#hazel deforest

[supercowgirl04]

I haven’t watched The Owl House but I find Eda and Stan being cannon hilarious. 

[bonefall]

Biology Survey: ThunderClan Lake Territory

[There will be a map here eventually]

Putting this together because I need a reference for the most common plants and animals in an area. There will be one of these for each territory around the lake.

Like some of my other lists, these will evolve with time as I add foliage that can and should be here. I started with trees and large shrubs; I'll work down to bushes, flowers, and mosses as time goes on!

HISTORY OF THUNDERCLAN TERRITORY

Almost a hundred years ago, humans started destroying the ancestral home of the ancient "Lake Cats," and dug into the nearby slope for brownstone. The logging and quarrying caused such devastation that the Lake Cats started infighting, and fled.

What-is-now ThunderClan territory was the center of those operations.

The humans have gone, but scars remain. Their abandoned quarry is a deep gouge in the earth, and to the north, the dilapidated worker's quarters is rotting away. They cleared over half of the old-growth forest, and only recently has the territory started to truly recover.

Ecological Profile

The soil is generally well-drained and loamy. The nearby slope gave access to higher-altitude plants which do well on rocky soil; until SkyClan's return, where they were given the hill. It also has a very unique patch of old growth forest.

-Beech Patch Just north of ThunderClan camp, stretching to the west until it touches the "Abandoned Twolegplace." Planted by quarry workers; beech does not spread well without human intervention in this climate. The older trees here are 90-ish.

Tree species: Beech, understory is yew and holly, fruit trees (Apple, Plum, Cherry), a few examples of Horse Chestnut.

-Young Patch Directly west of ThunderClan Camp. This is the deforested area that was logged away... but is recovering now. Sparse in comparison to the Ancient Patch, thick in comparison to the trees in every other woodland around the lake. These are young trees; the "elder" oaks are only 60 (reminder; oaks can live to be 1,000).

Tree species: Silver birch, young oak and ash, fruit trees like plum and apple, hazel, elder, sycamore, holly bushes, occasional sloe (which enjoys sparse wood full sunlight), some elm, some hawthorn

-Ancient Patch To the south of the territory is an old-growth forest. It is only a small remnant of a woodland that used to stretch for miles and surround almost the entire Lake. Some trees here are coppiced-- intentionally cut in a way where they grow multiple trunks off the same root. By who?

Tree species: Primarily oak and ash, pockets of checker tree, understory is mostly hazel, serviceberry to the east, spindle grows on the edges, sparse holly bushes, occasional english elm, occasional hawthorn, occasional birch, occasional hornbeams.

-WindClan Strip Just beyond the Ancient Patch but right before the dry gorge, south of the last spindle trees, is open grassland. Field maples grow here and just beyond the gorge, unbothered by other trees. WindClan often becomes aggressive to any cat who steps out of the forest here.

Tree species: Famously only field maples, with the occasional sloe who doesn't read the room.

-Roadwork Pathways Where humans used to drag quarry waste and transport felled trees; slowly being reclaimed by nature, but currently works as sparse, full-sun woodland.

Tree species: Wayfairing tree, elm, sloe, hawthorn some isolated fruit trees, especially plum (from discarded seeds) and cherry (likes full sun).

The SkyClan Patch Far to the north of the territory. Mixed conifer woodland with many trees planted for future logging purposes, but since abandoned. ThunderClan and ShadowClan used to battle over this patch, but since SkyClan's arrival it's been more contested than ever. Humans occasionally come in and cut something down but there is no dedicated mill.

Tree species: Four conifers; Spruce, fir, cedar, and larch. Hardy trees like dogwood, both types of birch (downy/silver), yew, and buckthorn are nestled in. Oak, elder, and fruit trees are working on infiltrating but haven't gotten DEEP yet; just enough to be tantalizing to ThunderClan.

-Moonhill Slope The incline that leads up to the top of the cliff behind ThunderClan camp. Has a lot of high-altitude species that prefer rocky soil. Was uncontested ThunderClan territory before SkyClan arrived.

Tree species: Rowan, Scot's Pine, juniper, rock whitebeam, wych elm

-Wet Space Near the ShadowClan river, the islets, and the lakeshore. This soil has "poor drainage" and is somewhat boggy.

Tree species: Alder, downy birch, silver birch, bay willow, black poplar.

Poor Soils: Buckthorn, Dogwood, Downy Birch, Silver Birch

Last updated: 2/7/2023

Below the cut:

Further notes: Trivia, cool things I learned, and things I'm thinking about, in case you wanted to learn some more cool things

Species list: Common name + scientific name, just for reference.

Further Notes:

Where the hell am I going to put aspen trees?

Also want to add pears, they work just as well as apple trees but I want to get this finished rn, no more faffing around with more trees

On that note there's like a million subspecies of fruit trees but I'm just going to note them as one recognizable species.

a tree is just a tall bush, so I just tossed holly and juniper in here

Yew is apparently really hardy and does well with low sunlight. Huh. Who knew?

I did not know that birch was such a champion. Birch will see a speck of dirt and say "is anyone gonna grow in this?" and not even wait.

Downy birch seems to like it wetter than silver birch but they're both unstoppable. Top tier trees.

Sitka spruces are AWFUL in this part of England, they're THE commercial wood tree and they practically SWALLOW up land around them by blocking out sunlight. So they're planted everywhere but are also ecological bastards.

When I get around to WindClan I will have to mention that heathland is very rarely totally uncultivated because if it's not managed it turns into woodland. Ecology is the science of connection, really

Black poplar and rock whitebeam are SUPER endangered. I actually would like to do some sort of 'feature' on those two specifically to bring attention to that...

There are actually several types of oak trees. At some point I will go back and specify which ones grow where; but the majority of these are English Oaks so I just used those to get this done.

Between two common names, I will always pick the one that works better as a prefix. Sloe, for example, is more often called Blackthorn.

There are two types of buckthorn with very different environments and uses. I don't like this. I've left Alder Buckthorn out until I can decide what to do about that; I only described Purging Buckthorn

Species list:

Common name I use for this project + scientific name + quick notes

Trees

Alder (Alnus glutinosa)

Apple (Malus domestica or Malus sylvestris)

Ash (Fraxinus excelsior)

Beech (Fagus sylvatica)

Birch, Downy (Betula pubescens)

Birch, Silver (Betula pendula)

Buckthorn (Rhamnus cathartica) = laxative

Cedar (Cedrus libani)

Checker Tree (Sorbus torminalis)

Cherry (Prunus avium)

Dogwood (Cornus sanguinea)

Elder (Sambucus nigra)

Elm (Ulmus procera)

Elm, Wych (Ulmus glabra)

Hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna)

Field Maple (Acer campestre) = Contested with WindClan

Hazel (Corylus avellana)

Holly (Ilex aquifolium)

Hornbeam (Carpinus betulus)

Horse Chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum)

Juniper (Juniperus communis)

Oak (Quercus robur)

Plum (Prunus domestica)

Poplar, black (Populus nigra betulifolia)

Rock Whitebeam (Sorbus rupicola)

Rowan (Sorbus aucuparia)

Scotch Pine (Pinus sylvestris)

Serviceberry (Sorbus torminalis)

Sloe (Prunus spinosa) = Also called Blackthorn; will get parable.

