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zephyrchama · 2 months

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Obey Me! brothers and an MC with long hair...

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It drives Lucifer crazy. He's constantly asking you to clean the shower drain and nagging at you to either pull it back while studying or cut it short. His tune changes at night, when there's a chance to unwind with his favorite record. One hand cups a glass of Demonus while the other idly runs through your hair. He'll brush his fingers through it to the tune of his music. He'll grab a fistful of it and let his imagination run wild. The next morning he's back to complaining about the drain again and dropping a scrunchie on your head.

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It's such a distraction for Mammon. He'll drape your hair across his shoulders like a scarf or hold it up to his lips like a fake mustache to make you laugh. He'll bury his face in it to escape from the world when his brothers find a new reason to be mad at him. He'll tug on it if he feels you're not paying enough attention to him. Mammon enjoys wrapping your hair around his fingers and rings. He's very possessive over it. He has a habit of sticking stuff in it like a mischievous little boy, but instead of gum he'll plant flowers and leaves in your hair, then kick back and watch as you dig out a mirror to see what he's stuck on your head this time.

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Leviathan has a hoard of anime-themed hair accessories that don't suit him. He only bought them for collection purposes, but now that you're around he's always looking for an excuse for you to wear one. It's too adorable. He's mesmerized over the way your hair bounces and sways in pigtails, versus how elegant you can look when a high bun exposes your neck. He wants photos of them all. If you sit in front of him, Leviathan will comb his dexterous fingers through your hair and ask to style it. He enjoys the smell of your shampoo lingering on his hand and on the accessories he lends you.

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Satan idly plays with your hair while he reads or spaces out. Most of the time he doesn't realize he's doing it. It does irk him when he finds a stray hair in the pages of his book, or on his clothes, but he doesn't vocalize it like Lucifer does. He'll take matters into his own hands. You'll find Satan randomly tying up your hair without warning, then look all smug admiring his own handiwork. The elastic hair ties he keeps in his pocket for you double as toys for any playful stray he spots on the street. If you have a hair out of place then Satan will tuck it back for you, slowly smoothing it out while making intense eye contact.

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You never knew how many hairstyles existed until you met Asmodeus. He frequently asks to try out new ideas and products with your hair. He comes to brush it when he wants to vent. Spa days are his way of bonding, wherein he'll wrap your long hair up in a towel and wrap his arms around you while it dries. Asmodeus is addicted to the feeling of it, freshly combed, falling across his skin. He uses your hair as an excuse to touch you and will match your shampoo scents with his. You have to admit the feel of his nails against your scalp is incredibly relaxing, and his intuition for fashion is never wrong. He loves watching you admire his work in the mirror while singing his praises.

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It worries Beelzebub. He worries your hair will get stuck on something, as he's had to help you untangle it from a hook more than once. He worries someone will use it to hurt you, as he's seen Mammon pull it to tease you. He worries it will get in the food, since he's choked on a long strand before. Whenever you're in the kitchen, asking Beel to tie your hair back is a good way to distract him until the food is done, as long as you don't use a fruit-scented shampoo. When you do, it's fun to have him guess what fruit you smell like and compare it to the real thing. Beelzebub is always conscious of your safety and won't hesitate to put a protective hand on the back of your head if you're walking past a low tree branch or leaning over a pot of oil. He's trying to learn to braid for you.

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Belphegor finds it annoying to wake up with a mouthful of your long hair. It's pretty, but he hates getting his hands tangled in it while he naps, or finding strands of it on his sheets. If it didn't smell so good he'd have already cut it for you. His solution is to buy you soft hooded pajamas. He thinks it's cute to button a big plush hood (think of kigurumi) around your head and tuck the hair inside it. Sometimes he gets really ugly ones because they're funny. Then he has no problem using your head as his personal headrest. He likes rubbing your head because of the expressions you make. The only downside to these hoods is that he can't enjoy your messy bedhead, so he makes sure to take them off for you, too.

#i didn't proofread this i hope it doesn't suck. i'm gonna go brush my hair now.#also there's no yellow text now? i had to find an html generator for yellow dashes. where did the yellow text option go.#obey me #obey me!#omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanon #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me x mc #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me scenarios #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me x reader

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pseudowho · 2 months

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Deadly Nightshade

(help me find the Suguru artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

A Suguru Geto "sex pollen" fic.

Suguru swallows an aphrodisiac curse, and finds the reader when his entanglement becomes too much to bear.

Warnings: *MONSTERFUCKING*, Loss of control (Suguru), rough but consensual, throat-fucking, Suguru's cursed technique...but sexy, tentacle shibari, cum as cure

(AU!Adult Suguru who never left Jujutsu High timeline)

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"Will be late home. It's a big one. Go to sleep without me, baby. You'll be tired."

Suguru finished tapping, looking up to the abandoned industrial site with wary interest, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He felt beckoned into this concrete jungle in a way he found unsettling; the Curse was clearly disguising its true potential, hiding in plain sight...but calling in back-up (likely Nanami or Higuruma at this time of day) would only put them at risk. And, they were tired.

With an internal spiteful sting at having lost his evening with you, which Suguru suppressed, black eyes flat and expressionless, he stepped onwards into the plunging lush foliage and exposed steel beams.

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Suguru's apologetic text filled you with disappointed longing. Loneliness and worry quashed your appetite. All your hopes and plans for a soft, touch-filled evening curled up on the sofa with him, were wiped.

Sighing, lovelorn and resigned, you took yourself to bed, your face snuffled into Suguru's pillow and the soft-spiced smell of him, to lull you into sleep.

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Suguru staggered through the door, leaning back to close it, gasping, sweating, clawing his jacket and shirt off his body. He burned from within, like the nine circles of hell.

After swallowing the curse, the roiling forest had disappeared with it...but Suguru soon felt its many limbs stretching within him, caressing the deepest parts of him, blighting him with this ungodly pain--

--no...not pain, Suguru thought vaguely, now naked except for his hakama, beads of sweat dripping from chest to belly as he teetered towards the bathroom. White-knuckled hands clasped the sink-- Suguru caught himself in the mirror, ripples of desire thrumming through him with every frantic beat of his heart, his raven hair free of its tie and framing febrile eyes--

Suguru retched, his shoulders heaving with exertion, retching again, his rigid cock crushed against his thigh as he collapsed forwards, seeping pre-cum and shaking and moaning, thinking of you in your bed you in your bed you in your bed--

Out of control I'm out of control got to take it back got to--

Something in Suguru snapped.

The lights flickered out one by one, from bathroom to corridor, as an eldritch forest clawed its way back out of him.

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You awoke in a fever dream, your sigh condensing and hanging heavy and humid in the earthy hushhushhush of a tropical forest, teeming with life.

What a strange dream, you thought. You did not notice how this set you apart from true dreamers, who would not find anything unusual about waking on a bed of moss and monstera. The duvet felt warm and springy with foliage beneath your fingertips, your toes, your body.

You had slept, and these uncanny tropics had grown up around you. Not one surface was free of queerly animated vines, yawning tropical flowers, and thick verdant leaves. Unable to see where one room began and another ended, your little home suddenly stretched for miles and closed in on you all at once.

