#animal habitats coloring book

[romelialungusblog]

Animal habitats coloring book: Cute animals coloring book for kids. 50 easy and educational coloring pages with animals and their own names

[astrstqr]

☆˙˖ DESIRED REALITY !

things i script for my modern dr. lmk if you want more

⬭ racism, homophobia, ableism, transphobia, islamophobia, anti semitism, misogyny, global warming, climate change, overconsumption, overpopulation, deforestation, habitat destruction etc., used to exist, however they currently do not and will never suffer from them again.

⬭ everyone is treated equal

⬭ no “pro-life”

⬭ people are allowed to have abortions no matter what age they are

⬭ women products are free such as pads/tampons and birth control

⬭ everyone is educated on problems happening around the world

⬭ health care is free

⬭ natives are seen as the founders of America

⬭ south, west, southeast, & central Asians are seen too + people know Asia is not just the east

⬭ having guns are illegal unless your job requires you to have one and there is no other way to get a gun

⬭ periods last a day and are very light

⬭ covid-19 doesn’t exist

⬭ plastic surgery is normalized , isnt look down on but people rarely gets it unless necessary

⬭ children of any age are not sexualized in any form or shape

⬭ in public bathrooms the toilet is always clean, people don't knock on the stall you are in, there is always toilet paper, always soap and a hand dryer

⬭ the Chinese government isn't so harsh & gives the citizens freedom

⬭ people of color’s cultures are RESPECTED, & not appropriated

⬭ foster care takes treats kids nicely

⬭ nobody harms animals and kill shelters are not a thing

⬭ all country leaders are good and honest people

⬭ human trafficking does not exist

⬭ the government never watches you through your phone

⬭ trump never ran for president

⬭ no world hungers

⬭ no one is homeless, and everyone has a home

⬭ world peace

⬭ women and men are equal

⬭ it’s easy for people to make money

⬭ all sickness has a cure

⬭ bullying does not exist

⬭ black history and pride month still exist

⬭ the government isn't greedy and take care of their people

⬭ every country has money, food, isnt poor, etc. etc.

⬭ no toxic parenting

⬭ the Sewol ferry never had an accident

⬭ school shooting doesn’t exist

⬭ minimum wage is $15-$20 an hour

⬭ crimes are punished with justice in mind

⬭ history is recorded correctly

⬭ people can start driving at 15

⬭ Korea is not conservative

⬭ Korea doesn’t have an unrealistic beauty standard

⬭ Korea never divided, it is united and free. But south of korea is like the city part and the north is like rural part

⬭ pollution does not exist

⬭ earth air is clean and easy to breathe no matter where you are

⬭ no acid rain, urban sprawl, ozone layer depletion

⬭ allergies do not exist

⬭ the world is more colorful and not dull looking

⬭ coral reef still has it color

⬭ no water in unwanted places

⬭ grass is always green

⬭ if the population increases the planet gets bigger to produce resources to accommodate the growing population. it doesnt effect the mass of the earth or the gravitational pull

⬭ global warming doesn't exist

⬭ humidity doesn't ruin hair

⬭ the library of alexandria was never destroyed

⬭ apple pencils work on iPhone

⬭ everything is wireless, and nothing needs a cord

⬭ line is always short in stores and restaurants

⬭ buildings and renovating don’t take longer than a wee

⬭ you can book a hotel with being 18 or older

⬭ traffic is always fine

⬭ netflix have more of a large selection of things and dont remove shows/add shows no one wants

⬭ spotify is free

⬭ the switch have a web browser

⬭ tv companies still make tv shows similar to the 2000s and early 2010s , just updated to keep up with the times

⬭ the sims franchise lore is linear throughout the series

the open world features from sims 3 is still present in sims 4

sims 4 is like an updated and better version of sims 3 keeping all the features from the sims 3 (still including everything that is already in sims 4)

non of the games have bugs

every expansion pack etc is just added to the game as an update and no one has to pay for it

⬭ cheap jewelry doesnt tarnish

⬭ washer/dryer cycles are 15 mins

⬭ in the show dancing dolls everyone was treated equally and was never fake to each other.

⬭ people actually do the theme for the met gala and it’s always unique

୨୧⠀˙⠀⠀˖⠀ world aesthetic & vibe

[jonjaydami]

So I need to know what animal they think is the batfamilies special interest.

Like we all know they are on the spectrum like look at Bruce. He's a 30 year old man that dresses as a bat and don't get me wrong there are several reasons he dresses as one but it always has something to do with the animal itself and I always think that's funny how it's even used as a joke in several comics, and animated movies/ shows.

So Bruce knows everything about bat's, shape color, species, what food they eat and how they live and even the different culture views on bat's. He could talk all day about it if asked and he always does it with the utmost care. Like he was giving a speech at a gala or speaking to the league.

I think we all know Dicks is obviously Robin's. Cause why else would he choose to be a brightly colored vigilante that's after a bird from the north? I feel like after moving in with Bruce he took a quiz on what bird he would be cause he was studying birds in school and got a Robin and took that to heart as a passion and not only learned everything about a Robin's but that had just become his identity for awhile and he loved it. Bruce when he heard it at first had thought it wouldn't work but after making him his own costume and even watching several videos on the birds he thought it fit his son nicely.

Jason didn't break away from the Robin role and embraces it actually. But he was always way more shy when it came to discussing his favorite. I think he would have a fascination with bugs and snakes and would absolutely be the kid with a spider or a beardy. He once convinced Bruce to get him a baby beardy and then it became an obsession. He had a sweatshirt that even had a cartoonish looking beardy printed on it and he proudly talks about it to any one who asked. Bruce would silently close his eyes and soak in all the information about them he could.

I totally think Tim loves frogs and even sea creatures. He has a tank with shrimp in it and his boyfriend makes fun of him and calls him a shrimp farmer but he also has a tank that has glass frogs in it. It's a huge tank that takes up over half his room and he loves just watching them sleep and even makes cute little tiktoks with them. He always is getting cute things for the habitat and going shopping. He also takes Damian on these trips. Because they both enjoy walking around and even stopping to pet or talk to the people who bring in their dogs. Bruce also enjoys walking into Tim's room and seeing the frogs and shrimp and even says hello to them before leaving again.

Damian is no stranger to having a soft spot for animals but I know he loves cats and dogs. He is definitely a cat person. Alfred the cat is his prized possession and he will proudly take pictures and then draw them. He loves using his animals as drawing references and has multiple books filled to the brim of just them. Sometimes if they are really good he goes to Bruce and asks them to be laminated so he can hang them up in his room because they deserve to be celebrated and respected. He also tells Bruce odd facts about his animals. How Alfred (the cat) specifically likes to sleep on his left side and enjoys being scratched behind his ears the most.

Bruce loves his weird sons because he is weird and for Christmas he always gets them something related to their animals because it's like a bonding experience for them. Some days they don't even talk about anything but their animals but I can imagine them all settling on a couch and out of pure bordem putting on documentaries and spending time just listening and learning. Of course this could also lead into some heated debates about who's animals is the best.

Jason: no you don't understand

Damian: *scoffs* actually Todd you never understood anything

Dick: ok well I set the whole thing for Robin soooo

Tim: oh please you were eight!!

Bruce: I think we are forgetting how bats-

Kids: *groan because they have been hearing about bat's for over half their lives and are tired*

Alfred just walks in and smiles as he sets a pitcher down.

Alfred: actually you are forgetting how important bee's are to the environment. Which is why I plant only the best pollinator friendly flowers

Cue to everyone rioting cause after all this time Alfred has never talked about the fact he is in fact a bee guy. Ever since he started working for the Wayne's they let him have full control of the gardens and he always loved that in the bleak of Gotham he had his own personal eden with the flowers. Bruce's parents also appreciated him for this and would let Alfred do as he pleased when he would passionately talk to them about the bees. Even when they passed away Bruce had always assumed Alfred just did it because he didn't trust anyone else.

Which was part way true but he loves watching them bumble around and bump into each other as he works.

If anyone knows what Duke, steph, and Cass would like please comment or feel free to debate!! Just please remember to be nice and save the bees 🐝

[bread-tab]

"stop making [media] your whole personality"

ah... okay. yes. so.

first off:

there's this neurodivergent thing, where you use an interest as a filter for processing the world.

for some people that is called a "special interest," for others with different needs it is more of a "hyperfixation;" there are far more variations than i (or the field of psychology) know how to describe now. if you want to understand the difference there are people who can explain those variations better than me. but i can tell you what it feels like.

you discover something.

it doesn't matter what it is; you find something that speaks to you, something you can connect to, and it becomes a bubble of safe habitat from which you can rest from and explore and connect to all the other parts of this strange chaotic world.

a source of joy. a source of illumination.

it's like you're a person who has lived all their life in dark caves and you find something that glows.

these interests can be anything.

(literally anything; i personally derive meanings that you could never imagine from ✨ drainage ditches. ✨)

but very often, they are stories. tv shows, books, movies, comics, songs, podcasts, minecraft improv streams, cartoons, web serials, whatever

these things are:

tangible. you can hold them in your hands, replay them, turn on the subtitles, take screenshots, read the sheet music

and yet

real. they form a genuine connection from your (isolated, untranslatable) internal world to other (formerly unknowable) people and the rest of the universe

they create meaningfulness

and they exist because humans find these incredibly effective soul-deep ways of communicating to one another.

now, appreciating stories, that's not a neurodivergent thing. that's a human thing.

the point of relevance here is that experiencing an extreme love for stories is a neurodivergent thing.

it's a very common neurodivergent trait which often gets mocked, portrayed as childish, and used as a pretext for infantilization and bullying.

(and it is also a trait of young people in general, to take stories very seriously in a way that looks silly to adults, and that is something that many people (regardless of age) try to bully out of each other.

what good is that doing anyone?)

"stop making [x] your whole personality"

listen, you. get down off that goddamn embankment and climb down into this ditch with me. dip your toes in this oily water. watch the stars and city lights ripple into constellations you've never seen

now look me in the eye

you need to understand that no matter what lowbrow, cringey, problematic or otherwise not-to-your-tastes drivel you might be complaining about today,

you are talking about the phenomenon of creativity

you are talking about a transcendent catalyst of human emotion

and yes that includes the overmilked disney franchises, it includes the formulaic shippy fanfictions, it includes whatever brightly-colored cartoon this website is obsessed with this year (and will be having incredibly dramatic meltdowns over next year), it includes the cheesy action movies and the fanservicey anime and the badly-designed video games and the milquetoast tiktok "literature", it includes the indistinguishable scribbles of some random five-year-old and/or famous fine artist and/or precocious elephant

i get it. you care about real life and touching grass and shit. you have taste. just take the stilts off your horse for a second, okay?

i know you're probably sick of "let people like things" discourse

i would just like for you to stop for a second and take a deep breath, and let the stench of whatever is in this mud puddle wash over you (yeah i know, ew, but you'll be fine) and consider

what is so bad about having a cringey personality, anyway?

and maybe you will think better of making "stop making [some silly moment in the universe] your personality" into your personality and maybe you will come off as a little bit less of a snob/ableist/ass and maybe you will have a slightly better outlook on life among humans.

that's all. yeah you can get out of the gutter now. thank you for coming to my ted talk—

ooh wait, look, a bottle cap

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from The Revelator:

Thirty minutes’ drive outside northern Canada’s largest city lies one of its best-kept secrets.