Spindle (Euonymus europaeus)

Spruce (Picea sitchensis)

Sycamore (Acer pseudoplatanus)

Wayfaring tree (Viburnum lantana)

Willow, Bay (Salix pentandra)

Yew (Taxus baccata)

[ammg-old2]

The west coast of Ireland is famed for its wave-beaten shores and bare, stony mountains, where only a few stunted trees grow in hollows and valleys, bent by harsh storms blowing in from the North Atlantic.

The coastline, with its cold, clean winds and ever-changing skies, gives an impression of unspoiled, primal nature. In 2014, the Irish government designated a 1,550-mile tourist route along the coast, and called it “The Wild Atlantic Way.”

Yet, where generations of painters, poets and visitors have rhapsodized about the sublimity of nature and the scenic Irish countryside, ecologists see a man-made desert of grass, heather and ferns, cleared of most native species by close-grazing sheep that often pull grasses out by the roots.

As climate change threatens even more ecological disruption, a growing Irish “rewilding” movement is calling for the restoration of the native forests that once covered these lands, both as natural machines to capture atmospheric carbon, and to preserve and extend what remains of Ireland’s dwindling biodiversity.

Rewilding, the practice of bringing ravaged landscapes back to their original states, is well established in Britain, where numerous projects are underway. For Ireland, this would mean the re-creation of temperate forests of oak, birch, hazel and yew that once covered 80 percent of the land but now — after centuries of timber extraction, overgrazing and intensive farming — have been reduced to only 1 percent.

For some, rewilding began with a personal choice.

In 2009, Eoghan Daltún, a sculpture restorer, sold his house in Dublin to buy 33 acres of gnarled oaks and rugged hillside on the Beara Peninsula in County Cork, in the far southwest. Where local farmers had once raised a few cattle and sheep, he erected a fence to keep out feral goats and sika deer, two nonnative, invasive species that nibble undergrowth and saplings down to the roots, and kill older trees by gnawing away their bark.

One day in late spring, with the wind driving rain off the foaming ocean, he proudly showed off the results. Wood sorrel, dog violet and celandine were already in flower beneath the twisted branches of mature oak and birch, thickly draped in mosses, ferns and epiphytic plants. New shoots of oak, hawthorn and ash pushed up through the grass and dead ferns.

“The sheep and deer would eat those little saplings before they even started on the grass, so when the old trees eventually died, there’d be no new ones to replace them,” said Mr. Daltún, who wrote about his experiment in “An Irish Atlantic Rainforest,” a memoir. “But the native forest is returning here, all by itself. I don’t have to plant anything.”

Ireland has committed to increasing the total proportion of forested areas to 18 percent by 2050, from 11 percent currently. Yet this would still be well below the European Union average of 38 percent, and most of it would consist of commercial spruce and pine plantations that make up more than 90 percent of Ireland’s current woodlands.

Grown to be harvested within 30 to 40 years, these nonnative conifers are treated with chemicals that pollute groundwater and rivers. Ecologists say little can grow on a forest floor carpeted with dead needles and a desert for insects and native wildlife. And much of the carbon they store is released again when they are harvested.

It would be better for biodiversity and carbon sequestration to pay farmers and landowners to grow native trees and leave them unharvested, according to Padraic Fogarty, the campaign officer for the Irish Wildlife Trust. He cited the example of Costa Rica, which has reversed the Central American trend of deforestation by paying farmers to preserve and extend the rainforest.

Ray Ó Foghlú of Hometree, another rewilding organization, believes farmers could be paid not to plow or graze strips land that border remaining pockets of native woodland — often only a few trees and bushes — that cling to inaccessible hillsides or in the awkward corners of fields. Biologically rich, these microforests would, if left to themselves, quickly recolonize neighboring areas, Mr. Ó Foghlú believes. He himself recently bought nine acres of “scrubland” — home to sessile oaks (Ireland’s national tree), hazels, wood sorrel, blue bells and anemones.

“I pinch myself still that I own it,” he said. “It has a river running through it, and I can’t believe it’s mine, for the price of a second hand car these days.”

Irish rewilding enthusiasts look enviously at the highlands of Scotland, ecologically very similar to the west of Ireland, but where the concentration of ownership in the hands of a few hundred aristocrats and magnates allows rewilding at much greater scale.

Ecologically minded figures like the Danish billionaire Anders Holch Povlsen, Scotland’s largest private landowner, with 220,000 acres, can clear deer and livestock from tens of thousands of acres, allowing native growth to quickly regenerate. Eradicated native species, notably the European beaver, have also been reintroduced to Scotland to restore ecological balance.

In Ireland, where the average farm size is 83 acres, such large-scale rewilding would seem to be unfeasible. The big exception, so far, has been in the unlikely setting of County Meath, in the flat, highly fertile and intensively farmed east of the island, and in the unlikely person of Randal Plunkett, a New York-born filmmaker, vegan and death metal enthusiast.

Since Mr. Plunkett — better known, to some, as the 21st Baron of Dunsany — inherited his 1,700 acre ancestral estate in 2011, he has cleared it of livestock and left one-third to revert to unmanaged forest, complete with a wild herd of native red deer.

“Biodiversity is expanding dramatically,” said Mr. Plunkett, 30, standing in thick woodlands humming with bees and other busy insects. “At least one species has returned every year since we started. Pine martens. Red kites. Corncrakes. Peregrine falcons. Kestrels. Stoats. Woodpeckers. Otter. We think there’s salmon in the river again, for the first time in my life.”

One of his forebears, Sir Horace Plunkett, pioneered modern, industrial farming in Ireland early last century, encouraging small farmers to set up cooperatives and to mechanize their operations and use fertilizers and chemicals. Today, Randal Plunkett says, not everyone in this rich farming area is happy about his decision to abandon intensive agriculture, or to ban all hunting on the estate.

“It’s safe to say I’m not popular with the hunting crowd,” he said. “I’ve had death threats.”

