#nature documentation

[upside-down-sock-drawer]

Hello people of Tumblr!! Here is the caterpillar documentation series that does not fit the theme of my blog and no one asked for!!

Let's meet the caterpillars!!

This is Many, a Monarch butterfly. Many is currently in a chrysalis and will emerge in a matter of days.

This is Marilyn, the other Monarch. Marilyn is fairly small and will likely remain a caterpillar for about a week.

This is Samantha, the largest of the Swallowtail caterpillars. Samantha will likely be forming a chrysalis in a few days.

This is Samuel, the second oldest Swallowtail. He will be entering the chrysalis stage in a little less than a week.

This is Sally. Sally is about the same size as Samuel, so the same time frame applies.

This is Summer, the second smallest Swallowtail. Summer is around the same size as Marilyn.

And finally, the smallest Swallowtail, this is Sunny. Sunny is way smaller then the rest of the caterpillars and will likely remain a caterpillar for about a week and a half. Sunny looks a little bit different from the other caterpillars and might be a slightly different variety, I'm not quite sure.

And there you have it!! All 7 of my backyard caterpillars. I will be updating the documentation every couple of days.

[hyunpic]

“stay is funnier these days”

[mcromwell]

I love iNaturalist so much. Where else can you upload a picture of lizards having sex only to then be contacted by the Director of Lizard Fuckin' at Big Important Museum of Natural Sciences who asks to know more about said lizards fuckin' because he's heading an ongoing decade-long research project about lizard fuckin'

The Celebrities

[wandixx]

Seriously chaotic fashion misadventures

I realized I posted a teaser and never really followed up on it, so here is some more of that

“Hey, Dami?”

Boy hadn’t looked up from the kittens he was bottle feeding but let out a hum indicating he listened.

“I'm thinking about trying out a more girlish style. Do you think it would suit me?”

Well, Damian had no idea but if Dani wished to give it a chance, then, well, the only proper reaction was to offer his aid.

*-*-*

“Father, I require access to your rouge gallery.”

Bruce almost choked on his breakfast when his youngest made this announcement.

Rouge gallery, as his children playfully called it, was vast collection of lipsticks, which he collected to uphold his Brucie persona. Famous playboy with head constantly in the clouds couldn’t not show up with discreet signs of scandal from time to time. And it couldn’t always be the same shade. Or scent when he choose more subtle approach and used one of his more feminine perfumes.

In all honesty, he enjoyed this.

But that’s not the point, point was that Damian wanted to use it and Bruce needed to know what disaster would fall upon him if he agreed.

“Mind telling me why, chum?”

Dick, who visited Manor for a weekend, barely stifled his laughter while Tim stared at his empty coffee mug like it personally betrayed him. Cass just wore her usual knowing and mischievous smile.

Damian shifted in his chair, hands clenching on butter knife. He was nervous and suddenly Bruce dreaded the answer he was about to hear.

“I don’t see how me sharing this information would change anything. It won’t be used to cause harm to anyone but it’s necessary in the extracurricular project I just started.”

“Dami, what project?” Dick asked, voice oozing with genuine curiosity and excitement. He was almost bouncing.

“I don’t want to disclose it.”

“Is this a hero or civilian type of deal?”

Damian didn’t look any of them in the eyes, both hands clenching on his seat as he kept shifting. Bruce narrowed his eyes. Was his youngest… flustered?

“Civilian”

“Alright, great” Dick swung back with single clap, almost tripping his chair over “I think B won’t have anything against you using his rouge gallery, will he?” Man knew his oldest son well enough to recognize his ‘don’t you dare to disagree’ tone. He was confused but there wasn’t any harm so he nodded with affirmative hum.

“Thank you, Father”

Boy practically inhaled rest of his food and rushed outside. Despite all his training and all his efforts, they clearly saw his excitement. Tim pinched himself and returned to staring at his mug.

