#large skimmers

[michaelnordeman]

Black-tailed skimmer/större sjötrollslända, Four-spotted chaser/fyrfläckad trollslända and Large white-faced darter/citronfläckad kärrtrollslända. Nötön-Åråsviken nature reserve in Värmland, Sweden (June 18, 2024).

[dansnaturepictures]

22/06/24-Garden loosestrife, view, Chiffchaff and my first Comma butterfly of the year at Testwood Lakes and Common Tern, creeping thistle and view at Lakeside Country Park

It was thrilling to be transfixed by watching fishing Common Terns at both, expected at this time of year at Testwood Lakes I saw young there too a reserve it's been great to re-connect with this year but once in a blue moon for Lakeside. The Comma was another standout sighting today and better late than never, it's the second longest I've waited to see one in a year behind 2018 when I saw my first of the year on 24th June, a species that is usually within the first few I see in a year in spring. A very pleasing sighting as it become my 30th butterfly species seen this year. Other highlights at Testwood Lakes were Little Ringed Plover, Sand Martins, Grey Herons including being mobbed by the terns, Green Woodpecker, Red Admiral, Golden-ringed Dragonfly, Blue-tailed Damselfly, knapweed, marsh bedstraw, yellow pimpernel and red campion. At Lakeside I also enjoyed seeing my first tufted vetch and hemp agrimony of the year, bee orchid, pyramidal orchid, bindweed, Great Spotted Woodpecker, Moorhen, Great Crested Grebe, Lesser Black-backed Gull, Ringlet and Meadow Brown with Black-tailed Skimmer, Large Skipper, Marbled White, bird's-foot trefoil and pineappleweed enjoyed at both.

[cheerddanshi]

Landscape Fountain in Denver

[gogogodzilla]

✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟜 : 𝑃𝑜𝑜𝑙 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 & 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑓 ✧

【 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 】

╰› 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

╰› 〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗: It's your job to take care of Wanda's pool, and it's her job to take care of you

╰› 〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 〗: nsfw 18+, semi-public sex, oral sex, infidelity (wanda cheats on her husband w/ you), wanda's pov

╰›  ✧ 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ✧ 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑜3 ✧ 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑝𝑎𝑑 ✧

The bright blue skimmer glided across the pool's surface, sending a gentle wave rippling across the water. A warm summer breeze ruffled the stray hairs that managed to escape your baseball cap. She watched you closely from the large glass doors that led to the patio. Her gaze traced the arc of your pole through the water before lingering on your form. The way you moved was nearly hypnotic, every move performed with perfect precision, and she couldn’t look away. 

You were none the wiser, of course. You were dedicated to your craft, which meant she could watch you without worrying about scaring you away.

She stepped outside, squinting a little in the afternoon sun. 

“Hey you,” she called out. “Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been working hard all afternoon.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m almost done, Mrs. Maximoff. No need to worry about me.” 

“Please, hon, call me Wanda,” she urged, waving a hand. “Well, if you’re not going to take the chance to cool off…” 

She made a show of slowly tugging off her coverup, revealing inch upon tantalizing inch of her skin. She took note of the way your eyes skirted up the length of her legs before refocusing on the glassy surface of the pool. 

She dipped her toes into the water before making her way slowly down the steps and into the water. She sucked in a breath as the cool water enveloped her, a stark contrast to the scorching summer sun. 

She swam a few laps, glancing over at you every so often. She hoped to entice you with a few playful splashes and inviting smiles. You remained steadfast, though, and she settled with floating on her back. 

As she floated, she came up with a plan. She’d seen how you couldn’t take your eyes off her, and her husband and twins wouldn’t be home for a few hours. She had you all to herself. 

She swam over to you, perching herself right below your feet. She held out her hand, “Be a dear and hand me a towel.” 

“Of course,” you grinned, pressing a playful kiss to her knuckles before going to retrieve a towel from the pool shed. You were obedient, she liked that. 

You were quick to return to her and hold out a towel. “Sweet girl,” she cooed, grinning as she grabbed your wrist and tugged you to her. 

You stumbled, caught off guard by her sudden strength, and your feet slipped on the wet tiles. The momentum of her movements pulled you both into the pool, the cool water enveloping you in an instant. 

Wanda quickly resurfaced, and a laugh escaped her as she watched you breach the surface of the water. You sputtered as you sent an incredulous look her way. 

“Mrs. Maximoff,” you breathed, “you are relentless.” 

Your tone didn’t match the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and Wanda’s laughs softened into a grin as she swam closer to you. She reached out a hand to gently brush a wet strand of hair from your face, your baseball cap long gone. Her red hair flowed around her like an auburn halo, gently tickling her shoulders. 

You met her gaze, the close proximity warming the air despite the chill of the water. 

“Take a break with me, darling,” she murmured, her voice low as she brought up a hand to cup your face. 

You laughed, “I don’t see how I have a choice, Mrs. Maximoff.” 

The space between you seemed to disappear as she leaned in. She hummed as her lips met yours, and she wrapped her arms around you, tugging you closer. You were quick to embrace her, your fingers dragging lightly over the exposed skin on her waist. 

Your lips moved in sync, and it was like nothing she’d ever felt before. She pressed herself against you, savoring the warmth of your chest against hers. Your hands lingered on the back of her thighs, and she lifted herself long enough to wrap her legs around your waist. 

You pulled away to trail gentle kisses down her neck, nipping and sucking the skin there. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but just enough to emit soft moans from Wanda. Her eyes fluttered closed and she tilted her head to the side. Her hands slowly wandered over your shoulder, tangling into the taught, soaked fabric of your t-shirt. 

Your fingers trailed up her back and tugged at the strings of her bikini. Wanda opens her eyes to meet yours, letting out a soft gasp as her top slowly falls away. You eagerly continue your exploration of her body, and press kisses down her chest. She takes a shuddering breath, and her hands move to tangle in your hair as your mouth begins to wander across her chest. 

Your lips gingerly find one of her nipples, and your tongue circles around the sensitive bud.  Wanda lets out a soft moan as her hips grind against you. She arches against you, and she reaches a hand up to cover her lips, muffling her moans. 

You pulled away, panting. Your cheeks were flushed from more than the sun, and Wanda’s lipstick coated your lips in a rosy hue. 

“I want to taste you.” 

The words leave your mouth and her lips are on yours in an instant. She tugged gently at the hair at the nape of your neck, earning a whiney groan in response. 

You maneuvered her toward the edge of the pool and pulled away, earning a small groan in protest from Wanda. You pressed a soothing kiss against her cheek before lifting her up to sit on the edge of the pool. 

You hook your fingers into the sides of her bottoms, looking up at her through your lashes. She gives a curt nod and lifts her hips, allowing you to tug off her bottoms. You chuck them to the side, not really caring where they landed.

A small gasp leaves you at the sight of her bare before you, and heat pools in your belly. You situate yourself between her thighs, and you flush at how easily they spread for you. 

Wanda wouldn’t admit it, but she fantasized about this moment for nearly as long as you’d worked for her. 

“So beautiful,” you whispered, your breath fanning across her core. 

Wanda’s breath gets caught in her throat as she tugged you closer. You wrapped your hands around her thighs, keeping her still as you left kisses along her inner thighs, teasing her. 

A swift tug is enough to remind you of the task at hand. You playfully nipped at the soft skin of her thighs before latching your lips onto her core. You swiped your tongue through her folds, moaning at the taste of her. She’s exquisite, and you couldn’t get enough. You dipped your tongue into her entrance before moving upward to circle her clit, earning a high-pitched whine from Wanda. 

Breathy moans and pleas escaped her plump lips as you lapped up all of her. 

“I’ve been dying to put that pretty mouth to work,” she moaned as she leaned her head back. 

You double your efforts, moaning as she praises you to high heaven. You’d give anything, do anything, to hear her moan for you. 

A high-pitched whine leaves her as she comes against your mouth. You let her ride her orgasm out against your tongue, eagerly lapping up her release. You don’t stop until she tugs your head away, and then you rest your head against the plush of her thigh as she catches her breath. 

You rub a soothing hand over her thigh and look up at her. 

She cups your face, “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes, sweet thing.”

[gumywyrm]

Up first are the BeetleWings!

Some additional info below:

BeetleWings (as well as LeafWings) are native to Pantala; they did not come from Pyrrhia.