Rewilding has its opponents. Ireland’s influential agribusiness lobbies are economically and culturally suspicious of suggestions that farmland should be allowed to revert to what they traditionally derided as “scrub.” People will always need food, they point out. In more marginal areas in the uplands and west, farmers argue recent regulations have reduced the numbers of sheep they can graze per acre, and that removing them altogether would harm existing biodiversity.

“If you leave an area ungrazed and unmanaged, you leave an area that’s at risk of being burned,” said Vincent Doddy, the president of the Irish Natura and Hill Farmers Association. “I think cattle and sheep are the most cost effective way of managing the land.”

Even on poor soil and small farms, where livestock production is sustainable only through government grants and second jobs, the title of farmer is still prized beyond its cash value.

“You’d have some of them who’d say, ‘Sheep are a part of my family tradition, and my identity, and it’s what I want to do,’” said Mr. Daltún, who himself keeps some cattle on his 33 acres. “But others would see the benefit of being paid for looking after the land, and letting it regenerate, and to have time to focus more on their other work or business.”

[miss-bibbles]

I posted 2,320 times in 2022

That's 2,317 more posts than 2021!

635 posts created (27%)

1,685 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@i-cannot-do-this-any-longerer

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I tagged 971 of my posts in 2022

#miss bibbles speaks - 276 posts

#asks - 255 posts

#shitposting - 119 posts

#jegulus - 72 posts

#starchaser - 61 posts

#kai my platonic soulmate - 36 posts

#fic: perfect places - 29 posts

#writing - 29 posts

#yaz tag - 28 posts

#regulus black - 24 posts

Longest Tag: 89 characters

#my friends started calling me that and spamming the elmo gif except it was bibble instead

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

jegulus inspired from the kiss by gustav klimt

happy (early) birthday yaz! i am not good with surprises or waiting so here you go bitch @thebattlehamster

622 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

#4

tumblr is sitting on its throne, watching as rich people fight on live tv and swirling a glass of wine between its fingers and saying, "we've been pleased. more. we want more."

939 notes - Posted March 28, 2022

#3

if you speak for gay rights, you're automatically gay. just like everyone who speaks for animal rights is a duck and all those against deforestation are secretly trees hiding in a trenchcoat

986 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

#2

guide to writing a desi james potter (and even for harry)!

(desi is used for south asians. meaning india + pakistan, afghanistan, bangladesh, bhutan, maldives, nepal, sri lanka. now i’m indian so i can only speak about that but a lot of the tips are the same. please research! and be respectful while writing them! i’ll try to include as much as i can here)

i've lived here my entire life so trust me.

and this is gonna be long. under the cut!

1. james potter can remain james potter

we don’t usually anglicize our names. don’t go finding obscure names starting with j that you can anglicize to james.

it kind of perpetuates the stereotype of indian names being very hard to pronounce. and britain fucked us over so no way in hell we'll be changing our own name to something easier for white people to pronounce.

instead you can make potters indian christians. i have a lecturer named veronica so i can assure you people in india have all kinds of names.

its a suggestion of course. but i have read fics where james has very traditional and religious names. no problem with that but its a little out of the loop and old fashioned. but if you want some help with finding names then don’t hesitate to ask.

2. where is he from

okay so now this gets interesting. there are a 28 states and 8 union territories. james potter can be from anywhere and not just gujrat and punjab and tamil nadu.

where’s my james potter from the gorgeous seaside state of goa? from the busy heart of metropolitan mumbai? from the amazing states of northeast? from bengal? from madhya pradesh? from kerela? from-

okay this is not a geography lesson but you get my point! there are so. many. places. he can be from any of them.

3. religion

india has a big population of hindus, muslims, christians, sikhs, zoraostrians, buddhists, jains etc. agnostic and atheist people exist too (hi).

your indian character can be any of those, not just hindu. it affects the indian sounding name you choose for him.

example: goan christian james can be james maharashtrian hindu james can be jai

but being religious or not, it doesn’t stop us from enjoying all the amazing festivals. you don’t know what i’d do to read a jegulus diwali fic ashdjfksdj

4. looks

now i know everyone’s like obsessed with atj (i can’t see him as james at ALL) or for desi james, dev patel (god, he’s the only desi character in all hollywood movies im so sick of his face. i have much better fancasts).

but just like names, our looks are also different. pale, wheatish, dusky complexion. again depending on which state. we usually have dark eyes and hair. and light eyes like blue, green or hazel are pretty rare.

5. food

curry doesn’t exist. repeat after me. curry doesn’t exist.

naan bread isn’t real, naan is A BREAD. and even though butter chicken is tasty asf, we don't eat this on a daily basis, my dudes. (#justiceforpavbhaji). but we do eat a LOT of biryani (its apparently the most ordered meal in india lol)

and i know you want to make the "im very white for spices" jokes but where are my desserts????? rasmalai? gulab jamun? rabdi? so cloyingly sweet ashdj

and we call tea, chai and it can be sweet and spicy.

it would make me so happy seeing names of my favorite food sprinkled through out your fic even if you don't elaborate on his indian heritage much <;3

i can’t list off every single one of them here but my dms are always open if you need any help with them

6. not all of us

it makes me sad reading about fics where james doesn’t like his indian heritage. not all poc characters need an "accepting my culture" arc.

See the full post

1,364 notes - Posted February 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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26,022 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

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[snowyhybridboi]

New boy in town!

Name: Lagordir Naezorwyn

Nickname: Ping

Height: 5ft 8in

Weight: 135 lbs

Age: 26

AU's: Fantasy

Story: The war between the Dark elves and the Light elves has never truly ended. The wood elves have always lived a quiet life, but that didn't mean they weren't aware of the war going on. Lagordir, better known as Ping, was a carefree child without a fear in the world. As he grew older, he would climb the trees in his village and shoot arrows into tree trunks or practice targets.

His childhood was a good one until it wasn't. Despite the residents knowing about the war, they were not expecting an attack; especially on under the cover of darkness when they had never threatened the dark elves or given them any reason to attack them. When the night came, the wood elves all tucked in for the night. Lagordir was just 13 years old when the bright flames and screams woke him.

The village was engulfed.

Anyone who managed to run out of their homes was killed. Lagordir lost his family and friends that night. Grabbing his bow and quiver of arrows, he snuck out the back window and ran. He ran and climbed trees, leaping from one to the other in his escape. He ran all night and arrived to a town by noon the following day.

Afraid for his life and alone, he knew he had to try and build a new life there. The people didn't trust him and feared he would bring the war to them. However, the local blacksmith saw potential and took him in. Lagordir worked hard for his meals, practiced under the watchful eyes of the older man and grew up to be a great apprentice.

He is 26 now and still enjoys climbing trees and shooting arrows. When he isn't working, he likes to keep an eye out towards his village, ready to warn the people if there is danger on the way.