“Cass, have you seen what I’ve seen or am I overreacting?” Dick asked, barely restraining his enthusiasm. Girl nodded eagerly, shoving more crumbs into her mouth. Young man cheered, throwing his hands up.

“What have I missed?” Tim mumbled, frowning a little.

“BABY BAT HAS A CRUSH!”

Cass nodded again with wide smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Who were they? What did he know about them? Was Protocol 3r0s started? Did someone run a background check already? What could they do if they somehow hurt Damian? Was this person a risk to their identities? Oh gods, oh no.

He probably will have to do The Talk™.

He always dreaded having The Talk, with any of his kids. He felt The Talk with Damian would be even worse. Understandably so.

“Also sleep in at least three da-”

“Fuck off, dick.”

“Was this insult or-”

His children remained obvious to how much work it meant, cheering and sassing each other like they often did.

*-*-*

Damian did not know how it was possible but he lowered his guard enough to get caught.

"What are you doing?" Brown choked out after they stared at each other for a long moment.

"It does not concern you–"

"You're rummaging through my wardrobe, not many things concern me more and also, that's frickin creepy don't do it to anyone outside of the family"

She did have a point however he was not convinced it would be the correct approach if he shared his plan. Father's wards (even unofficial like Brown) tended to make assumptions and overreact based on these conjectures. Dani wasn't easy to scare off but he didn't want to check if his family would manage. They often did things thought to be impossible.

He tried to get away but the blonde stood fiercely in a door, leaving the window as the only way out. He wasn't this desperate. Yet.

Girl looked more and more angry at his silence. He had to give her some answers.

Now that he actually considered it, she could be a useful asset. She was far better versed in women's fashion and if he phrased it correctly, he wouldn't even need to bribe her. Question was, how should he phrase it?

"I have an acquaintance- I have a friend," he corrected himself "from the animal shelter I volunteer at. She mentioned wanting to try out more 'girlish style' and asked for my opinion. I wanted to see if you had any clothes that would fit her. She is smaller than me so I thought that whatever I take, it wouldn't be missed." 

Brown grinned with an unsettling gleam in her eyes. He suddenly regretted opening his mouth if not coming to this room in the first place. 

"Say no more, I have a plan Demon Child"

[shittalkerxox]

I think a really fun idea to explore with Tim would be the idea of him having Hyperthymesia.

Hyperthymesia is an ability that allows people to recall almost every event of their life in great detail. It's extremely rare and honestly doesn't have that much research done on it, but recent studies have suggested that people with this ability are limited to autobiographical memories, people with HSAM sometime tend to show symptoms of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and may demonstrate obsessive tendencies.

I think it would be an interesting way to explain why Tim was able to recall his first meeting with Dick Grayson and connect the dots to seeing Robin. Tim does display a lot of obsessive behaviours, and while he doesn't really physically display compulsion (like someone with OCD would typically display) there certainly is a strong case to be made for him potentially having it.

But also, can you imagine how fucking horrible it would be for Tim to remember each and every traumatic thing that ever happens to him as a hero and those memories just never fading. Yes, it would make him a better detective and allow him to be arguably smarter than your average joe, but at what cost?

[slowestlap]

Quadrant Originals merch shoot [x]

[slurmdog]

ive been working on a 13 (+1 bonus) page tobiizu naruto fancomic and i FINALLY finished the lines... coloring currently underway so hopefully itll be released sometime this year

[the-weeping-dawn]

illithid having higher emotional needs than most beings but when outside of a colony often will not admit the need to fill them in alternative ways, my beloved weird quirk to fall into.

