#on the other there are so many pretty birds out there

[pokemonshelterstories]

I know you're probably don't study this topic, but I was wondering if you had any theories on why there are so few pure flying type pokemon?

Is flying type energy just more unstable than other types? Making it latch on to another to become more stable? (Kinda like how an element reacts in order to form a more stable compound?)

I'm not a scientist who studies this, so I'm probably way off the mark, but I'm curious about what you think

i actually have studied this! i majored in ornithology, which is focused on bird pokemon in particular but also required me to understand a lot about flying types in general. and there's indeed a generally accepted reason for why pure flying types are uncommon!

mechanically powered flight- that is, flight that isn't achieved through levitation but instead by manipulating air using a physical body part- is something that takes quite a bit of time to develop from an evolutionary perspective. what we find in the development of typing in pokemon is that losing a type in the process of long-term evolution is much less common than adding another type on or mutating entirely from one type to another. so, as flight gradually developed in different evolutionary threads, those pokemon tended to keep their other original typing in the process of evolution. it's not that flying is an "unstable" type so much as it is that, if you've already developed one type to help you fit into your ecological niche, it's more efficient to maintain that niche than to throw it out entirely. think of it this way: if, for example, you've developed fire typing to be suited for living in hot environments but also want to fly around those environments, you're not going to toss out that fire typing and start over. there's more pressure to keep that original typing than to get rid of it.

this is also why so many bird pokemon from grasslands and forest environments are normal/flying type. if you're a normal type in these environments competing with all the other normal types, developing flight is a great way to carve a niche for yourself. and if you fly, you're going to spend a lot of time in high places. normal typing provides the advantage of being immune to ghost type energy, and only comes with the disadvantage of being weak to fighting type energy. but if you're spending a lot of time high up or in the air, you're more likely to have to deal with ghosts than you are with a pokemon that knows a lot of fighting type moves. plus, being flying type is already a pretty good deterrent to keep fighting types away from you! so there's not a ton of evolutionary pressure to get rid of your normal typing, but there's a pretty good reason to keep it.

[604to647]

Safest with You (The Epilogue)

3.2K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din welcome a new member to your family.

Warnings: All fluff - just the way we started this series! Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Pretty bird, baby).

A/N: A cute little glimpse into the lives of our happy couple around two years after the series finale. 112 Carlota Galgos is a real Galgo rescue in Spain! I won't go into the circumstances that make the rescue work they do so important, but many of you know that I have a greyhound, and the plight of the Galgo is well known in the sighthound community. These dogs deserve the world!! If you have an opportunity to check out organizations that aid Spanish Galgos or even help - I promise these gentle giants deserve it. Lisette is a real galgo I knew! She passed last year and this epilogue is dedicated to her (cute pics included at the end!)

I’m posting this on the one year anniversary of Chapter 1!! I can’t believe it’s been a whole year of writing these bbs 🥹 Thank you thank you everyone who has supported and followed along with this series - you are all as dear to me as Pretty Bird's garlic knots are to Mayfeld 🥹🥰 (I still plan on publishing that recipe!)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always! 🥰 / Series Masterlist

Just before your finger is about to press down the call button on the outside of the closed metal gate, you retract your hand and look questioningly at Din.

“How many am I allowed to get again?”

Din stares at you for a second to ascertain if you’re kidding and when he sees you’re not, a little panic sets in on his face, “One, pretty bird.  Just one.”

“But…”

“We only made arrangements with the airline for one, baby.”

You pout a little, but know Din’s right, “Okay. Fine. One.”

Somewhat dejectedly you press the button, though the chorus of barks and yelps from the other side of the gate resulting from the chime of the bell perk you up immediately, and by the time the gate is buzzed open with a loud brrrrzzzt, you’re giddy with excitement again.

This is the last planned destination of the European trip you and Din have been on for the last three weeks, both of you looking forward to flying home in just a few days.

The vacation has been an absolute dream.  You and Din have eaten your way through Amsterdam (Stroopwafels! Bitterballen!), then Paris (Steak frites! Macarons! Croissants!  One, sometimes two baguettes a day!), followed by Rome (Gelato! Pasta until you exploded!), and then finally Barcelona (Paella! Bombas!) before ending up where you are now: Andalucia, Spain, outside the gates of the 112 Carlota Galgos dog rescue.