Personality: Team player. Always eager to work or help in any way. Just wants to fit in, not stand out. Stubborn.

Appearance: Tall, thin with a toned build. Angular jawline. Tan skin, long black wavy hair that reaches just past his chest. Normally leaves it down but ties it back for work.

Fears: Dark Elves, Deforestation, Being seen as weak or unattractive, Death, the Undead.

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Eye Color: Hazel

Hair Color: Black

Birthplace: Brynhyvar Forest

Sexuality: Homosexual

Relationship Status: Single

Availability: Multi-ship/ Multi-verse

Ship 1:

Ship 2:

More info may be added to this post in the future. So be sure to check back every now and then if you're interested. Please note there will be religious topics possibly mentioned in this character's story. If you do not like the topic of religion then he might not be the one for you. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Thank you.

[evaroze]

Some young and old Hazels~ when she retires she will spend most of her days painting fairies and other friends of hers🌼

[powertothefan]

Coffee

A Stanford Pines x Original Character Fic

Hazel DeForest belongs to @evaroze

Stanford Pines is property of  Alex Hirsch

This was something tossed together after discovering the adorable OC known as Hazel, she’s so cute and I love the design of her~ So, I did a little dabble of when both her and Stanford were in college and their first official conversation. I hope I wrote her write, as I have been a little rusty in my writing, Far too long since I posted something here that was worth the read. Anyway, please share any thoughts or feelings you have as long as it’s constructive. 

Hazel was wandering the commons of the college that morning, a little on the early side. She left the door early that morning to do some research at the library for one of her papers. Just because Backupsmore wasn’t her first college pick didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to put in the effort! She wasn’t as dressed up as she usually would be, just a simple blouse and shorts. She had pulled on a pair of flats as well before herring her hair up in a big ponytail and tossing on her bright pink glasses. With her messenger bag full of notebooks and pens, she was ready to go anywhere

Glancing to her watch, Hazel checked the time. Her first class of the day wasn’t until mid morning, so she’d have plenty of time to get some work done before classes that day. Most of her dorm mates were sleeping in from yet another party. She honestly couldn’t believe it. Just because they were at Backupsmore University didn’t mean they could party the semester away. Who did that anyway? Not her! No, definitely not. 

Hazel was terrible with social interaction. In truth, she would have probably never gained any friends unless they proactively were the ones to speak with her first. She knew a few other people, mostly from those forced social circles they did as an ice breaker during the first weeks in the dorms. Otherwise, her friend group was very, very small. She was fine with that though, most of the people she did know the names of were not people she would actively spend time with. They drank and partied and blew off their classes as if they could afford to do it. Hazel didn’t have that luxury. Every penny counted! Still, a very itty bitty part of her wished that she didn’t have such terrible social anxiety. 

It would have made trying to introduce herself to a certain someone easier. 

Huffing to herself, she let her thoughts pass on as she got to the library door. Stepping inside, it was calm and quiet. It was a massive place too. For a second choice college, it had an outstanding collection of literature. Likely because they didn’t have much of a sports team to spend money on. Either way, the ability to have such a vast collection of books at her disposal made her studies all the easier. Especially with her focus on mythology. She never would run out of resource material for her papers. 

As she walked further into the library, she realized that it was very empty. In fact, there was really no one around at all, save for the librarian. Then again, it was a Monday. No one ever got up before classes on Monday, unless they were someone like her and super focused on their studies. It was all the better really, she’d have the whole place to herself. Wandering further into the library, she hurried to the folklore and mythology section. It was her element, her one true oasis. No one and nothing could take it away from her-

“Oof!” Hazel sounded as she smacked right into something. She hadn’t been looking where she was going, instead skilling the shelves as she walked past them. Just as she was stepping back out into the open areas beyond the shelves, she collided with someone, and hard. Books were flying, paper scattered by the ceiling fans, and the two moving forces pushed off the courses and onto the thin and worn carpet. Laying there, Hazel had to take a moment to breath, that impact hurt! Carefully, she groaned while sitting up, rubbing her side where he was sure she was charged into an elbow. 

“Oh, gosh. I”m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going!” A deep voice said, A shadow overcoming her as a hand was offered up. “I was carrying too many books, and couldn't see a thing. I shouldn’t have assumed I was the only one here.”

The tone was upset, clearly more so at themselves than her. There was some obvious disappointment in their own carelessness. However, it was also very familiar...too familiar. 

Not really thinking as she grabbed the hand, she was dizzy and shaken still, she was easily pulled right back up to her feet. With the bright ceiling lights no longer glaring down right into her eyes, Hazel could focus on the man who helped her up. As she locked her gaze on their face, about to give them a stern talking to for being so reckless in such a sacred place, her throat swelled and her heart stopped. 

Stanford Pines... It was like an arrow to the heart, struck by a cupid with a sniper rifle. So accurate that it fried her brain. Stanford Pines was everything Hazel had ever wanted since high school! Originally, he was supposed to get a scholarship of some kind and head off to some amazing college. Instead, he ended up going to her only affordable pick. She had wanted to try and be good and say hello. He had been her obsession throughout all of high school after all, not that he even knew she existed back then...Hazel never had the heart to speak. Now, as an adult, and independent, she had told herself she’d try.

And boy, did she try. 

They had gotten classes together, unknowingly of course because she hadn’t realized that he had any interest in the fields of mythology or folklore. They were English heavy studies after all, not the wonderful sciences that he seemed to be skilled in. Part of her knew that he was aware that she existed, he often waved at her with that handsome smile. However, every time that she saw him, with that grin and cute sweater vest, the ability to talk was replaced with the need to nervously vomit. In all cases since the semester began, she flat out ran away before she could lose her lunch to her anxiety. Not exactly the best way to say hello. 

Now, here he was, his glasses skewed off a bit from the impact and his large hand wrapped firmly around her’s. Only a foot apart, both a little shaken from the impact but still breathing...or at least Ford was. Hazel couldn’t get her body to continue their usually automatic functions. As Ford seemed to get himself resettled by fixing his glasses, Hazel felt herself just melt at his touch. They were rough, but not painful, Just worn from all his tinkering and building. They were so large too, and not just because of the extra finger which she had always found to be an adorable addition to an adorable man. 

Ford had really grown up, a lot more than she was prepared for. 

“Oh! It’s you!” He said suddenly, bringing hazel back down from the second hand high of his existence. Breathing in suddenly, she blinked, her mind rushing forward to catch up to the conversation. “M-Me?” She weakly said, her voice still a little breathless from the lack of air in her lungs. 