The Yukon Wildlife Preserve spans more than 700 acres and features 12 iconic Yukon species in their natural habitat: wood bison, mountain goat, woodland caribou, mule deer, muskox, red fox, thinhorn sheep, moose, elk, Canada lynx, arctic ground squirrel, and arctic fox. It has a long history of rehabilitating injured animals and breeding rare species, and it also serves as a critical stopover and monitoring station for migratory birds.

News

Extinction Countdown

Investigations

Wildlife

Climate Change

Oceans & Clean Water

Pollution & Toxins

Public Lands & Protected Spaces

Sustainability

Ideas

Voices

Editorials

Op-Eds

The Ask

Podcasts

Culture

Reviews

Book Excerpts

Arts

About

Subscribe

WHITEHORSE, Yukon — Thirty minutes’ drive outside northern Canada’s largest city lies one of its best-kept secrets.

The Yukon Wildlife Preserve spans more than 700 acres and features 12 iconic Yukon species in their natural habitat: wood bison, mountain goat, woodland caribou, mule deer, muskox, red fox, thinhorn sheep, moose, elk, Canada lynx, arctic ground squirrel, and arctic fox. It has a long history of rehabilitating injured animals and breeding rare species, and it also serves as a critical stopover and monitoring station for migratory birds.https://www.instagram.com/p/C1o5bzUKO2i/embed/?cr=1&v=14&wp=1183&rd=https%3A%2F%2Ftherevelator.org&rp=%2Fyukon-preserve%2F%3Futm_source%3Drev%26utm_medium%3Demail%26utm_campaign%3Drev335%26emci%3D6f4fae80-ea75-ef11-991a-6045bdee6681%26emdi%3De708b3df-8f76-ef11-991a-6045bdee6681%26ceid%3D2428680#%7B%22ci%22%3A0%2C%22os%22%3A1645.6000001430511%2C%22ls%22%3A1365.1000001430511%2C%22le%22%3A1575.1000001430511%7D

The site, which celebrates its 20th anniversary as a preserve in 2024, dates back to the 1960s and a man the Canadian Broadcasting Company once called “one of Yukon’s most colorful characters.”

Founder Danny Nowlan was a former forest ranger and preeminent falconer who grew up skipping school in favor of trapping animals and selling their pelts. In 1967 he purchased the property north of Whitehorse, “determined to build not a zoo, but a showcase for northern species in their natural habitat,” the Yukon Times wrote.

Over the next 35 years, Nowlan and his wife would turn the empty property into what they termed a “game farm,” although they didn’t raise animals for hunting or trapping, as the term typically implies. They raised and sold animals to zoos and game farms throughout Canada and the United States and used the earnings to build a wildlife rehabilitation center. As the years went on, they offered educational tours to allow visitors to see native species in large, semi-wild habitats.

Among the many species the Nowlans raised, in custom-built breeding pens and an avian hospital, were peregrine falcons and other birds of prey. The falcons raised there were either sold — using the proceeds to mitigate the poaching of wild populations — or rewilded as nearby populations declined.

Their conservation efforts garnered a national spotlight, and notoriety, when the couple were swept up in a falcon-trafficking sting, arrested, and charged with laundering wild falcons to Arab royalty. Depending on the telling, Nowlan and his wife were either ruthless masterminds who had found a way to finance their conservation habits by trafficking the very birds they were protecting or arrested without merit.

All the falcons were seized. After three years of a trial that at the time was the longest and most expensive in Yukon history, and the Nowlans’ near-financial ruin, they were acquitted of all charges.

When Nowlan and his wife retired in 2001, they put the site up for sale. Members of the community began advocating for the property to become a public facility, and in 2004 they succeeded.

The site is now owned by the Yukon government and operated by the nonprofit organization formed by those neighbors, the Yukon Wildlife Preserve Operating Society. It received accreditation from the Canadian Association of Zoos and Aquariums in 2012, joining the ranks of the Toronto Zoo and the Vancouver Aquarium.

[sharpjay217]

So Minecraft has new wolves!!

I am very happy about this, but it does make me curious what species each variation is based off of! You too? Awesome!

Rusty Wolf = Dhole

Seeing a little red jungle wolf took me right back to reading The Jungle Book as a kid, so I pretty much instantly decided they were dholes! A.k.a. Asian wild dogs or red dogs. They're an endangered canid native to Central, South, East and Southeast Asia, and they live in large clans ranging from 12-40 members.

Pale (Original) Wolf & Black Wolf = Grey Wolves

Our familiar friends have probably always been North American grey wolves, just pales ones! Despite their name, this iconic member of the canid family has an incredible amount of variation, and different subspecies of them are scattered all over North America.

Striped Wolf = Aardwolf

Okay, this is interesting, because they are definitely aardwolves! However, despite their names, aardwolves are actually the tiniest member of the hyaenidae family! Native to East and Southern Africa, they are exclusively insectivores and are known for following aardvarks to use their vacated burrows and foraging grounds. I think it's fascinating that a hyena was chosen for the wolf skins!

Snowy Wolf = Arctic Wolf

One of the many subspecies of gray wolves, arctic wolves are native to the Canadian Arctic and Alaska. Thanks to their territory being generally undesirable to humans, they are the only subspecies that can found across the entirety of their original range. Arctic wolves seem the most logical choice for snowy wolves, through there are several other pale-coated northern subspecies they could technically be.

Ashen Wolf = Northwestern Wolf

Speaking of northern subspecies, let's have some fun with the ashen variant. I'm pinning them as the Northwestern wolf, a.k.a. the Mackenzie Valley wolf! Native to, well, the northwestern part of Canada and Alaska, they are arguably the largest subspecies of wolf we know of. They match up pretty well with their Minecraft counterparts both in terms of habitat and possible coloration!

Woods Wolf = Eastern Wolf

Ooo, okay, I went down a rabbit hole with this one! Eastern wolves, a.k.a Great Lakes wolves or Algonquin wolves, are native to the Great Lakes region of North America. They exist in an identification limbo, with no current ruling on whether they are a subspecies of grey wolf, red wolf, or their own unique branch that drifts closer to coyotes on the canid family tree. There is even some debate on whether the Great Lakes and Algonquin variants should be counted as the same subspecies, which I think is fascinating!

Spotted Wolf = African Wild Dog

The more people who know these good bois exists, the happier I am. African wild dogs, a.k.a. painted dogs or Cape hunting dogs, are the largest wild canine in Africa. They live in packs of 5-30 members and are known their cooperative hunting tactics, using stamina to wear down prey. They're highly social animals, and you'll never find a lone dog.

Chestnut Wolf = Bat Eared Fox

So, initially, I wrote off these guys cause I wasn't counting foxes, but I gave in. The chestnut wolves don't look like much of any existing canines, and nothing that lives in taiga forest. So, bat eared foxes are my best guess. They're small canids native to southern Africa, and are part of the subfamily Otocyoninae, which is a sister family to the families containing true foxes and racoon dogs.

Speaking of raccoon dogs, they're my second best guess for the origin of the chestnut wolf. Their habitat makes slightly more sense, being from the forests of Japan and east Asia!

[headmate-ideas]

hi hi !! can we get a headmate that is really into libraries and books ? they'd be super shy but very intimate in secret . human but with any xenogenders or neo pronouns .

thank you :33

- @strawberrysystemx3

📖 headmate template 🐇

✦ Name(s): Page, Emerson, Rory ✦ Pronouns: they/them, ey/em/eir/eirs/emself, book/books/bookself, ix/ixs/ixself, co/cos/coself ✦ Species: human ✦ Age: adult (age-slides between 25 and 35) ✦ Role(s): interest holder, social protector ✦ Labels: neutrois, demixenogender, bisexual ✦ Xeno themes: warmth, birds, tea ✦ Interests/likes: books, pet care, unsolved mysteries ✦ Dislikes: crowds, people who lack critical thinking skills, overly bright colors ✦ Music taste: baroque pop, filk, twee pop, jangle pop ✦ Aesthetic(s): grandparentcore, liminal spaces ✦ Kins: deer, owls, jackalopes ✦ Emoji proxy: 📖🐇 ✦ Details:

Page is very shy, albeit not unsociable. They are very aware of their and the system's social battery. They are not afraid to politely express their limitations and needs in a social situation and protect the system from social burnout or worsening of social anxiety. Despite this, ey is intimate in private with those ey trusts and does want to make friends. Eir biggest interest is books and loves spending time at libraries, especially when the system need it for a change of pace. Ix especially likes anything that would be deemed "nerdy" - books about history and science as well as fictional genres like fantasy and sci-fi. Another thing they like reading about is unsolved mysteries, like the Voynich Manuscript or the Toynbee Tiles, as well as cryptids. Co also loves animals and is very interested in pet care, especially for rabbits and birds. If the system have pets, then they enjoy taking care of that pet as part of cos role, and if they do not, co enjoys watching videos of animal habitat setups or reading discussions on pet care forums.

[These can be edited and changed as needed, and headmates will almost definitely not turn out EXACTLY as described.]

[wicked-secretsanta]

Merry Christmas @gliyerabaa!

Special message: Happy holidays! Thank you for being such an awesome person in the fandom <3

Read it on Ao3

“You have to help, Glinda, I keep leaving late because of her. It’s so unfair.”

“Late?” Glinda asked. “You close at eight, don’t you?”

“Yes, technically, but I can close earlier if no one’s here and no one is here after six except for her. Not to mention she always stays until after eight, it’s ridiculous. Every day? I mean, every day? How many things are there to read in this place? Surely she must’ve gone through everything already and—”

“Peace, Milla.” Glinda raised a hand as if that could fend off the rambling. “Elphie is just—”

“Oh, Elphie,” Milla scoffed. “I'm sorry, I forgot you two are joined at the hip nowadays. I don't care what Elphie is doing here, I just want to go home. It's the weekend!” 

Glinda’s face burned as Milla dragged her through the library. “Now wait a moment. What makes you think I could possibly—?” 

“Figure it out. And get her out of here!” Milla finished her sentence by pointedly shoving Glinda towards the stairs to the second floor. 

“Gee.” Glinda huffed as Milla walked away, still mumbling angrily to herself. Something about the library's end shift not being as easy as she thought it would be. “Talk about an attitude.” 

Glinda threw her hair over her shoulder and climbed the stairs purposely taking her time. Not that she wasn't sympathetic to Milla's plight, but she didn't appreciate being made fun of. She and Elphaba were definitely not joined at the hip. The nerve. 

The second floor had many tables and benches near the balustrade, and in one of those tables was Elphaba in her natural habitat, hunched over, notebook in front of her, stack of books by her elbow, splayed books in front of her, quill in a hand that was looking so cramped Glinda winced in sympathy. 

Elphaba didn't notice her arrival, too engrossed in her work. 

“Elphie,” Glinda called softly, not wanting to startle her, feeling as if she was approaching an idle animal. 

Elphaba looked up, startled, blinking beady eyes and then squinting, then removing her spectacles to rub her eyes with ink-stained fingers. Her braid was all messy, strands framing her face as if she'd raked her fingers though it repeatedly, and she had an overall frazzled look about her. 

Glinda swooned, but just a little. 

“What?” Elphaba’s voice was a little hoarse from disuse. “What are you doing here?”

Glinda cleared her throat. “It's late, Elphie, I've been sent to bring you back to the dorms.” 

“Oh.” Elphaba leaned back in her chair. “Late? But it's only—” Then she looked out into the window at the back of the room, and was greeted with the darkening colors of sunset crossing over the sky. “Oh. I lost track of time.”

A smile played on the edges of Glinda’s mouth. “As you often do. C’mon, get your things, Milla is going to kill me if I don’t get you out of here in the next minute.”