^ BeetleWings also naturally evolved into HiveWings and SilkWings on their own. There were already proto versions of them when Clearsight arrived.

Their extra set of legs gives them better dexterity and balance, especially for spinning silk.

There are two distinct types of BeetleWings, juggernauts and skimmers.

^ Juggernauts are the staple BeetleWing. They were known for their muscular build and powerful elytra.

^ Skimmers are more lithe BeetleWings that eventually evolved into HiveWings and SilkWings. They were better fliers, but much weaker.

Juggernaut BeetleWings have the strongest scales of any dragon, especially the elytra.

^ While seen as a morbid practice by some, elytra were very important family heirlooms in some communities. They were extracted by the healer of the family from the body and used as shields. It was a way for deceased dragons to continue protecting their family even in death.

BeetleWings go through metamorphosis, which was passed down to SilkWings but lost in the HiveWings.

In addition to flamesilk, BeetleWings had other fire-related abilities such as flamespit and mild fire resistance.

There are still BeetleWings in the modern day. They retreated to the northwestern mountains of Pantala, which have largely been untouched due to its instability (earthquakes, sinkholes, even volcanic activity). They strongly resemble juggernauts.

[love4pascal]

"Summers In The Air And Baby, Heaven's In Your Eyes."

Joel Miller x F!reader

An: first fic! Feedback would definitely be appreciated!

Word count: 1k+

Warnings: fluff, age gap (readers 28 & Joel is 33) Joel and reader have been friends for 4 years so, Fake dating, creepy neighbors husband, protective!joel for like 2 seconds, THEY KISS.

You're My Best friend Series!

Part two here!

It's mid July and the Millers are throwing their annual neighborhood get together.

Every. Single. Year. The millers throw an outstanding barbecue, the best Texan brisket that’s been smoked for 12 hours the night before just for this big event.

Hours before the event the whole Miller household was in shambles, everyone on deck running around tidying up, making sure everything is perfect.

Thankfully Joel and Tommy had helpful hands with you being there. Sarah not so much but she’d pop in at times to see what the progression looked like.

Joel called out for your help in the backyard.

“Hey can you help me with the pool, while I check on the brisket?” He squinted his eyes due to the Texas sun in his eyes.

“Yeah, the skimmers in the shed, right?” With the nod of approval from the older Texan, you headed to the shed and grabbed the skimmer for the pool.

While skimming the pool, you were oblivious to the footsteps behind you until you were falling into the pool and loud laughs were heard from the two.

Sarah hunched over; giggles coming from her. Joel stands in the spot that you were just at, laughing.

The worst duo when it came to stuff like this.

“You’re a very lucky man, Miller.” Reaching your hand up to signal help getting out.

“And why’s that?” Grabbing your hand and ready to pull you up from the cool water.

You yank his hand and here he comes splashing next to you in the cool blue water.

“Because if I was wearing the clothes for the party right now, you’d be a dead man.” You laughed at his soaking wet form in the water

Sarah was practically rolling on the grass from how her father fell for the obvious.

“Sarah, could you help me carry this stuff to the table please?” Walking out and placing the paper plates and plastic silverware onto the white fold up table.

“Where should I put this..?” She stood next to you confused.

“I’ll put it away, don’t worry about it.” Grabbing the box of napkins and more paper plates and placing them on the table.

Once you were done putting stuff away , you decided to check on Joel knowing he tends to get anxious before everyone shows up.

“How are you doing.?” You rubbed his shoulder.

“You know how I get before everyone shows up.” Pulling the brisket out of the smoker.

“Yeah and every time, people are blown away from your amazing Texan hospitality that keeps them coming every year.” Following him to the table where all the food is set out and covered.

“You ain’t got a damn thing to worry about miller.” You reassure him.

“Yeah I know but-” he was abruptly cut off.

“Hey Joel, people are here. You want me to let them in or nah..?” It was the man of the hour, Tommy miller.

Joel looked at you for some help, and with a nod of approval from you, he told Tommy to start letting people in.

-

With about half of the neighborhood in Joel millers backyard, there was still enough room to navigate around.

Sarah and her friends playing in the pool, parents talking about the latest gossip going on in the neighborhood. Joel and Tommy talking to their construction friends.

It was one of the very many things you enjoyed during the summer.

Watching from afar, soaking up the memory of pure happiness, until it was rudely interrupted by someone.

“Hey, you know where Joel keeps the beer? I’ve seen everyone with one yet I can’t seem to find a single cooler of beer.” A tall man, graying hair and slight wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh um, yeah it’s just this way.” Walking outside by the grill and pulling the large cooler from the somewhat hidden space it sat before.

“Thank you darling. I appreciate it.” The man smiled at you.

“Oh it was really no problem at all.” You returned a polite smile at the older man and just as you about to walk away to find Joel, is when you felt a hand on your wrist.

“Why don’t you have a drink with me?” His oddly warm hand still wrapped around your wrist.

“I would, but I really need to find Joel.” Using anything as an excuse to get away from this man.

“How about you have a drink with me and then we can both go find Joel?!” He said, it was sounding like he was more telling you than asking you.

You were about to reply until your thoughts were interrupted.

“Actually Mike, I need her help with something, so if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to let go of my girlfriend.” It was the man that you were looking for, Joel miller.

“Oh my bad Joel, didn’t mean anything by it.” The tall man, Mike was much shorter than Joel was, Joel was practically towering over the older man. Mikes hand quickly unwrapping itself from your wrist.

“I think Linda’s over there looking for you. Said something about your daughter, might want to go find her.” Joel softly pulling you in his side, watching Mike scramble to find his wife.

“So girlfriend huh?!” You grin looking up at him. Resting your right hand on his chest.

He playfully pushes you away, laughing as he speed walks away from you.

“MILLER.” You shout as you ran after him, laughing once you catch up.

“I only said that so he’d let go of you, or I was gonna have to ruin the barbecue because I would’ve punched him” he said slowly sitting on the outside couch he had.

“Joel miller, you would ruin your barbecue for me, I feel honored.” Nudging your elbow against his.

“Oh shut up.” He looks at the ground chuckling.

After everyone left, it was just you, Joel, Tommy, Sarah and her school friend Ellie.

You and the Miller men clean up the aftermath of the barbecue.

3 trash bags full, fold up table put in the shed, extra food placed in the fridge, and beer put in the garage fridge.

You were finally done.

Tommy called it a night after helping you and Joel take the trash to the garage cans.

-

After washing your hands and putting away the extra paper plates back into the pantry, and running the dishwasher even after Joel’s protests about how he’ll do them tomorrow.

You found Joel sitting on the outdoor couch nursing a beer. Sitting right next to him and laying your head on his firm but soft shoulder.

He offered you some of his beer, which you excepted.

You two say in comfortable silence, just enjoying one another’s company.

At one point you could hear Sarah and her friend Ellie laughing and giggling. It sends a pang of happiness to your heart.

You finally broke the silence, your voice soft and airy.

“You’re the best, best friend I’ve ever had.” You say looking up at him.

And for a second you could’ve sworn the world went quiet, no giggles of the two young girls upstairs, no crickets or chirps, just you two.

“Oh yeah?” He said looking at the full moon that had been looking right at the two of you.

“Yeah.” Turning your attention to the moon as well.

“Well you’re also the best, best friend I’ve ever had.” He turns to admire you, how peaceful you look, how the moon light dances on your beautiful skin.

He watches as you turn to look at him, your smile brightens and for the first time in Joel millers life, he gets butterflies.

It’s like something had taken over Joel’s body as he slowly leans towards you, before his lips capture yours.

You deepen the kiss, moving from sitting beside Joel to sitting on his lap.

He breaks the kiss for a second to breathe, your foreheads resting onto one another’s before he captures your lips for a second time.

“I think I’m in love you with you.” You whisper into the kiss.

“I think I’m in love with you too.” He whispers to you.

A/n: Hey there! I hope you enjoyed!

[starrynightmuse]

Sign of the Times 🏛⏳️ I. Broken Dragonfly Wings

Aemond Targaryen x reader, Library of Alexandria AU

(Title inspired by the Harry Styles song)

Blurb: It's summer in Alexandria, Egypt, and the heat has reached sweltering heights. Children dash toward the banks of the Nile, eager to find relief in the cool waters while ladies fan themselves under the shade of palm trees. Thick mud huts keep families cool under the boiling sun. It would be 1,892 years before the first ice cubes would be invented and nearly two millennia until air conditioning. Even Jesus Christ wouldn’t be born until another 48 years. But you have the teachings of Aristotle and the works of Euclid. You're the first and only female scholar at the Library of Alexandria, the first institute of its kind. All your life has been spent in the pursuit of knowledge — until the arrival of a mysterious young scholar named Aemond. 