Stanford turned a slight shade of pink, giving a nervous smile of sorts as he tried to correct himself. “I mean, I recognize you from the folklore seminar class. ‘Folklore and Its Effects on Modern Development.’ You..ah, You sit in the row behind mine.”

His tone had gotten a little meek, almost as if the man was becoming uncertain of himself as he addressed her. Why was he getting nervous? She was the one having an internal battle between heart and brain!

Wait.

He was talking to her...Stanford Pines was physically talking to her! He knew she existed! The man she had been obsessed with for years knew they were in the same class. Holy crap! She needed to speak, to say something, anything. For the love of god open your mouth Hazel DeForest! 

“Ah- RIGHT!” She said very loudly, her face going bright pink as her mind finally caught up to current events. “Rightrightrightrightrightright. I remember! You did the opening argument statement about how folklore was only lore until people could collect it! It lost the folklore touch when people found out it was all fact.” She blurted out, saying just about anything to show that she wasn’t a brainless zombie. 

“Ah, well, it's true! Once something is discovered to truly exist, it isn’t lore. It’s Science. That in turn means it can’t be categorized as lore but as a truly existing species. The professor was not really impressed with my reports for that debate session but he didn’t flunk my report either so I guess my point was valid enough!” Stanford said, seeming to pick his tone back up while in a subject he could work on. “Anyway, sorry for running you down. I was walking to my table with more books and...clearly got over zealous.” It was then that Ford looked around, causing Hazel to pause and do the same thing. Oh, they had made a bit of a mess...The books were scattered all over, some having flown far enough to land on top of the shelves! His notebook was crumpled nder a couple and the pages from it seemed to have scattered to the winds, still being carried off by the breezes of the fan. 

“H-here, I’ll help clean up.” Hazel said, pausing a moment as she then looked down at their hands, which were still tightly held together. Ford noticed this too, and quickly let go with a nervous chuckle before roughly clearing his throat. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll start over here.” 

The pair turned away from each other, Ford kneeling down to grab and gently fix the books near his feet. Hazel did the same, grabbing a couple and fixing the pages before gently setting them on a nearby table. She then also started to snatch up the flying papers, trying to keep them from wrinkling any further as they continued to flutter at her feet. It took a minute, but with the two of them collecting they were able to get it cleaned up easily. The last book was picked up by Hazel, her eyes a little dazed until she read the title. Instantly, she was back to her usual self for a second. 

“Ah, It’s here!” She said suddenly, causing ford to look up as he grabbed the last few books from their places on top of the selves. “Hmm? Something catch your eye?” “This book, I’ve been trying to get it for ages but every single time I get here it’s pulled off the shelves! I need it for my report on the correlations of folklore creatures and their real life potential counterparts. It has a segment on how folklore creatures and mythological monsters are created based on a person seeing something for the first time and using other animals to describe it! I wanted to read it for my paper and reference some of it’s points on how artistic interpretation cannot be trusted unless done while actually in front of the creature.” She rattled, her tone serious and smooth as her intellectual side kicked in, a finger moving up to adjust her glasses for a second. “Oh, You’re referencing it as well?” Ford asked, coming closer and putting the last of the books on the table. “I originally grabbed it because I’ve been trying to get it as well. Whoever has been hoarding it just got it back over the weekend. I’m using to further my argument that just because we depict creatures in a certain way does not diminish their potential existence. The author has a wonderful part about the statues of medusa actually and how they believe that medusa is a real being, but her hair was misinterpreted.” “I came here this morning to borrow it...Looks like you beat me.” Hazel said, suddenly feeling herself getting shy again. 

Damn it, Hazel. This was your first real conversation with Ford and you were going to blow it because you couldn’t keep the talk going! What was worse, she had gotten up for nothing. Ford got the book first. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t have the heart to try and ask him to let her borrow it first. So much for getting a head start on that report. 

“Do you wanna borrow it?” Ford asked suddenly. 

“What?” Hazel squaked, not prepared for that statement. 

“Well, I don’t have classes until mid-morning. That’s our Folklore course. If you don’t mind just using it this morning, you’re more than welcome to take whatever notes you need from it while I’m referencing other books. I technically already checked it out but if you need it now you can keep it until after classes. Then meet up later to give it back?” Ford asked, his tone strangely hopeful. 

Was he- Nooooo, naw he couldn’t be...maybe? 

“Um, well...I really do need the book for a few other things besides just the research. If it's not an issue I guess we could meet at the coffee shop off campus? The one with the big tables? It’s very dead in the afternoon on Mondays, so we could meet up after all our classes for the day and I’ll try to quickly get the notes I need before giving back the book. The library gets too busy later in the day anyway for me to focus.”

“Heh, yeah, I have to move my work back and forth from the dorm to here because the afternoon library people. However, I can get coffee later! I’ll need it anyway for my second wind of research. So coffee, after the day's classes?” 

“Yeah, coffee!” Hazel said, suddenly finding herself smiling as her cheeks turned a bright pink. 

Ford seemed to also, his own lopsided grin making Hazel’s heart flutter harshly in her chest. Stanford quickly stacked his books back up again, still grinning a little before carefully turning so he could see Hazel beyond the still massive stack of literature. “Alright then, I’ll get back to my work. I’ll see you for coffee.”

With that, Ford smiled again and headed off, hurrying back to his work table but making sure to take the time to check each eye before moving past. Hazel stood there, clutching the book to her chest as the gears in her head turned, trying to comprehend what just happened.Coffee, she was going to get coffee with Stanford Pines. A cute cafe~ Where people sat together close and chatted over lattes and teas. So, she didn’t actually drink coffee, as she preferred tea, but that didn’t matter! She was getting coffee with Stanford Pines!

Slowly, she took a few steps into a shelf area so that she wouldn’t risk being seen, before falling to her knees in giddy delight, covering her mouth to make sure her excited giggles and squeals did not echo throughout the whole place. Looking back to the book that she set down, she snatched it up again before darting out of the place with a high skip in her step. She had to get as much note taking done as she could, as she knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to focus on her work if she was sitting across from Stanford...But that was a problem for future Hazel, current Hazel had work to do!

[august-bleeds-red]

You could make my request from Slashers with S / O being affectionate and cute ... Imagine a scenario where Slachers (Michael, Jason, Brahms and another killer of your choice) is stressed or grumpy for some reason and S / O the find them and makes your voice affectionate and cute something in the sense "Honey! I need a big hug and kiss from my beautiful man!"

How would Slachers react to this behavior of your S / O? And they will succumb to the cute voice of their S / O and lose that maumor or stress; or are they going to ask for time alone and are going to dispense with S / O?

