#Reigons

[novablu3]

｡☆✼★ Regiones Españolas ★✼☆｡

Andalusia ♀️ | ❝ Adella García Fernández ❞

Aragón ♂️ | ❝ Agnus López Pérez ❞

Asturias ♂️ | ❝ Alejandro Fernández García ❞

Islas Baleares ♂️ | ❝ Isah García Pons ❞

País Vasco ♂️ | ❝ Pablo García Fernández ❞

Canarias ♂️ | ❝ Camilo García Fernández ❞

Cantabria ♀️ | ❝ Carabella Fernández García ❞

Castilla y León ♀️ | ❝ Calynda Fernández García ❞

Castilla-La Mancha ♀️ | ❝ Cari García Martínez ❞

Catalonia ♀️ | ❝ Clara García Martínez ❞

Madrid ♂️ | ❝ Mario García Fernández ❞

Estremaúra ♀️ | ❝ Elena García Sánchez ❞

Galicia ♀️ | ❝ Garbiela Rodriguez Gonzalez ❞

La Rioja ♀️ | ❝ Lola Martínez García ❞

Navarra ♀️ | ❝ Nara Martínez García ❞

Región de Murcia ♂️ | ❝Marco Martínez García❞

Valenciana ♀️ | ❝ Valerie García Fernández ❞

¡los apellidos son solo su apellido más común!

¡last names are just their most common last name!

⁀➷ ¡Espero hacer otros reigons y mas headcanons guardando countryhumans y regiones también!

⁀➷ I hope to do other reigons y more headcanons reguarding countryhumans and reigons too!

[b0tster]

shit i forgot to make the funny "im high" post i was too busy talking to my also high roomate about air conditioning all nignt

[litterby]

pacing the pews

[pansyfemme]

cringe guy who still refers to himself as a malewife years after it was relevant but still manages to burn everything he cooks and gives the worst head of all time

[humming-tranquility]

Adopt notification squad:

@so-3i3

Drainage system.

1. The Sanguine [ owned by @kaz0ey ] Leech Slugpup

2. Twelve branches snapping, In Echoing harmony. [On hold] Scavenger

3. Soot trapped between mountains of Dirt [Open] Scavenger

4. The Hazer [ owned by @kaz0ey ] Slugcat

5. Swirls of sweet dreams torrent in waves [owned by @kaz0ey ] Scavenger

-

You know the gist! You can pay 6 dollars for each or an artwork for each! I do not care about the quality as long as it’s not ai art or traced, both of those will get you black listed and blocked. I use PayPal, you can either communicate through: Messages, Reblogs or comments if you want any of said designs! I do not care what you do with them after! They’re yours! Change the design, scrap it, sell it for equal price? Do not care! Enjoy

[puhpandas]

if Gregory were in pokemon he would have a Z-ring

[goatpaste]

im a lil tipysy

send me pokemon im gonna draw them from memory

[redstonedust]

gently amused by the people in my notes talking about US states having their own governments as if thats some uniquely american thing. bro i literally live in a constituent country. and half of the time i dont even know what that means /lh

[noibatkid]

Why do clodsire have to have 1 (one) braincell and kissable expressions but they're poison type this isn't fair

[staryarn]

(Image id: a crawfish/crayfish/crawdad of orange color. It is a side view with the head looking to the left. The floor the crafish on is of gravel and small rocks from the sea (?). The backdrop is a dark blue (also possibly from the sea (?). I don't know where this beast had its photos hoot taken I'll be honest. The crayfish/crawfish/crawdad has two front pincers (imagine a small lobster) with three skinny and spindly legs on each side. It has a tail resembling a lobster they are apparently closely related to lobster so just imagine a lobster but smaller (they are apparently 3-7 in, including their outstretched claws). )

Crayfish/crawfish/crawdad Image from Britannica © Alexei Filatov—iStock/Getty Images

[sevenrs]

i have this "anatomy of the brain" poster in my room and noticed one of the cells looked like an overseer. so i have done some digging

microscope images don't really look like overseers or the diagram on my poster, but i did learn something

the cell was a microglia cells are the immune system of the central nervous system. they are the brain's and spinal cord's first responders to threats and normally help brain regulation, maintain neural networks, and help in repairing injuries. honestly if you know what macrophages are, these cells are them but more specialized

and like macrophages, microglia cells are also known to scavenge. they find foreign material, dead and/or injured cells, brain-specific problems, and clean them up

iterators have a lot of brain/neuron imagery, so i feel at least some of this is intentional. i think the scavenging is a coincidence but interesting nontheless

[vilecrocodile]

i made @matrixonvhsanddvd post her movie collection so heres mine. in the spirit of fairness . and bragging

[qwakque]

I CANT STOP WATCHING THE VDC PERFORMANCE WHAT IF I WENT CRAZY

[foodlesoodlesdoodles]

ANASKIAN TYRANITAR

[The Monster of Mount. Silver]

Tyranitar, The Insect Tyrant Pokémon [Bug/Dragon]

This Pokémon is known for its regal appearance and fierce territorial behavior, legends say it came to be because almighty Johto gave Pupitar Ancient Amber to evolve into the mighty Ruler known today.

———————————————————————

+ Shiny!!

[litterby]

[unmellowyellowfellow]

Chalk Mountain | I - Kicking the Red Dirt

draft status: (complete rewrite)

A/N: here she is! the first chapter to Chalk Mountain. i'm still working on drafting future chapters (completely rewriting all of my work has proven quite...harrowing) but this and the introduction chapter i posted will hopefully help me get any kinks out that i'm missing lol. anyway, enjoy! P.S., new character unlocked!