[aisling-saoirse]

Hike in Hedden (Again), New Jersey - May 30th 2025

I started my hike going into a large forested wetland along the north facing slope of the hill, 1. where hay-scented fern met with skunk cabbage 2. As i took this a large American Toad (Anaxyrus americanus) hopped out of a bush at me 3. Walking to the lake I snuck up on an American Cormorant (species uncertain) 4. When a Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) walked out of a willow thicket. Up the creek I noticed some 5. Maple Leaf Viburnum (V. acerfolium) and 6. Cucumber root (Medeola virginiana) growing from some boulders. 7. Mountain Laurel (Kalmia latifolia) was in full bloom at the top of the hill. 8. Walking deeper I found an uncharacteristic Red Buckeye (Aesculus pavia) which doesn't grow in NJ really...9. then walking up the stream I stopped at the site of a historic murder I found a bunch of Blue-eye grass (probably: Sisyrinchium angustifolium). Occasionally I see new things on a hike I've been doing since I was 4

[mamawasatesttube]

the thing abt the superfam and their relationships to their names is that if you come at it from any angle where youre ignoring the complexity of the immigrant experience, a) i'll bite you but moreover b) you're simply wrong. they are refugees and the last remnant of a dying culture. they are immigrants. literal aliens. that word is used for immigrants and them being Literally Aliens From Outer Space is like driving it home so hard, it's WILD to me when people don't see it. their identities as kryptonians vs denizens of earth will Always be paralleled to the immigrant assimilation identity question. and i will always be gnawing on wood about it,

[im-not-just-physical]

documents about prehistorical beings are so cool 🦠🐟🦎🐊🦖🦕🐢🐹🐭🦣🐦‍⬛🦤🦈🐬🪼🐙🦂

[pathological-runaway]

A voice calls to them from inside, and the Elder turns around. The bright room bathed in warm yellowish candlelight is somewhat painful to look at after the time spent gazing at the darkening skies, and the Elder feels uncomfortable with the table and the armchairs and the bookshelves filled with paper and paper and paper. It all seems pointless now, the goals and dreams of the past, and the priceless books stored in the room are suddenly superficial and vain. What does any of it matter, with a storm approaching? “I can see something terrible coming.”

you can read the fic here or below the cut

The wind rises, and the grass with a few scattered flowers in it bends to the ground, as if hoping the soil will protect it from the rage of the gusts. The sky is dark grey, overcast by clouds, and there is a chill in the air smelling like ozone and fresh leaves. For a split second, a bolt of lightning appears on the horizon only to fade away immediately. It is not raining here yet, but the storm must be close.

There is a pause during which only the blowing wind and the rustle of grass can be heard. Then, a low rumble of thunder roars in the distance, and the first drops of rain start to fall.

The Elder remains stood on the porch, brows furrowed and eyes fixed on the ominous black clouds. Their figure is small in the face of the oncoming storm, and the modest ornaments on their robes appear even bleaker now that no candles are there to illuminate them.

The Elder does not move, quietly observing the tempest while they still can. While it is still safe to do so. Nature has been toyed with a lot in the past decades — stars know when it will decide to strike back.

It is better not to tempt it.

A voice calls to them from inside, and the Elder turns around. The bright room bathed in warm yellowish candlelight is somewhat painful to look at after the time spent gazing at the darkening skies, and the Elder feels uncomfortable with the table and the armchairs and the bookshelves filled with paper and paper and paper. It all seems pointless now, the goals and dreams of the past, and the priceless books stored in the room are suddenly superficial and vain.

What does any of it matter, with a storm approaching?

“We should be quite safe here,” the voice from inside the room assures. It is soft but steady, even if lacking that pompous self-confident note that most would have when discussing nature. The Elder themself used to adopt it sometimes in the past. But things have changed since then, and so have they.

They enter the room reluctantly and close the door behind them. It becomes unexpectedly quiet, the crackling of candles and the muffled spatter of rain on the roof the only sounds here.

The Elder thinks they miss nature. The wildness of it. The danger inherent in it. The destruction that it brings, which does not scare them anymore, oh no. It used to. But now that they have seen human-made weapons end lives in a blink of an eye, the rainstorms seem almost harmless. They seem right.

