behalf of the Animal Legal Defense Fund and a number of individual plaintiffs, filed suit against the Department of the Interior and the National Park Service, which manages Point Reyes National Park, alleging that cattle ranching is endangering the iconic tule elk.* It’s not the first such lawsuit that has been filed over the past decade against the NPS to stop alleged environmental damage from Point Reyes cows.

The National Park Service leases parkland to a number of “historic” cattle and dairy farms, which it has done since the park’s creation in 1962. The elk, native to the region but driven to near-extinction by hunting and human activities such as ranching, are protected by a 1976 federal conservation law and were reintroduced to the park in 1978. But to keep the elk from competing with cattle for forage and water, the NPS erected fences that confine the elk to select corners of the park with limited water and forage. This confinement has proved fatal during droughts. Drought in 2013–2014 led to 254 elk deaths. A current drought has already killed over 150 elk, a third of the once 445-strong herd that inhabits Tomales Point, all just a stone’s throw away from thriving commodity cows. Ranchers have even pushed for the right to cull elk outright to keep their populations in check, in part because they have also killed off the natural predators that would do so in a healthy ecosystem. The Harvard suit alleges that “the Tule elk are continuing to die horrific and preventable deaths” in clear violation of federal law.

Prior to the twentieth century, the tule elk were an important part of the Pacific coastal ecosystem and a major component of the diet of the Coast Miwok tribe, the native peoples who lived there. In fact, the NPS concedes that the region’s characteristic hilly grasslands were “the byproduct of burning, weeding, pruning and harvesting for at least two millennia by Coast Miwok and their antecedents.” These grasslands made a juicy target for white settlers arriving in the middle of the nineteenth century. They brought cattle with them, plundered the Coast Miwok lands, hunted large predators and elk to near-extinction, and then grazed their cattle on the hills instead. The intertwined processes of colonial and ecological displacement have continued into the twenty-first century: In 2015, the NPS balked at a proposed “Indigenous Archaeological District” that would have protected Coast Miwok heritage sites from damage from ranching. Even as it did so, it quickly approved a “Historic Dairy Ranching District,” over and against Miwok protests. Today, many Coast Miwok are opposed to the rancher-backed plan to fence and further cull the elk. “The Park Service proposal to shoot indigenous tule elk and promote ranching that harms wildlife, water and habitat is a travesty and contrary to the traditions of our ancestors,” Jason Deschler, dance captain and headman with the Coast Miwok Tribal Council of Marin, wrote this summer in a statement opposing the cull.

The cows at Point Reyes don’t just compete with the elk. They also defecate about 130 million pounds of nitrogen-rich manure a year, which leaches into the soil and streams and ponds of the area. An NPS-funded study suggested that removal of the cows would benefit numerous native species, including butterflies, seabirds, frogs, and salmon. And yet the same study recommended the expansion of ranching. As a damning investigative report into the issue in the Marin County Pacific Sun suggests, the ranchers and dairy farmers have urged pliant politicians, including Senator Dianne Feinstein, to “pressur[e] the Park Service to prioritize the preservation of private ranching profits over environmental concerns.”

Point Reyes is a microcosm of a much broader anti-wildlife bent in American ranching, regenerative and otherwise. To protect their cows from predators and disease, or simply to ensure that they have access to food and water, ranchers across the country have supported wolf hunts, vulture and wild horse culls, and the deployment of cyanide bombs. It is difficult to count the number of wild animals killed in the service of ranching interests by government bodies like the Agriculture Department’s secretive Wildlife Services, the Bureau of Land Management, and various state-level farm bureaus, but about a million animals per year is the federal government’s own estimate.

Unlike wild animals such as elk, ranched cattle are commodities in a global market. And the goals of commodity production run directly counter to those of a functional ecosystem. In the wild, ungulates like bison or elk range across vast swathes of land, serving all sorts of ecosystem functions just by living: rooting, trampling, defecating, dying and decomposing, serving as food for predators and carrion birds and insects, nourishing other animals and the soil in death as their hooves did in life. Commodity production, be it conventional or regenerative, removes animals like cows from this web of life, using fencing and predator extermination to protect grazers from harm so that they can be profitably sold. In place of that natural web, ranching also requires an economic and material infrastructure to breed, manage, slaughter, process, and transport cattle as they are transformed into beef or milked. Even with the best of ecological intentions, ranchers who want their business to survive must build and maintain that infrastructure according to commercial principles.