“But I’m not done.”

“You can come back tomorrow,” she said. “And God knows you will come back tomorrow. Aren’t you tired?”

Though the question was redundant, she knew at this point that Elphaba was always at least a little bit tired. She had been ever since Dr. Dillamond was murdered, just like Glinda had been permanently tired since Ama Clutch fell ill.

“I have something to show you.” Elphaba came to her feet suddenly, not even bothering to answer the question, but looking more alert than she had just a second ago. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” asked Glinda. “We have to leave. Milla is—”

“Milla won’t care for a minute or two.”

“Milla is about to have a fainting bout, Elphie.”

“She can have one after a minute or two.” She closed her notebook and stacked her books and put a bunch in her satchel, then threw it over one shoulder and grabbed her little lamp, the only light source other than the natural, dying sunlight breaking through. “Come on, it won’t take long.”

“What?” Glinda blinked, but followed Elphaba deeper into the rows of bookshelves. She had to follow her, Milla be damned, because Elphaba never included Glinda in her comings and goings in this place, the chance was too good to pass up. And to be fair Elphaba was taking her things with her, so she clearly intended to leave once she was done showing Glinda whatever she wanted to show her. “What is it?”

“Have you ever been here?” 

“To the library? Sometimes. Why?” 

“Just follow.”

“I am following.”

“There’s a lot of books that aren’t accessible to us on account of our unfortunate circumstance of being girls.”

“Unfortunate?” Glinda muttered, but Elphaba went on.

“I’ve been bribing Boq and Crope and Tibbett to find me real material from the Briscoe library. Well, I used to bribe them, but now they just do it.”

They trudged through a great number of bookshelves, moving through the rows and hallways as if going deeper and deeper into a maze. “I suppose that’s what happens when you become friends with people.”

The soft glow of the lamp caught Elphaba’s adorable grimace. “I suppose. The point is that they’re good at what they do, but I cannot walk around with the books on my person. Who knows what would happen if Morrible were to corner me, and I know she’s had her eye on me, that disgusting little tiktok creature follows me around when she thinks I’m clueless.”

It wasn’t the first time Glinda heard about this. It had started happening after the murder, and in her grief-stricken state Glinda had attributed it to Elphaba’s paranoid and conspiracy-loving mind, but she didn’t think it was so farfetched now. She had caught glimpses of Morrible’s mechanical servant in places where it shouldn’t be.

“You keep them here?” Glinda asked. “The books, I mean.”

Finally they stopped in front of a random shelf at the back, not any different than any of the others, spines and spines of weathered leather forming a wall that extended from floor to ceiling.

“Yes,” said Elphaba, and reached for one of the books. “No one ever searches here because what could the good girls of Crage Hall possibly be hiding in their library of all places?”

Glinda smiled. She wouldn’t have encouraged breaking the rules in the past, but she was beginning to see some rules only existed for the wrong reasons. “Right. Good society girls usually hide their prohibited things in their drawers or under their mattresses.”

“You would know about that,” Elphaba teased, then handed the book over. “I thought you may be interested in this one.”

Glinda squinted at it in the low light, for the sun was almost under the horizon now, and Elphaba’s lamp was quite small. From what she could gather it was some dusty, ancient spellbook. 

She closed it after realizing what it was. 

“What?” Elphaba asked. “Isn’t sorcery your preferred area of study?”

“I— well, it used to be. But it’s complicated now.”

“Because of Ama Clutch?”

“Because of Ama Clutch.” Glinda put the book back where it belonged—well, not where it belonged, but rather where Elphaba had smuggled it into. “What if it was my fault?”

“That’s—”

Then they heard the screech of a heavy door, and the unmistakable click of an even heavier lock.

“Oh, she didn’t,” Glinda whispered.

And finally, as if on a timer as tight as Milla’s schedule, the sun finished setting, and the two of them were thrown more or less into darkness in the middle of the most remote corner of the library, perhaps the most remote corner in all of Crage Hall, with only Elphaba’s little lamp to go by.

They looked at each other briefly, Elphaba scowling, Glinda rolling her eyes, and made their way out and into the main floor.

“Did your friend just lock us here on purpose?”

“Friend is a very strong word right about now,” said Glinda. 

The library’s main door was indeed locked, no amount of pushing or pulling would make it budge. 

Elphaba smashed her shoulder against it, fruitlessly, then banged on it with her open palm. “Milla! Are you still out there? Open the door right this instant, if this is a prank—”

“It’s not a prank, unfortunately.” Glinda grabbed Elphaba’s hand before she could mangle it. “She probably saw your things were gone and assumed we left without her noticing.”

Elphaba turned to her, bewildered. “And she would close up the place without being certain?”

“Oh, sure. I don’t think you understand how upset she was about having to stay here this late.”

“It’s not even closing time!”

“You don’t have to fight me about it,” Glinda grumbled. 

“Come.” Elphaba grabbed Glinda’s wrist and tugged her away from the door, still holding her lamp in her other hand. Was it gas or oil, Glinda wondered, and just how much light did they still have left?

They stopped in front of one of the windows, and Elphaba handed over the life-saving lamp. “Hold this for a second. I’ll get this open and we’ll just jump through—” Elphaba trailed off.

Glinda leaned closer to the window to see what she was seeing, just as water began pattering against it, and just as the sky lit up briefly with a flash, followed by the low rumble of thunder.

“Great,” said Elphaba. 

“God forbid things are ever easy for us.” 

“You could still leave if you don’t mind getting your clothes wet,” Elphaba said. “You won’t melt like a sugarcube the way I would. Though I suppose if I step outside my ‘melting’ would be quite more graphic and bloody than that of a sugarcube.”

Glinda grimaced. “Must you be so morbid? And I’m not leaving, Elphie. I would hate for you to be all alone in here with the storm going on, who knows when it’s going to let up.”

“You don’t have to worry, I’ll be perfectly safe. It’s not like I never spend time alone in here anyway.”

Elphaba was never going to let this go as long as she saw it as Glinda doing something for her, she had that funny way about herself where accepting someone else’s assistance was a ludicrous concept.

“I don’t want to get my hair wet,” Glinda said. “I spent a lot of time curling it this morning.”

And that was that.

“Fine, then.” Elphaba sighed. “Let’s try to put on the fireplace, it can get chilly in here, and something tells me we’ll need the light to go by.”

“You’ve been here all day,” said Glinda as they made their way back through the main floor, led by Elphaba's singular lamp. “Did you eat?”

The fact Elphaba had to think about it was hilarious, and also a little sad. “No, but it’s fine. I’m not hungry.” She was betrayed by the sudden and spectacularly well-timed growling of her stomach, because that was just the way things went.

“Mhm.”

Elphaba flushed a darker green, and cleared her throat. “It’s because you made me think about it. I wasn’t hungry a moment ago.”

“That’s entirely sensible.” Glinda nodded seriously, though of course she didn’t think it was sensible at all. “You handle the fire and I’ll make sure you don’t starve.”

“There’s nothing to eat here, food and drinks aren’t allowed.”

“Oh, Elphie,” Glinda said dramatically. “You wound me by being so distrustful! Don’t you worry about that, I’ll find you something to eat.”

Elphaba rolled her eyes. “Fine, go hunting and gathering inside the library, that’s a swell idea. Just know that I don’t eat books, contrary to popular belief.”

“I’ll be back in a clock tick.” Glinda smiled at her, and they went in their opposite directions, Elphaba towards the fireplace and Glinda towards the front desk.

Milla’s front desk, to be exact.

She got to keep the lamp so she didn’t have to stumble her way through, but she would know where to go and where to search even in total darkness. 

At this point Glinda had spent enough time with Milla—more time than either of them had ever spent with Shenshen and Pfannee—to know the girl’s habits pretty well. If she had to stay four hours a day in this place then there was no way she would do it without anything to eat in the meantime.

Glinda had only to rummage behind the front desk for a few seconds before she found what she was looking for. A half-eaten bag of almonds and peanuts, a little box of breadsticks, and nougat and other non-perishable little munchables. Perfect.

Glinda grabbed all of it, then frowned, then her eyes widened and she chuckled.

“Ah, Milla. You scoundrel.”

Behind the little pile of snacks and hidden under some stacks of papers was an innocuous dark glass bottle. Glinda pulled it out, and took out the loose cork and sniffed it, then wrinkled her nose.

Well, she supposed that was one way of coping with always having to leave on time—which for Milla meant leaving late.

She gathered all of Milla’s pastimes in her arms and made her way back to find Elphaba crouching by the fireplace with a stick, fumbling around in the darkness as she tried to get a flame going.

“C’mon, you useless—”

Glinda dropped her spoils on the nearby couch and set the lamp down on a low table, then snapped her fingers and the fireplace properly roared to life.

Elphaba stumbled back, startled, then looked over her shoulder with her typical scowl. “A little warning could’ve been nice.”

“Where’s the fun in that? I rarely get to surprise you with anything, let me have this.” 

“I thought you weren’t that interested in magic anymore.”

“I said to let me have this.” 

Elphaba dusted off her hands then came to her feet, overseeing everything Glinda brought. She glanced at her lamp, but it was a little redundant now.  “Where’d you find all of this?”

“Milla’s not-so-secret stash.” Glinda winked. “It's not exactly a proper meal but at least you won't die of starvation.” 

“I think I could've managed a few hours without—” 

Glinda tossed her the brown bag of peanuts and almonds, and it comically hit Elphaba square in the forehead. 

“Thanks for that,” Elphaba deadpanned, and the bag fell right into her waiting hand. 

“So you can say thank you! Very good, Elphie.” 

“I—” Elphaba blinked. “I have been terribly ungrateful, you're right. I'm sorry. Thank you for the food, and for staying with me while I’m trapped here.” 

Glinda's eyes lit up. Goodness, she kept swooning just because Elphaba was being a decent person. 

“You're welcome, Elphie.” This little infatuation was proving difficult to manage and also quite a bit embarrassing. “This is tonight's grand prize, however.” 

And she lifted up the liquor bottle and gave it a little shake. 

“What in the—” Elphaba snorted. “Where’d you find that?” 

“Also Milla’s not-so-secret stash.” 

“No wonder that ninny can never help me find a single book. I know the school pays only in extra credits but honestly, a little effort would go a long way, and—are you even listening?”

“Sorry.” Glinda finished taking a swig. It was kind of awfully strong. Was it moonshine? Ugh. She never would've expected that from Milla of all people. “Did you want some?” 

“Give me that. And I’d offer to sit but I’m kind of sick of staying in one place. Do you want to walk around? I can show you the library. I don't think my lamp has a long lifespan left but there's enough windows and moonlight to go by.” 

Glinda wouldn’t say no if her life depended on it. “Fine by me.”

“But—” Elphaba raised a palm between them. “Are you sure?”

“Sure of what?”

“Sure of staying here, I mean,” Elphaba said. “You don’t have to, it’s really not that long of a walk to the dormitories, you can deal with a little bit of water—”

“Elphie,” Glinda cut in slowly, more like a warning than anything else. “I'm staying until it's safe for you to go outside, and that's that. You hear me? That's that.” 

“But—” 

“That's that. I don't want to hear another word about it.” 

Elphaba blinked for a moment, just staring at Glinda, then nodded as if unsure of what she'd just heard. 

If nothing else it truly felt like progress. Glinda had been ready to argue for a while longer. 

She carried the lamp so Elphaba could munch on the ‘borrowed’ food as they walked, but they did share the bottle of moonshine between them, passing it back and forth as they went along. 