Series warnings: period typical misogyny, ancient academia, teacher x student relationship (but they're the same age), violence, fire, sexual content (18+), reader is loosely based off of Hypatia of Alexandria, Targaryens x Ptolemies crossover, character deaths, inaccurate history for the sake of storytelling, accusations of witchcraft, debates on fictional religions, Plato, Daemon being a menace.

Word count: 5,380

Series Masterlist

Your heart was racing, terror coiling in your stomach like a serpent, but you refused to let it show as you looked out at the mob of angry faces around you in the pavilion.

“Traitor!”

“Death to the witch!”

“Kill her!” 

You knew there was no escaping this. This was the end. Yet, even as fear flooded your chest, you refused to let go of your pride. You held your head up high as Prince Daemon approached you where you kneeled. He looked down at you, his cold eyes gleaming in sick satisfaction.

"I'm giving you one last chance, witch," he said, his voice hard and uncompromising. "Renounce your unholy ways and convert to the Faith of the Seven, and you shall walk away unharmed."

You looked up at him, refusing to back down. You hypocrite, you thought. When you spoke, your voice was steady and firm. "I cannot.”

The prince's expression darkened. He stepped closer to you, his lips close to your ear so that no one would overhear.

“There is nothing left for you. It's over. Save yourself and the crown will grant you mercy,” he hissed.

You spat at his face. "If the right to think is treason, then I embrace it proudly. I refuse to remain supplicant to a crown that fears the power of knowledge and labels it treachery."

Daemon's lips formed into a cruel snarl. He stepped back and turned to the crowd, opening his arms in a dramatic display. "The punishment for witchcraft is death!" his voice boomed. The crowd erupted, snarling and roaring like a pack of lions.

Your heart raced as the people closed in with stones in hand, hungry predators circulating their prey. You took a final deep breath, bracing yourself for the onslaught. The first stone hit you, a dull throb of pain that quickly gave way to sharper, intense sensations as more stones followed. You feel your knees collapsing to the hard floor. In reflex, you cover your head with your arms. You shut your eyes, and the last thing you saw was the memory of a single blue eye.

🏛⏳️

6 months earlier.

There's a buzzing in the air, and not just from the hum of people in the atrium outside. Inside your classroom, a large blue dragonfly lazily flies in circles, your students taking turns swatting at it as it zips by. It’s an epaulet skimmer, or an orthetrum chrysostigma, a common dragonfly found around Egypt. Last month, you helped survey them with a fellow scholar who was putting together an account of all the various insects along the Nile River delta. The research project was commissioned by the Princess Helaena Targaryen herself, whom you've heard was quite fond of natural history. 

In the midst of your lecturing, the buzz of the insect feels amplified. In front of you sit nearly fifty pupils, all perched on wooden benches. Most of them are in their teens and early twenties, and all of them were young men with restless energy with wandering minds. While a few showed genuine curiosity, you knew that attendance was merely a formality to half of them, who were only present because their parents were wealthy aristocrats. Yet, you knew it was your duty to broaden their minds and instill some semblance of knowledge into their minds before they go on to graduate and become lords who make decisions that impact hundreds of people.

“Whether you believe in the Seven or the old gods, we accept that the divine has created all that we know,” you say, your voice carrying across the room. “Yet, the mechanisms behind how their creations work are a mystery to us mortals.”

There's a blur of blue near your eye when the dragonfly makes a landing on your nose. You swap it away and continue. 

“For example, what are the gears that drive a drought? Elders of the past have said that a drought is punishment from an angry sun god. Holy men today say it is the repercussion of having vexed the Seven. But how, precisely, do these divine beings bring this drought upon us?” You pause, pacing around the room. “Like observing the work of a craftsman, we can observe the handiwork of the gods. We can observe that volcanic eruptions are one tool that the gods use to give us droughts. Likewise, miasma from a plague, which spews vaporous acid into the atmosphere, can cause rising temperatures and dry up rivers. (Modern Fact check: Miasma does NOT cause plagues. They are caused by infectious bacteria and viruses.)

“Every natural disaster has forces, or causes, behind them. Although perhaps only the gods may know the truth of the workings behind these events, philosophers and believers of science have theorized why certain disasters come to be. Take earthquakes, for example. Compared to droughts, it is much harder for us to determine how earthquakes are created. Aristotle, for one, suggested that it is caused by winds in subterranean caves.”

One of your pupils seated on the front row raises his hand. Ebony curls, dark eyes that remind you of beetles, his robes a deep plum that only money can buy.

“Perhaps Aristotle failed to consider that earthquakes could just be Atticus's mother walking to the market,” he says, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His friend gives him a hearty slap on the back, nearly doubling over with laughter.

You offer a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Flavius." 

Some of your students were more mature than others.

Flavius's jolliness is short-lived, however. The dragonfly suddenly decides to dart into his eye and he lets out a startled shriek. He swats at the insect and tumbles forward off the bench. His friend roars even harder with laughter. Meanwhile, the dragonfly falls onto the floor, its delicate blue wings now broken. A couple students in the back crane their necks in curiosity as Flavius stomps his feet on the insect's body, crushing it mercilessly against the tile floor. Tiny blue limbs smear across the tiles, its wings in pieces like shattered glass. A life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Flavius settles back onto the bench, straightening his toga with an air of nonchalance. "Apologies, miss. Please, continue," he says.

You choose to ignore his interruption, redirecting your attention to the rest of the class. 

“When we attempt to unravel the mysteries behind the divine's creations, we begin to understand the natural world,” you say, thinking about the dead bug in front of you, its blue wings, the blue of the Nile, all the species of flora and fauna that have survived for eons thanks to its life-giving waters. “This is why we study the discipline of science.”

“Beyond these walls, I have heard many who deem it to be blasphemy,” a voice interjects. 

Your gaze shifts to a young man at the rear of the room. You've never seen him before, not in your classroom nor around the Library. If you've seen him, you would know. With his sharp features, nearly white hair cropped close to his head, and a leather eyepatch covering an angry scar on his left eye — his was not a face you would forget. 

“What do they call you?” You ask curiously, piercing blue eye meeting yours. He seemed a bit older than the rest of your students — perhaps in his mid-twenties, around the same age as you. You briefly wondered where he was from. His features stood out in a sea of dark haired Alexandrians.

"I am called Aemond, ma'am," his voice remained composed and respectful. "Just Aemond." There was a refinement in his speech that hinted of a privileged upbringing, yet the absence of a surname intrigued you. Perhaps he was an educated slave, adept at tutoring and managing the finances of the master's household — literate slaves were not uncommon in the Roman Empire.

"And what have you heard, Aemond?" you inquire.

"It is said that scientific inquiry is seen as an offense to the Seven," he responds evenly, referring to the gods. "Questioning their creations is considered sacrilegious." Several students nod in agreement around the room.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts.

“It is true that outside these walls, the belief that science is sacrilegious is held by many people,” you say slowly. “Perhaps even now, some of you are wrestling with the idea, torn between conventional thinking and what you are learning at this institute. If this is the case, I implore you to consider this —” 

You look out at the faces of your pupils. Some are focused and deep in thought, while others are frowning. A lone blue eye is fixed on you.

"—What act of love is greater than seeking to understand the object of your affection? Mathematics, physics, and astronomy are not merely academic pursuits but they are expressions of love. They are avenues through which we seek to comprehend and appreciate the intricate beauty of our world.” You gestured around the room. “I am aware that some of you are followers of the Seven. Some of you are devoted to the old gods. But science does not seek to refute the existence of one God over another, nor does it attempt to debunk the existence of the divine altogether. Science seeks only to understand.” You look in Aemond's direction. He's watching, listening intently. “In attempting to understand the natural world, we may better love the divine and appreciate their creations.”

🏛⏳️

The remainder of the class concluded smoothly, and due to the sweltering heat, you dismissed everyone earlier than usual. Despite the hour not yet reaching midday, the air was thick with humidity, making the classroom feel oppressive. You had no desire to keep your students in the stuffy classroom for longer than necessary.