The happy and excited woofs from the still unseen pups remind you so much of Alfredo.  Gosh, you miss your best guy so much – although, if the daily photos and videos you’ve been receiving are to be believed, he might be hard pressed to leave Paz’s when you get back.  By now a minor celebrity in Din and Paz’s neighbourhood, you’re happy to see that Al’s been making the rounds at the local shops (and accepting generous samples everywhere he goes), enjoying fun road trips to nearby hiking trails, and most importantly, helping Paz cement his image as an attractive, eligible bachelor about town.  You’re sure if you were to peek at Paz’s dating app profile, you’d see it updated with copious pictures of him fawning over your dog. 

Originally, you had been hesitant to have Paz take Al to his place for three whole weeks, wondering if it was better if instead, Paz could come and dog-sit at your and Din’s place – but Al does seem to be adjusting to being away from home just fine.  Though Alfredo is generally super easy going and adaptable, you nevertheless recognized that it had been quite a year of transition and multiple upheavals for your pup and worried about how he might cope with yet another change in scenery. 

Nearly a year ago, you and Din moved in together and Al had been uprooted from the only home he’s ever known.  Though it wasn’t without some understandable disinclination that you left your beautiful and much-loved apartment, both of you agreed it made perfect sense for you to move into Din’s place above Mando’s.  Of course you loved your old place – you had poured so much of your heart and soul into making it your refuge and the perfect home for you and Al, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to regret leaving – Din is your home now, as you are his.   The only safe haven you need is the one with him, and though you’re sure he would have moved without hesitation if you had asked, the idea of Din leaving a residence right above his place of work, in a building he already owned, was too silly to even entertain.

To try and make the adjustment as smooth as possible for his pretty bird, Din had given you free reign to redecorate, bring in your furniture, and make whatever changes you wanted in order to make his, now your, apartment feel more like home.  The third floor of Mando’s would always hold his most cherished memories of his childhood and father – he didn’t need it to look a certain way or have it maintained as some kind of physical shrine in order for that to be true; Din was ready to make a home and new memories with you.  It was sweet and you appreciated the gesture prodigiously, but aside from adding your own bookshelves and swapping out a couch, the only thing you had asked for was a bigger kitchen.  Din had readily agreed and even suggested he build you an expanded closet and turn the second bedroom into a home office-dog den for you and Al.  Din’s enthusiasm and eagerness for the project was enough to have you agreeing to his considerate suggestions.

What had followed was seven months of renovation chaos, living out of and tripping over boxes as a slew of tradespeople and workmen paraded in and out of what was supposed to be your new sanctuary. 

You love Din with all your heart, and one of the things you love most and find endlessly attractive is just how good he is at the things he does: taking care of you and Al, supporting the community, running Mando’s – to say nothing of the skill and prowess he displays in his work in and out of the ring; just the sight of Din running drills with his boxers or deftly commanding the Mandos gets you weak in the knees. 

But elaborate home improvements and remodelling?  Unfortunately, not part of Din’s impressive skill set.  Nor any of the Mandos for that matter.  For two weeks, every Mando on payroll seemed to be over at your place “helping” with measurements and the demolition of the kitchen and the wall between the two bedrooms.  Only after a burst pipe and the subsequent three weeks of living with drying fans running 24/7, did Din concede it was time to call in professionals.  Then came a parade of contractors and their respective plumbers, cabinet guys, drywall, tile and marble contacts, electricians, etc. – who all seemed to owe some kind of “favour” to Boba.  The good thing about that was they were committed to doing a good job; the bad thing was that no one was particularly dedicated to doing a fast job.  For the next five months, you, Din and Al lived in a construction zone of various partially started and finished projects with different strangers coming in and out of your place at all hours of the day – it had stressed Al out endlessly.

A little over half a year after moving in with Din, you hit a breaking point and, with Din’s encouragement, packed a suitcase and took Al to stay at Bea’s until a firm completion deadline could be negotiated with the various contractors.  Din had insisted on staying behind to lead the "negotiations" and "supervise" the follow through; lo and behold, everything had been completed to perfection and cleaned up thoroughly two weeks after.  Upon seeing the beautiful finished space, you finally felt at home – though frustrated, you hadn’t ever been terribly mad about the whole situation, but it had been a very confusing time for your pup.

Din had felt awful – this wasn’t the symbolic big step and storybook start to your lives together that he had envisioned.  You either, if you were being honest, but it genuinely mattered very little in the grand scheme of things; you reminded Din, as the two of you christened every surface of your brand new kitchen, that your lives together had really started a year before moving in together, when he had taken his own big step and shown up outside of your office, making you the promise to be open and honest about everything.