Yet Elphaba never grimaced at the strong aftertaste and she walked in a straight line, her eyes sharp even after Glinda started refusing any more of it because she was getting lightheaded.

“You can really hold your liquor, Elphie.” 

She shrugged. “I suppose. Can you?” 

“It depends on the liquor. Just never give me wine—unless you want to have a really good time.” 

“I don't know who'd say no to a really good time.” Elphaba smirked at her, and Glinda blushed something fierce.

Was Elphaba even aware of what she was doing? Why would she answer with something borderline flirtatious to Glinda’s innocent and playful comment? Or, perhaps, just perhaps, Elphaba’s intention wasn’t to flirt and she was just being her normal self. Ugh. 

Glinda hated this, she was definitely not an overthinker. Why would she be? She never had problems with the objects of her affections before, but Elphaba was—different than the rest. None of the other boys Glinda held interest towards really even came close.

Glinda was now recognizing her interest for those boys was more intellectual curiosity than actually driven by any sort of emotion. It was logical to find certain boys handsome, right? 

Well, no. 

Elphaba defied logic as much as she tended to defy all expectations. Glinda liked her, really liked her. Liked her in a way she understood intellectually was the way she was supposed to like boys, but nothing about her feelings for Elphaba were intellectual, they were just warm and humane, driven by pure sentiment instead of logic. 

She sighed, walking beside Elphie these halls that smelled of paper and ink and dust and noticing that Elphaba moved through them with an ease that Glinda had never seen. 

She hoped the storm would never let up, or that at least it would last the whole night. 

“You look right at home,” Glinda said. “More than you ever look at home in our dorm.” 

“I never spent too much time in rooms, not even as a child.” Elphaba talked without looking at her, her eyes instead scanning the bookcases. It was eerily quiet this deep into the library, even the sound of the rain was a distant thing. “Libraries, though—well, when I could. The one in Colwen Grounds is quite extensive, yet it's private, it belongs only to my family. All that knowledge—” Her fingers trailed over some dusty spines. “And it's not shared. And even if it was, there's simply not enough time to know it all. I used to spend hours upon hours upon days trying, reading whatever I could get my hands on and trying to understand what I was reading so I could— I’ve just rambled like a madwoman, sorry.”

“If anything, you don't talk to me enough, Elphie.” Milla may call them ‘joined at the hip’, yet Glinda would spend even more time with Elphaba if that was possible. 

Elphaba looked at her puzzled, her head tilted to the side as if Glinda had said something entirely incomprehensible. 

 “What are some of your favorite things about this place?” Glinda asked because she was growing flustered yet again. “Show me.”

She realized that for Elphaba this wasn’t only a place to come in and do research or do her homework. She liked being here, and whether that was because it reminded her of her childhood or because of something else Glinda would like to know. 

Elphaba smiled at her, the silvery moonlight giving her a sort of sheen that was quite entrancing, even if she was otherwise so disheveled. Yet another thing Glinda wouldn’t mind doing for her, fix up her braid and wipe the ink stains away from her fingers.

How odd it was to want to take care of someone in such gentle ways, usually Glinda was the one craving to be pampered, but Elphaba’s unkempt edges—which in the past had seemed ghastly to her—were inviting.

“Let’s go, then,” Elphaba said. “There’s one thing you may want to see.”

“Other than illicit books?”

“Other than that.”

At the back of the main floor, in a space cleared of books, was something that looked very out of place for a library of all things.

It was a piano.

Glinda frowned. “I thought this place was supposed to be quiet at all times.”

“It’s a showpiece more than something you’re meant to play,” Elphaba said. “Let me show you.”

Glinda didn’t understand how such a common piano could be a showpiece. It wasn’t much different from all the other pianos she had ever seen in parties or receptions, or in her own lessons from when she was a little girl. It was sleek and black and it stood on four legs, more shiny than she expected from a place otherwise so dusty but utterly ordinary.

“It doesn’t look like much,” Glinda said.

“Watch.” 

They sat together on the piano bench, which was small, so it meant that they were quite together and the closeness was not helping Glinda’s growing case of being disastrously in love with her best friend.

She cleared her throat. “Do you know how to play?”

“Well, no,” Elphaba said, lifting the covers off the keys. “But that's not entirely necessary for what I want to actually show—” 

So Glinda was the one that played. She wasn’t an expert by any means but she remembered her lessons well enough she could conjure up an old child’s lullaby, a slow rhythm. It was a little clumsy, but overall not too terrible.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Elphaba said softly as if not to cut through the music with her voice.

“There are a lot of things I can do that you don’t know about.”

There was that sly smile again. “Like what?”

“Like—” Glinda faltered a little, then she just stopped altogether to turn her head and look at Elphaba directly. 

It really was a small bench, made even smaller by the fact Glinda had to sit somewhat in the middle to have access to the pedals below. Her thigh pressed against Elphaba’s almost entirely, and their arms brushed together as Glinda took her hands away from the keys.

Glinda licked her lips. “Um. What did you want to show me this piano for, anyway?”

It took Elphaba a second to process that she was being spoken to. “Right. Here.” And she leaned around the side of the piano and did something, and then there was a click and a soft buzz. 

And then the keys and the pedals started moving on their own, repeating to perfection Glinda's slightly imperfect rendition. 

“What in Oz?” she murmured, her eyes wide. “It's—a tiktok thing?” 

“Yeah,” Elphaba said, satisfied. “Like Morrible's little servant, only much less unsettling. It helps that you’re good at it, if I’d been the one playing we’d be stuck with a much more disastrous loop.”

Glinda recalled Elphaba saying the library could get chilly without the fireplace, but she couldn't imagine how that would be true, she had never felt warmer in her life, the heat expanded from her cheeks and intensified where Elphaba was pressed against her. Elphaba’s body felt like an open flame next to her. 

“I wouldn’t say I’m good,” Glinda said in a rush. “Most girls I know can play a song or two.”

“My father tried to put me in lessons, too.” Thankfully, Elphaba wasn’t looking at her. “He wanted me to play hymns on the organ for the church at home.”

“And what happened?”

“I think I bit a priest or a maunt, I don’t really remember.” She grinned. “But there was blood and after that no one was so willing to teach me.”

Glinda grinned right back. “Incorregible.”

The music kept playing, a constant loop of the same song over and over, and Elphaba reached for the bottle she had set on the floor again, then frowned at it.

“What’s the matter?” asked Glinda.

“Look at this.”

Elphaba tilted the bottle a bit to catch the light of the lamp, and it glinted off the inscription at the front.

“Today you’ve shown me all sorts of things,” Glinda said with a smile. “What is it?”

“This thing is a gift from Boq.”

“From Boq?” Glinda took a closer peek at the engraved letters. 

“He’s taking some arts and crafts electives, look.” 

Glinda arched her eyebrows, but indeed the markings at the front of the bottle she thought were nothing but branding were actually a message in a nice script. Could we share the next one? Love, Boq. 

“Oh God.” She laughed. “That’s extremely corny for someone like Milla, I can imagine the face she made. But of course she would never say no to some moonshine.”

“I didn’t know they had a thing for each other.”

“A thing,” Glinda repeated, amused. “Boq’s been hovering over her shoulder for a while now.”

“I thought he was sweet for you instead.”

“He hasn’t been in months, Elphie.” 

“Huh. The more you know.”

“You’re absolutely clueless.”

“I’m not ashamed, sometimes it’s good to be clueless about certain things.” Elphaba shrugged. “You’re not upset that your admirer found someone else to admire?”

“Are you kidding me? Not whatsoever. Good riddance to him. I never should've let him kiss me but in retrospect perhaps that was the beginning of the end.”

“You let him kiss you?” Elphaba put the bottle back on the floor, frowning at Glinda now. “Why?”

“A regrettable and terrible moment of weakness. Besides, I was upset, and that proved a distraction—albeit a boring one. Kissing boys has got to be the most boring thing in the world.” 

“But why were you upset?” 

Ah, Glinda definitely did not want to get into the complicated maelstrom of complications that’d been the day at the Caprice and Pines, when Shenshen and Pfannee thought it would be hilarious to impersonate Glinda in a letter and invite Elphaba there for a lark.

A lark at Glinda’s expense, mind you. She still couldn’t believe her feelings for Elphaba were so evident that even those girls could tell. It’d been so mortifying to be so known.

“Uhh—” She couldn’t tell any of that to Elphaba, however. “Never mind all that!” She leaned against Elphaba in the small bench, defaulting to just keeping her close in hopes of distracting her.

“Regrettable, you said?” Elphaba chuckled, but she wrapped an arm around Glinda’s shoulder as the slow music kept playing. 

The gesture brought them even closer together, and Glinda fully rested her head on Elphaba’s shoulder, her entire body relaxing in the low light, with the slow music, with the nearness.

She longed to be even nearer.

“How come I never knew?” Elphaba asked.

Glinda really didn’t want to keep discussing that. “Have you ever kissed anyone, Elphie?” Way to divert the conversation.

Elphaba snorted. “Don't be absurd.”

“Why is that absurd?” 

“Not all of us can have the entire university pining for us.” 

“Wait a moment.” Glinda’s brow furrowed. “Are you talking about me? I don’t have the entire university pining for me.”

“Of course not, just Boq, and Fiyero, and that idiot Avaric and—” She shut her mouth abruptly, and Glinda tilted her head back just to catch a glimpse of the way Elphaba’s cheeks darkened.

Glinda’s heart fluttered briefly. Should she dare hope?

“Who’d want to kiss me, anyway?” Elphaba muttered darkly. She was as adept at diverting the conversation as Glinda was, clearly.

The lamp on top of the piano flickered once, twice, and then went out completely like a whisper, total darkness enveloping them save from the dim moonlight barely illuminating the edges of Elphaba’s face.

Between their closeness and the darkness, Glinda decided to let herself hope.

She licked her lips. Her cheek was pressed against Elphaba’s shoulder, she lifted a hand to carefully brush a strand of hair away from her neck, briefly brushing against Elphaba’s pulse point. It was quick like a hummingbird’s wings. 

“I can think of someone who’d want to kiss you.” 

“Oh, really?” Elphaba’s scowl got even deeper with disbelief, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Well, I'd love to meet that person.” 

“You actually know her well enough. She is, quite literally and figuratively, all over you.” 

“She—” Elphaba's brain visibly malfunctioned, looking down at the way Glinda was basically draped over her in this cramped little piano bench. “She—you—” Her eyes widened a bit, and Glinda gave her a moment. “Are you serious?” 

“As the grave.” 

“But—” 

“Actually, never mind,” Glinda said suddenly, pushing away as her nerve abandoned her just as quick as it had arrived. “I just realized how odd that was, so let me just—” 

“No! No, wait, wait.” Elphaba’s hands went on to Glinda’s shoulders so she could keep her there. “You’re serious?”

It was good that the place was otherwise so dark, because Glinda did not want Elphaba to see how red her face was. “Yes! And please don’t ask that again. Yes, I’m serious. I guess the question now is do you want to kiss me?”

“Glinda, everyone wants to kiss you.”

“But you’re not like everyone, Elphie.”

It was quiet for a moment, one of Elphaba’s hands on her shoulder slowly made its way towards Glinda’s hair, and she twirled a stray curl around her finger. Glinda had never been so unmoving in her life, she was nearly holding her breath.

“I think that when it comes to you,” Elphaba’s voice was a whisper, a soft rush of air. “I am more like everyone else than you think.”