You stepped gingerly off the bed, your feet settling on dewy leaves, splitting the fine low mist that clouded there. As you stepped to the doorway, you did not feel the hissing black tendrils, more creature of the deep than plant, that reached longingly after your feet.

Led only by curious patches of bioluminescence, eerie and golden, you moved to the living room, blinking, certain you were ill. A familiar voice, soft and dangerous, came forth from the shadows.

"You're awake. Good. I'd have fucked you while you slept, but they wanted you squirming."

With a gasp and a cry, you felt yourself become intangibly bound and suspended, feeling the rush of smooth tendrils snaking around your chest and bare thighs, wrists and ankles. Wrists tied behind your back, and legs folded up until your heels touched the backs of your thighs, your legs spread, you hung at face level to Suguru, who stalked out from a patch of hazy light.

Suguru had always held a haunting grace, a soft, untouchable masculinity, an unwavering abstract sensitivity. But, approaching you now, his black eyes were flat, sharklike, predatory. He had not hunted you, but had, instead, waited for you on the outskirts of his web.

In only his hakama, fine black tendrils tattooed his skin, animating him as he panted, desperate and sweating. The tendrils seemed to be soothing him, stroking, constantly moving over his rigid cock, his chest, his throat. As your own tendrils began to offshoot from the black wet-velvet vines that bound you, creeping under your clothes, circling round your nipples and creeping towards your core, a whimper broke free from your throat.

"Shhhhh, shh, shh, I need you wet if you're gonna do this for me, sweetheart."

Suguru stepped to you as if you catch your voice in his hands, sliding one finger into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. He shivered in contrary to the inferno inside him, gripping his weeping cock with a roughened moan. As Suguru stroked your tongue, he reached down to undo his hakama, letting the coiling vines pull them from his body.

Suguru pressed against you now, lifting your top so he could rut his weeping cock against your belly, still examining your mouth with his fingers. You felt them tremble against your tongue. The last shreds of your Suguru were the only thing holding him back from taking you with bruising force. The vines coiled through your top, your underwear, shredding, removing, until you were naked, suspended, entwined.

Suguru's black eyes feasted on you, one hand stroking his cock with an iron grip, pre-cum wetting his fingers, and the other hand grazing over you, stroking the peaks of your breasts, your ribs, slipping between your puffy lips to see how ready you were for him. Carnal instinct took over, and he pressed himself back against you, his cock leaping in his hand.

Suguru shivered again, skin to skin with you. He knew, instinctively, that the itch at the base of his skull would not-- could not-- become dormant until he had completely spent himself inside you.

"You know I wouldn't ask more of you than I know you can take," Suguru cooed, soft and persuasive against your lips. You felt a tendril slip over your mound, slipping between your wet folds and coiling snugly around your clit, massaging it, rolling it. You mewled into Suguru's mouth, and he swallowed it down hungrily, kissing your sighs and whimpers off your lips.

"Oh fuck, baby-- you feel so wet--"

With a jolt, you realised that Suguru's hands clasped you by the hips, nowhere near your core.

"You can't feel tha-- how can you--" Suguru bit your lip, punishingly hard and you squeaked as the tendril that pleasured you so tenderly squeezed your clit in reprimand, simultaneously.

"They're mine," Suguru hissed, "just like every godforsaken curse I swallow," and he pulled you lower so your core settled on his cockhead, the vines acting in symbiosis with him to drag your thighs apart, "just like you're mine. And you'll help me...won't you?"

You felt a thicker tendril snake up the inside of your thigh, ghosting at your entrance. With savage force and a growl of warning, Suguru ripped it aside, pressing his cockhead inside you just enough to prevent any other intrusions.

Suguru's orgasm hit him with obscene force and he collapsed into you, stuttering his hips just once, before cumming with a shout, his seed spattering into your entrance and puffy lips, dripping down your bound thighs in thick white streams. Suguru's moans elongated into staccato whimpers, before descending into a hiss of unbridled rage.

"That did fucking nothing," he growled, tangling his fingers into your hair, yanking your head to the side, sinking his sharp canines into the front of your throat. His cockhead still leapt just inside you, spurting weak trickles of cum, and Suguru almost cried to feel absolutely no relief from the burning need throbbing through his body.

You felt the vines squeeze around you, your nipples clamped and rolled until tears filled your eyes with ethereal blurred lights. Suguru reached his long arms behind you, grasping the tops of your shoulders to slam you down against him, impaling you, gasping and wildly overstimulated, onto his cum-lubricated cock.

The tendril rolling and flicking over your clit picked up speed, and you came, twisting against your restraints, crying Suguru's name. Suguru stared hungrily down to where he bottomed out in your pussy, watching and feeling it clench around his cock with shuddering bliss.

As the tendrils continued to work on your nipples and clit, your pleasure becoming frantic and painful, making you squirm and pull away from them, Suguru landed a stinging slap to your arse.

"Fucking take it. What good are you if you can't milk this thing out of me? More." Suguru lifted you just once, cruelly slamming you down again, warning you against your squirming, needing beyond need for you to clench around him again.

"Suguru-- please-- it's too much--" Your needy cries broke off into agonal gasps as you came again and Suguru's head dropped back, jaw slack as he felt your pussy clench and contract, sucking cum from him, surely enough to relieve him, surely--

"No, I-- no--" he panted, his eyes frantic, watching his seed leak out of you, now floppy and malleable in your corseting vines. Digging both hands into his hair, scratching at his own scalp, then moving his fingertips to his tongue to suck them with a ragged groan, Suguru grasped at straws for any stimulation to purge him of this monstrous need.

As he gripped himself, clutching and agonised, his eyes feverish, you could only moan stunted little moans as the vines around you lifted and dropped you, thrusting you savagely onto Suguru's length, still impossibly hard. You leaned forwards, kissing Suguru with urgency, trying to claw him back to you as his vines fucked you against him. He nipped at you, biting, no longer the gentle man you knew.

"Not hard enough-- shit, you can-- can do better than that--"

Finding some strength again, Suguru's hands dropped to your hips, kneading the plush fat there, trying to squeeze you around him, and he added to the strength of his vines, lifting and slamming you back onto him.

So lost were you both in chasing his release, neither of you noticed the forest around you gradually withering, fading and dying. The bioluminescence waxed and waned, throwing strange, marionette shadows around the room.

You were thankful for the embrace of the vines, unable to count how many times you had peaked from the constant stimulation of vines, masturbating you while Suguru kept your cunt and belly constantly filled. Suguru gasped and murmured into your neck, all unintelligible, unreasonable demands of you, and pleas for release.

As Suguru came with a ragged cry again, filling your aching pussy to the sound of wet, squelching thrusts, you felt the tendrils around your breasts and clit wither away, leaving your buds swollen and tender.

Suguru could barely stand, supported by a few remaining vines, still staring into you, so hungry but so spent. You felt him pull his cock out of you, dripping with his own seed, and you cried out to feel his cock replaced by a thick-tipped vine, pressing against your cervix, shunting his seed up into your belly.

Suguru's eyes rolled back to feel this bizarre vicarious pleasure, lazily letting the vine thrust his cum back into you, as the others twisted you, tilting so your back was parallel to the floor, your head tipped back, mouth level with his cock, still so red and aching.