The capitalist assumptions pervading these enterprises are clearest when regenerative proponents promise to be able to extract food from so-called “marginal” lands. Conventionally defined, “marginal land” is land that has little current agricultural or industrial value, often because of poor soil, water resources, or climate conditions. What ranchers mean is that grazing cattle can extract value, in the form of commoditized beef, from dry, rocky, difficult to access lands. Of course, such lands are only “marginal” from an instrumental, Lockean view that all land must be worked to create value. But from a biodiversity and ecosystem health perspective, so-called marginal lands can be thriving, biodiverse habitats for myriad flora and fauna, which can be disrupted by the introduction of grazers.

Historically, even land that is home to human beings has been deemed “marginal” if its value cannot be commoditized. As historian Joshua Specht shows, ranchers have historically been the spear tip of settler colonialism in the American West. They often used the pretext of “waste” and “emptiness” to violently uproot Indigenous lifeways and ecosystems and replace them with “productive” commercial ranching. The Coast Miwok Tribal Council of Marin linked that history of dispossession to the plan to cull the elk in a letter to Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland, describing it as “a travesty … that perpetuates a long legacy of harm inflicted on Native People by the National Park Service.”

The idea of converting “marginal” or unused land is basically a promise to produce something from nothing. All too often, that simply means that the costs are hidden. Increasingly, environmental research suggests that while introducing grazers to marginal lands can be economically generative for those who own the grazers, it is degenerative of previously existing ecosystems. A recent meta-analysis in the journal Ecology Letters, for example, found that excluding commercial agricultural grazers increases the abundance of plant and faunal biodiversity in most ecosystems. That’s because most livestock are managed at densities that dramatically exceed those of wild fauna. In fact, the Center for Biological Diversity recently won a lawsuit that will force the Forest Service and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to protect sensitive ecosystems within New Mexico’s Gila National Forest and Arizona’s Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest from free-ranging cows.

Over the past two decades, proponents of “regenerative” grazing have increasingly justified cattle agriculture by claiming their methods reduce ruminants’ contribution to climate change: Currently, the world’s cows, by belching out methane, contribute about 6 percent percent of all greenhouse gases. (Many note that cows “only” contribute 3 percent of U.S. emissions, but this is only because of America’s massive total emissions.) Regenerative ranching proponents claim, however, that by turning over and fertilizing the soil where they graze, free-ranging ruminants create healthy soil that can act as a carbon sink.

One of the biggest drivers of this claim has been the work of the rancher Allan Savory, made famous through a viral TED talk in 2013. But Savory’s claims have little peer-reviewed support and seem to fail under scrutiny. “The Savory Method Can Not Green Deserts or Reverse Climate Change,” five researchers argued in a lengthy rebuttal published in the journal Rangelands that same year. In 2017, an exhaustive, 127-page study led by scholars at Oxford found that grass-fed livestock “does not offer a significant solution to climate change as only under very specific conditions can they help sequester carbon. This sequestering of carbon is even then small, time-limited, reversible and substantially outweighed by the greenhouse gas emissions these grazing animals generate.”

Studies suggest that while some forms of well-managed grazing can increase the health and productivity of soil, there is little proof that this has much impact on soil’s ability to capture carbon. To the extent that soil can act as a carbon sink, a widely-cited article in Frontiers in Climate argues that it can do so through practices like cover crop rotation, tillage, and novel soil amendments that don’t use animals at all. But cows or no cows, the idea that soil can act as a meaningful carbon sink at the scale at which global climate change currently operates is itself not entirely convincing. Removing soil from any agricultural use and allowing it to rewild, however, can create meaningful carbon sinks while protecting and restoring biodiversity; wild elk populations might plausibly do more to capture carbon than the most holistically raised cattle.

When it comes to cows, there is actually a sort of perverse climate and ethical math at play. Most of America’s 93 million cattle spend at least some of their life grazing on pasture, although many beef cattle are also fattened for slaughter in feedlots where they are fed soy- and grain-based meals. But since processed meal is easier to digest and beef cattle, on average, spend only a few of their 18-month lives at feedlots, only about 11 percent of their greenhouse gas emissions happen there. The remaining 89 percent happen when they digest rough forage and grasses on pasture. In other words, cows that graze throughout their lives actually potentially emit more than feedlot-finished ones.

Small numbers of grazers may be consistent with healthy ecosystems and have minimal greenhouse gas impact, but only if their populations stay within ecologically defined limits. The situation in Point Reyes, where ranchers have pushed the NPS to be able to use more land for grazing and prevent elk from competing with cows for food and water, illustrates exactly why that’s unlikely.