The world came to a stop for a moment, and when it resumed motion it did so gently, like so: Glinda's lips parted just a little, mostly in surprise, and Elphaba's eyes flickered down. 

And then Glinda leaned towards her, not even conscious of the frantic beating of her heart, not anymore. And then, and then, and then, she kissed her. 

Other than the clumsy and slow song still playing, the place was silent and still, and kissing Elphaba was nothing like Glinda had expected—and she hadn’t had expectations at all, truly. It was never a thought Glinda liked to indulge in because she thought it would never happen.

Except that now it was happening, and it was better than anything she could’ve tried to picture anyway. Elphie tasted like that awful moonshine but Glinda didn't really care, nor did she care about the spectacles barely digging into her nose. There was no room to care about anything like that. 

Elphaba held onto her shoulders rather gently, a touch that was just barely there, just like the touch of their lips, a soft press that was feather light and careful, for Glinda was still aware of the fact it was Elphaba's first ever kiss—she didn't want to be overwhelming. 

But there was no reason to worry about that. Elphaba tackled most things in her life with the same intense drive, and this was no different. She said she had never kissed anyone before, and yet she kissed Glinda like she never wanted to do anything else. 

Glinda shifted a little, smiled into Elphaba's mouth and that was taken as encouragement. They kissed for a long, long time. Longer than Glinda had ever kissed anyone before, which suited her just fine, and in fact she was oddly giddy to be sharing a first time of her own with Elphaba. 

So long in fact that it eventually stopped raining, but neither of them noticed for a while.

Until whatever mechanism kept the piano going finally stopped and that broke the spell the two of them found themselves in, and they realized that it was just a little too quiet inside the library.

“I think—the storm’s over,” Elphaba said softly.

Glinda blinked slowly at her, dazzled. “The what?” 

Elphaba snorted, one thumb brushing the side of Glinda's mouth, perhaps trying to fix her smudged lipstick but all she did was make Glinda's heart do a somersault. “The storm, my sweet. We can leave through a window now.” 

“What did you just call me?” 

“Sweet.” Elphaba now pressed her thumb over Glinda's lips. “That's how you taste.” 

Glinda had to kiss her again after that. She had to. What else was she supposed to do? 

Luckily Elphaba didn't complain. 

But this time Glinda didn't let herself get carried away, she was the first to pull back and stand up with haste because being so close to Elphaba was making her only want to stay close to her for the rest of the night, and they really had to leave. 

“That eager to run away from me?” Elphaba asked with some amusement. “You wouldn't be the first.” 

“Oh, hush, you seem to have no idea of what you've done; you'll never get rid of me now.” 

“I won't complain about that.” 

“Get up.” Glinda laughed softly. “We should hurry in case the storm comes back.”

“Suddenly I'm not so keen on leaving.” Elphaba’s braid was basically nonexistent and totally shapeless at this point. Glinda would really have to fix it for her later once they were in the safety of their shared room. 

But first thing's first, they had to get out of there. And then she would make sure Elphaba carried an umbrella wherever she went. 

“Let's go, Elphie, don't kick up a hard time about it.” Glinda paused, and decided a different tactic. “Nothing will stop us from kissing again once we’re back, you know.”

Elphaba had never gotten to her feet faster.

[puzzled-pegasus]

I love wof but heres some annoying technical things I despise about it

The scaling of Pyrrhia is nuts. You're telling me they flew across the ENTIRE world in a few weeks?? Like bro. And Pantala is basically an island, not even a continent with how much space the damn Hives take up.

Also the populations? There should be MILLIONS of dragons but naw, just a few hundred of each tribe. What? I mean I guess the war and whatnot but like?? They're the dominant species of the world??? Can't tell me that RainWings are the largest tribe when SandWing have all that space too and SeaWings have the entire ocean, but naw RainWings. SandWings I can understand cause so many of them were killed but SeaWings aren't more populated??? SeaWings?????

The scaling of dragon to scavengers is completely inconsistent and drives me nuts. Are they the size of a mouse? A cat? A monkey? How do they compare to other animals??

SeaWings "turning on" their night vision. Girl how do you think eyes work?

SkyWings being red and orange instead of sky colors. I mean I guess if it was like males that were bright and females were more bluish gray, sure, but it seems weird they'd need to stand out so much. Though I suppose if you even see one it's too late cause they're so fast.

Surely dragons must have better senses of smell? It's not talked about much at all.

OH MY GOD THE TWO THOUSAND YEAR GAP WHERE DRAGONS ALL LOOK AND TALK EXACTLY THE SAME AS THEY DID. DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG TWO THOUSAND YEARS IS. TWO *HUNDRED* YEARS AGO THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE WAS WILDLY DIFFERENT. 2000 YEARS AGO, CORRECT ME IF IM WRONG BUT ENGLISH DIDN'T EVEN EXIST

Language evolution is a thing, Tui, especially over Two Thousand Years. Do you know how cool it would have been for Darkstalker to at least have an accent or speak Olde English but nooo. In the actual book Darkstalker, I understand; as making them speak a weird old language for the entire book would be exhausting and meaning is better interpreted if the language makes sense. But like? When he's talking to dragons 2000 years later? Some contrast would have been cool. Like every thirty seconds he says some weird extinct word out of habit and everyone is like ??

How come in 3000 years one species of dragon evolved into 10 tribes but 2000 years didn't even give them any new inventions or language changes. Ain't no way. Also there's no explanation of how or why they evolved that fast and adapted all their wildly different traits. A dragon tribe family tree would be so cool.

Not an unusual opinion but erasing animus magic. I had PLANS! Come on!

Why do IceWings have spikes? Why?

Also why are there IceWings named Penguin and also ones named Polar Bear. Penguins live in the SOUTH POLE. If this planet does not have a SOUTH POLE, there should be no PENGUINS. If it DOES have a SOUTH POLE, we need to MEET the SOUTHERN ICEWINGS.

Various other animal and habitat glitches: animals that live nowhere each other being used for names in the same tribe.

SEASONS???? SUMMER AUTUMN WINTER SPRING?? I'M SEEING THE NAME WINTER BUT I'M NOT SEEING A FKING WINTER?? RAINWING DRY SEASON WET SEASON?? SANDWING SEASON OF STORMS?? AUTUMN LEAVES? LIGHT SEASON AND DARK SEASON WAY UP NORTH WITH THE ICEWINGS?? HOLIDAYS IN THE DARK SEASON TO CHEER THEM UP?

Why do IceWings all have blue eyes if their blood is blue? Are they all albino? Has Tui ever heard of snow shine?? These poor dragons should all have eye damage cause their poor unpigmented eyes don't protect them from the snowshine burning their retinas

Why don't MudWings have fins or webbed talons? They don't need gills but they are semi aquatic so?

Every time it mentions HiveWings flapping their wings instead of buzzing I lose a week off my life expectancy

[abhorrenttheorizer]

PART 1 OF ???

Special thanks to my dear interwebz buddy, @skullmalice, for helping me out with the naming and biology of these little muppets!

Long post/textwalling warning.

Well fellas, you know what they say:

Another day, another downward spiral.

Lately I have been on a bit of a nostalgia kick, looking at some of the things I've been into as a child, and speaking to other people that have been spelunking in the same caves, per se. I met a friend who showed me a piece of my childhood that I had almost completely forgotten. Like a wild animal being reintroduced to its natural habitat, I have been all over this shit, reliving everything I once did as a young maggot. Since that fateful reintroduction, that childhood memory has since become one of the most dangerous hyperfixations I have possibly ever had. /j

Said childhood memory? The Mr. Men and Little Miss franchise. More specifically, The Mr. Men Show, because I am early 2000s old school All American™ zoomer scum. (besides that, the only other thing about the franchise I remember is reading some of the books in 1st grade)

So because I got that dawg in me (read: autism), my naturally inquisitive nature leads me to territories that I should never have even considered for the sake of my own sanity.

Namely one question that's been chewing at the few neurons I have:

Just what the hell even are these things, anyway?

I know the canonical answer. They're stylized, abstract humans. But that's not satisfactory.

Call me a stubborn mule, but you simply cannot convince me that a pill, circle, bean, or rectangle shaped technicolor abomination is in any way, shape, or form, a human being.

Not happening.

Especially not when (at least in every version but the 2000s one) these things have been shown next to and interacting with actual humans on multiple occasions.

These fucking things look like muppets, so I will make them muppets.

It has to happen.

Being the fiend for speculative biology that I am, I simply had to pounce on this opportunity, and promptly tear it a new asshole.

With that being said, Mr. Men speculative biology? Mr. Men speculative biology.

The funny little shape people we all know and love belong to a species of chionophilic, semiaquatic, faerie-like pseudomammalians.

The figure on the far left, is a frog. More specifically a common rain frog (Breviceps adspersus)

reference source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breviceps_adspersus#/media/File:Breviceps-adspersus-adspersus.jpg (forgive me, this is literally, and I don't use that word lightly, the first time I have ever drawn a frog)

The figure in the middle, is a hamster. More specifically a Syrian hamster (Mesocricetus auratus)

reference source: https://www.istockphoto.com/photo/cute-funny-syrian-hamster-gm1019886932-274048800

The figure on the far right, is a frog's sad attempt at being a hamster's sad attempt at being a human. (Mirabilis phasmafigura)

One of the main things that separate Mirabils from other animals they may be morphologically similar to is their bright, vibrant pelage. Unlike animals that utilize certain structures within hairs, scales, or feathers, Mirabils have genuine green, blue, and purple pigments. But why is this? Such unnatural coloration doesn't work well when you're a small cotton ball in a big world of both predators and prey, that is, unless you're an aposematic species.

Mirabils exhibit vibrant fur colors with genuine rare pigments for the purpose of warning potential predators that they are exceptionally poisonous. And venomous. At the same time.

The inside of the Mirabil's mouth also displays a high amount of contrast, a black inner mouth with a vibrant, pink, hot pink or red tongue.

As shown by the image above, there are multiple different ways for mirabils to assert to potential predators that they are not to be reckoned with.

The "Poisonous" warning (as modeled by Mr. Nervous, on the left), involves arching the back, raising the tail either straight up or curling it over the back (if it is long enough), and exposing the front and hind claws (unless they've got kicks on). All parts of the Mirabil are exasperatingly poisonous, so even accidentally sharing food with or ingesting a few hairs from one can and will lead to a 20 minute lifespan with no hope for any antidotes that would work.

The "Venomous" warning (as modeled by Little Miss Bossy, on the right), involves standing straight or with the front end lowered (preparing to strike), spitting their toxic saliva (Unlike with venomous snakes, the venom glands on a mirabil are their salivary glands, so their saliva normally adopts a greenish-yellowish tint (it's not bad hygiene, it's neurotoxins!), and baring the teeth. Mirabils are capable of opening their jaws up to 90 degrees. Similarly to snakes, the bottom jaw is loosely attached by soft ligaments, which aids them in getting a good hold on either potential predators, prey items larger than themselves, or on rivals for mates (they're immune to their own venom, but the pain of being envenomated for a mirabil is similar to that of a yellow jacket sting). Their venom is just as powerful as their poison, and if bitten the lifespan also shortens to about 20 minutes. Also no antidote for magic hellvenom lol.

It is hypothesized that specimens of M. phasmafigura were first discovered in the late 10th century by populations in Northern Europe/Asia, and the far south of South America respectively. Since then, they were first hunted for their luxuriously soft, silky, colorful pelts, then promptly domesticated and assimilated into human society.