"Is your throat tighter than your pussy?" Suguru pondered aloud, drunk and swaying with divine ecstasy as he fingered the sides of your jaw, slapping his cockhead against your lips and tongue. When you stuck out your tongue invitingly, swiping its tip across Suguru's slit, he gasped, shuddering and gritting his teeth.

"Let's find out," Suguru hissed, sliding his cock into your mouth, letting you taste your combined arousal, before thrusting with an injured moan into your throat, squeezing you, feeling the ridges of his cock move inside you as you gagged around him.

Pulling out enough to let you breathe, Suguru gripped you by the head and neck, grunting as he rutted into you, his pleasure doubled by his vine fucking his cum back into your pussy. Suguru's eyes fixed, fascinated, on the wet slip of this extra appendage inside you, how you reflexively humped against it as if it was his cock, how you mewled and whimpered at its intrusive tenderness.

As you twitched and shuddered, convulsing with overstimulation, Suguru came for the last time in a soundless gasp, his knees almost buckling beneath him as wave after wave of please rolled through him, washing away the dreadful, burning itch running through his brain and spine, leaving him exhausted, but finally un-fogged, finally in control.

With little warning, you were released from your bounds, and Suguru caught you, cradling you against him, and lowering you with a fractured groan to the floor. He sunk onto you, his mouth on your neck in prayer, kissing and soothing, blessing you with his relief.

"Would've died," he insisted, kissing your hair, your eyes, your nose, spooning you against him as the last remnants of this unwelcome forest embered away, rising like ashes on rising heat to fade into the night, "would've died-- died if you hadn't--"

You shushed Suguru, plaiting his fingers with yours across your chest as he shivered and heaved against you.

"Not...not your fault," you yawned, leaning into his kisses, "but like I keep telling you...you can't eat all of your problems away." Suguru laughed softly, nuzzling you.

"No...can fuck them away though, apparently."

Sticky and intertwined together on the floor, Suguru surveyed the cracked floorboards, the walls rended by vines, and trickles of damp running down from the ceiling. Lips puckering in dread against your neck, Suguru whispered.

"What, uhm...what do we tell the home insurance company?"

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By far the most unhinged thing I've ever written. I'll see myself out.

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charliemwrites · 5 months

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Part 5 of Obsessive!johnny

(CW: extremely dubious consent; I’d go so far as to say straight non-con. No violence. Please be safe, beans! 💕)

It’s your own fault - or no. That’s a dangerous way of thinking it not your fault. But you got complacent. Got desensitized to that looming sense of danger, the threat hiding in the shadow of his eyes. That little voice in the back of your head became background noise, not the guide it used to be.

All it took was a slip of your carefully crafted mask understanding Johnny’s “love” for you. Just one careless comment, a tone too honest.

You don’t even remember what you said now. Just that the feverish light in his eyes changed instantly. Like a shift in sunlight through colored glass. What frightened you was how his expression changed, shut down hard. His jaw tensing, brows going deceptively smooth.

“Is all this not enough for you?” he asks, taking big, measured steps towards you.

You start backing up, heart tripping over itself. “That’s not-“

“How many ways do you need me to prove it, hm?” he asks. “I’ve apologized a hundred times, bonnie, haven’t I? Is that not enough for you? I’m still not worth it to you?”

You put your hands up, all your carefully crafted and scripted responses fleeing in the face of this new, unfamiliar Johnny. He’s - he’s angry at you. Not because of you, or for you, but at you.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” he continues, low voice wavering with something frightening. “Do you know how hard it is, seeing you cry for a life that wasn’t good enough for you? Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been trying?”

You swallow thickly, try to rally your scrambled thoughts. He just working himself up more and more and that voice that fell so quiet is screaming now. So loud it’s hard to make your mouth work.

“I-I know. I’m sorry,” you manage. “Im just… I lost my temper and said something I didn’t mean…”

His eyes narrow. “Oh, no, hen. I think you meant it.”

He up close to you now, barely a centimeter of space between your bodies. The heat of him is suffocating. You’ve never been so aware of how much bigger than you he is. It thrilled you when he’d loom over you at the bar, cocky confidence and easy smiles.

You meet his eyes.

And for a moment, he softens. You have the briefest golden flicker of hope.

And then he sighs. Deep and resigned. Your stomach flips.

“It’s my fault,” he mutters finally, shaking his head. “Haven’t been treating you right, have I?”

You don’t dare answer.

“Treating you like you’re one thing when you’re really everything.”

You open your mouth, try to speak, to reason with him. He just shushes you with a hand on your cheek, thumb pressing your lips closed.

“Always spoiling you like the princess you are, when sometimes you need to be treated like a slut.”

He jerk’s you around and shoves you onto the bed, plants a big hand between your shoulder blades and presses.

“Soap!”

“Hush up, baby, it’s alright. You don’t have to pretend to be all prim and proper,” he soothes, knocking your feet apart. “I don’t think any less of you for needing cock. Only natural.”

Your underwear rips like wet paper, accompanied by your high-pitched squeal of alarm. He makes a low, rough noise. Pure, animal lust. The fabric of his pants chafes against the backs of your thighs.

“Oh, there she is,” he purrs, “just like I thought.”

You cry out as rough fingers drag through your slit, gathering the slick you can’t believe is leaking from you.

“I’ve been so bad to you, bonnie, not treating you the way you need. No wonder you got all fussy and snappy.” The hazy thought that he might not he talking to you at all anymore burns through you. When you shift, trying to close your legs self-consciously, a sharp slap to your clit collapses your knees.

“We’re gonna set you right, babygirl,” he growls. “Won’t be able to worry your pretty little head anymore.”

He plunges two fingers into you without preamble. The stretch is vicious, but it doesn’t hurt. Not really. You’re too wet. Still, you scream - because Johnny’s spent so many hours playing with you, learning you, that he knows exactly where to press and curl and rub his fingers.

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, tears already collecting in your eyes because he’s being mean about it, twisting to grind his thumb against your clit. It’s too much, you’re not ready no matter what your body says. “Soap, don’t- ngh!”

“Gonna show you why you’re better off here. Right here. Gonna give this pretty cunt what it needs.”

The third finger is a stretch. You try to get away, try to crawl onto the bed to run, but he stomps a boot onto the chain around your ankle and flattens you to the mattress.

“Keep pretending if you want, baby,” he murmurs, “I know what you really need now.”

He’s withdrawing his fingers while you’re still pleading and babbling. You’re horrified to realize you don’t know if you want them back. It doesn’t matter though. Because Johnny’s cock is splitting you open before you can decide, thicker and longer than you’ve ever taken. He curses and groans as he pushes into you, inch by hot inch. Until you feel the fat leaking head tap at your cervix and he grinds, balls kissing your clit.

“T-too much!” you sob. “‘S too much!! Johnny, Johnny, please!”

Heat floods you as he shudders, hips jerking hard and rough. By your head, his fist is white-knuckled in the sheets.

“Did… did you just…?”

“Say my name again,” he snarls.

You blink wetly. “W-wha…?”

“Say. It. Again.” Each word punctuated by a brutal thrust. Something drips down your thigh.

“J-Johnny,” you keen, trying to beg for mercy.