The glow of the setting sun beamed through Dixie’s curtains and illuminated her tattered blue saddlebag while she shoved clothes, toiletries, papers, and her I.D. inside. Admittedly, Dixie has pulled the run away stunt a few times. She’s never been as good at the disappearing act as her mother or brother; she loved her dear bedroom and all of her little secrets she hid amongst the walls. Dixie pulled open a drawer to a picture of her and her mom. She clutched it in her hand and read the faded pencil on the back:

Marigold & Dixie Anne, Dixie’s 9th birthday!!

The picture presented a young Dixie with flushed cheeks, blowing out her birthday candle on a cupcake with red icing that surely stained her teeth for the days to come; her mother, Marigold, stood behind her with a joyful smile on her face and hair to match her daughter. Declan, around seven years old, stands next to Dixie with a keen eye on the delicious dessert – their father holds a tight hand on his shoulder, to prevent the lunge.

After she tossed the photo into the bag along with more of her belongings, she tiptoed across the hallway and down to the last bedroom, then crept inside the door. She walked around the bed and began to dig inside her fathers bedside drawer and pulled out her most important evidence yet.

An old postcard that was inside an envelope addressed to Walter and his daughter. No return address or name, but writing that said:

I miss you, Dixie Anne & Walter Alvarez

The postcard was from an old ghost town named Chalk Mountain; only a couple hours drive from where Dixie lived. Surely, she thought, this was her mother trying to reach out for them. Walter hid this from Dixie for as long as he had it and didn’t know that she had come to find it. She pretended along with his scheme until the day would come that she would go for the gun, and that day had come.

Dixie shoved it into her pocket of her overalls and crept back down the hall to her room. Quietly, she shut the door and packed the last item she required for her journey; the envelope. All that was left to do was wait for the sun to set and the cicadas to sing.

A determined stomp came through the hallway and into a nearby room, followed by a door slamming shut. Her father has gone to bed in a mood; not unusual. Dixie carefully picked up her bag and looked around her room to make sure she didn’t forget anything, then saw Marigold’s old blue messenger cap. She picked it up from the back of her desk chair and pulled it down over her thick hair.

That was the day that Dixie disappeared.

She scurried out of her room and slipped out of the green kitchen door that didn’t have a hinge. She rounded the house corner and slid her dirty socks into her dirty boots and took one last look at her house. Part of her hoped she would feel some sort of remorse as she walked away from that rickety old porch, but all of the memories seemed to sour as they remained inside of those walls.

Dixie ignored her fathers dog that barked at her as she left; that dog always hated her. She ignored the crow that had waited outside the door for her and cawed loudly as she fled. She ignored the porch light when it flicked on along with her headlights. She turned up the radio when Walter called out for her; and she watched the red dirt that her tires threw while she peeled away turn him into a far away shadow in her rearview and never looked back.

Her 1998 Toyota Avalon screamed down the road, her music turned up louder than the whine of her engine, while Dixie steered with her left knee and read the Atlas with her hands. The postcard sat in her dash in front of her fuel gauge and rattled along with her suspension; she needed the reminder that she isn’t just running away from something, she's running towards it.

The drive was long, bland, and without sights to keep the driver entertained. The red dirt and the caprocks that towered over her made for a beautiful sunset in the evening, though; orange reflecting on orange.

Sooner than she expected, Dixie rolled up on a large formation of mesas that framed the two-lane road she’d grown to know so well on this adventure. It began to feel claustrophobic as the red rocks grew closer over top of her, almost forming a vague shape of a tunnel. She turned down her music and felt the hairs on her neck stood on end, something in her head screamed at her like a siren that she was close.

The rocks dispersed slowly and began a clearing of buttes galore across the cactus plains. Dixie emerged over a hill that overlooked a few damaged structures ahead of her, hidden in the darkness. She pressed onto the gas and sped up while she stole glances back and forth between her map and the barren road, the realization soon to hit that she was at her destination.

“What…what the hell?” Dixie said aloud to no one but herself.

As Dixie crept closer to the town in shambles in the night, her eyes struggled to make out the shapes in the distance that seemed to change too rapidly for her brain to comprehend. They looked abandoned and gutted but also in perfect shape and full of humanity.

She felt like her eyes were playing tricks on her; that she must be exhausted from her drive in the middle of the red nowhere. The wind began to pick up enough to slightly push her car towards the shoulder, even though she was below the towering red rocks that surrounded her. Dixie’s vision began to only grow worse when the red dirt began to kick up against her windshield, with no help from her windshield wipers.

Streetlights ahead flickered with just enough occasional illumination through the dust cloud to shadow the silhouettes of the shambled town that seemed to change from old and abandoned to brand new and populated along with the bulb.

Once Dixie was able to make it out of her dirt cloud and out of the parted rock, she felt her shoulders be relieved of all the tension she was holding onto. She cranked her shoulders back and settled down into her seat with a deep breath.

With one last glance at her map and back to the road, Dixie slammed on her brakes to a screeching halt. A slender and tall man stands alone in the middle of the deteriorating road, hands by his sides and a calm look upon his face.

The tall man offered a gentle wave of his hand as a ‘hello’. Dixie warily waved back after a double-check that her doors were locked. They stared at each other for a moment; her internal voice told her to throw it in reverse and get the hell out of dodge, until the man began to approach the vehicle like a shadow that flashed in and out of her headlights.

When the man grew closer, the voice in her head began to mutate and change into one that was not her own. The pitch grew deeper, the verbiage changed, and even her fear of the stranger slowly faded away.

“Welcome home, little one,” The glooming voice said in her head. The stranger was at her window, bent down to look inside. The voice spoke again, but the stranger's mouth lacked any indication of speech: “I hope the world was kind to you.”