The problem of scale bedevils regenerative beef from every angle. Holistic grazing cannot hope to compete on price with Big Meat, which operates with high volumes and low margins: A pound of ground beef from a Marin County ranch can run well over $10, compared to $3.99 for mass-produced beef at Kroger. Regenerative ranching proponents often answer that consumers will opt to eat “less but better meat,” but it’s far from clear what’s going to drive that transition at the societal level. (Also worth noting: In the absence of a public agency that could define and regulate ecologically informed grazing practices, “better” meat is a little nebulous. The “regenerative” label has been affixed to so many different techniques that what exactly it means is often hard to pin down.)

As a result, “regenerative” beef currently represents not so much a scalable climate solution as a way for those who can afford to do so to purchase indulgences for their continued meat consumption. The owners of grass-fed beef ventures may market their premium-priced products as a way out of the hellscape of Western capitalistic agriculture. But absent much broader societal changes, regenerative agriculture’s anti-industrial rhetoric is more of a class marker than a call to revolution.

If regenerative agriculture were to challenge the mainstream food system, it would run into some hard physical limits. Converting the beef industry, at current levels of demand, entirely to a grass- and crop-forage feeding system would require increasing the total size of American beef herds by 23 million cows, or 30 percent, according to a recent article in the respected science journal Environmental Research Letters. And that increase, were it even possible, would have monumental consequences for both greenhouse gas outputs and land use. But there simply isn’t enough land in the U.S. for that many grazers. At best, beef production would have to decrease by 39 percent and potentially as much as 73 percent. Framed that way, grass-fed grazing, especially if scaled, doesn’t seem likely to regenerate many ecosystems—indeed, it would likely require deforestation, as is the case in Brazil, where the clear-cutting of the Amazon is driven both by soy plantations for feedlot and factory farm animal feed and by the need for grazing space for grass-fed cattle. And as the Environmental Research Letters article argued, even temporary overgrazing can lead to long-term and perhaps irreversible ecological degradation.

This list of mismatches between theory and empirics prompts an important question: Who does benefit from more demand for holistic-grazed beef? Ranchers and dairy farmers, of course. Regenerative ranching begins with the assumption that cattle must be commercially ranched and then backfills an ecological narrative to sustain that assumption, much as the NPS assumes there must be ranches in Point Reyes and then reshapes the park’s history and landscape to fit that need.

Actually making animal agriculture less ecologically disruptive would mean taking animals’ ecological value as a bedrock principle against and over their value as commodities. That means treating commodity production, not land, as “marginal”: Commodities could be extracted only if doing so didn’t disturb the ecological, social, and cultural value of the landscape. In other words, in most such systems, animals would more than likely play a minor support role for primarily plant agriculture. And that, in turn, would almost certainly mean far fewer grazers entering the commercial food system, and at a much higher price point. Point Reyes, for example, might feature free-ranging elk managed by an Indigenous best practice–driven conservation agency, not dairy cattle grazed by private ranches. This kind of truly eco-friendly meat production would produce even less meat than the current grab bag of practices loosely labeled “regenerative.”

As the elk of Point Reyes might attest, grass-fed beef and dairy are not ecologically benign. Nor are they a solution to climate change. Nor yet, in offering a more expensive alternative to industrial agriculture to those who can afford it, do they offer a clear path for reducing meat consumption society-wide. If anything, regenerative ranching lends itself either to niche locavore indulgence or large-scale corporate greenwashing, but it offers little promise for sustainable food system transformation.

Achieving more sustainable agriculture means we need to produce and eat less meat. To get there, we’ll need individuals to change their habits, but we’ll also need policy aimed specifically at reducing meat consumption through taxation, nudges toward animal-free diets, or, potentially, support for the proliferation of plant- or cell-based meat analogs. Ranchers tend to deny this, not because it is ecologically unfounded but because they are financially invested in ranching rather than regeneration.

*One of the authors of this piece is a fellow at the Harvard Animal Law and Policy Program. He is not and has never been personally involved in the Point Reyes lawsuit.

#regenerative grazing #regenerative farming #animal agriculture #ecology #greenwashing #capitalism #food systems

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stephenpetersblr · 4 years

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#foraging #curlew #isleofskye #wildlifephotography #wildbird #seashore #officialisleofskye #visitscotland #scotlandlover #igerscotland #scotlandsbeauty #scotland_insta #bestscotlandpics #thisisscotland #hiddenscotland #loves_scotland #instascotland #thescottishcollective #unlimitedscotland #lovesscotland #scotlandisnow #explore_scotland #igscotland #scotspirit #visualsofscotland #scotlandexplore #brilliantscotland #officialisleofskye #wonderlust.scotland #taliskerstudioandgifts #traveling_scotland #thisisscotland #isleofskyescotland www.stephenpetersphotography.co.uk. https://www.instagram.com/p/B7EP3FWHP2_/?igshid=98vcit0vhtja

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bills-pokedex · 4 years

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Hi Bill! Me and my partner (Kantonian) Slowpoke, Mimosa, are traveling to Galar to meet some of her cousins with their gilded noggins. But, it makes me a lil' sad when the only thing my fellow travelers bring up about these adorable pink pudges is how dumb they are. Now, I know they ain't the brightest, but there's more to 'em than that! Have ya ever seen a Slowpoke calf?? Pure, chubby love! Think you could share a fact or two about this occasionally protected and definitely important species?