As the others rush to leave the room, you notice that Aemond was kneeling down and using a handkerchief to clean the dragonfly off the floor.

“Thank you,” you say to him earnestly. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he delicately holds the insect through the thin white cloth. He picks up a broken piece of an iridescent blue wing, the shimmer catching the light.

"It's an epaulet skimmer," you remark softly. But you're not looking at the bug, you're looking at him.

"Orthetrum chrysostigma," Aemond responds, using the scientific name. You regard him with curiosity. 

“My sister has a fondness for insects," Aemond explains. "She is extremely gentle with them. She maintains an extensive collection in her room — beetles, caterpillars, dragonflies, and the like. But she only gathers them once they've passed on. Her heart is too big to confine them before they've lived a full life." He gazes at the broken wing in his hand with a hint of sadness. You suspect that he is thinking of more than the fate of the squashed bug.

“Some cultures believe that dragonflies were once dragons who were tricked by a jackal to change shape into insects,” you say, looking at the wing in fascination. “Once they became a dragonfly, they couldn't transform back. As a result, they represented change and illusion.” 

You notice that Aemond's gaze is now fixed on you, a blue eye that reminds you of iridescent wings and the shimmering surface of the Nile on sunny days. You think of mirages in the desert, blue lapis lazuli on polished gold rings, the holographic shells of scarab beetles. 

“They must've been very grand in their past lives,” he remarks.

There's a short silence as you observe him, unsure of what to make of this strange new addition to your class. As your gaze shifts from his eyepatch to his eye, you notice that he's studying you too. Suddenly, you feel very exposed, as if he was somehow reading your entire life story just by looking at you. 

Breaking the tension, you extend your hand. "I realize I haven't properly introduced myself. It's been a pleasure having you in my class," you say, stating your name. He accepts your gesture, clasping your hand in a firm shake.

“You're the daughter of Theon. Your father is the greatest mathematician in all of Alexandria,” Aemond says. “I know who you are.” 

“Do you study mathematics?” 

“No. History and philosophy,” he replies. “But I've read enough across all the disciplines to know who the greats are.” 

“I don't think I've ever seen you around here before,” you note.

"I just started my studies here," he explains. "I arrived last night."

"Where else have you studied?" 

“Nowhere else. All my education has been from tutors hired by my family at home.”

"If you don't mind my asking, where do you come from?" 

He hesitates. “I've been around,” he says at last. 

🏛⏳️

That afternoon, you decided to teach your next class in one of the classrooms overlooking the sea. Arriving early, you unlatch the tall, arched windows, hoping to coax a gentle breath of ocean breeze into the room. As the soft light of the late afternoon filtered through, you arrange your teaching materials as the first of your students trickled in.

The class was on Euclidean geometry. As it happens, this was one of your favorite subjects to teach. You loved to move around the room, using various objects — such as a discus, a sphere, and even a pineapple — to illustrate geometric shapes and their properties. It was more than just memorizing formulas; it was about seeing and understanding the spatial relationships and practical applications of mathematics in the physical world.  

Two thousand years from now, Euclidean geometry would be the foundation for computer graphics, radiology, and geographic information systems. Without Euclid, you wouldn't have video games or anime. There would be no x-rays to help doctors treat broken bones. Without Euclid, there would be no Google Maps, nor would you be able to stalk your crush's location on Snapchat. 

Abruptly, you are cut off mid-lecture as a series of bold knocks echo off the door. You excuse yourself and open the door cautiously, finding yourself face-to-face with six armored men adorned in gold cloaks. You step out into the atrium.

"What is your business?" you ask, your gaze sharp and guarded.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wants to speak to Theon of Alexandria. I'm told you're his daughter,” the guard at front says firmly.

“My father is indisposed. Whatever business you have with him, you can discuss with me.”

A sudden laugh rings out across the atrium. Every movement in the hall comes to a standstill as scholars pause their tracks and turn their heads. In front of you, guards quickly part ways for a tall man with long silver hair. His armor clinks as he strides towards you, his eyes mischievous like those of a jackal, reminding you of the ancient depictions of Anubis on temple walls. Adorning his shoulders is the same golden cloak worn by his men.

It was the unmistakable Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother of King Viserys and the consort of the crown princess Rhaenyra. But to the smallfolk, he is known as the merciless commander of the City Watch. 

Daemon looks at you like you are the scum on his shoes. “I don't have time for games, girl,” he says mockingly. “Where is your father?”

“Like I've said, he is indisposed,” you repeat, meeting him with a steady gaze.

“I have come a long way from the palace,” he says, offering a false honeyed grin. “You will fetch him for me.” 

You give a smile that mirrored his. It was common knowledge that Prince Daemon frequented the company of his mistress in the city more than he did his own wife at the royal palace.

"I speak the truth when I say my father cannot be here right now, and I apologize on his behalf. However, I am willing to assist you,” you assert calmly.

"This does not concern you," Daemon retorts dismissively. "I am here on business concerning your father's governance of this... academic institution."

"I am a professor here and a senior member of the Library of Alexandria," you counter, maintaining your composure. "After my father, you will find no one more knowledgeable about the affairs of this institute than I am."

Daemon scoffs, his tone condescending. "There are matters too serious to discuss with a woman.”

“Then I'm afraid you will have to come back another day, my prince.” 

“Where is your father?”

“He is sick. Unless you have a direct order from the king, I would prefer not to disturb him from his much-needed rest."  

The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air — the Library is under the protection of the crown, and Daemon, despite his authority, is not the king. The prince's expression darkens, a sneer painting his features as his knuckles grip around the handle of his sword on his waist. You find yourself locked in a tense staring contest, both unwilling to yield. Moments tick by in silence, each waiting for the other to give in. Then —

“Very well,” he concedes, letting go of his grip on the sword. But you knew from his expression that this was far from over. Daemon casts a disdainful glance around the atrium as if the place offended him before turning and walking away from you. His gold cloaks follow him, their armor clanking all the way to the main doors of the library. 

It is only when the last of them exited onto the street that you allow yourself to release the breath you've been holding.

🏛⏳️

“Daemon Targaryen? What was he doing here?” You hear Cregan before you see him.

You're in the far corner of the main reading room, kneeling before a crate with a new shipment of scrolls that came in from Greece. Gently opening the lid, you discover a signed note from the head of the Platonic School of Athens. Ἕν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα. Αὕτη ἡ γνῶσις ἐμοῦ ἐστιν, it reads at the end. One thing I know, that I know nothing. This is the source of my wisdom. It is a quote by Socrates.

Cregan emerges from behind a shelf, his gray eyes wide with exasperation.

“I can't say that I haven't expected this,” you say to him, picking up a scroll and lightly dusting it off. “It is no secret that Daemon puts up with us only because of the pharaoh.”

“Well, yes. But to barge in here and demand for the Professor—” he means your father Theon.

“He's been sending us threats for months.”

Cregan paused. “When did this start?”

“Four moons ago, when King Viserys reinstated him as Lord Commander of the City Watch.” 

Daemon had been the commander of the city watch once before, but that had been years ago, and back then he was more interested in dealing with criminals in the worst parts of the city. But after some scandal with the Princess Rhaenyra, Viserys had exiled him to Rome. Now, he was back and had regained both his old post as leader of the city guard and the Princess Rhaenyra, whom he took to wife. However, this time, Daemon was turning his policing to the University of Alexandria, more commonly referred to as simply the Library. Apparently, scholars are the new criminals.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Cregan asked, clearly frustrated.

“I didn't want to burden you with it," you reply honestly. "You've been occupied with your research with Princess Helaena these past four moons.”

Cregan rubs his eyebrows. “What has he been threatening?”

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, making space on the shelf for the new scrolls. Cregan joins you, handing over scrolls from the crate as you arrange them carefully in their designated spots on the shelf. 

“He wants to shut down the Library if we don't — and I quote his words — ‘tone down on the science’,” you explain. "He's pushing for censorship, insisting that everything that is taught and published here must be 'safe' for the public. He claims it's about protecting the moral well-being of Alexandrians."

Cregan snorts derisively. "I wonder what his wife thinks of his moral well-being."

"That's an ad hominem attack, Cregan," you chide gently. But you're smiling.