And he had.  Din had forgiven himself and won you back, and these last two years have been the happiest of your lives, even with the renovations. 

In that time a lot’s happened.  Jimmy won another two division championships and moved up a weight class.  Cass announced that her and Rikard were expecting.  Rory’s bridal boutique expanded to a second even more successful location and to her chagrin, she was promoted to manager.  The second book in Bea’s series came out to amazing reviews and the anticipation and hype for the third (due out later this year) was through the roof.  Poe decided to pursue and then successfully obtained his pilot license.  You went up in his Cessna just once – the views had been unforgettable, Lisa getting sick in your lap no lesser so.  Katie guest starred on Law and Order – twice (two different characters).  You met the Mods.  And Al finally settled into his new home, overseeing his new kingdom from the plush and cozy dog den that his dad lovingly built for him.

And now you and Din are about to take another big step together.

Greeted enthusiastically by one of the women who runs the Spanish hunting dog haven with whom you’ve been conversing with over the past few months about adoption, you and Din take a tour of the facility before being led out back to meet the dogs.

Per Elenna’s guidance, you sit in a chair near the water bowls and let the galgos come to you on their own terms.  Some, understandably, are shy and timid, wary of strangers – tentatively, they come and investigate you with their snoots, eventually accepting your gentle pats and scritches once they feel comfortable enough.  Others have no such hesitation - tails wagging, curious and excited, they enthusiastically crowd you, nosing in for pets and try to sniff out the treats you have in your pocket.  Your chest expands, heart nearly tripling in size to see these dogs get to be dogs again, as you rub their little faces and coo endless words of deserved praise at them for their bravery.

Maybe the plane will have room for another crate, you think, or two?  You can’t stop giggling as your face is licked and poked with wet noses, or when those same noses goose your tummy and legs, competing for the attention of your busy hands – you’re in heaven, nearly overwhelmed by all this furry cuteness.  Surely Din cannot possibly expect you to limit yourself to one! Knowing the marshmallow squish that resides beneath his hard and steely frame, you’re willing to bet that Din has already softened his stance on taking home multiple pups.  You crane your neck to see over the dogs, looking around the property to see if you can locate your boyfriend.

To your surprise, you find him not being surrounded by enthusiastic, bounding galgos, but alone - crouching near the ground and gently scratching a smaller fawn coloured dog who’s laying on her side, her slender head lifted just slightly off the ground to lean into Din’s hand.

“That’s Lisette,” Elenna says when she notices you looking at Din and the fawn girl, “she’s just come to us after this last hunting season - we found her in the street with a broken leg.  She’s all healed up now but is still quite skittish, especially around men.  This is actually the first time I’ve ever seen her let a man touch her, never mind a stranger.  Your husband must have a very calming touch.”

“Oh, he’s not my husb-” your voice trails off as you watch Lisette continue to happily receive Din’s attention.  Walking over, you hear him speaking quietly to her in Spanish.

“What are you telling her, Din?”

Din looks up, eyes soft and shiny, “Just telling her what a good girl she is.  That’s she so brave and sweet.  And that she doesn’t have anything to be afraid of anymore.  She’s safe now.”

There is no question as to which (one) dog you’ll be adopting today.

Lisette settles in quickly when you and Din get her back home, especially with Al immediately taking up his role as big brother.  Lisette falls into the easy comfort of following his lead, regularly looking to Alfredo for guidance – he never leads her astray and the two of them become inseparable.  With growing pride, you watch Lisette tentatively explore her new environment and slowly over the next few months, becomes more and more comfortable in her forever home: first your and Din’s apartment, then the gym, whose enthusiastic occupants always greet her like the princess she is, and eventually the entire neighbourhood where she’s never without her protective brother by her side.  When she’s ready, you and Din take her and Al out on further away adventures: to your and Din’s favourite farmers’ market, Poe and Lisa’s (where you learn in their pool that Lisette can swim!) or to Boba and Fennec’s where she can run and play with Mochi and the other Daimyo Dogs.  Your heart positively kvells as Lisette’s confidence grows and she becomes the happy pup she deserves to be, putting her less than ideal start to life behind her.

The only thing you wish you could change, though you would never push, is that Lisette won’t cuddle with you - she only ever cuddles with Din.  You know she loves you, but she’s very much a daddy’s girl and he’s the only one with whom she feels safe enough to have in such close proximity while sleeping or relaxing.  You don’t begrudge Lisette at all for feeling this way; Din is her protector, she trusts him to keep her safe - you understand the comfort of that feeling better than anyone.