Slowpoke are MAJESTIC CREATURES MORE THAN WORTHY OF OUR ATTENTION.

Staring into its perpetually serene face is objectively and medically known to reduce stress and bring about states of euphoria and enlightenment.

No one truly knows what goes on in a slowpoke’s head, and this has been considered by many philosophers to be the peak state of existence.

It’s (in)famously capricious, with a tendency to do its own thing without regard to the happenings around it. For this reason, entire religious movements throughout history have focused themselves on studying and emulating slowpoke in order to achieve a truly peaceful life.

There is very little difference between the behaviors of Galarian and standard slowpoke, making this species one of the few where care really doesn’t differ between regional and worldwide variations. Truthfully, the only difference between both types of slowpoke are diet and general habits. Standard slowpoke are fishers and thus retain an affinity to the water element (which helps it fish); Galarian slowpoke are foragers and thus have simply lost their affinity to water in favor of a slight gravitation towards poison due to the kind of vegetation they eat. (They mostly subsist on poisonous herbs that grow along the edges of Galarian beaches.) Note that this doesn’t mean that Galarian slowpoke are themselves poison-type (their poison typing doesn’t emerge until after evolution); rather, it explains why Galarian slowpoke are incapable of learning Water Gun but fully capable of learning Acid.

Both types of slowpoke are often seen lounging about seashores, and this habit has formed the core of the theory as to why Galarian slowpoke exist. According to this theory, standard slowpoke would migrate out towards the water in order to hunt, but Galarian slowpoke, for whatever reason (likely due to the temperature of the Galarian seas—slowpoke often prefer warmer waters), would migrate inward, towards land.

On that note, no one knows why or how slowpoke arrived in Galar, given the fact that the species prefers warmer waters. The theory doesn’t make any attempt at explaining their presence in the region, and this has remained one of the many, many mysteries that have surrounded slowpoke since the dawn of recorded pokémonology.

Most of the other mysteries surround how shellder change when attached to slowpoke, why they change, what they gain out of this relationship—generally, shellder’s relationship with slowpoke.

Sadly, this pokémon is often sought after for its nutritious and strangely sweet tail. Although slowpoke can survive having its tail severed (it often does this itself as a means of self-defense), it can take up to three months for a new tail to grow in, during which the slowpoke will rely on other members of its herd to fish for it. For the latter reason, wild slowpoke tail harvesting is considered illegal in most countries. Luckily, we have a reliable way of ethically sourcing slowpoke tails: via slowpoke farms, where slowpoke are often well cared-for and fed during the regrowth process. Still, illegal wild-sourced tails are highly sought after in certain markets, as food enthusiasts insist that wild tails are bolder in flavor than farmed ones.

The fact that it can lose its tail and not be bothered by this is also a trait that’s heavily admired by philosophers. In many circles throughout history, slowpoke had served as a symbol of fortitude and endurance in the face of adversity. Alternatively, the fact that its tail is perfectly edible and had indeed been a featured source of food in some cultures’ stories of famine also marks it as a symbol of generosity. It is, in other words, perhaps one of the wisest of pokémon, capable of teaching us valuable lessons on not only how to appreciate the simple things life has to offer but to always stand strong against the harshness of reality and never hesitate to give to those in need.

The mysteries surrounding this pokémon, along with the understated elegance of its naturally serene nature, make slowpoke a highly admired pokémon among the most dedicated pokémon connoisseurs. However, it takes a keen eye and an even keener sense of taste to fully appreciate this pokémon, and consequently, it is woefully underrated within the pokémon training and collecting communities.