“We're the best scientific research institution in the Mediterranean,” he says. “And, let's face it, we're probably the best in the entire world. We owe it all to King Jaehaerys's proclamation over 50 years ago, protecting our intellectual freedom. Even Daemon Targaryen can't derail something like that.” 

“Daemon doesn't like anything he can't control,” you say. “Nor does he like taking no for an answer.”

“He's a cunt,” Cregan muttered angrily. “His word isn't law but he sure does want to act like it. Did you hear he's been trying to ban all Northerners from entering Alexandria? Unless they're slaves, that is. It's utterly absurd. He's a Northerner himself. His entire family hails from the north—well, not the North, but north of the Mediterranean. Valyria is a small city-state in Greece. Still, that's north of us. If he wants only true Alexandrians in the city, maybe he should consider leaving as well." The Targaryens, although originally from Greece, had become the longest-reigning dynasty in Egypt, despite their non-Egyptian origin.

"What does Princess Helaena think?"

"Of Daemon?"

"Of the North."

Cregan blushes slightly. "She's mentioned that we should visit there together someday," he admits. “For research purposes, of course,” he adds quickly. 

You grin. Cregan has been your closest friend since childhood, and you swear you've never seen him as happy as he's been the past few months.

"She wants to see the direwolves and the aurora borealis,” says Cregan. “I promised her I'd show her around Winterfell when we go." Winterfell, Cregan's hometown, nestled in a far-off corner of the world where snow and frost dominate most of the year — a large contrast to the sandy dunes of Egypt.

“You like her,” you mused.

“Don't be absurd,” Cregan says, but he's failing miserably in hiding a smile.

There's a rustling among the shelves behind you, and the next thing you know, you're face to face with a single blue eye that reminds you of ocean water and iridescent wings.

"Sorry, I was told that the texts about Plato are in this section?" Aemond asks.

"Oh. Yes. Absolutely," you reply quickly, gesturing around you. "I mean, they're all here. Everything on this wall is Plato. We've just received a new collection of his works from Greece and we just finished cataloging and setting them up. They're on this shelf. Here." Your words stumble out awkwardly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Perfect,” Aemond says, looking at you. Neither of you move. Cregan eyes the two of you with amusement. 

“Well, I was just about to head out,” Cregan says cheerfully, sashaying past you. You turn, widening your eyes and mouthing no to him. Cregan simply grins as he disappears behind the bookshelves, leaving you with Aemond. 

“You read Plato?” you ask.

Aemond nods. “I am an admirer of his work,” he says. “You were one of my first introductions to him, actually. I read your thesis on him, An Exploration Into the Metaphysics of Plato, when I was sixteen.” 

“I can't imagine there would be many copies of that,” you say with amazement. “I wrote it when I was—”

“Sixteen,” Aemond says. You blink. He clears his throat. “I've been a follower of your work,” he adds shyly.  

“Oh. I'm flattered.” You’re blushing.

“Is it true that you started studying at The Academy when you were fourteen?” He means the Platonic School of Athens, founded by Plato himself over 300 years ago. Most scholars called it The Academy. It is the first university to ever open in western civilization.

You nod. “I learned mathematics and astronomy here, but my father wanted me to get a hellenistic education on top of it, so he sent me to Greece. I stayed there for four years before returning to Alexandria.”

“I have a brother who studies there,” Aemond shares, leaning against a bookshelf. “My mother, being an Athenian herself, insisted he be sent there. He writes to me sometimes, telling me about the professors he works with. I had considered studying there myself.”

“What made you choose Alexandria over Athens?”

Aemond smiles. “I'm at the center of the world here. It seemed foolish to want to go anywhere else,” he says, his gaze sweeping the library around him. After a pause, he asks, “What made you want to teach?”

“The fear of oblivion,” you reply. "It's the realization that everything we do, everything we learn, and everything we create could be forgotten someday. Teaching, for me, is a way to combat that inevitability. By sharing knowledge, by shaping young minds, I can hope to leave a lasting impact — a legacy that outlives me."

Aemond nods thoughtfully. "So it's about leaving a mark on the world?"

"In a sense, yes," you affirm. "It's about contributing to something greater than myself, ensuring that knowledge endures beyond individual lives and fleeting moments."

He smiles faintly. "That's a noble pursuit."

"It's what drives me," you conclude. As you look at each other, you feel his gaze tracing over your face with a strange emotion. Awe? Admiration? Before you can decipher his thoughts, a scholar approaches the shelf behind you, prompting you to awkwardly step aside.

"I hope you find the resources on Plato you're looking for," you say to Aemond, refocusing on the moment. You pause. "We're hosting a seminar on Plato's metaphysics tomorrow afternoon in the Rose Hall. You should join us."

Aemond smiles. “I’d be honored to.”

🏛⏳️

Daytime in Alexandrian summers can be hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, but when the chill sets in at night, the city transforms into a completely different land. It is under the cloak of darkness that Alexandria truly comes alive.

You’re wrapped in a headscarf, its tail fluttering in the gentle wind from the Mediterranean as you navigate the narrow streets of the night market. Oil lamps and torches cast a soft, flickering glow as shadows danced across buildings decorated with a mix of hieroglyphs and hellenistic art. On the streets, you hear people speaking in both Greek and Egyptian, but also Persian, Moroccan, and other various African and Asiatic dialects. Various aromas filled the air— spices mingled with the savory scents of grilled meats and the sweet notes of baked pastries and delicacies from the far corners of the world. It was the New York City of the ancient world.

Weaving between stalls adorned with colorful fabrics and gleaming trinkets, you spotted one of the gold cloaks from earlier that day. Upon noticing you, he gave you a brief, curt nod before turning his attention sharply towards a group of rowdy children who were blocking the path of a passing wagon.

You make your way to an apothecary stall, securing the medicine your father needs before turning to leave. Suddenly, a hooded figure trips over a wooden crate and crashes into you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. You fall flat on the cobblestones, his weight on top of you. Your basket with the apothecary vial shatters on the road.

“Ow!” he yelled. You struggle to push him off and get to your feet, then reach down to help him up, steadying him as he sways unsteadily. His hood falls back, revealing a mess of unruly white curls. 

Prince Aegon Targaryen. You’ve seen him a few times while going around the city. The eldest son of Queen Alicent, known to frequent the streets of Alexandria often. Aside from Daemon, he was the only royal that most of the smallfolk could recognize by appearance.

"Prince Aegon," you say cautiously, helping him steady himself. "Are you alright?"

He blinks a few times, focusing on you with bleary eyes. "Why, hello," he slurs slightly, attempting a lopsided smile. For a prince, he seemed dirtier than Diogenes and his barrel.

"Let me help you," you insist, guiding him away from the scattered shards of glass. You maneuver him towards a nearby bench, ensuring he sits down safely.

"I’m alright, I’m fine," he murmurs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He groaned and vomited on the ground next to him. You pat him on the back awkwardly as he empties his stomach.

“Did my mother send you?” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“My mother. She sent you, didn’t she? I can’t catch a break these days,” he grumbled. “The woman is a menace. She’s become crazier since my brother got exiled. I can’t even drink in peace now. She’s sending her spies everywhere.”

You frowned. “I’m not a spy, my prince.”

Aegon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sits back heavily on the bench. He tilts his head up at you, scrutinizing you, and then he sighs and hungs his head.

“Forgive me,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m tired of the games. Tired of the scrutiny. I’m tired of the standards that she sets for me, and I’m tired of her disappointment when I fail to meet them. Can’t she see I don’t want any of this? Can’t she just let me be?”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond to the prince's candidness. He was clearly drunk and you’ve only just met him, and you’ve heard unsettling rumors about him. Stories of his frequenting brothels and fighting rings, of fathering illegitimate children and neglecting them. But in this moment, he seemed far from the crooked prince that people whispered about. He seemed like a child in need of comfort.

“Your mother worries about you,” you say gently. “She only wants what’s best for you.”

He scoffs bitterly. “Does she? Tell me, have you ever had a mother who would rather marry you to your own sibling for political gain than let you live your own life?”

You shake your head slowly. “I cannot say I understand fully, but I know you carry a heavy burden.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be free of it.” Aegon leans back, staring up at the night sky with weary resignation. “My brother was lucky. I’d do anything to exchange places with him.”

You recalled hearing news of Queen Alicent’s second son, who had been condemned to work in the mines of Nubia as punishment for the murder of his nephew. The usual penalty for murder was death, and much worse if the victim was a royal, but since the criminal was a prince himself, it changed a few things. The Nubian mines were typically reserved for lesser crimes in Alexandria.