“Jus’ like that.” He’s still hard. Still so fucking hard it’s like you’ve been edging him for hours. Like he didn’t just flood your poor pussy with cum.

“Been dreaming of you saying my name. Haven’t all this time,” he pants, rocking into you hard and fast. Any semblance of restraint is long gone. “Now I know why. Finally fuckin’ earned it. Gonna keep earnin’ it from now on.”

He fucks you so hard the bed leaves dents in the wall. Forces a hand beneath your pelvis to pinch your clit between two fingers and hurtles you shrieking into an orgasm. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause for a single beat. Just hitches your knee up onto the mattress and somehow fucks into your harder, faster, deeper. His fingers rub cruel circles into your oversensitive clit and you burn.

“No, no, wait, Johnny- ah! No, I’m gonna - it feels like-”

Wet heat gushes from you, spilling down your thighs, all over the bed and floor. You - you -

“Fuck, you squirted everywhere, good fuckin’ girl, princess.” He slows just a bit, presumably to appreciate the mess you’ve made. You’re too far gone on shock and awful pleasure to do more than sniffle and hiccup pathetically.

And then a death sentence.

“Do it again.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #obsessive johnny

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incorrectbatfam · 5 months

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Do the batfamily members ever get too into their undercover work? (Undercover in an office and theyre worried about spreadsheets, working in a warehouse and coming home complaining about missing parts)

Bruce: Status updates on your undercover missions. Dick, you first. What have you got down at the docks?

Dick: I haven't confirmed the Killer Croc sightings yet, but more importantly, our catch hasn't been measuring up to last year's. Tuna we're doing okay on, but the salmon population seems to be on the low end. I've contacted the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries but it'll be another 3-5 business days before they can come down and check it out.

Bruce: At least you're doing something to help. Jason?

Jason: Class was okay. I think the kids are warming up to me as their substitute while Mrs. Maloney is out on maternity leave. The average on the last vocabulary quiz was 83.53% so either I'm doing my job right or they need to be challenged. I'm worried about Tristan Lancy, though. He's normally a good student but his grades have been dropping recently and his parents don't seem like safe people to tell. I'll talk to him tomorrow and try to pair him up with a peer tutor if he needs it.

Bruce: Also see if he has any alternate contacts besides his parents. Tim, any updates at the chemical plant?

Tim: If by updates you mean OSHA violations, I could go on all week. We got a batch of new recruits today and they were just thrown into the work—no PPE, no safety training, nothing. This is what happens when you place production over employee well-being. I'm gonna file a complaint after this meeting. Also, I think the union will have something to say about the manager cutting people's lunch breaks short.

Bruce: I see. Damian? Please tell me you found something volunteering at the zoo.

Damian: Depends on how you define "found." While I have not obtained evidence of a mutant larvae black market, I did help some of the animals at the sanctuary make progress with their recovery. Bobo the monkey is healing from his broken arms and we're gradually getting him re-acclimated to climbing higher surfaces. Suzie the black bear was born a little prematurely but seems to be catching up to her peers in terms of growth. Lastly, we got a grant for additional wildcat research and enrichment. As an aside, we are having an educational seminar on European mountain goats this Friday at 3:30 and I expect all of you to be there.

Bruce: I'll put that on our calendars. Steph?

Steph: It's not really undercover work for me, just work. Anyway, yes the newest Batburger location is being used for money laundering. But I really need to vent about the customers for a sec. We don't open until 10 and at 9:30 this morning some moron was banging on our door demanding Jokerized cheese fries. Then right in the middle of the lunch rush, Janie got sick so I had to fill in as the cashier and it was hell. After that, I had to step in between a fight at the drive-thru because the customer claimed we only gave him nine pieces of his ten-piece Robin nuggets and tried to beat up the kid who took his order. And to top it all off, an entire high school hockey team came in five minutes before closing.

Bruce: Cass?

Cass, blowing balloons: Can't talk. Arranging bat mitzvah.

Bruce: Duke, you're my last hope.

Duke: Margie's bringing a peanut butter chocolate cake to the bake sale. I swiped her recipe and we can easily beat her. Her ganache is way too watery and just runs off the top of the cake, which isn't even leveled. She's also trying to do something with a raspberry filling that isn't working at all. It's like she couldn't decide on what to bring. The bake sale committee also asked if we can bring some apple pies because the original baker has to go out of town for a family emergency. I think we'll win if we bring them with some ice cream and a touch of caramel, even though this isn't a contest.

Bruce: Thank you. At least our most critical case has been taken care of.

Barbara: ...I'll save my book launch for later.

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palipunk · 6 months

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do you know anything about native wildlife or plant life in palestine? particularly interested in primates because that's always what i'm most interested in but i'd really like to know more about what the animals and plants native to the land are like. what they were like pre israeli occupation and what sort of animal and plant life will need repairing when palestine is free. i hear a lot about the people and the human palestinian culture and it's wonderful but it's difficult for me to find anything regarding nonhuman life and i would like to learn more about it.

Honestly, the topic of Palestinian wildlife and its intersection with colonialism has been something that has increased a lot over the past couple of years. I can't offer anything about primate species (Palestine doesn't have any) but we do have lots and lots of very cool native animals like Gazelle and Caracal and Sand foxes and lots of bats and gerbils and snakes.

The Palestine Wildlife Society actually has a website with lists of all the animals found in Palestine and what level of conservation status they are at (plus the Arabic names): https://www.wildlife-pal.org/en

The Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics also reported back in 2012 that:

There are about 51,000 living species (flora and fauna) in historical Palestine, constituting approximately 3% of global biodiversity. In the West Bank and Gaza Strip there are an estimated 30,904 animal species, consisting of an estimated 30,000 invertebrates, 373 birds, 297 fish, 92 mammals, 82 reptiles, and 5 amphibians. Recent studies on birds in Palestine indicated that there are 373 species, which represent 23 Orders, 69 families, 21 Subfamilies, and 172 genera. The country also hosts 2,850 species of plants from 138 families.

And also added in 2014:

Israeli Violations are the main causes of Biodiversity deterioration Based on 2012 data from ARIJ Research Institute, the Expansion and Annexation Wall has a total length of about 780 kilometers, of which 61% has been completed. The route of the Wall has isolated 680 km2 of Palestinian land between the Wall and the Green Line, comprising approximately 12.0% of the West Bank. This land comprises about 454 km2 of agricultural, pasture land and open areas, 117 km2 that were confiscated for Israeli settlements and military bases, 89 km2 of forest and 20 km2 Palestinian built-up land. During 2013, more than eight thousand dunums of land were confiscated from Palestinians and more than 15 thousand horticultural trees were destroyed, causing considerable damage to the Palestinian environment and biodiversity.

The Israeli settlements and military bases also contribute in the biodiversity deterioration since there were 482 Israeli settlements and military bases in the West Bank at the end of 2013 contained around 563,546 settlers at the end of 2012. Climate change is the most important natural factor that contributes to biodiversity degradation in Palestine. More animal and plant species have become under serious threat of becoming rare due to low rainfall, high temperatures, and the changing characteristics of the four seasons, in which drought is creeping into winter and spring.