I want to flag this post for objectivity and/or a lack of objective tone, but the infuriating thing is I fact-checked it, and Bill is technically correct on every point here. —LH

...including the last one. —LH

#slowpoke #galarian slowpoke #pokemon headcanons #pokemon headcanon #toyoll #{this post brought to you by the electric tale of pikachu manga #please my dearest readers I'm begging you read the side chapter #you will 100% not at all regret it.}#asks

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 2 years

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Grazing with Iceland’s Reindeer While most of the world’s populations of reindeer and caribou have declined significantly in recent decades, Iceland’s herd is doing fine. Its population grew rapidly in recent decades and is now stable. Reindeer were first brought by royal decree from Norway to Iceland in the 1700s after diseases had killed about 60 percent of the island’s sheep population. Initially there was hope they could be domesticated and be kept on farms. But early efforts at reindeer husbandry fizzled due to the harsh winters, competition with sheep farmers, and lack of interest among Icelanders in raising the animals. Nonetheless, wild reindeer thrived in East Iceland, an area with plenty of a key type of lichen (Cetraria islandica) for herds to consume. The population swelled from a few dozen reindeer in the 1700s to more than 5,000 now. Many of Iceland’s reindeer now spend much of their time in the summer foraging in the highlands near Mount Snæfell. When winter weather arrives, they descend into warmer valleys closer to the ocean. The Operational Land Imager (OLI) on Landsat 8 captured this (Top) image of Mount Snæfell and the surrounding area on September 9, 2021. The Hálslón Reservoir lies to the west and the Vatnajökull ice field to the south. As seen in the centre image, the highland plateau north and northeast of Vatnajökull glacier is the only place in Iceland with continuous vegetation from the seashore to Vatnajökull. That image was acquired by the Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectroradiometer (MODIS) on NASA’s Aqua satellite. Limited grazing land can be a problem in Iceland due to the island’s long, cold winters. Satellite observations of vegetation—particularly a measure called the Normalized Difference Vegetation Index (NDVI)—are among the tools that researchers and wildlife managers use to monitor the health of pastures and reindeer populations in East Iceland. Reindeer in East Iceland don’t have to contend with any natural predators, parasitic flies, or mosquitoes. To keep reindeer populations in check, human hunters are permitted to kill about 1000 - 1,300 of the animals each year. “To prevent overgrazing, we keep the density of winter populations under one animal per square kilometer,” explained Skarphéðinn Þórisson of the East Iceland Nature Centre. “Most of the overgrazing that happens in Iceland is related to sheep farming—not reindeer—and happens mainly in areas other than East Iceland.” NASA Earth Observatory image by Lauren Dauphin, using Landsat data from the U.S. Geological Survey and MODIS data from NASA EOSDIS LANCE and GIBS/Worldview. Photograph by Darcy Moore. Story by Adam Voiland.

#space #science #earth observatory #nasa #news #iceland

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chocoluckchipz · 4 years

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The Other You - 1

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

Chapter by @maerynn-blog

Gabriel Agreste’s death had been sudden, and unexpected.

Only a few months before the premiere of his first-ever women’s apparel collection, the famous fashion mogul had succumbed to a violent stroke at his home office in the early hours of the morning, apparently while busy reviewing the latest designs that had been submitted to him.

Few could state without lying that they would miss their boss. Gabriel had proven on more than one occasion to be solely driven by results and success, with no consideration whatsoever for his employees. Even fewer could say honestly that they would miss the man, for his late years had only cemented the cold and heartless facade he had forged throughout the years, setting the image of an implacable leader in stone despite himself.

Over the years, he had even alienated his very own son, with whom he had fallen out of touch as soon as Adrien had been old enough to stand up for himself and make his own decisions. Persistent rumours throughout the years suggested that Gabriel had disowned his son as a result of his desertion of the company, but seeing as Adrien found himself the sole owner of Gabriel following his father’s sudden passing, either those rumours were wrong or Gabriel had forgiven his only heir somewhere along the way.

Which could have been fine if the company had been left in capable hands, which, unfortunately, wasn’t the case. Gabriel Agreste had never entrusted anyone with his company’s well-being or any important decision regarding his brand. Even his almost lifelong personal assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur, had been merely blindly obeying orders without ever questioning them for most of her employment with Gabriel, and yet, she probably would’ve been the most qualified person to assure a smooth transition.

Coincidentally, Nathalie had gone into a well-deserved retirement only a few weeks before Gabriel’s ultimate demise, around the same time Gorilla hung up his luxury sedan keys and moved away to the seashore, admittedly to catch up with his growing-too-fast grandkids.

That meant that the week following Gabriel Agreste’s passing was pure chaos as far as Gabriel’s remaining staff and stockholders were concerned.

The artistic team was left without a leader to guide them, ideas and designs going nuts and wild without anyone to organize them and separate the wheat from the chaff.

The accounting team was going crazy dealing with the sudden and massive increase in resignations, the suppliers’ incessant calls wondering if they’d ever get paid, and the stockholders demanding answers about the uncertain future of the company.