“The one who was exiled to Nubia?” you asked Aegon.

He chuckles bitterly. “My brother didn’t get sent to Nubia. Mother loves him too much for that.”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. You had a feeling that you weren’t supposed to be hearing this piece of information. Yet, Aegon didn’t seem to expect a reply. He’s looking up at the stars, as if he wished to fly off into the heavens and leave his miseries on the ground.

“Thank you,” Aegon finally said, breaking the quiet that had settled between you. Thank you for listening, thank you for not judging, thank you for watching out for my drunken mess. He rose to his feet, a bit unsteady but more composed than before. He took out a pouch of coins. “This is for… what I broke,” he said, gesturing to the remnants of the vial around you, shards of glass glittering under oil lamps. You thought of the broken dragonfly wings from earlier in the day.

You accepted the pouch gingerly. What he gave you was worth much more than the cost of the medicine, but you didn’t want to offend him so you decided not to mention it.

“Should I call the guards to escort you back to the palace?” you asked.

Aegon blinked, his gaze drifting momentarily. “No, no,” he said, waving dismissively. “They’re my uncle’s people. They don’t like me.”

"Will you manage on your own?" you pressed gently.

Aegon straightened his cloak and mustered a tired smile. "I always do," he said. 

With that, the prince turned and started to walk away. You watched as he disappeared into the narrow streets, his figure gradually blending with the shadows.

Chapter II: Coming Soon

[serpentface]

The Usoma Stavis Amanti displaying a full ceremonial crown and not being all that happy to be here.

The modern style of Imperial Wardi sovereignty is in large part rooted in regionally native traditions of kingship, particularly that of the present day provinces of Ephennos, Wardin, and Godsmouth (which are the most powerful and influential to Imperial Wardin's development). Some aspects are partly adopted from and modeled after former Burri emperors and other aspects of their legacy of occupation. These combined influences are highly visible in the details of the regalia.

The most prominent motif is the ornament of entwined and conjoined vipers. This derived from much, much earlier symbols of kingship among the Ephenni tribe. The original motif depicted two separate serpents entwined as if in mating, and symbolized the union of two prior ancient Ephenni kingdoms and the king's sovereignty over the two major river systems within Ephennos. This symbol was gradually generalized into representing kingly sovereignty in of itself, expanded beyond Ephennos into the broader Wardi cultural sphere, and merged with an entirely separate tradition of conjoined serpent imagery representing the Face of God Kusomache. The present day dual-viper symbol is wholly identified with Kusomache as the protector and benefactor of royalty, and is only permitted to be worn by members of the royal family (the dual cobra representing Kusomache more broadly has no such restrictions).

The crown contains valuable feathers- the tail plume of the skimmer gull, and black and gold wing feathers from the rare scrub unkata, fanned out in a pattern reminiscent of the male's courtship display. The scrub unkata is only found in small semi-desert stretches of the province of Wardin. The use of its feathers have a very, very long history of importance to the South Wardi as symbols of wealth and power, being worn by chieftains, lords, and kings (who often were considered to own most wild animals under their providence, with use of certain valued and/or sacred animals being restricted to these sovereigns). There are no longer status restrictions to wearing these feathers (and the animals do not have the same cultural protection as the sacred skimmer gulls), and wider demand for the valuable feathers has resulted in the already rare animals being hunted to probable extinction.

The crown features three solar-fans, one of two common motifs for the sun (the other being a circular solar halo). The use of this symbol in royal regalia is in part a relic of Imperial Burri occupation. Emperors of the 2nd Burri Empire were also the high priests of their pantheon's solar deity Inanariya, and much of their regalia consisted of the half-sun motif (a semicircle, specifically representative of a rising/setting sun). Governors and generals appointed to the occupied provinces also wore a half-sun motif.

Much of the core imagery representing Burri occupation was rejected (and outright destroyed) in the aftermath of Imperial Bur's fall, and largely forgotten in the two centuries that followed. Solar elements were a major exception. The Ephenni claimed the half-sun motif from their former occupiers and tied this to the battle in which three khait were set ablaze and spooked the Burri force's war lacetor, scattering their forces long enough to turn the tide of battle and starting a chain reaction that would end in their ultimate defeat and withdrawal from the region. The flaming khait came to evoke the solar Face Inyamache triumphing over a false foreign deity, and the Imperial Burri solar iconography was intentionally co-opted and repurposed with this meaning of native sovereignty (for the Ephenni specifically, who were largely absorbed into wider Wardi identity in the century to come). A couple centuries later, the adopted half-sun has developed into the present solar-fan motif, and remains a prominent part of regalia (though has largely lost the depths of its original connotations, instead being a more direct symbol of royalty and power).

Much of the decorative detail is based in metalworking traditions from the far northwest of the region, where the most significant gold deposits are located. This specific visual style was developed in relatively recent history (within the last century) in Godsmouth by its elite artisan class. Its presence in the crown has little intrinsic meaning (it's mostly there as a go-to native metalworking tradition associated with great wealth), but is reflective of Godsmouth's importance as the region's gate to the Inner Seaway, trading hub, and the center of most of its material wealth.

The fur here is white khaitsmane, which is a luxury decorative animal part. There was a long period where the crown instead contained sacred lionsmane, bodily relics of the Face Odomache (via sacrificed tame white lions) and symbols of sovereignty and power. This privilege was taken away in recent history under the conceit that only Odonii and their immediate blood kin can be permitted to wear this item, though this development was clearly symptomatic of deepening division and mistrust between the royalty and priesthood.

Underlying hairstyle (South Wardi-typical macho waxed back and oiled treatment) and full scope of his pained expression

[skycowboys]

Hello, I adore your work, I was wondering in this world does any other form of transportation exist such as locomotives 🚂 (I’m an avid Railway/rail fan enthusiast and considering there were races between horses and the earliest locomotives, with horses and other four legged critters helping building the lines before being replaced) I feel like these “iron horses” wouldn’t exactly be much of a threat.

Hello!

That's so cool. Trains are so cool. I seriously wish we had more of them here in America - both historical trains and tracks but also highspeed rail. I will die and go to heaven of happiness the moment I can take a reliable train to a destination other than the metrodome on a Twins game day sob.

The old west history of trains is fascinating and a little tragic, but yeah you're correct about the SC world. Due to the chasms, trains aren't really that viable for cross-country travel and shipping of goods. Here's a quick rail line theoretical -

The main cities are circled in purple -

West/North/South Rook and Southcut are a farming and nymbak center due to the relatively large swaths of unbroken land and the river.

Denavi and Oakridge are known for their timber (and Denavi for lightning fish products).

Woodloch and Vale have universities.

Slipshod and Carver Canyon Falls are known for their mining, and the area north of Carver Canyon is another bread basket.

Almost all the space in between is free-range farm, timber, and livestock land.

I've drawn potential rail lines between them and you can see all of, uh, the problems lol. If there would be a maintained line, it'd be in the middle of the farmland north of the Rooks to transport grains southward to the Rooks, but people are so accustomed to skimmers (flying pegasi pulling wheeled carts on the ground) and shortwings pulling carts along paved roads, it'd be hard to convince them to put in rail lines. The people of SC are used to using what's in their local area to make a good living for themselves, supplemented with goods and knowhow brought in by pilots and trade routes supported by bridge and cable cars.

Eventually I want to make a map that includes bridges and cable cars because that might switch this up a bit, but first I gotta finish the book :)

But yeah, the pegasus is the main mode of transportation in the SC world, and other than footpaths there aren't really any others that get close to the popularity and efficiency of pegasus-centered methods.

~ Larn

[ratbugs]

absolutely lovely little unit

INaturalist says this is a pondhawk

[purple-eyesgreydragon]

Shadow Generations inspired me to make more forms for my other ultimate lifeform, Shred the Dragon.

As Experiment B, aka Project: Beast. Shred was a backup incase Shadow didn't survive creation and vise versa. But she was made differently if alternative routes in creation could result in Maria's cure. Part of which was the multitude of animal dna traits in Shred's genetic code, adding Wisp dna to stabilize it, and of course like Shadow is mainly black arms.