Michael –

Even without the seven-inch carving knife he’s repeatedly stabbing into the tabletop, you can tell Michael’s in a bad mood. The tension in his broad shoulders, the white-knuckle flexing of his fingers, the way his head jerks to the side when you close the front door. Your stomach drops a little – of all the men in this godforsaken world, you had to fall for the most dangerous one there was.

 “Hey,” you say softly. In any usual relationship, a partner might use pet names to soothe a bad mood, but not with him. The only time he allows you to call him anything other than his name is after sex – and even then, the choice is limited.

 “You know, that table used to belong to my grandmother.”

 The glare he shoots you tells you he doesn’t give a rat’s ass, but he slams the knife down on its side, nonetheless.

 You sigh, dropping your bag and coat on the couch and sitting down in the chair adjacent to him. He shifts his gaze to meet yours, long hair obscuring most of his face, but those dark, fathomless eyes still stay fixed on you.

 “You wanna talk about it?” you ask, placing a hand gently on his wrist, risking a smile. “Come on – where’s my handsome guy?”

 Within half a second, the fingers of his other hand are on your throat, not choking, but squeezing enough to remind you that he could kill you in less than a heartbeat. Now’s not the time to be cute.

 “Okay,” you whisper, brushing the fingers pressing on your windpipe with your own soft caress. “I’d like you to let me go, please.”

 Slow as moving granite, his fingers relinquish their hold on you, dropping to rest at your collarbone. You stand and move toward him, taking his head in your hands and resting his forehead against your chest. His hands find your elbows and cup them with surprising tenderness.

 “There he is,” you close your eyes and breathe in the familiar scent of his hair. He’s a psychopath, but he’s your psychopath.

 Jason –

Jason is pissed.

 The moment you heard the sound of industrial machinery, you knew shit was going to go down. Bloody, ruthless, machete-to-the-face shit. So many years spent living in the forest surrounding Crystal Lake gave Jason a deep attachment to it, and any defiling was deemed punishable by mutilation.

 Jason Voorhees – eco warrior.

 You find him wiping the excess blood from his machete with a dirty rag, the disembodied head of a deforestation worker wedged in a bush some twenty feet away.

 “Jason,” you sigh. “We talked about this.”

 You understand it’s his modus operandi to hack people into pieces, but it makes some aspects of your relationship a little difficult – like maintaining a little peace and quiet for more than three days in a row.

 He huffs and hunches his shoulders, removing his mask briefly to wipe the worst of the bloody smears from the yellowish-white surface. He never used to take such care of his appearance. When you first met, he had blood stains three fingers thick on his clothes, and then last week you found him scrubbing his shirt in the bath with a bar of Dove soap.

 “Would you remove that, please?” You nod towards the head staring at you with a look of such surprise it’s almost funny. Almost as funny as the way Jason picks it up and lobs it into the trees like a football. You can’t hold back your giggles, but Jason doesn’t join in your mirth. He sits down heavily on a felled log, elbows balanced on his knees and staring into the grass.

 “Jason?” You kneel beside him, resting a hand on his arm. “What’s up, big guy?”

 Lifting his right hand to his chin, he forms a claw with his fingers and drags them downwards.

 Bad mood.

 “Oh, sweetie,” you shift position to crouch between his knees. “Look at me.”

 The hazel eyes trapped behind the eye-holes flit upwards to meet yours.

 “Want a hug?”

 He doesn’t reply, simply folds you into his arms. Seems even the undead can have bad days, but you’d always be there to brighten them up again.  

Brahms –

You have never known anyone to throw a temper tantrum quite like Brahms Heelshire.

 Surveying the scene of carnage before you, you lean against the doorframe and bump the side of your head against the wood. You’d just cleaned in here two days ago.

 “Braaaahms,” you call to the sprawling mansion at large. “Your presence is required now.”

 As you start clearing up the dozens of books – many priceless first editions – that litter the library floor, you hear the subtle creak of a floorboard behind you followed by deep, even breathing. He knows you’re angry, his large hands twisting together behind his back, milking the sorry little boy act.

 “Why, Brahms?” you sigh in sheer exasperation, brushing off the cover of Great Expectations. “I’ve told you a million times – there’s nothing going on with me and the damn grocery boy.”

 You can practically see the scowl blooming behind his mask.

 “You laughed.”

 “What?”

 “I saw you,” his voice is fluctuating between childish resentment and dangerous possessiveness. “He was talking, you laughed.”

 You throw up your hands. “Oh, heaven forbid!”

 He flinches and moves to escape back into the wall. You sigh. “Sweetheart, wait.”

 Shoulders hunched, he waits for you to reach him, clasping your fingers tightly when you offer them.

 “Who’s my handsome boy?”

 He softly taps the centre of his chest and you smile. You know later he’ll reinstate his ownership of you in a much more adult way, but for now he’s playing it cute.    

 “I’m sorry,” he whispers, though you can never quite tell if he means it.

 “That’s alright,” you nod. “Just . . . please don’t kill this one, okay?”  

 Bo –

“God fucking damn it!”

 The ear-splitting bang of the door jerks you violently out of the nap you were taking on the couch. Bo is standing in the doorway, one hand clutching his shotgun, the other pressed to a wound in his shoulder.

 “Oh Jesus,” you rouse quickly and grab the med pack you’ve taken to keeping under the couch. “Honey—,”

 “Don’t fuckin’ ‘honey’ me, you dumb bitch!” he snaps, pushing your concerned hands away and stomping to the kitchen. He throws open the refrigerator and grabs a beer, cracking the top off on the countertop edge.

 “Bo,” you venture a caution. “You know that’ll only make the bleeding worse.”

 He ignores you completely, chugging back the alcohol and dropping the empty bottle in the sink. Taking a deep breath, you come up behind him and place a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

 “Come on, let’s take a look at that.”

 He allows you to steer him to the couch, sitting down heavily. His forehead is damp from perspiration, the curls at his hairline sticking to his skin. Very carefully, you roll back his coveralls and assess the wound.

 “It’s not that deep.”

 “Whoopdy-fuckin’-do – still hurts.”

 You select some clean gauze and clean the bloody mess surrounding the puncture. “How’s the other guy?”

 “Blew his damn head off.”

 You roll your eyes, but don’t let him see. “Vincent will be thrilled.”

 “Fuck Vincent.”

 You shrug. “Well, if you insist. Didn’t think you liked sharing.”

 He snorts despite himself, gripping tight to your wrist as you disinfect and patch up his wound. He’s still glowering, the rage simmering just below the surface.

 “Hey,” you brush the sharp line of his jaw with your fingers. “Beautiful Bo.”

 At first, he’d found the nickname nauseating, and told you so repeatedly, but nowadays it seems to calm him a little. A reminder that, for all the fucked up things he does, the things he says, you’ll never walk away from him. He lays a soft hand on your waist and rests his forehead against your chest.