The company’s lawyers were for the most part completely unreachable, busy as they were trying to figure out what exactly were the ramifications of their CEO’s sudden death. Who would take over the company if Adrien Agreste chose to surrender his notoriously unwanted position? Would he choose to sell the company to a third-party? And if he did, what would that entail? What would happen to the collections already out? The works-in-progress?

Above all, as the head designer of the upcoming brand new women’s line, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was probably the most sleep-deprived, stressed-out, and overall most exhausted employee amongst the entirety of Gabriel’s staff. The young woman had spent the better part of the past week trying to coax any ideas out of the designers working under her with mixed success, only to discover that by Friday night, all but her and her assistant either quit or transferred to the men’s department, leaving Marinette to work on her collection alone.

The rational part of her brain wanted to leave as well, bury herself beneath a pile of luxury fabric and only come back up once everything had been cleared out and dealt with because as things currently were, everything in her life was going to shambles.

At twenty-five, a rising star yet a dropout from ESMOD due to an unexpected exclusive apprenticeship under Gabriel Agreste himself, she was sharing a pitiful two-bedroom apartment with Alya and Nino, desperately trying to gather enough savings to get a place of her own. Her salary as Gabriel’s head designer of the upcoming women’s department was more than decent, but it still wasn’t enough to live on her own in the centre of Paris close to work. Mostly because the line she was heading was experimental and any salary raises were dependent on its success at Fashion Week at the end of summer that year.

Going back to her parents wasn’t an option Marinette entertained, and so she had no choice but to put up with the ups and downs of living with a very in-love young couple, whereas she had yet to go on a second date, let alone have a boyfriend. Alya was relentlessly picking on her about that, pointing out mercilessly how she was married to her job, and wondering how in the world “fashion” would give her children. Usually, Marinette would shrug and effortlessly shift the conversation to another topic, but lately, the dangerous cocktail of exhaustion and anxiety for her future in the industry brewing up within her, coupled with Alya’s growing irritation toward her friend’s numerous disappearances and secrets, had sparked more than one nasty argument between the pair of best friends.

As a result, Marinette was carefully avoiding going home as much as she could.

She had spent the week running up and down every corridor, making sure the collection would come out without a hitch despite being carried over by a boat without a captain. She worked herself to the bone, overcompensating for the huge loss the team had just suffered. Marinette spent her days putting out fires, avoiding catastrophe after catastrophe, and devoted her evenings to working on designs, bringing them to completion, going home way past any decent hour every single day, making sure every design was on point, that every garment was sewn up to par.

It had truly been a week from hell as far as she was concerned.

Even without her less than ideal housing situation, she still would’ve stayed late every day. Her mentor, her boss, was six-feet-under, but Marinette couldn’t envision letting him down. Even if Gabriel definitely lacked warmth in his social interactions, he had taught her so much over the last few years, she felt that the least she could do was to hold down the fort for him. He had given her an unexpected opportunity by putting her in the head designer’s shoes, had believed in her against all odds, and the very idea of betraying his trust, even if he wasn’t there to witness it anymore, was making her sick to her stomach.

Even if staying instead of leaving the boat meant encountering Adrien Agreste in some corridor sooner or later.

Pushing that idea as far away as she could, Marinette knelt in front of her dress form, carefully hemming one of the designs she and Gabriel had been working on last. They had talked about this dress only a few hours before his unexpected death, and she wanted the final result to live up to his expectations; an homage of some sort.

Refusing to look at the clock, knowing it was already way later than what would be deemed reasonable, Marinette took a step back, admiring her work. The dress was gorgeous, flowing nicely around the dress form, but it was lacking that little playful flair Gabriel had been envisioning for it.

Struck with a sudden idea, she promptly rose from her work station and marched to Gabriel’s office, as she had done countless times before. She knew for a fact that he kept a nice assortment of satin ribbons in there, specifically a pretty pink velvet one that would add just the perfect touch to the garment.

What she hadn’t expected, though, was to find another living being in Gabriel’s office.

A familiar mop of blond hair was sprawled out on her late boss’ desk, broad, muscular shoulders slumped, accompanied by a loud and desperate groan.

Marinette paused on the threshold for a second, her heart caught in her throat, wondering if she could get away with picking up the ribbon she needed without being seen. That brief hesitation was her demise. As if feeling her presence in the room, the man looked up, and green eyes bore into hers, widening in surprise.

Marinette couldn’t hold back a gasp at the sight of the man that had haunted her dreams for so many years. Sure enough, he had aged a bit since the last time their paths had crossed, but the years had been kind to him. His face had shed the roundness of his youth, bringing out a sharper, more angular jaw. His hair was a bit darker than it used to be, with a low fade haircut that accentuated his older, more mature appearance.