Mirabil domestication has a very complicated history, especially with the fact that they as a species were always, and still are in affiliation with wizards, witches, and other alchemists (though usually unwilling on the Mirabil's terms). They were first utilized as hunting and fishing companions, then taken by wizards as servants and laborers (due to their small, nimble hands, swift movements, and magic properties ofc), then as pet-like companions by both wizards and the general populace, and finally as their own independent, sovereign "people" between the late 1970s to early 1980s.

While the species is currently global, existing in many different cultures, elevations, and climates, the natal habitats of the mirabil lie in freshwater polar regions across the world. When freshwater is not available, Mirabils prefer coastal regions where they can hunt in the open sea, but these sorts of populations are relatively uncommon. Populations living in the Southern Hemisphere generally prefer to stay near freshwater regions in the far south of South America, and South Africa, though there are several populations of Mirabils in Antarctica.

Despite the wide birth of location between Arctic and Antarctic populations, Mirabils have highly variable appearances, and are extremely difficult to categorize into any specific groups besides certain trends in sexual dimprohism, though even those contain many traits that are highly variable, and thus difficult to determine.

Similarly to other animals such as the puma, Mirabils have many names based on the regions they are native to.

Some of the names this species has received in it's respective locations are as follows:

BRITISH ISLES - Dillies (for their somewhat immature, "dilly-dallying" nature)

NORTHEASTERN EUROPE/EURASIA - Poumpoffs (puffy creatures)

NORTHWESTERN EUROPE - Eba (onomatopoeic for the paternal calls of most males)

SOUTH AMERICA - Mirabils (for their magical properties)

SOUTH AFRICA - Sagtmense (literally "soft people")

While some gravesites in their native range contain Mirabil bones, or Mirabils buried with human owners/companions, their skeletal and bodily structures have not differed from prior "feral" forms. This is mostly due to the species as a whole actively resisting human advancement in terms of domestication, meaning they have kept almost all of their wild traits.

My lawyer has advised me not to tell you how these things reproduce, so I won't.

Not on Tumblr, anyway. /wink

But that doesn't mean I can't show you what these hellspawn look like as babbies, and how they develop.

Mirabils are an ovoviviparous, holometabolous species, meaning they lay eggs that hatch inside the body, and go through complete metamorphosis with a larval and pupal stage.

The lifespan of the larval mirabil is as follows:

Unfertilized egg

Fertilized egg

Embryo

Mature egg (Eggs hatch within the body anywhere between 6 and 4 months before the larva are born. The growth process of larva quickly damages the egg membrane and splits it open, freeing the young inside.)

Newborn (They have no limbs and a very underdeveloped notochord, so physically they're basically a kitten-maggot. They're completely blind (eyes covered in skin, with just a barely noticeable fold to where the eyelid would separate), but not deaf (though the ear isn't developed, and is still covered over with skin.). They will respond to auditory input by writhing in the direction of sounds they are familiar with, but are unable to produce any noise themselves, besides forcing air out of the nostrils to "squeak" if they are disturbed.

Oral anatomy of the baby mirabil (As well as having no limbs or bones besides the skull, mirabil larva are jawless. The mouth is designed to form a seal while feeding. Larva will stop suckling to breathe, but they will remain attached for several years).

5 year old infant. As the mirabil reaches around 5 years, they will detach and their mouth will start to seal itself shut, leaving only a small hole for wax to exit from as it prepares for pupation. Before the mouth completely seals itself shut, they may swallow liquified regurgitated materials, usually of heavily chewed plant or fungal matter brok the parents. Once the mouth is completely unuseable, what they have eaten as their "final meal" will repeatedly cycle back and forth from what would be the end of the digestive system, similar to chewing cud except there's no chewing and it's far nastier. Mirabil larva from birth to pupation are unable to defecate, the divet on their rear ends is meant to produce a glue-like substance so they can properly anchor themselves while feeding so they don't dangle, so the stored milk and regurgitated matter that remains in the body will ferment, getting pushed back into the esophagus to be cycled again and again until pupation occurs and the entire internal body digests itself.

Mature infant of 9 years, just about to pupate. The mouth is completely sealed shut, and the salivary glands are modified to produce a brown, waxy substance that the pup envelopes themself in prior to pupation. Eyelids are more developed, but still completely sealed shut until pupation is complete.

Completed cocoon of the baby mirabil. Pupation takes an extra 9 months as the infant produces extra bones, a completed digestive system, and extra organs they did not previously have.

What finally emerges after 9 long months of gross shit, is a variably-sized cotton ball with legs and a face.

Mature babies emerge from their cocoons when they're about 10 years old (our human equivalent to a newborn). Their eyes are open, and they are somewhat mobile, able to shuffle around on their stubby legs and "sit" upright. They don't have any teeth, instead clawing their way out of the cocoon, and will continue to suckle until they are weaned at about 11 years old. Mirabil aging is around 10 years behind their human equivalent (a 21 year old human and a 21 year old mirabil are not the same, the latter is developmentally on par with a human 11 year old).

Their lifespans are also quite long, with an average lifespan of 210.5 years for females and 215.5 years for males.

Baby mirabils will begin to develop a personality and thus recieve their titular names once they are able to move around more independently. Names for physical characteristics are usually given immediately after the baby leaves the cocoon. When named for a personality trait, the most emotionally significant (or lack thereof) moment in a mirabil's life that occurs before they are able to walk upright becomes their strongest personality trait, and thus their name.

Not all Mirabil larvae are a solid white, however. Some larvae have slight indicators as to how they will look like in adulthood, though some indicators of traits present in adulthood do not present themselves until after pupation.

Such indicators include:

Nasal spotting (for Mirabils with noses that are different to the base fur color, their larval forms will almost always have a colored nose with a ring of differently colored fur surrounding it. The bottom larva in figure 2 and the yellow pup in figure 4 are the same, with the larval form indicating that the pupated, and finally adult form will be a yellow individual with a purple nose.)

Brow spots (This indicator does not show itself until after pupation. The pup in figure 3 has dark spots above the eyes that, after puberty will form a bar or 'unibrow' in adulthood.)

Dipsticking (This indicator also does not show itself until after pupation. Dipsticking in Mirabil pups, like the individual in figure 5 have a spot of differently colored fur on the tip or most of the tail. This implies that the pup will grow up to have "hair", or a differently colored mane and tail from the rest of the body. In this case, this individual will grow to have a mane and tail that are a dark purple in color.)

And so that concludes my first of probably several Mr. Men specbio posts.

Uhhhh ermmmm thanks for reading i guess 😳

[gealach-in-a-misty-world]

As head phoenix keeper at a world-renowned zoo for magical creatures, Aila's childhood dream of conserving critically endangered firebirds seems closer than ever. There's just one glaring caveat: her zoo's breeding program hasn't functioned for a decade. When a tragic phoenix heist sabotages the flagship initiative at a neighbouring zoo, Aila must prove her derelict facilities are fit to take the reins. But saving an entire species from extinction requires more than stellar animal handling skills. Carnivorous water horses, tempestuous thunderhawks, mischievous dragons... Aila has no problem wrangling beasts. Inspiring zoo patrons? That's another story. Mustering the courage to ask for help from the hotshot griffin keeper at the zoo's most popular exhibit? Virtually impossible. Especially when the hotshot griffin keeper in question just so happens to be her arch-rival from college: Luciana, an annoyingly brooding and even more annoyingly insufferable know-it-all with the grace of a goblin and the face of a goddess who's convinced that Aila's beloved phoenix would serve their cause better as an active performer rather than as a passive conservation exhibit.

"Let her prove she could be worth something."

S.A. MacLean's The Phoenix Keeper is a cozy fantasy novel about bisexual zoekeeper Aila and her struggle with anxiety and with the zoo program that's trying to save a Phoenix species from extinction. It's a low-stakes story, sweet and slow-paced, taking its time to describe the daily life at the zoo and the steps taken to bring the program back to life, while chronicling her journey to become a more functional person. It's marketed as a sapphic romantasy, but while the romance is lovely, it's not focussed on and it's more of a subplot.

The tension between Aila and her love interest crackles as Aila has to first navigate a blooming relationship with another zookeeper, a man who on the surface looks perfect for her. But looks can be deceiving, and when Aila lets herself see people for who they truly are, she might reach a different conclusion than she thought.

Throughout the book, she's helped by her best friend, whose friendship has to overcome a few hurdles. Aila is a self-centered protagonist, trapped inside her anxiety that makes her not quite so insightful, but as she slowly comes out of her shell, she becomes more mindful. Her love interest is a more well-rounded character than her, showing hidden depths behind a cool demeanor.

The worldbuilding isn't too elaborate, but it works. The world looks mostly like our own, with the notable exception of magical fauna that's preserved in zoos. The book excels in describing these habitats and enclosures with a lush and colorful prose, showing a zookeper's life with the joy and enthusiasm of a child's visit, building on that nostalgia to really pluck at the heartstrings.

The Phoenix Keeper is a quiet story of self-realization.

✨ 3.5 stars

[swampgallows]

dragonflight is a masterpiece so far btw. it is so charming and beautiful, and im having so much fun. the world itself and the characters in it have always been my favorite part of wow, and dragonflight definitely delivers on the exploration theme of the xpac. so many wonderful little side quests make the world feel vibrant and alive and every npc, no matter how minor, feels like a unique character with a history and a family. i absolutely love the amount of props and doodads spread throughout that make habitats feel lived in, cities and towns populated, and add to the overall landscape. paintbrushes, teapots, baskets, rugs, cooking tools, books and letters, potted plants—these are some of the reasons suramar felt like a real lived-in city in legion, and why boralus and dazar’alor had so much color and life. the differences in architecture and all of these cultural assets further flesh out the races we meet in the dragon isles, and feel natural to their environments and lifestyles. further environmental details like all the flower clusters on the plains, the kelp and chunks of ice in the floes, the bright lichen and fungi in the zones with decay give the land itself even more identity and character. it’s all gorgeous, imbued with love, and most of all, alive.

it feels like wotlk in many ways, and not just because the tuskarr are here: the threat is formidable and present, but manageable, perceptible, domestic. the lich king was a threat, and his touch was felt everywhere, but there was still a visible and familiar world all around us worth saving. the land felt old and new at the same time. the dragon isles seem to borrow from this ethos and have rolled everything players loved about wotlk into the new zones. the azure span is by far the most “mini northrend” of all these: a pine forest that slopes from autumnal down to wintery lowlands and arctic shores, topped off with a nyckelharpa soundtrack. considering that the main antagonists of dragonflight are the primalists who want to throw the elements into chaos, it makes sense that there is so much focus on the beauty of the natural world and the order needed to maintain it. 

the story is cohesive and woven so well into preexisting lore. so many names and places are being dropped that haven’t been talked about since the original rts games and their books, and it’s nice to see the return of so many old faces. even the most minor npcs are someone’s favorite, and it’s been a blast seeing all the cameos of characters from previous expansions, some even as far back as tbc and vanilla. i’m not big on dragons or their lore, but as a longtime fan i can palpably feel the influence of other longtime fans on the development and structure of the story. terran gregory’s hype alone on twitter feels like the metzen days where he is genuinely excited for others to enjoy the expansion and “geek out” alongside him. 

mechanics-wise im really loving the expanded professions; professions are one of my original loves in wow, and it’s been a thrill to return to the days where being a tailor meant i could craft gear that was actually useful. i like the specializations too and their mini talent trees; it’s been fun coordinating with other people in the guild to see who will prioritize what so we can cover all the bases. this might be an unpopular opinion, but i love the explosion of reagents, especially things like meat and plant and animal parts; it feels better to craft something where you can trace it back to where it came from, versus the esoteric gold-sink reagents of shadowlands that called for things like “orboreal shards” and “progenitor essence”. it was more thematic for the xpac, yes, but as a matter of preference it feels more productive to skin an animal and be able to loot meat, skin, and fur or feathers from it. not to mention the profession equipment is a cute, immersive touch that adds more personality and identity to crafting, and it’s given major boosts to “secondary” professions of fishing and cooking (my favorites in any video game). my top priority, of course, is that the cooking recipes in dragon isles are cute and silly and sound delicious, which sold me on dragonflight from minute one.

anyway, i’m having fun. i hope the rest of you guys are too. i have both laughed out loud and cried during several different quests and i’m still not even finished with the main campaign storyline (i’m trying to get there though... i want world quests!!). this is wow that feels like wow without relying on the faction war to do so, which is new territory for me. the truce is tenuous, but not on the shores of the dragon isles. it feels amazing. i want to avoid saccharine words like “wholesome”, so all i can say is that the love is definitely there. there is love and hope in dragonflight, which is all i have ever wanted, and gotten, from wow.