The mountain Gazelle is currently endangered and this is due mostly to the building of roads and fences as well as predation and collisions with cars (the article also references the building of housing units in Mitzpeh Nafto'ah, which one of the areas where, in 2012, Israeli developers wanted to 'build up Jerusalem'). As of 2015, there were around 2,000 identified Gazelles within the Palestinian territories and historic Palestine. The mountain Gazelle look like this:

There have also been efforts for plant conservation in Palestine like the Iris Atrofusca, which has an extremely fragile population and is found almost exclusively within Palestine - a botanical garden was established for this particular Iris in the North Eastern Slopes of Palestine and in 2021, 120 clones of Iris Atrofusca were planted. Here is what they look like:

(also very interesting, sheep do not eat it!)

Probably most famous is the extinction of the Palestinian Crocodile, the last rhetorical circulation to 1935. Elizabeth Bentley wrote a great piece on it, you can read the full PDF on the Institute of Palestine Studies website or the edited (with permission) one published to Science for the People Magazine, I copied a segment from the latter here:

Colonial zoologists and collectors saw and appreciated Palestine’s bountiful plants and animals as objects of scientific inquiry. This scientific appreciation was inextricable from imperialist ambitions and the drive for profit. There were no wildlife protection laws in Palestine until 1924, which was after crocodiles’ likely regional extinction, and even then, the laws were loosely enforced. Colonial zoologists not only observed and wrote about Palestinian animals in their natural habitat. These zoological works were one of extraction and commodification. Euphemistically termed processes of “collection” involved a network of human and nonhuman actors, whereby colonial zoologists hunted and killed Palestinian animals, studied them, and transported their remains overseas. Disemboweled, stuffed with wire and flax, and then displayed in glass cases, Palestinian animals were reanimated as spectacles for the viewing pleasure of museumgoers in London and Berlin. While aligned with the broader trends in colonial zoology, the allure of the last Palestinian crocodile surpassed the confines of scientific inquiry; it adapted a symbolic, even mythical quality. Colonial zoologists’ ongoing speculation about Palestinian crocodile extinction necessitated a degree of willful (or internalized) unknowing about Palestine and Palestinians. Colonial zoologists were heavily dependent on Palestinians’ ecological expertise. Despite this, their writings convey mistrust and condescension toward Palestinians, along with a detachment from how local populations lived alongside Palestinian ecology. Colonial scientific literature on Palestinian animals frequently perpetuated the racist, historically inaccurate outlook of “science for the West, myth for the rest.” Yet colonialist writings on the last Palestinian crocodile reflected their own symbolic attachments and investment in mythical thinking.

So there is a lot of work to do in regard to animal and plant conservation and several extinct animals I didn't bring up here but It is a deep dive and goes a lot farther than a lot of people consider. The Palestine Wildlife Society has a massive catalog and I hope you look through it!

#palestine #free palestine #wildlife #plants #animals #gorillawithautism

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flawseer · 7 months

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On Mudwing Culture

My last deliberation on Seawings and their eccentric insult vocabulary seemed to be well-received, so here is another one of my headcanons:

Mudwings are seriously into food.

I know, pretty revolutionary take when there is only a handful of named Mudwing characters, and two of them love eating so much that it either almost or entirely eclipses their personality.

But Clay and Ochre are not what I am talking about. This isn’t about a love of eating (though many Mudwings admittedly do have that). I’m suggesting that, out of all the tribes from Pyrrhia, Mudwings are at the forefront of food preparation and culinary innovation, to the point where a large part of their culture revolves around it.

The State of Food Preparation on the Continent

Pyrrhia as a conglomerate of different cultures largely sustains its populations through hunting and gathering. The average dragon, when the hunger pangs set in, will make a hasty trip into the nearest forest, cave, or scavenger den and round up some prey animals. In most cases, this prey will go straight from the talons to the mouth, or, if the hunter is a bit more forward-thinking, into the pantry, and then from talons to the mouth.

There are a few variations of this practice; Skywings may give the carcass a quick roast on an open flame before eating it, Sandwings may dry the meat out so the excess moisture does not upset their internal water balance, Rainwings will prefer fruit over meat. Icewings will nearly always consume their prey raw and unseasoned, as their extremely delicate palate is easily overwhelmed by intense flavors that may be released through cooking.

More complex forms of food preparation seem to exist mostly outside the scope of the general populace. The practice of “cooking” appears to be limited to the ranks of aristocracy, with dedicated cooks only found within the court of a queen or in private households of other high-born individuals. It creates a sharp divide between commoners and social elites, between the wealthy and (as Sea Queen Coral once put it so succinctly) the “eel-eating masses”. All exemplified through the differing standards of food.

And yet somehow, standing in stark contrast to everywhere else on the continent, nearly every Mudwing-- from the most low-born runts of the Diamond Spray Delta to the most decorated head advisors in the Queen’s palace --knows how to cook, and will do so regularly.

Why is that, and how did it happen?

Historical Benefits of Cooking

Most things that form the backbone of a culture usually start with some ancient practice that was useful at some point in time and then, as people kept doing it, eventually got absorbed into public awareness and became “the way things are done”.

Mudwings face a unique challenge compared to anyone else, as they are the only tribe whose combat prowess is significantly affected by their environment, specifically climate, weather, and temperature. Sure, you can take any dragon, drop them into an unfavorable climate, and they will generally perform worse than under normal circumstances. But the unique weakness of Mudwings is that they lose their breath weapon when they get too cold. Place an Icewing into a burning room and they will still be able to use their frost breath. Pluck a Sandwing from their dry environment and drop them into the humid, sweltering hell of the jungle, their natural weapons will still function. But make a Mudwing cower between two piles of snow for a while, and their internal fire will go out quickly.

As you might imagine, this is a bit of a liability when you have to defend your territory from Skywings hiding and scheming among the frozen peaks bordering your country.

So the ancient Mudwings had to figure out a solution to their conundrum, and what they came up with was this: They got a large pot and filled it with water, threw in all manner of meats, plants, and herbs, whatever they could find where they were holed up, then boiled it until it was good and filling. The hot food in their bellies helped them stay warm even at high altitudes and allowed them to stand their ground against the northwestern invaders.

Soon it became tradition for troops to share a hotpot the night before battle, and a rich variety of hearty broths and stews developed from there, as these were simple to make from scraps and could be reheated easily. The practice became so popular, the Mudwings kept doing it even during peacetime. Soon, in addition to the hunting of prey animals that was commonplace, Mudwings began to cultivate vegetable gardens to have access to a more stable supply of ingredients. Eventually, their growing understanding of agriculture allowed them to grow rice, which was especially well-suited to the abundance of wetlands found in their territory. Everyone was cooking now.

The Role of Food in Mudwing Society

If you ask several Mudwings which core values represent their tribe best, many would likely put forward some variation of “camaraderie”, “family”, or “loyalty to your sibs”. They are a very social people who form deep bonds with those whom they grew up with, and one of the most direct ways to grow close to someone is to share your meals with them every day. As such, the preparation and consumption of food is a vital part in maintaining cohesion between members of a Mudwing sibling group.