Death by Nature’s wrath is much more welcome than the alternative. Perhaps, the downpour could wash away all the blood that has been spilled by the mankind.

It would almost seem more merciful now.

“I can see something terrible coming,” the Elder replies to a question that was never asked, shaking their head to make the thoughts go away. They have these ideas, sometimes, that are not really theirs, ideas the origin of which they cannot quite explain. Ones that inexplicably come true.

Some would call them visions. A gift from the god. Some would call the Elder a prophet, even. But the Elder themself would rather stay quiet, more times than not.

It is for the best.

Their interlocutor frowns, eyes not leaving the other’s even for a second. They understand. Of course they do. They have always understood — even when others did not. Even when people claimed they were being unreasonable. Mad. Old.

Because the Isle Elder is not old. They are ancient. The oldest being alive in the whole world. They have seen it all: all those diseases, all those disasters. All those deaths. All those lives. The beauty of the world. Its ugliness. They have seen where birds come from and where they fly, season after season, year after year. They have seen generations of people be born and grow old and die, and they themself have never wavered. They have stood there, on the top of the flower-peppered hill, and watched over everything and everyone.

They were every Elder’s mentor. Every commoner’s guide. Every child’s parent. They have always been there, have always assisted anyone in need. Have always known more than they let people see they knew. They have hidden things, waiting for the right moment to reveal them. They have done more for these lands — these people — than anyone has.

But people have forgotten. They always do, do they not?

People have forgotten, and now the Isle Elder is no longer an Elder. They are nobody’s teacher now. Nobody’s family. Nobody’s friend. Bereft of both their title and their role, they are bereft of love now, too. Have been for a while.

The Vault Elder is guilty of turning their back on them, once. When everyone else did. Not that this little detail excuses them in any way. But long enough has passed — enough blood has been spilled — for them to start thinking. Rethinking. For them to stop following the ones who made Daleth and what they stand for go forgotten. And they are sorry for not having done so earlier. For not having seen what was right. But then again, no one did. No one but Daleth.

And the fact that the Isle Elder (they are still an Elder in Lamed’s heart) is here now, despite their apprentice’s betrayal, only shows how much better Daleth is than all of them put together.

The Vault Elder knows there is not much time left. And they regret deeply that they have wasted so much of it drifting away when they could have tried to get closer. That they chose the path of cold when they knew there was one bathed in sunlight.

There is no turning back now.

“I am not a saint, you know,” the Isle Elder said to them sometime many long years ago. “I make mistakes, too.”

“You cannot blame yourself forever,” is what they say to Lamed now.

The latter takes a seat, slowly, quietly. It is so strange in here, in this deadly silence. A disaster may be approaching — is approaching — and they have no means of knowing when it comes. They are blinding themself, burying themself and their guest in this building as if it were a tomb.

It could turn out to be.

“I am not.”

Daleth’s grey eyes have a sad look in them, one that says do not lie to me. One that whispers I know you. One that murmurs barely audibly��I hope I still do.

Thunder roars outside, the wind that rises making the candles flicker and go out. The room is illuminated by lightning for a split second before plunging into complete darkness. The Vault Elder can barely distinguish their mentor’s eyes, can barely subdue the fear rising in their chest and the images flooding their eyes.

The two sit there in silence as the storm rages on, neither of them bothering to move and light the candles.

“I can see something terrible coming,” Lamed’s lips quiver.

The Isle Elder gets ready to stand up when the roof collapses.

[clockwork-garden]

bye bye butterfly, 2024.

commercial and naturally dyed cotton and linen with reserve applique, machine piecing, yarn, and angelica. long-arm quilted. about 6 and a half feet by three feet.

the final piece i made for my fiber arts department. i loved everyone very much.

[milkywaymeows]

GOOGLE DOCS LAYOUT US$2,00

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[francolynchwakamatsu]

Königin der Nacht Der Habichtskauz - Matej Vranic (2024 - Documentary)