[caramelstarlight]

Wisdom of Vulpes Zerda’s.

(Part 2. For not writing <3)

(Fluff, Inspired by someone who had this thing of Y/N observing Tighnari. If too similar or is requested to be taken down by author, I shall allow this to be taken down.)

A sketch of a fennec fox constellation adorned the first page. With little flowers and random doodles everywhere. It’s continents on his kinds behavior on certain pages stated. The book was indeed very colorful and unique.

Fennec Fox Body Language

The fennec foxes body has a medium build. Similar to majority of animals. A big and bushy tail at the end of their body, with long ears growing up to 6inches for the species. Apparently very linger for hybrids. Highest known length is unknown. The fennec foxes ears serve as a way of communication like majority of species. It can describe many feelings of one. It can also help fennec foxes regulate body heat. Fennec Fox Ear Signals. 1. Relaxed: Ears tall or regular position. It can also be a sign of content. 2. Tense/Alert: Ears tall, twitching slightly. Trying to locate any threats. 3. Affection: Ears lowered by a lot. Or is either in the state of content / relaxed. 4. ??? Need to research more ear movements…

Fennec Fox Body Language

The foxes tail can also signal the same expressions with ease. It can be more expressive than ears at times. 1. Happy: Swaying in any direction, depending on the range of the speed it can signal more. Such as ecstatically means they’re overjoyed. Slower could mean they’re content / relaxed. 2. Curious: Same as happy slightly. They’ll sway their tail a few times, the end flicking around. Shows a sign of wonder and curiosity. 3. Tense/Alert: Tail is stiff, could symbolize it engaging in combat. Tail can also move but it’s slow. Tail might stay in the teardrop position(if tail is bigger on the start or end) Or like a line. (Stiff)

Unfinished Journal Entry… Needs completion, and more research.

Diet: Foxes usually eat berries and/or other plants and are omnivores. They can also eat Deer and Elk or more foods. Such as rabbits or hares. Tighnari likes mushrooms… Need confirmation if other species go fox consider it food.

Tighnaris passions:

Likes: Flora, Forests, Ecosystems, Research, Work, Relaxation, Bonding, Mushrooms, healing, Nature, Me ofc <3 (and friends and family and collei!!)

Dislikes: Lummoxes…? (Mindless adventurers, annoying people, rudeness.), deforestation, habitat loss, critical danger species, extinction. The sages. Cynos jokes.

Tighnaris Behavior: It can depend on his current mood by something affecting it. Such as colleis elezaer gone and cynos jokes…

Sassy is usually for when he’s annoyed or feeling slightly playful. Usually the first option.

Relaxed/Comfortable is when he’s doing his passions. Or in other words his Likes.

Tense or alert is for situations that are concerning. Maybe engaging combat is a good example.

Hmm… I need more research. But sketches are good.

You doodles a few drawings closing the book and placing it in the shelf/cabinet/closet etc idk-)

(I rlly don’t plan to finish this part haha…-)

[jungle-angel]

Life is Beautiful (Miles Miller x Reader)

Summary: Every Artist has his or her muse

Everybody who knew your husband, knew that he had a creative mind that no one else could ever really match. Every day it seemed like his hands were drawing something new whether it was with pencils, pens, charcoal sticks or block crayons he had made from beeswax. 

You saw for yourself one day just how deep his artistic mind went, when you and him were going through old sketchbooks he had stowed away since he was in middle school. You were amazed at how well he could draw, the pages filled with colorful landscapes, still-lifes of animals in their natural habitat or at the Indianapolis zoo. Your favorite had been one he had secretly done as Otis and Kathy danced away on the front porch of their old house, each and every motion captured so perfectly, you thought for sure they would dance right off the page. 

Another favorite of yours had been the circus performers, each one more lifelike than the last. You could almost see it jumping right off the pages, every animal, dancer, stunt artist and performer in the midst of an act that almost moved you to tears. It was so perfect, so innocent and full of wonder that you wished there had been a story to go with it. 

Yet when you opened the next set, you were saddened by much of what you saw. Black and white sketches of soldiers, Vietnamese civilians, some with children and others who were elderly, war weary medics who had just about had enough and one of a little Hmong girl who had been so eager to show Miles her new school dress. 

“Not even three days later, the communists came through and raided the village,” Miles explained sadly. “Only the children in the village survived, including her.” 

You were once again near to tears the more you looked through the sketchbooks labeled “Vietnam: ‘66-68″. Miles told you every story he could remember, his chin wobbling, his voice quavering and his eyes stinging with tears as he recalled those frightening two years. By the time you went through them all, you were holding each other, the both of you a sobbing mess, but forever grateful that the two of you had come together in the years during and after. 

You both rifled through more, many of them from the land that Otis and Kathy owned just outside of Bozeman. You were once again in awe of Miles’s pictures of cowboys, Native Americans, birds and animals all native to the Yellowstone region. Your favorite out of that bunch had been the portrait of Otis astride a horse, his eyes shielded by the black cowboy hat on his head and ready to rope in a bull. 

Miles hadn’t had the opportunity to show or tell you just yet about his latest creations. He desperately wanted it to be a surprise and to see the look on your face when it was all done. 

That spring and summer he watched you, very carefully trying to add in the little details that only his eyes could see. He smiled as you looked out into the grassy meadow, the summer air hot but comfortable, the skirts of your sundress swaying against your knees. You sat perched comfortably on a flat topped rock, caressing your bump which seemed to grow bigger and bigger with every day that passed. You couldn’t see it from the distance, but the expression of pure love on Miles’s face at that very moment would have had you swooning. 

The very next day, when you walked into the finished room that would eventually become Benny’s, you gasped. All of the pictures of the forest animals and the circus pictures, had been framed and hung on the walls thanks to Miles and your father-in-law. You would have fainted had Miles not been there to keep you steady on your already wobbly feet. 

It’s not long before a new set of sketchbooks and watercolor books are filled with images of you and Benny, you his beautiful mother, and Miles all holding him, kissing his cheeks or the precious little baby asleep in his crib. Even as he grows and starts walking, running and babbling, Miles never fails to create these beautiful images with his own hand. 

And it’s in this way that he knows, despite all he’s been through, that life is still beautiful. 

[sparrow-mask22]

The Umbrella Academy Story of The Mothers (5/6) sparrow edition: Dagmar

TW: childbirth, mentions of the same orca attack in Carla's chapter, mentions of blood

October 1, 1989. Copenhagen, Denmark. 37 seconds to noon.

Dagmar Blomqvist was a 20-year-old student at the University of Copenhagen, majoring in literature. She was a bright and curious young woman, with a passion for reading and writing. On this particular day, she found herself standing in the middle of the university quad, surrounded by a small crowd of people. They all had their eyes fixed on the clock tower, which was about to strike noon. Dagmar could feel a sense of anticipation and excitement building up inside her, as if she were about to witness something truly extraordinary.

Dagmar lived off campus with her best friend Margarethe or "Gitti" for short, and her cousin, Lise. The three young women shared a cozy, two-bedroom apartment in the trendy Nørrebro neighborhood. Their place was decorated with vintage furniture, colorful artwork, and plenty of books. Dagmar loved spending time with Gitti and Lise, as they always had interesting conversations and shared similar interests. They were like sisters to her, and she couldn't imagine her life without them.

On this particular day, as they stood in the center of the university quad, surrounded by the excited chatter of their peers, Dagmar couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging and contentment. She glanced over at Gitti, who was wearing her signature red beret and a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Lise, on the other hand, was fidgeting nervously with her scarf, her green eyes darting between the crowd and the clock tower. Dagmar could tell that her cousin was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the energy and anticipation in the air.

"Did you hear a story involving an orca biting off a trainer's foot at Loro Parque?" Dagmar asked her friends, trying to keep her voice casual despite the shocking nature of the rumor. She looked over at Gitti, whose expression had turned pale, and Lise, whose eyes widened with horror.

"That was when the park first opened, right?" Lise asked, her voice shaking. "I remember reading about it in a book about animal attacks. It's horrible, but I never thought it really happened."

"The orca’s name was Rorke, I think. It was actually the trainer's fault for getting too close during a performance," Gitti explained, her tone matter-of-fact. "It's not the first time something like this has happened. Animals are unpredictable, even when they're trained. It's why I'm not really a fan of places like Loro Parque or SeaWorld."

"But aren't they good for education and conservation?" Dagmar asked, feeling a pang of guilt for enjoying such attractions in the past. She had always thought that keeping orcas captive was the only way to study and protect them.

"That's what they want us to believe," Gitti countered. "But the truth is, it's all about profit. These animals are treated like commodities, forced to perform tricks for our amusement. They're taken away from their natural habitats and confined to tiny tanks. It's inhumane."

Lise nodded in agreement, her expression solemn. "They're intelligent, social creatures. They form deep bonds with their pods, and they travel long distances in the wild. Imagine being kept in a bathtub for your whole life."

As the crowd began to disperse after the clock struck noon, the three friends continued to discuss the ethical implications of keeping orcas captive for human entertainment. They spoke passionately about animal welfare and the need for change, their voices rising above the din of the busy university quad.

Gitti, who was majoring in biology, shared an article she had read about the use of snake venom in medical research. "Did you know that snake venom can actually help develop new medications?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's true! Some of the compounds found in venom can be used to treat everything from heart disease to cancer."

Dagmar, who was studying psychology, found this fascinating. "That's incredible," she said, nodding in agreement. "I had no idea venom could be so beneficial."

"Yeah," Gitti continued, "it's not just snake venom, either. Venom from other animals like spiders and scorpions are being studied as well. There's so much potential there. It just goes to show that we shouldn't fear these creatures; we should learn from them."

Dagmar nodded in agreement, thinking about how often the media portrayed venomous animals as dangerous monsters. "That's true. It's important to remember that they're just trying to survive, just like any other animal. We need to respect them and their habitats."

"Exactly," Gitti added. "And it's not just about conservation, either. It's about understanding the interconnectedness of all life on Earth. Everything is connected, from the smallest insect to the largest mammal. When we destroy one part of that web, we damage the entire system."

As the three friends continued to discuss the ethical implications of keeping orcas captive, they stumbled upon the idea of visiting an art gallery. They decided that taking a break from their studies and immersing themselves in a different form of creativity would be a refreshing change of pace. The university's art gallery was known for its diverse collection of contemporary pieces, and they were excited to explore it together.