Shred's wisp side is what gives her the bright magenta color of her skin. In Shadow Generations, she like him would gain new abilities focusing on her black arm trait. Shred usually forsakes her black arm heritage, not wanting to be compared with monsters. But over the course of this adventure she comes to terms with using her black arm powers for good, instead of their intended evil. In these new forms, her black arm side is enhanced. Overcoming her wisp side, her colors darken and fade to near black.

The black arm forms Shred gets focus on her individual traits. As the ultimate beast, who could track and hunt down anyone or anything. In her basic form she's a fast runner, skilled flyer, great swimmer, and is incredibly strong. But her new forms center on a single one of those, temporarily sacrificing her quantity of skills for quality. In any of them though she still has her fire breath. All forms make her larger then she usually is.

Shred's Black Arm Forms:

Black Berserker, muscular form.

Black Sprinter, quadruped running form.

Black Skimmer, no legged, all finned form.

and Black Wyvern, form focused for flying.

The Black Berserker resembles her to the Black Oak soldiers, hulking, large, and muscular. Shred couldn't fly in this form even if she wanted too, it's too heavy. Instead she can sprout from her back at will, wing-like bone appendages. Used for multitask fighting, grounding herself, and other uses. They aren't always out though, only when she needs them can she grow and retract them. Shred's berserker form is likely ever stronger than her weredrake form. I also related it to Eclipse the Darkling's muscular form.

[jupiterswasphouse]

WASP REVIEW - DEEPTORA BOUGH WASPS & DEEPTORA HONEYCOMB BEES (DEEP ROCK GALACTIC)

[Image IDs: Two renders, one of a swarm of Deeptora Bough Wasps, followed by a swarm of Deeptora Honeycomb Bees /End IDs.]

I just started playing Deep Rock Galactic fairly recently, and I'm a big fan! There's a lot in the game for bug fans to enjoy, with the vast majority of wildlife within the rock and stone being bugs, although the bugs are all aliens and aren't very easily comparable to the real thing. Even still, as tends to be the case, we can still allegedly find our Hymenopteran friends amongst this collection of extraterrestrial exoskeletal animals! But how do these bugs from the Hollow Bough and Sandblasted Corridors compare to those of our world?

First off their appearance, and, I'll be honest, there's not a lot here to analyze on the bugs themselves visually. Understandably when there are hundreds of bugs attacking at once, the developers wanted to make these guys more like particles than individual 3D models. Regardless, we can still take in a few details from their silhouettes, in which we can see, in a design choice surprisingly similar to the Mask Hornets from Lethal Company, the Deeptora Bough Wasps are actually more dragonfly-like than any social wasp, with the only wasp I can think of to really compare them to being ichneumon wasps.

[Image Sources: jupiterswasphouse, ie myself, and The Pathless Wood | Image IDs: A photo of a great blue skimmer dragonfly perching on a rusted dark metal garden decoration, followed by an image of a relatively large male ichneumon wasp on a green leaf /End IDs.]

Luckily, they at least appear to have the right number of wings, with a pair of forewings and a pair of hindwings, although there doesn't seem to be any real indication of legs. As for the Bees, meanwhile, are less clear, although they have a similar shape, also don't have any visible legs, they have a slightly wider gaster, and the presence of proper hindwings is unclear.

However, just because the actual insects don't provide us with much visually, doesn't mean that they don't give us a little bit more to go off of in general, as they still, of course, have nests!

[Image IDs: Two renders of the nests, the former belonging to the Deeptora Bough Wasps while the latter belongs to the Deeptora Honeycomb Bees /End IDs.]

... and clearly, these are very alien structures, with the bees' nest not being too easily comparable to the arboreal slabs of wax made by the true honey bees of our world we typically think of, genus Apis. However, it may be easier to compare them to some of the nests of honey bees of a different genus, that being Trigona!

[Image Source: Wikimedia Commons, Sharp Photography | Image ID: A photo of a Trigona bee nest in a tree, the structure being very round with a multitude of holes /End ID.]

Obviously, it's not one-to-one! But, with its more enclosed shape and entry holes, it's a lot closer than those of genus Apis. We'll be returning to Trigona for other reasons later, but in the meantime, we'll move on to the Deeptora Bough Wasp Nest. Now, this nest is perhaps easiest to compare to paper nest making Vespids such as paper wasps, hornets, and yellowjackets. Although it seems to combine elements of the open, umbrella-shaped structures built by the paper wasps and the enclosed structures built by the hornets and yellowjackets.

[Image Sources: Flickr, Bob Peterson, and ResearchGate, Tshering Nidup | Image IDs: A real world photo of a nest of paper wasps, species Polistes major, subspecies major, followed by a photo of a Vespa mandarinia nest on the underside of a roof /End IDs.]

Although, again, it appears very alien, with a sort of red, angular, and glowing structure within the more paper-nest-like outer side of it. As previously mentioned in the It Takes Two Wasp Colony review, there are paper wasp nests that glow under UV, but these glow green, as opposed to red, and I'm uncertain how much ultraviolet light is found in the caves and mineshafts of Hoxxes IV.

Speaking of those caves, it's also worth noting that these nests are all found underground, which is not true of honey bees, nor paper wasps or hornets, this can be the case in some yellowjackets, which will build nests in holes relatively deep under the ground.

[Image Source: SMCMVCD | Image ID: An illustration of a yellowjacket nest that's been built underground, with a tunnel leading to the nest, a round structure made of paper /End ID.]

Furthermore, with regards to the number of insects within these colonies, it is stated in the bestiary that the Deeptora Honeycomb nest contains "10 million" drones, which is a strangely large number. For one, I'm not sure how that many bees fit inside these small structures, as even large nests in the real world contain "only" up to 80 thousand bees. Perhaps the tunnels extend further underground than they appear, but in game you don't seem to see the extensive tunnels below the nests that they would need to house them. Secondly, bee drones are, in fact, the males, meaning these ones would be incapable of stinging, not leaving the hive often. So how numerous, then, are the swarming workers? The log on the wasps is less specific, stating that they are actually more numerous, which seems to be inaccurate to their real world counterpart, although it's difficult to find proper numbers, as it appears that beehives generally contain more individuals than even the biggest of yellowjacket nests.

But what about their attacking behavior, then? Well, they seem to have the same general defensive behaviors, swarming and stinging players when they get too close to the nest, giving chase until the nest and the swarm are destroyed. They're a bit more aggressive than the eusocial Hymenopterans of our world, with mosts colonies only really attacking when directly disturbed in one way or another, although the dangerous environment of the caves may have made them evolve a more easily spooked demeanor.

The Bough Wasps are also described as being less aggressive than the bees, which is interesting, as it tends to be the case that eusocial bees are less aggressive than eusocial Vespids.

As for their feeding behaviors, the diet of the Bough Wasps is uncertain, as it's seemingly not mentioned, but it can be assumed that these wasps feed on the nectar of some sort of plant life given the surroundings of Hollow Bough. What is mentioned, however, is the feeding behavior of the bees, specifically being described as "flesh-eating".

Now, some of you may be thinking that there's no way there's a real world equivalent, as the eusocial bees of our world feed on pollen and nectar. However! Three examples can be found in the aforementioned genus Trigona! Trigona crassipes, Trigona necrophaga, and Trigona hypogea. These bees feed on carrion in place of pollen (Although, perhaps disappointingly to some, claims they make "meat honey" are inaccurate)! It can be assumed that the bees of Sandblasted Corridors do the same, as it is stated that they are "not particularly harmful towards Dwarves", therefore, likely not feeding on living sources of meat.

All in all, they're an interesting bunch! Clearly accuracy wasn't necessarily on their minds when making these guys, understandably so given that these are, in fact, alien in nature. Can't necessarily dock ti many points for that reason, though some things could have served to be a little more accurate. If I had to give a rating, I would say-

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Overall: 5.5/10

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Leave your wasp review suggestion in the replies, tags, or askbox!

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

What modes of transport exsists on gallifrey aside from the tardises?

What modes of transport exist on Gallifrey aside from TARDISes?

🚀 Transmats

Gallifreyan Transmats use molecular disassembly and reassembly to transmit matter. Augmented ultra-long-range teleports can reach up to 1 lightyear distance. However, a lot of Gallifreyans seem to prefer alternatives - that might be because ...

transmats leave their fingers tingling for about an hour after use;

the rather large ethical consideration of essentially "killing" yourself every time you use a transmat.