A single word kept replaying in Marinette’s mind at the handsome sight in front of her: danger.

Realizing she was gaping at him, Marinette mentally slapped herself across the face and promptly slipped back into her professional shoes. “Oh, I’m really sorry, Monsieur Agreste,” she said, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking as much as she heard. “I hadn’t realized I wasn’t alone in the building, otherwise I would’ve never barged in like that. I just need some supplies and then I’ll show myself out.”

With a quirk of an eyebrow, Adrien silently watched Marinette tiptoeing through the room with the ease of someone who was more than accustomed to her surroundings. She opened a nearby cabinet without hesitating and foraged within, her entire torso disappearing into the apparent mess of fabrics and various sewing furniture. Less than thirty seconds later, she emerged victorious, holding a roll of the needed ribbon.

She looked at him again. His face was glazed over with a mix of sleepy confusion and disorientation.

“I—Sorry for disturbing you, Monsieur,” Marinette whispered. “Goodnight.”

Turning her back on him, she walked toward the door, failing to escape before he called.

“Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

With a sharp intake of breath, she spun on her heels, facing him again with widening eyes. “I’m sorry?”

Adrien rose from his seat, rounding the heavy desk promptly to close the distance between them. “You’re Marinette, aren’t you? We went to school together, back in Mlle Bustier’s class, with Nino and Al-”

“I remember you perfectly well, Monsieur Agreste.”

He stared at her in silence, matching her guarded expression. “So you ended up here after all?”

She sustained his gaze, her voice cold and professional, “Yes. Despite you, Monsieur Agreste, being a major ass toward me. Can I, please, get back to work now?”

His whole expression tensed as he carefully eyed her. For a moment, he looked like he was trying to figure out what to say, but then he deflated, sighing pitifully. “Very well. I still have these fabrics to pick anyway, and not a single clue about what I’m doing. Have a nice evening, Marinette.”

Marinette froze, her heart stilling in her chest.

Deep down, she knew she shouldn’t care.

Adrien’s problems weren’t in any way her own, and if someone had seen fit to put a physics teacher in charge of an entire fashion house, well, so be it. She had no say in the matter. Someone probably had decided to give him that menial task to keep his sheer incompetence away from what really mattered, an initiative she could only applaud.

But on the other hand, Gabriel had always been a man she admired greatly despite his cold facade, and the years she had spent working by his side hadn’t changed that. He was a brilliant designer and had literally dedicated up to his very last day to his art. She couldn’t stand the thought of letting Adrien ruin his father’s hard work—even if it was only ordering lousy fabric—not if she could help it. She had worked too hard to let him get in the way, and if she had to help him to earn herself the freedom of running her line like she wanted to, then she’d do it.

She glanced at the papers scattered on the desk behind him and frowned. “Don’t buy anything from Cosetti; he holds the weirdest grudge against your father for refusing to incorporate chiffon in the 2015 winter line. There’s a good chance he’ll try to scam you. Berkley’s might be more expensive, but I’ve seen swatches of the silk and it's severely lacking in quality. Zinya’s cheaper, better, and their seller is a real sweetheart.”

Adrien stared at her, dumbfounded, and it took him almost a full minute to find his voice again. “But—but, why would you help me? After—”

Marinette walked past him, shoulders tensed and a determined spark in her eyes. “Believe it or not, some of us actually rely on this company for a living, and I’m not letting it sink without putting up a fight. What else do you need to make a decision on?”

The young man blinked, and his professional persona kicked in. He joined her on the other side of the desk to show her the supplier submissions, tentatively pointing out what little progress he had made. Her tone toward him was cold yet polite as she effortlessly picked up where he had left off, giving him cues on their current relationships with various suppliers and broadly showing him the ropes of managing a fashion empire. Soon enough, Marinette pushed the last submission toward Adrien for a signature, got up, and grabbed her spool of ribbon.

“Marinette?” A little awkward but he looked at her as if she’d just saved him from a sinking boat in the middle of an ocean. “Thanks, I wouldn’t have made it without you, and—”

“Don’t,” Marinette cut him off. “I helped you only because my job is on the line. Good evening, Monsieur.”

She left Gabriel’s office in tense, stubborn silence, neither of them willing to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

***

Later that night, Ladybug landed atop the Eiffel Tower, sitting beside her partner on one of the higher beams with a soft sigh.

He peered at her, surprised. “I thought you said you were going to lay off on the patrols for a bit?”

She stared at the horizon for a minute, a comfortable silence falling between them. His question still hovered, unanswered, but he knew her well enough to figure she was trying to organize her thoughts. Nearly a decade of knowing each other meant that most things could go unsaid between the pair.