Every one of these groups will have a “Bigwings”, which is understood to be a combination of a leader and caretaker role. The Bigwings is aware of all of their sibs’ culinary preferences and needs and has all of the troop’s recipes memorized. When mealtime approaches, he or she makes the call on what kind of dish will be prepared and delegates roles and tasks to the troop. This is a daily exercise that builds the Bigwings’ authority and communication skills, and reinforces trust and familiarity between all siblings.

Next to the Bigwings is the Gatherer, which historically was a role assigned to one or more troop members who foraged for wild vegetables or hunted more prey if the previous communal hunt did not yield enough. While this is still true today, many Gatherers also maintain a garden or wet patch to source fresh vegetables or grain for meals.

And lastly there is the Communicator, which is a role usually assigned to the most social and charismatic sibling. The Communicator is vital for coordinating battle strategies with other troops, which, while very important, is not really all that relevant for this deliberation. What is relevant however, is the role they fulfill during peacetime, which is to set up joint meals between two or more sibling groups. This practice is critical for maintaining morale, as doing this regularly helps expand the troop’s palette and keep their Bigwings inspired. That way the troop’s collection of recipes stays fresh and innovative instead of turning stale and rigid.

Of course how much each troop values culinary exploits varies between individuals. Some Mudwing groups are outspokenly passionate about cooking and advancing their craft. They might view their work as an expression of art and get very upset or offended if you indicate that thinking about food is unimportant or a waste of time. Some extreme cases may even get angry at you if you waste ingredients or refuse to elevate a dish to its fullest potential by not seasoning it well or doing something else to ruin it. Other groups may be more relaxed and casual about food preparation, and a few might even not think about it much at all.

If a Mudwing invites you to dinner, it is paramount to figure out which of these groups they belong to beforehand, so you may get an understanding of how much of a threat this outing may pose to your health, especially if you are an Icewing or Seawing with a limited palate.

Is there any evidence for this in the books?

To my knowledge, there isn't much. Mostly because there isn't much about Mudwings and their culture in general. Across all the books, only one of them has a Mudwing protagonist, and the vast majority of it is spent in the Sky Kingdom, so his roots don't get a lot of exposure. Then whenever another Mudwing comes into the story, they tend to exit it very quickly after, without being able to share more.

I made this theory for myself largely in response to Mudwing culture being such a big question mark. I initially came up with it when I saw a Mudwing gardener in Escaping Peril and thought "That could be a cool direction for the tribe." The guidebook that released recently gave me some additional pointers with regards to a few of the looser points of this theory.

I'm hoping it is interesting, or at the very least entertaining in some way.

#wings of fire #wof #dragon #flawseer talk #digital art #wof art #mudwing #wof headcanon

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kramlabs · 7 months

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HTFU

-equinox to equinox animal biased food tracking experiment challenge

Rough drafts:

Tracking link

What I also will be doing (ymmv):

-Daily Rucking and Sandbag carry (7x)

-Daily Walking (unloaded) (7x)

-sunlight (skin and eyes) (7x)

-heavy compound lifts 2x week [sq and strict press ~3-5 rep max for 2 sets of 3-5, Chin 8x10, plus a BB pump drop set]

-barbell complex workout 1x week

-bike or row sprint intervals (I do one bike interval and one BP interval every morning before rucking) (7x)

-sauna 2-3xweek

#HTFU #cronometer #high animal low plant #paleomedicina #HIIT #SRT #daily ruck #intervals #barbell

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trainwreckweather · 2 years

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#the great depresso #aka sleeping the day away instead of doing the million things on my list bc fuck it #it is so hard to motivate myself to show up in life for no reason at all #it's hard to find joy in waking up and being #it's not that I'm lacking gratitude #my plants are thriving #i have access to good books #i adore my animals #i have three yarn projects going #my h.s. transcripts came in the mail so i can finally call and start the process to my local ged and maybe like... costometology after #pretty aimless in what to do there #and scared to pick up the phone #I have a couple super cherished friends #the only downfall there is that they're so god damn far away #my highs are high and my lows can be empty and sporadic #and now I have the audacity to wake up at 5 pm to mourn the day and it's missed opportunities 😒#there was no point to this I'm just frustrated

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keldabekush · 2 months

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It's Stone's turn at the deskwork tonight and he's a little bit glad about it. His feet hurt and he's sick of the way everything echos in the senate building - the ceilings are so high. He's loosening the fastening clip on his left boot under the desk and marking a file for review with his free hand when Marshal Commander Fox keys open the door.

Stone bashes his shoulder against the desk in his hurry to sit up straight. Fox is already strolling up to the desk and Stone has no time to say anything before he perches himself on the corner and pulls out a crinkly little package.

"Good evening Stone. Do you want a banana chip?"

"I...yeah?"

"Oh i wasn't talking to you. I was talking to her." Fox says, without pausing his careful scrutiny of the bag of dried banana chips

Stone says nothing, because he's confused and he doesn't want Marshal Commander Fox to know that he's confused him. He tries to subtly look behind him in case there is a "her" somehow peering through the window behind him, despite it being hundreds of feet above ground level.

He doesn't manage it before Fox holds out a banana chip to the wad of fabric that's been sitting on the corner of the shared desk since Stone sat down.

Stone is about to turn a devastating raised eyebrow in Commander Fox's direction when the little pile of fabric begins to move, and as he watches on in complete uncomprehension, a teeny tiny little pink hand reaches out and plants itself on the plastic desk top, and then a second, and whatever is in the fabric bag does a luxurious stretch.

Stone is holding his breath for some reason.

A little triangular head with quivering whiskers peeks out, and Commander Fox makes a noise Stone has never heard him make before, like a happy hum or a sort of short laugh.

The thing in the bag slips out into the open to take the banana chip from between his fingers - its a small rodent with four little paws and round ears, with a tidy coat of white and dark brown that makes it looks like it's wearing a little brown jacket with a hood. It eats neatly, holding the banana chip with both of its little pink hands and tucked into a tidy little crouch.

Stone remembers he's not breathed for a minute and does that while Marshal Commander Fox extends the smallest finger on his right hand and brushes the fur behind the thing's ears very gently.

"Sir." He says firmly.

"Stone." He doesnt look at him so Stone can't deploy The Eyebrow, so instead Stone makes his tone as flat as he can.

"Marshal Commander Fox, Sir. What is happening right now. This right here." Stone gestures to encircle the entire tiny scene, "what is this. Explain. Please."

The little creature is leaving tiny banana crumbs beside the Visit Coruscant! keyring Thorn kept on the desk.

"Commander Stone, this is Stone. She's our guest. Would you actually like a banana chip? They're pretty good."

Stone takes one from the bag Fox is holding out to him because its the easiest response. Its crunchy. It is pretty good, actually.

"Hullo, Stone." He says. He's probably asleep at the desk and he'll wake up and tell Thorn about this funny dream.

"She's here because its warmer in the office during the day and she was sounding a bit wheezy. And she likes sleeping when theres company around. Has she been sneezing?"

"No." He answers.

"Ah good. That's better isn't it, little'un?"

He's talking to the animal like it's a first cycle cadet.

"Do you want to hold her?"

What? Oh, that was aimed at him. Stone stares at the thing while Fox picks out another banana chip. It had finished the first treat and was washing its face and whiskers with its tiny paws.

"Sure."