The gallery was bustling with activity as they entered. Students and faculty members mingled amongst the exhibits, engaged in deep discussions about the various pieces. Gitti, who had always had a keen interest in art, led the way, guiding them through the maze of paintings and sculptures.

"Look at this one," she said, stopping in front of a large abstract painting. "It's called 'The Cycle of Life', by an up-and-coming local artist. Isn't it incredible?"

Dagmar leaned in to examine the painting more closely. She could see that it depicted a series of shapes and colors, arranged in a circular pattern. "It's beautiful," she said, nodding. "I can see the cycle of life in there, with the colors and shapes changing as they move around the circle. It's almost like a representation of evolution."

As Dagmar continued to admire the painting, her eyes began to water uncontrollably. She felt a strange sensation in her lower abdomen, a mixture of pain and pressure. Gitti and Lena, who were standing nearby, noticed the change in her demeanor and became concerned. "Dagmar, are you okay?" Gitti asked, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Dagmar's face contorted in agony as she doubled over, clutching her stomach. "I-I don't know what's happening," she managed to choke out between gasps for air. Before either of her friends could react, Dagmar's water broke with a loud gushing sound, soaking the floor beneath her.

Panic spread through the gallery as onlookers began to realize that something was terribly wrong. Lise began to shout for help, her voice echoing off the walls as she frantically tried to keep Dagmar calm. "It's okay, Dagmar, you're doing great," she reassured her, one hand gently rubbing her back. "Just focus on breathing."

Gitti and Lena looked on in shock, their minds racing as they tried to process what was happening. They exchanged worried glances, not sure what to do next. "I'll call 112," Lena whispered, pulling out her phone.

Meanwhile, a group of bystanders had gathered around, offering their assistance. One woman, an experienced midwife, stepped forward and began to guide Dagmar through the birthing process. "Push when you feel the urge," she said firmly, as Dagmar's cries of pain filled the air. "You're doing great."

Lena, still on the phone with emergency services, looked on in awe as Dagmar's baby began to emerge. "It's a girl," she whispered to herself, her eyes filling with tears. "She's having a little girl."

As the midwife gently guided Dagmar through the final stages of labor, Lise and Gitti stood by her side, their hands pressed against her back, offering whatever comfort they could. The atmosphere in the gallery had shifted from one of admiration for the art to one of awe and anticipation as the small group of bystanders watched, transfixed, as life unfolded before them.

With a final, mighty push, Dagmar gave birth to a healthy baby girl. The umbilical cord was quickly cut by one of the bystanders who had medical training, and the baby was placed on Dagmar's chest, still connected to her mother by a thin layer of blood and amniotic fluid.

Lise wiped the wet hair from Dagmar's forehead, her eyes shining with tears of joy. "She's beautiful, Dagmar," she whispered. "You did it. You're both alive and safe now."

Gitti cradled the newborn in her arms, marveling at the tiny fingers and toes. "She's perfect," she breathed, gazing into the baby's eyes. "I can't believe this is happening right now."

Lena finally hung up the phone, her hands still shaking. "They said the ambulance will be here in about ten minutes," she informed the group, trying to sound reassuring.

Once the ambulance arrived, the paramedics expertly assisted Dagmar and her newborn daughter. They carefully transferred them to the ambulance, where they were examined by a team of doctors. The doctors cleaned up Dagmar and her baby, making sure they were both healthy and safe. As they worked, Dagmar couldn't help but glance around the hospital room, marveling at the sterile environment and the professionalism of the staff.

While Dagmar's baby girl was having her hearing evaluated by a pediatric specialist, the little one suddenly kicked out, her tiny foot connecting with the doctor's nose. There was a loud, sharp crunch, and blood began to pour down the doctor's face. "Ahh!" she cried out in surprise, clutching her nose as blood dripped down onto her white coat.

(Whoop, Whoop! Go Jayme!)

The doctor who had been examining the baby girl hurried out of the room, clutching her bloodied nose and muttering curses under her breath. A second doctor, taking in the scene with a mixture of shock and amusement, could hardly contain his laughter. "Well, that's one way to make an impression," he chuckled, dabbing at the blood with a gauze pad.

Dagmar was baffled by her newborn daughter's strength, but the doctors and nurses assured her that it was perfectly normal for babies to have strong kicks and reflexes. As the medical staff continued to examine her baby, they were all treated to a show as the little one began to kick and squirm, testing her newfound abilities. The room was filled with laughter and awe as the baby's tiny feet and legs flailed about, occasionally connecting with a doctor's hand or arm.

The doctor who had been on the receiving end of the first kick, now sporting a bright red nose and a grin, decided to share a story from her own experience as a new mother. "Oh, trust me, it only gets worse from here," she chuckled, wiping the last of the blood from her face. "Just wait until they start crawling and walking. You'll be dodging those tiny feet like a pro in no time."

Lise nodded in agreement, her eyes still shining with tears of joy. "I can't believe it's really happening," she whispered. "We're finally going to have a little one to spoil."

Suddenly, the head nurse poked her head into the room, a smile spreading across her face. "Ms. Blomqvist, you have a visitor," she announced. In walked a tall, distinguished-looking man with a cane, his silver hair neatly combed back from his forehead. He was impeccably dressed in a black suit, and his expression was one of both curiosity and anticipation.

"Ah, Miss Blomqvist," he said, approaching Dagmar's bedside, "I presume I have the pleasure of meeting you." His voice was deep and resonant, hinting at a lifetime of privilege and power.

Dagmar, still in awe of the events that had transpired, could hardly believe the sight before her. This must be the wealthy man she had heard so much about, the one who was willing to pay for her baby. She tentatively reached out her hand, feeling a warmth emanating from his strong, gentle grip. "Yes, sir," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm Dagmar."

The old man, Reginald Hargreeves, studied her face for a moment before speaking. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Blomqvist," he said, his eyes twinkling with interest. "You must forgive my forwardness, but I've been anxious to see you and your daughter." He gestured to the nurse, who rolled a small wheeled cart over to the side of the bed. On top of the cart were a stack of envelopes, each bearing the same unmistakable logo that Dagmar had seen on the paperwork she had signed earlier.

Dagmar felt a mixture of emotions as she looked at the man. She was grateful for his help, but she couldn't help but wonder what kind of life her daughter would have with him. "Thank you for coming, sir," she said hesitantly, reaching out to take one of the envelopes. "I hope this will be a good opportunity for her."

Reginald nodded, his expression solemn. "I understand your concerns, Miss Blomqvist," he said gently. "I assure you, your daughter will be well taken care of. She will live a life of comfort and privilege, with every opportunity available to her. I have a nanny at the ready, who has been trained in the finest of caregiving techniques. Your daughter will be surrounded by love and affection."

He paused, looking Dagmar directly in the eye. "But I must insist that you do not attempt to contact her in any way. If you were to try, it would not end well for you. My people will be keeping a close watch on you, and any attempt to defy my instructions would be met with severe consequences."

His words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Dagmar felt a knot form in her stomach. She looked down at the envelope in her hand, the weight of the agreement they had signed seeming to grow even more oppressive. She glanced up at Reginald, trying to gauge his sincerity, but his expression remained unreadable.

"I understand your concern for your child's well-being, Miss Blomqvist," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "I assure you that she will be raised in the best possible environment, with every opportunity afforded to her. She will know of her birth mother, and we will share photos and updates with you on a regular basis. But for your own safety, as well as hers, it is essential that you do not attempt to contact her."

Dagmar nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. She reached out to take the envelope from the cart, feeling the weight of it in her hand. "I understand," she managed to say, her voice barely audible. "I just want her to have a good life."

Reginald patted her hand gently. "I assure you, she will, Miss Blomqvist. She will be raised in a loving home, with every opportunity available to her. You've done the brave thing, and for that, I commend you. It's not an easy decision to make."

He glanced at the nurse, who nodded. "Mrs. Blomqvist will be escorted out now. Thank you for understanding." The nurse wheeled the cart away, and Dagmar felt a sense of finality as she was led out of the room, her heart heavy with mixed emotions.

She walked down the sterile hallways, her feet barely making a sound against the shiny floor. The nurse pushed her through a set of swinging doors and into a waiting elevator. The ride up seemed to take forever, and Dagmar couldn't help but feel a sense of dread as she stepped out into the brightly lit lobby.

The air outside was crisp, the smell of autumn leaves and wood smoke filling her nostrils. It was a stark contrast to the sterile environment she had just left behind. As she walked to her car, her hands trembling, she tried to process what had just happened. She had just signed away her child's life, and in return, she had been given a guarantee of safety for herself. But the knowledge that she might never see her little girl again gnawed at her insides like a cancer.

Dagmar reached her car, unlocked the door, and collapsed into the seat, her shoulders heaving as she let out a choked sob. The tears came in waves, flowing down her cheeks unchecked, and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. It was all too much to bear. She reached over and turned on the ignition, not quite ready to leave yet. Maybe if she sat here for a little while longer, she could muster the strength to drive away and start the next chapter of her life.

[botheringlevi]

Maybe surprising that this wasn't the first question I asked but, favorite animal? What are your feelings on pets?

Personally, I love my animal family but there's something so special about seeing them in their natural environment. Creating an ecosystem, learning their behavior, forming a level of trust. I live in the woods and am currently mapping out some project ideas to provide more habitat for the local wildlife. To understand another creature's experience is to explore beyond the constraints of human consciousness. That feeling of connection is important, to me.

I could definitely see you with a cat -the type of pet owner who swears up and down they don't want animals and then gets adopted by strays and ends up with a house full of rescues- but I can also see you finding fulfillment in cultivating, growing, and nurturing the land around you. Becoming the favorite of all the country garden grannies, learning the names and behaviors of native species (fortunately you'd have an excellent and cute teacher) and kicking my ass on hikes. There's a special kind of peace to be found in the woods.

Hope you've been able to find some peace and quiet this week. I'm just accepting my status as a weird little book gremlin at this point.

*Grumbles* I've talked about my feelings on pets a hundred times. Didn't think that was such a burning set of questions.

He’s never given his favorite animal much thought; similar to his favorite color.

As for favorite animal… What a kiddy question. Rabbits are… soft, and smart. And harmless. So those.

This topic disinterests him.

I see. I’ve never met anyone who thinks that way.

But he doesn’t mean that negatively…

*Dismissive* That sounds like a weird waste of time. I want to kill the Titans. That’s important to me. What’s right in front me.

There’s not enough resources for… local habitats like you mean behind the Walls, either. But I don’t doubt there are people out there with passions like yours. No part of the human experience is limited to one person.

*Thoughtful* …I could too. Since you mention it, a cat has been hanging around HQ lately… almost every day. She’s white. Friendly enough, but by her looks, she hasn’t lived a fun life.

Since I’ve had nothing better to do, I combed the briars out, burned the ticks and chopped off some of her matted fur. *Grumbles* Big mistake. She won’t leave me alone now.

*Genuinely stumped* Why would I be the one getting adopted?

Either way, a house full of them—absolutely not. What a damn nightmare. I’d say two at the most.

I don’t see where you’re getting this image of me from, either.

He gives it some thought.

If things were different, I’d see myself as being interested in that sort of thing… maybe. I’d listen to you talk. *Frowns* Cultivating life like you said. But I’m not a farmer. Or a guru. Not exactly “one with nature”, either… For right now, I make sure Erwin’s succulents don’t die, and I hike to train.

For a little longer, there will be. “A book gremlin”? *Odd look*

He doesn’t understand that term…