Eventually, she scooted closer to him on the beam, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, a comforting gesture that had become customary between them. She lay her head on his shoulder, sighing again.

“What’s wrong, Bug? Won’t your roommate be mad at you for disappearing again?”

She scoffed, reaching for his free hand and lacing her fingers through his. “I’ll get an earful once I get home for sure, but I needed this. I need a breather with my best friend, my safe haven.”

He tensed a bit, hearing those words, “That bad?”

“This last week has truly been hell, and I missed you like crazy.” Ladybug sighed softly.

Chat Noir groaned inwardly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “This boss of yours is some special kind of a jerk if he left you guys with so much trouble upon quitting.”

Ladybug wasn’t sure if she was insulting Gabriel Agreste’s memory by letting her partner tarnish his reputation freely like this, but with news of his sudden passing all over Paris, and the fact that Chat Noir knew fairly well that his partner was working in fashion, there was no way she could set the record straight without giving away some compromising clues.

Instead, she settled on answering quietly, pressing a reassuring kiss on his cheek, “It’s not like he had a choice. He had urgent personal matters to attend to, and we’ll be alright… eventually.” She trailed off, her eyes following his to their very own private view of Paris. “How’s your relative?”

Chat Noir squirmed uncomfortably beside her, and she instantly regretted asking the question that had been burning on her lips for the past week. But ever since he had shown up unfashionably late to a patrol because of a mandatory trip to a hospital, she had been worried about that relative of his who was close enough to the superhero to warrant an immediate visit at the hospital, but in the meantime far enough that he was barely fazed by the whole ordeal.

“He…” Chat Noir began slowly, carefully avoiding her gaze, and in a sudden flash of clarity, she understood. The sick/injured relative wasn’t part of their world anymore, and her dear kitty was grieving in his own very personal way.

“I’m so sorry, Chaton. Can I do anything for you?” she cried, twisting in his embrace, so she sat in his lap instead of beside him.

He gave her a forlorn smile that looked every bit a fake on his handsome face. “Don’t worry about me, my Lady. I’ll manage. Get back to your roommate, things are bad enough between you two as it is. I’d like for you to survive the week, you know.”

She hated to admit it, but Ladybug knew he was right. If last week was any indication, they would probably get in an awful fight as soon as she set foot in their apartment.

But this?

Chat Noir’s unwavering support, his kind words, and reassuring presence over the last decade? The familiar warmth of his arms wrapped around her?

It was worth it, and a thousand times more.

Smiling softly, she eyed him playfully, “And when did you become the voice of reason between us two?”

“Ever since you started to believe working eighty hours a week was healthy. Go home, and get some sleep. You’re barely able to keep your eyes open.”

She leaned on him for a second, taking in his warmth. “Alright, silly cat. See you around?”

“Of course, my Lady. Now, go before she snaps at you again.”

Ladybug quickly pressed her lips against Chat’s cheek, and with one last small smile and an all-too-brief hug, she took off into the night, leaving her counterpart to his silent musings on the tower.

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #adrienette #aged up #enemies to friends to lovers #the other you #a collab with a friend #myart #my art

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local-decadent · 4 years

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Pirate Academia

Learning sea shanties by heart.

Studying maritime history and sailing techniques across cultures and history.

“Be gay do crime.”

Shirts with flowy sleeves and open necklines.

Not being afraid to get into aggressive verbal back-and-forths with anyone, especially regarding your passions.

Reading Romantic poetry about the sea and your heart skipping a beat.

Carrying your change in a leather or fabric pouch instead of your wallet.

Tall boots!

Haunting the locar bars with your posse of companions; drunkenly singing your favourite drinking songs and shanties.

Wanting to have a sword, or a collection of swords, but only having a dagger or a knife if anything.

Speaking of, ornate knives and daggers!

Studying historical combat techniques, especially those used by pirates and sailors.

Learning how to forage on the seashore, or whatever shores are available; studying the flora and fauna near that body of water.

Pirating pirate movies and picking apart their historical inaccuracies but enjoying them regardless.

Learning how to sail and then taking your friends on a sailboat ride on the nearest body of water; going alone with nothing but food and a good book to read.

Getting the sublime beaten into you by the sight of massive waves on a stormy sea.

Doing your homework on the beach or near a port, longing for an adventure.

#dark academia #light academia #chaotic academia #dark academia aesthetic #punk academia #pirate academia #piratecore

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poetswiss77 · 3 years

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The Best Sun Visors to guard You from Sunshine Damage

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#visors cap #sunscreen #sunshape hat #hat #summer hat #anti-uv hat

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