Fox scoops it up like a handful of pudding and drops it into the crook of Stone's arm, and hands it another banana chip. It sits there, vibrating quietly and enjoying its treat while it leaves little banana crumbs on his elbow.

Stone extends the smallest finger of his free hand and smooths the fur between it’s ears. He looks up only after Commander Fox lowers the datapad that had been on the desk and grins at the holo image he's taken. He tucks it under his arm.

"No." Says Stone.

"Yes." Says Fox, plucking the fabric bag off the desk and arranging it into a nest in his palm. He holds out his free hand and makes a "give it here" motion, so Stone carefully transfers the tiny thing to his hand with the same tenderness he would show a live grenade. Fox attempts to tuck it into the nest, but it climbs up his cuirass to nestle up beside his neck instead and he just makes that weird noise again.

"Bye, Stone."

"Goodbye, Commander. Goodbye, Stone."

And like that the door closes behind them and Stone is alone in the office again, one boot unbuckled and the smell of banana in the air.

He wipes the crumbs off the desk and gets back to his forms.

#commander fox #commander stone #fox's pet rats #fic #kushwrites

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meechlamajor · 29 days

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IF YOU WERE ON UCONN’S WOMENS BASKETBALL TEAM: HEADCANONS

*For this headcanon, we’ll call you Danica*

You’re in your sophomore year, and having a great one so far.

And even though you’re on the younger side, the team often jokes that you’re the mom. Whenever you guys hang out you have everything they could ever need on hand.

Imagine the team is walking around the mall doing some shopping after practice. You straggle behind the group, occupied with your surroundings. Some may call it weird, but you liked to people watch sometimes and they team knew it. That’s just how you were.

You overheard a little of the conversation they were making, it going one in and out the other until you heard Ice complaining about some.

She kissed her teeth, “this tag keep scratching the back of my neck.”

“Here let me pull it off,” KK beamed.

“No”, Ice rolled her eyes, but you chirped up. You carry a tote bag that you’d gotten from a thrift store and you had all sorts of things in there.

“I have some scissors in my bag,” you chimed, catching up with the group. You dug through your bag, and motioning for Ice to lean over so that you could the tag.

“Dani to the rescue,” Nika smiled, nudging your shoulder.

Your walk-out song on First Night would be something to get the crowd hyped up.

Lol if it were me, these would be my top songs:

Shining - DK Khaled (feat. Beyoncé and Jay Z)

Views - Drake (started at 30 seconds)

The beat drop is just too good.

5500 Degrees - EST Gee

HiTek Tek - Future

Handsome and Wealthy - Migos

You and KK are literally besties!

You’ll always make a TikTok with her or get on live. You’re pretty introverted and her goofy personality really brings you out of your shell.

“Dani,” she waved you over. “Come do this TikTok with me.”

You threw your phone down on the couch and got up, pulling your shorts down in the process. “What is it?”

She angled her phone in your direction so that you could see: (https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLMe72Hw/)

It took you maybe 7 minutes to learn, but something as simple as a TikTok was one of your favorite pastimes with KK.

What kind of player are you?

You’re an aggressive player and tough. You’ve never been afraid to show dominance on the court and you love it especially because people tend to underestimate you. You move with grace, elegance, and tenacity, but that’s easy when you’ve been playing for as long as you have. Thanks to your high IQ, you adapt well. Your speed and reflexes are some of your best attributes.

You’re good on the defensive side, but your offense could use some work for sure (despite that you have great court awareness). You’re brilliant at staying low, your footwork is tight, but you don’t get too stiff, and you have active hands.

You’re not an arguer, but you’re not a pushover either. If a call doesn’t feel right to you, then you make it known.

Side note: when you celebrate, you mimic a plane, your arms being the wings.

Your room at the athletic dorms

You take the neutral route, so I think you’d have cream, beige, black, or gray sheets and blankets on your bed. All of your decor would probably follow a similar theme and I can picture a few low maintenance plants in there so you don’t have to worry while on the road. You take pride in your plant babies, trust me. I can see pops of color in there as well. You’ll have a few posters, too. Your bed will have plenty of stuffed animals!

(I love those Murakami flower pillows lol)

The inspiration behind your jersey number

It would definitely be something sentimental, it’s supposed to represent you on the court! Or, maybe it’s just your favorite number.

What your interviews are like

Fans have noticed that you’re really attentive and a good listener. If someone if having trouble with articulating a question of some sort, you try to catch on make sure you’re on the same wavelength. You can almost talk forever if someone really gets you started and you make little jokes to take the edge off. Fans have noticed that sometimes you make little slick comments after a tough loss, especially ones about the refs.

Because you’re being spoken to directly, people get a real glimpse into your personality and your spirit as a person, not just a ball player. Fans also love to watch you interact with Ashlynn (literally my boo i love her sm). You’re interviewed a lot together because you’re magic on the court.

AUTHOR’S NOTE!

i hope u guys liked this! i admire the teams dynamic so much so this one was fun to write. excuse any inaccuracies or errors for this one, i understand basketball at the basic level lol (both of my brothers played d1 though so it’s a shame 💀).

#headcannons #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers #ice brady #ashlynn shade #kk arnold #nika muhl #aaliyah edwards #ines bettencourt #azzi fudd

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adaginy · 3 months

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The Big Guide to Humans: Home Planet

Humans come from a small, rocky planet, called Terra or Earth or some other translation of "dirt," where they lived on the land surface despite the planet being mostly covered (area and volume) by water. They do, however, measure temperature in a scale based approximately on the freezing and boiling points of water (at their average atmospheric pressure), set to 0 and 100. As with "years" (see lifespan and development), your local human can probably tell you the conversion to local measurements, if the knowledge is not in your local storage and the numbers are not being converted automatically by your translation dock. The planet's rotational axis is tilted relative to its orbital plane, resulting in "seasons," a predictable progression of local temperatures between local lows to local highs and back over the course of an orbit, despite its nearly round trajectory. This is in addition to the smaller temperature changes of the day/night cycle. Terran weather temperatures range from -90, below the freezing point of radon, to 60, nearly the boiling point of bromine, though humans mostly live where the weather over the course of a year ranges between -20 to 45.

Humans infamously breathe oxygen, but Terra's atmosphere is actually mostly nitrogen. The 23% oxygen concentration is enough for fires to sustain easily, assuming fuel and initial ignition, but low enough that fires smother nearly immediately when fully covered. Terra's rotation and heat from Sol combine to cause a predictable pattern of convection known as prevailing winds. Winds are often strong enough to move light objects without causing damage, not uncommonly strong enough to make it difficult for humans to move against it, or stronger, and sometimes strong enough to cause damage to buildings. This is in addition to regional threats of "extreme" winds, most notably tornadoes (fast-moving, localized funnels of winds strong enough rip buildings apart and fling heavy objects) and cyclones (weaker than a tornado, but traveling slowly and raining so copiously that shelters are also damaged by water).

Having such copious rain that buildings are damaged can happen outside of a cyclone, as well. While humans can swim surprisingly well for a non-liquid-dwelling species, this water has usually picked up so many contaminants that it is capable of overwhelming a human's immune system if it enters their body via their mouth or damaged skin.