🚇 Sub-Surface Transtube Trains

These underground trains are a popular choice for getting from one city to another. They look a bit like the Earth equivalent, providing a more conventional and less tingly option for travel. Gallifreyans often prefer the Transtube to transmats for longer distances.

🛸 Aircar Skimmers

Although most consider them obsolete, some Gallifreyans still use them. Shaped like Viking longboats with carved dragons at the back, they can fly and have sophisticated forcefields to protect the crew. They can be computer-controlled or piloted organically from below decks, with golden sails deployed to absorb energy for power.

🏫 So…

While TARDISes are the numero uno, Gallifreyans have some other ways of getting about that probably don't seem so alien to humans. Mind the gap.

Related:

Do Gallifreyans have grocery stores?: Food and food technology on Gallifrey.

What sports and games are there on Gallifrey?: The (lack of) physical sports on Gallifrey and other games.

Do Gallifreyans have jobs?: Normal Gallifreyan jobs for their educational level.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[bogsuckerecologist]

Little guy (Black Skimmer) showing off his Stick Choosing Abilities

Just a note: please avoid approaching large colonies of shorebirds when out on the beach! Making them flush from their roosting spots may force them into unideal habitats or to expend excessive energy. This flock was observed from a distance as part of a beach nesting bird survey :)

[the-koiking-pond]

Wait how big of a tank are you SUPPOSED to keep a Magikarp in - @ariadosanon

Tanks are not really a good idea! To quote my magikarp care guide:

A lot of care requirements will say you need ten gallons per inch of magikarp. You can, technically, get away with this if you’re willing to perform daily water changes and clean out the skimmers two or three times a day. I kick that up to a base 100 gallons and then adding in 25 gallons per inch of magikarp in the pond for ease of care. If you’re quarantining a sick fish, I’d double it. Remember, magikarp produce more waste per inch than any other fish pokemon currently known. That’s a lot of mulm.

To be clear- even if you were sticking to the care requirements (which would require changing water 3x daily), the typical adult magikarp is 35 inches. That's a 350 gallon minimum (and you HAVE to pick the tank for the adult size- they do not grow to the size of their tank, they just get stunted and have short, miserable, painful lives), which is 7 times what you were assuming. Plus, magikarp are social pokemon! Having at least two other magikarp in a tank would run it up to 1050 at the barest, most difficult to maintain minimum.

They're pond fish. You need a pond. And yes, it is normal for them to jump out of their ponds into the air, it means they're happy. They'd do it in tanks, too, if you had a large enough tank. They are not trying to escape the pond.

[thespiritssaidso]

A Fish By Any Other Name

Summary: Lassiter is very proud of his Koi pond, and gives it the utmost care and attention. Shawn also loves his boyfriend’s Koi pond, especially when it comes to naming them. Even though Lassiter isn’t too thrilled about the names Shawn comes up with. 

Notes: once again, a conversation that was had in the psychos discord inspired this oneshot. Enjoy! 

Flufftober day 16: Yes, No, Maybe

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Lassiter kneeled beside the large koi pond and tugged on a large pair of clean rubber gloves. Once he was sure they were secure, he grabbed the small skimmer. Carefully, he scooped up leaves and other debris that had fallen into the water. He was very cautious not to accidentally net his curious fish as he cleared away the pond surface. Once that was done, Lassiter dumped the debris he’d acquired off to the side. 

Then, he set the net aside and grabbed his pruning shears in one hand, sifting through the pond greenery with the other. 

It was maintenance day, the day that came once a week, to help keep Lassiter’s precious Koi pond alive and intact. Every Saturday, on the dot, he would wake up and immediately go outside to care for the small ecosystem set up in his backyard. He loved keeping up with it, as it gave him something to do during otherwise empty weekends. 

As his hand glided through the clean water, one of the koi — pure white with a black mask covering its face — swam up and brushed against it a few times before swimming away. 

Lassiter smiled to himself, and continued to sift through the lilies and eelgrass. Soon enough he found a dead spot and quickly pruned it, tossing the yellowed piece over his shoulder onto the little pile of debris from earlier as he moved on to the next plant.

Kois, despite popular belief, weren’t just dumb fish. Technically, all fish weren’t dumb. Yes, they lacked the ability to love, but that didn’t stop Lassiter’s koi from swimming up to him every morning he came out to feed them, or whenever he needed to do some routine maintenance on their home. 

He snipped at the last dead stem, and flung it into the small pile behind him. 

Standing on his knees he shuffled over to the filtration system. He opened it, and checked for any debris. Thankfully, it was all minimal, so he was able to slide it back in and move on to his next task. 

He plunged his hands deeper into the water and located the water pump sticking out the side of the pond. As he did, more koi swam up to him, flashes of white and orange and black and even a smudge of red swirled around his yellow glove. They brushed against his arm before flitting off once more, only to come back and do it all again. 

It was difficult, but Lassiter managed to ignore them and felt around the pump, making sure it wasn’t clogged. If it was, then it would stop up the small waterfall and the water wouldn’t be as oxygenated as it should be. But thankfully there wasn’t anything stopping it up, so he pulled back and sat on his haunches. 

Peeling off his gloves, Lassiter reached into his pocket and grabbed a testing strip. This would let him see the pH, oxygen, ammonia, nitrate, lead, copper, iron, and zinc levels. All of said chemicals were on standby just in case any of it was too low. 

Just as he was about to dip the strip into the pond-

“Carlyyyyy!” 

Lassiter startled, nearly dropping the strip into the water. Thankfully, he kept his grip tight on it, and it stayed right in his hand where it was supposed to be. However, he fell backwards and landed on his ass a bit roughly. 

Taking a breath to calm his racing heart, he shouted back, “Yes?” 

The back door opened, and out stepped Shawn. “I thought of a name for the third one!” Excitedly, he speed-walked over to the pond where his boyfriend sat. 

Lassiter raised his eyebrows at Shawn’s statement. 

Just earlier that day, he’d gone out to get two more koi from the breeder he got his others from. It was what he did every time he got new fish. Never just one, always two. 

Koi were very social, and best bought in pairs. Lassiter had done extensive research on them so he could provide the best home. He named his first two Smith and Wesson, then the next two Clint and Eastwood. 

Around the time he got the next two koi he’d started dating Shawn and had him move in. Of course he’d somehow convinced Lassiter to name them Tiny and Chonky. Neither of the koi lived up to their names. Tiny was the biggest Koi in his pond, reaching 3 feet and 2 inches in length, a beautiful white in color with a red spot on the head, while Chonky was the smallest at a mere 2 and a half feet, pure orange with flecks of black all over. 

This time around, however, the breeder only had three koi left. If he’d bought two, then he’d be leaving the other one all alone for who knows how long. And if he’d only bought one it would still be by itself, swimming in the indoor tank until it grew big enough to be released into the outdoor pond. 

So Lassiter caved and bought all three of them. Which meant now he was in a bit of a bind, seeing as how he’d only prepared two names — Saber and Bayonet — for the new koi. Which meant the third one was nameless for the time being. Which meant that Shawn had taken it upon himself to ‘psychically read’ the third koi and come up with a name for it. 

Turning back to the pond, Lassiter dipped the test strip into the water and began to hold it still as the water changed the small colored tabs. “Oh? What is it?”

Shawn was now standing right next to him. “Destroyer.” 

Lassiter’s brain short-circuited. He wasn’t serious, was he? Then again, he did name two of the fish Chonky and Tiny. While also pondering out loud the names Crunch and Wrap, along with Nuke and Tank. 

He shook his head. “No. No. No-”

“Oh come on, Carly! It’s the perfect name!” 

Lassiter turned to fully face him, making sure the testing strip stayed in the water. “Shawn. Really? Destroyer?” 

“Yes! It’s a great name! And don’t worry, I already asked what Destroyer thinks of it. Two fins up!”

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

“…Maybe?”

Oh god. He was doing the puppy eyes now. Lassiter knew he could only resist for so long. Still, he tried his best, going as far as to turn away again and focus on the finished testing strip, pulling it out of the water and holding it up to the chart. 

But he couldn’t focus, Lassiter could practically feel Shawn’s eyes on him, begging. 

And eventually, he caved. “Fine. Destroyer it is.” 

Shawn whooped, startling the koi innocently swimming in the pond. 

“Careful!” 

“Ah, sorry!”

—————

Notes: Guys can you tell i love them sosososo much

ao3 link