 “Sorry I called you a dumb bitch,” he mutters.

 You stroke the back of his head and press your lips to his crown. Perhaps you are dumb, or just plain crazy – why else would you stay with such a man as Bo Sinclair? He pulls back and gazes upwards into your eyes, his baby blues pouring words of gratitude you know he’ll never say aloud.

 Right – that’s why.

[everyothermouse]

HEEHOO MONSTERS CENTRAL PARK AU

I changed it up the family dynamic a little bit! Prince and genny are siblings who live together with prince's bio daughter hash and genny's adopted daughter gabby :D also prince and queeny aren't related in this au lol

Figuring the other characters is still a work in progress, but here's what I got so far!

Elwood - pherrin (castles)

Brendan - the STILL unnamed villain from Deforestation (plant lady, hunters)

Griffin - Dario (hunters)

Hazel - Noelani (juniors)

Shauna - Ari (juniors)

Marvin - Mellisa (hunters)

coles friend? - Akira (hunters)

Oh yeah also here's the thing this drawing is a redraw of :)

[mika-luukkanen]

FULL NAME: Mika Andras Luukkanen AGE/DOB: 96 (19) / December 10th, 1925 HEIGHT: 6′0″ WEIGHT: 165 lbs / 75 KG ETHNICITY: Faroese and Belgian GENDER: Cis-male HAIR: Shaggy brown hair EYES: Hazel SCARS: None TATTOOS: Palms, chest, back PIERCINGS: None LANGUAGES: Faroese, Finnish, Swedish, Czech, German, French, ASL, English. EDUCATION: An associate’s degree in mortuary science, a bachelor’s degree in mortuary science from University of the District of Columbia. OCCUPATION: Escort SEXUAL IDENTIFICATION: Bisexual ROMANTIC IDENTIFICATION: Aceflux TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic/Sanguine MYERS BRIGGS TYPE: INFP MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

SPECIFICS

FAVORITE FOOD: Chocolate bars FAVORITE DRINK: Coffee FAVORITE BRAND: American Eagle FAVORITE PLACE: The Faroe Islands FAVORITE HOBBY: Photography FAVORITE ARTIST: Banksy FAVORITE MUSICIAN: Kaleo FAVORITE TV SHOW: N/A FAVORITE MOVIE: It's a Wonderful Life FAVORITE BOOK: N/A FAVORITE SCENT: The earth after a storm FAVORITE COLOUR: Grey FAVORITE TEXTURE: Fur FAVORITE PERSON: Elliot

RANDOM

LIST FIVE THINGS THEY LIKE: His dogs, chocolate, photography, playing piano, nature. LIST FIVE THINGS THEY DISLIKE: War, seeing people in pain, deforestation, pollution, negative emotions.  PET PEEVE: Littering PERSONALITY TYPES THEY PREFER: N/A PERSONALITY TYPES THEY AVOID: N/A ACHILLES HEEL: His empathy, his dogs LIST THREE THINGS THEY LIKE ABOUT THEMSELVES: 

. His ability to put himself in the shoes of others

. His attention to detail

. His work ethic

LIST THREE THINGS THEY DISLIKE ABOUT THEMSELVES:

. That he tends to take on too much

. He’s terrible at lying and can come off blunt to people that don’t know him

. He lets people take advantage of his kindness

FASHION STYLE: Casual dress with either a distressed vintage jacket or vintage sweater LIST TWO SEX POSITIONS THEY PREFER: N/A - Not sure yet LIST TWO SEX POSITIONS THEY AVOID: N/A - Not sure yet

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this essay authored by Bill McKibben and published in The New Yorker:

If one wanted a basic rule of thumb for dealing with the climate crisis, it would be: stop burning things. Human beings have made use of combustion for a very long time, ever since the first campfires cooked the first animals for dinner, allowing our brains to get larger. Now those large brains have come to understand that burning stuff is destroying the stable climate on which civilization depends.

By this point, it’s pretty clear to almost everyone that we’d be better off not burning coal, the first fossil fuel that we learned to set on fire in a big way. The explosions set off by a billion spark plugs every second around the world are—for serious motorheads—being replaced by the electric engines in the most admired cars on earth. Even natural gas, long heralded as the clean fossil fuel, is now widely understood to be climate-dangerous, spewing both CO2 and methane. That leaves the original fuel for fires: wood.

In the early years of the climate crisis, scientists thought that “biomass” was an exception to the burning rule. That’s because, when you cut down a tree and burn it, another one eventually grows in its place, theoretically sucking up the carbon dioxide that the burning emitted. But, in recent years, researchers have upended those calculations. For one thing, wood burns inefficiently, producing large amounts of carbon for each unit of energy that it produces. Worse, it takes decades for those forests to regrow and suck up that carbon—decades that we don’t have. We’re breaking the back of the climate system in real time and, as we’ve known for years, burning wood hurts, not helps. So far, large-scale biomass-burning to produce electricity has not become a major factor in the United States, but the fight is on: in Massachusetts, for example, where there’s a proposal to build an enormous wood-burning plant in Springfield, opponents are trying to insure that biomass isn’t counted as renewable energy under state guidelines.

In Europe, where official E.U. policy still treats biomass as “carbon-neutral,” the dystopia is much further advanced. Big coal-powered stations have been reconfigured to burn wood, and, as Hazel Sheffield recently made clear in a long exposé for the Guardian, the demand for pellets to keep those boilers fired—particularly in the Netherlands, Denmark, and the U.K.—is stripping forests in places such as Estonia and Latvia. As Timothy Searchinger points out, in the Los Angeles Times, the Dutch and the Danes may start phasing out subsidies, but the British plan on giving ten billion euros by 2027 to the giant Drax power plant, in the North of England, one of the world’s largest woodstoves. And much of the wood to stoke that conflagration is actually being shipped from the Southeast United States, where, according to a long investigative piece in The Daily Climate, by Danielle Purifoy, the industrial-scale deforestation—hold your surprise—“is bringing air pollution, noise and reduced biodiversity in majority Black communities.” As one North Carolina resident put it, “When I looked at the officer that was choking George Floyd, and he said ‘I can’t breathe,’ this is the same thing that the industries are doing to our communities.

[supercowgirl04]

Not me out here drawing horse versions of fankids whose human forms I have never drawn because I just want an excuse to design horses

That’s a fankid of Stanford Pines and @evaroze ‘s oc Hazel DeForest btw.

[thatguyniles]

Fantastic Watership

When people think of lessons learned in films they don’t normally think of animated movies as a first option. But if you sit down and think about it these films can give some important life lessons that both adults and kids alike can learn from. Take disney for example, and how many of their films have a deeper meaning or lesson to them.