Alternately, little or no water may fall on an area that does not usually experience water scarcity. The resulting "drought" kills plants and animals that cannot be moved. This is less predictable, but takes multiple years to come into effect. A vegetated area facing drought, however, is at particular risk for a wild fire, a fire that becomes too large and fast-moving to be smothered. Areas as big as residential ships can burned before the fire runs out of fuel or is able to be drenched.

Terra's planetary surface is made up of several pieces of "crust" floating on top of its liquid center. At the edges of these pieces, or at cracks in the pieces, huge pieces of crust can be forced upward or buckle under the pressure. Done slowly, so slowly no one notices, this produces mountains. Done quickly, it produces "earth quakes." Some earth quakes can only be sensed by sensors, but others cause buildings to shake apart. Humans know where these edges are and, instead of not building there, they design buildings that are able to resist being shaken. If the locus of the shaking is near or under the ocean, it can cause a fast-moving, towering wave called a "tsunami." An average tsunami is capable of obliterating buildings when it reaches shore, and then sucking any survivors into the ocean when it recedes (with strength far past even the best human swimmers). As with earth quakes, humans design buildings to survive being struck by this wall of water. The same edges and cracks also produce volcanoes, places where the earth's liquid center oozes or bursts out of the ground. This liquid will be at temperatures of 700 or more, above the melting temperature of radium and on past the the melting temperature of gold. It can cause fires when it touches things in addition to being so heavy and/or voluminous that it covers items in its path. Humans generally do not build very close to volcanoes that are frequently or explosively active. However, if a volcano is only likely to erupt once or twice within a human lifespan, or tends to ooze rather than burst, they will simply use several sensors to know when it will happen so they can get out of the way. Because they all originate in the same geological source, it is common to have two of these crack-based issues at once and not unusual to have all three.

Sometimes, rain falls in tiny frozen pieces, covering the ground in a layer of ice chips. Sometimes it falls in large rocks of ice, breaking and shattering what it strikes. Sometimes the temperature is anomalously hot or cold in places where the wildlife and human dwellings are not adapted to those temperatures. Sometimes massive sparks of electricity shoot from the sky to the ground. Sometimes the side of a mountain — or the ice chips piled on the side of the mountain — will fall off and slide down, burying and crushing everything in the way. Sometimes erosion under the surface will cause the surface to give way, leaving a hole in the ground big enough to swallow a person or a building. Sometimes the liquid inside Terra doesn't burst through the surface, but super-heats water until it does. While none of these features are unique to Terra, even among inhabited planets, it is uncommon for an inhabited planet to have so many of these features and it is nearly unique among humans to choose to live in afflicted areas. It can be helpful to understand, when one is wondering why humans and other life from their planet are "like that," that life only evolved on Terra once* and then experienced a burst of population up to and beyond local carrying capacities. Every species, including the plants, shares a common ancestor, and every creature that was ever born (hatched, sprouted, divided, etc) faced immediate competition from other, similar creatures. The ability to run faster, eat weirder, live hardier, spread farther provided an immediate benefit. Furthermore, in addition to the horrors described in this chapter of this guide, in Terra's planetary history there are multiple near-extinction-level events — new chemosynthetic species producing upheavals in the atmospheric gas balance, an asteroid strike, massive volcanic eruptions choking the air with ash and blocking energy from Sol — that further pressed evolution. Terra, truly, has earned its reputation as a death world — but less so for the life that has formed there.

*there is a long-standing idea that cephalopods may have originated separately, but this is really only taken seriously by the Chiparsen, who used to colonize via panspermia. While the Unified Government no longer accepts this as a valid territorial claim, the Chiparsen still hope to prove relation in order to put forth a diplomatic demand that Terrans remove cephalopods from their diet.

#Big Guide to Humans #addie writes #humans are space orcs #I am much more willing to believe in standardized length/area units than I am in standardized time/temperature units #I keep rechecking the radon thing #it doesn't sound true but apparently it is #earth is a deathworld #earth is space australia

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kithtaehyung · 9 months

Note

ryen is this canon 3tan yoongi talent?

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cvrshx3smOq/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

now i need a hundred plushies from him 😭 he's not going anywhere 😭

“What the fuck?”

He’s laughing. You just witnessed him effortlessly grab a third plushie from a clearly rigged claw machine and he’s laughing!

“No, seriously, this is some wizard shit,” you accuse, unblinking as he bends to grab his prize before wiggling it in triumph. “How are you so good at this?”

“I’m good at everything.”

Your scoff mixes with his mirth as you spin on your heel, arms now chock full of stuffed cats and one cute little frog.

But despite not wanting to further inflate the hot air balloon that’s his ego, you’re so in awe that you can’t help but comment,

“I’ve never seen someone do that before.”

“Yeah?” Beside you, Yoongi fetches something in his pocket. “Not even your brother? I think he got something from that one once.”

“Really?”

“Oh, wait. No, that was me again.”

And the gloater of the century secures his spot.

“I’m so tired of you.”

“Wait, wait,” he huffs out. “Look real quick.”

“Huh?”

As you turn his way, you only get a split second to recognize the phone in his long fingers.

Aimed right at you.

Did he just—

Your reaction should be words, like telling him to stop, or reminding him that he shouldn’t be doing anything much less taking a picture.

But what comes out instead is a blubbering, fumbling mess, and you lunge for the phone right before he backs up, grin stretching his face in the most devilish way.

“Yoongi—!”

“Hmm?”

“What are you—”

“So cute.”

He’s still holding the phone oh god it’s a video?

“Are you recording?”

His burst of laughter gives him away, and the butterfly wings tickling your stomach make you join him, even though you’re hyper hyper hyperaware of your surroundings now.

You don’t even know where the two of you stumble to, but you’re determined to not let him get away, bright colors and lights filling the night on all sides.

Finally, you clutch his hand as you squeeze all the plushies under an arm. “Give it!”

“No!”

“Yes!” You plead through a smile as you yank it from his hand.

But when you look at the screen, you discover that the video wasn’t even being recorded. Because the red button is still sitting there untouched.

…Why are you a tad disappointed?

Yoongi’s voice comes out soft,

“I know we can’t, doll.”

And he sounds a tad disappointed, too.

Still staring at the phone, you make a decision. A quick one. A small one.

But one you make purely for him.

Switching to Photo Mode, you raise the phone up high, scrunching your face against the mini bunch of stuffed animals before capturing this moment.

And it’s not until you hand his device back to him that you realize.

Holy shit.

You really just took a selfie with Yoongi’s phone.

“Keep it,” you whisper. “Or don’t, whatever.”

He’s just staring at you, device almost limp in his hand as he stands there.

“You.. You okay?”

“Come here.”

You’re pulled in before you can question further, a chaste but full kiss planted on your lips before you’re left to your own two feet again.

“Let’s go find them,” he leads, voice low. “I think they’re almost done with the ride.”

“K,” you oblige, shyly following his sure strides and straightened back.

Smiling against a fluffy stuffed cat when you see that he’s still looking at his phone.

—

3tanslices: mini-scenarios!

series: three tangerines

#THIS SCENARIO WAS TOO CUTE #i had to do it!!!#anon #asks:3tan #3tanslices #3tanextras #3fan:yoongi #*ryenfictalk #mailbox💌#bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fluff #long post #yoongi fic #three tangerines

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