Two films in particular have themes that can be learned from and relate to real life. These films are “Watership Down” (1978) directed by Martin Rosen and the acid trip of a film called “Fantastic Planet” (1973) directed by Rene laloux. 

The first theme I thought of is the fight for a better tomorrow, the second is do what it takes to achieve your goal, and lastly every culture has a story to tell. Both films involve the characters in some kind of struggle that affects their present and future. In Fantastic Planet, there are creatures called the Oms that are similar to humans and they are hunted and exterminated by these large blue skinned, red eyed alien creatures called the Draags. Throughout the film the Oms are constantly at war with the Draags and their savage environment. Eventually the Oms take matters into their own hands and strike the Draags meditation site. This attack renders the Draag society virtually in shambles, and because of it they wish to seek peace with the Oms and grant them their own planet to live peacefully.

In Watership Down, Hazel the rabbit sees a great danger spreading over their land and warns everyone else in the burrows. The leader doesn’t believe Hazel, so he takes matters into his own hands along with some others and they leave the burrows in search of a new home. Along the way they face many dangers including death, but to them it’s worth the danger if it means a safer and better tomorrow for them and the future generation.

 These themes are relevant to history, especially the Civil Rights movement. African Americans in America during the 50’s and 60’s had to fight for their lives, literally to have a better present and future for the future generation like myself. As we can all see they had an everlasting progression of change and a story to tell through time.

The theme of fighting for a better tomorrow is also a lesson relevant to modern society with the Black Lives Matter movement. After the unjust killings of several African Americans this year the size of the movement grew exponentially, to the point where it became a global movement. The goal is to fight unjust policies and behaviors to leave a better tomorrow for our youth and future generations. Take the Oms for example, they were “domesticated” and seen as insignificant by the Draags. The Draags toyed with them, culled them when numbers seemed too high, and saw them as nothing more than unintelligent beings. 

The Oms eventually become fed up with the constant torment and violence enacted upon them by the Draags and they decide to rise up, initially killing a Draag. Ter, a domesticated Om whose mother was killed by Draag children as a baby steals a meditation device used by his captors and teaches the savage Oms how to use the device and learn everything the Draags now. They use this information to first try and get away to another planet, but once they see it is the Draags' place of meditation and what I assume to be reproduction, they start to turn up and blow stuff up.

Watership Down is similar to what Native people went through when early European settlers arrived on their land and drove them out. In the film, humans begin to deforest the area Hazel and his clan were living. They dug up the earth, filled their burrows and even gassed them out in an attempt to flush them out or kill them, whichever came first.

This reminded me of the Trail of Tears in specific, even though Hazel and the rabbits weren’t directly forced to leave if they didn’t they’d be killed whether it be from human hands or a lack of food and resources destroyed during the deforestation process.

[veknerokcaknu]

How a CD Case Saved My Sex Life - Rethinking Valentines

I'm not a real Valentines person. And yeah it's that time of year where gardeners start decapitating roses, confection shops start spreading diabetes with chocolate-y and caramel-y delights and motel owners become overnight millionaires as they watch the population rise a few percentage points. I honestly never got the point of this celebration. I thought it was a convenient way for sexually transmitted diseases to find new hosts, so I usually just spent it hanging out with friends or drinking at the local bar. But along came Sidney.

She is everything I ever wanted in a girl. Long, dark hair, hazel brown eyes, a bubbly personality and sweetness that gives me a sugar rush on an empty stomach. I'm happy to say that for the most part, we were like Bonnie and Clyde, doing mischief together and everything was perfect. And damn the sex was awesome. Until of course we had our first year as a couple. And I realized just how fervidly she worshiped Valentines day.

She was the type who would cause a minor deforestation just to fill every corner of her house with roses. She would dress in bright pink and deep red for the entire day, and would throw around love quotations from everyone from Marcus Aurelius to William Butler Yeats like she had a PhD. And of course for me, Valentines day just gave me allergies so I was really freaked out after finding that out. For the first time in our relationship, I was so ticked off that I didn't make love to her the entire day even though she asked. We didn't talk for a week.

But in all relationships, I learned that compromise is always possible. So I, St. Valentine's public enemy number one, surprised her the very next week with a burned CD of her favorite love songs. And the environmentalist that I am, I even gave it with an origami CD case made of recycled paper. So I learned that you didn't have to be over the top to even enjoy Valentines day.

[maiden-of-the-meadow]

NAME: Amelia Bourdeau

DATE OF BIRTH: 18th April, 1241

SPECIES: Flower Nymph

BIRTHPLACE: Alynthia

RESIDENCE: Prairie de fleurs sauvages. Esterdale, Istara

GENDER: Female

SEXUALITY: Pansexual

OCCUPATION: Apothecarist

ANNUAL PURSE: 11S, 1s, 30b

APPEARANCE: Blonde hair that reaches her mid back, Hazel eyes, 

PARENTS: Frédéric Bourdeau & Felicia (Le Beau), deceased.

SIBLINGS: None

PARTNER: None

POSITIVE TRAITS: Helpful, Open-minded, Honest, Optimistic, Loyal, Kind, Nurturing, Hardworking

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Can become too focused, Stubborn 

SKILLS: Herbalism, Plant growth, Animal Companionship, Dancing, Baking, and Sewing

WORST FEAR/HATES: Losing more people in her life, Fire, Deforestation, Brutish behavior

FULL BIO FOUND HERE

[streetsamurai78]

Irish blackthorn The term shillelagh (thonged stick) has a very murky past. It’s not known exactly when people began calling walking sticks and cudgels shillelaghs. Originally, shillelaghs were made from oak, though there is no known connection with Shillelagh Forest or Shillelagh Village, aside from suffering the same anglophone corruption of two different words. After rampant deforestation in Ireland, walking sticks and cudgels found themselves being made from other materials, primarily hawthorne, hazel, and blackthorn. Shillelaghs were used not only as walking aids, but also to settle disputes between individuals and factions. Faction fighting was rampant in the late 18th century and early 19th century, but became almost nonexistent when the Famine set in. Sticks used for the purpose of fighting are simply known as ‘bata’. The use of shillelaghs as a weapon was called bataireacht (literally “stick fighting”). Today, almost all genuine shillelaghs are made from blackthorn which, while strong and decently resistant to warping, is notoriously unforgiving during the curing process. It can take 2 to 3 years for a blackthorn shank to properly cure/dry out. Hurried and/or done improperly, blackthorn will develop multiple cracks, making it unsuitable for use. Some are called loaded sticks on account of them having molten lead poured into a hollowed out area of the knob in order to increase the striking power.