And in truth, you love watching them together – seeing your sweet girl so at ease and your strong, formidable warrior melt into a puddle of goo when she burrows into the warmth of his lap.  Din talks to Lisette in Spanish all the time, repeating what he told her back in Andalucia: she’s safe now, she doesn’t have to be scared anymore - this is her home.

Your home feels complete now – there’s nowhere you would rather be than cuddled up on the couch with Din, each respectively loving on the pups that have curled up against you: you, Al and Din, Lisette.

Then one day, you’re on the couch tapping away on your laptop when Lisette saunters up to you.  You rub her little head and give her a little smooch on her snoot as she walks by, fully expecting her to wander away but she surprises you to no end when she hops up on the couch and curls up by your feet.  Terribly delighted but not wanting to spook her, you pretend like it’s no big deal – your heart, however, is doing jumping jacks; looking up with a big smile you see Din nodding encouragingly at the both of you.

And then she does it again.  And again.  At first still staying arms length from you, she inches closer and closer, little by little.  Though your chest is exploding and you want to shout with joy, you always remain calm and give Lisette copious amounts of quiet praise after she’s settled.  To celebrate this progress, Din will eventually come over to shower Lisette with additional treats and Spanish words of adulation that she happily accepts.  Sometimes you even catch him encouraging her before she comes over to you or see her looking back at him for reassurance before she climbs onto the bed or couch to sit with you.  Always her protector, her safe space.

It's slow going, but worth it.

Today, you’re on the couch having just finished a book, funnily enough it’s the most recent in the fantasy series that Din had bought you and your friends on that first day you met nearly four years ago, when you see Lisette moseying on over to you.  You swing your legs off the couch and pat the spot next to you, and to your delight, she hops up and starts to do her little nesting circles, prepping for her laydown spot.  When she finally settles, she lays her little head in your lap and you think your heart might burst.  You look up and see Din, handsome and relaxed, leaning against one of the bookshelves looking at the both of you with an adoring expression on his face.  You beam back - yep, the two of you are his girls.  The ones he takes care of.  Looks after.  Loves.

Lisette nuzzles her furry little face deeper into your thigh and you can’t help but giggle at the sensation.  “Okay, okay,” you chuckle, as if you needed any invitation to pet and love on her.  Dispensing gentle scritches all over her head and little ear rubs, you notice that your sweet girl has an extra collar on.  Normally Lisette wears just a martingale and sometimes nothing at all when she’s at home, but today, she’s got a thin rope collar encircling her neck as well.  Rubbing it between your fingers, you say to Din, “This is pretty!  When did she get this house collar?”

“Got it for her a while ago, but thought I’d wait for the right moment to put it on.  Do you like it?”

Lisette lifts her head and you take the opportunity to take a closer look at the pretty pink collar; admiring the delicate metalware and the luxurious feeling fibres of the rope, you run your fingers over the collar until you get to the small clasp in the front and feel something you don’t expect.  Rotating the collar around Lisette’s slender neck so you can get a better look at the thin object, you gasp when it comes into view.

A diamond ring.

Din, with Al by his side, starts to walk towards you, the look in his eyes clear and so easy to read: Devotion.  Adoration.  Love.

“Pretty bird…” he starts.  Din has an entire speech planned.  He needs to thank you for coming into his life and showing him what true strength and power is.  Grace, honesty, and compassion have been your gifts to him, and he’s a better man, a stronger man, for your kindness and generosity.  He wants to promise you that your faith in him will never be misplace – that he will cherish you and your heart to the very last beat of his own and beyond.  He loves you, admires you, trusts you, is in awe of you, and remains forever grateful for you.  Grateful for every smile you throw his way, every laugh you pull from him and allow him to draw from you, thankful for all the ways you’ve woven yourself into his life and made it better.  And above all, grateful for your acceptance and love for him and all that he is, was, and ever will be.  He needs to ask you if you will allow him the honour of spending the remainder of his days showing you his gratitude and loving you the way you deserve.

Din’s heart is overflowing and he has so much he wishes to express; he’s not entirely sure he’s going to be able to make any sense.  But Din’s not nervous - the radiant smile on your beautiful face as he approaches already telling him everything he needs to know.

Real life Lisette!! 🥰🥰

Very last tag for this series!! Thank you all forever for your support 🥹😘

@tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze @nerdieforpedro

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@syd-djarin @moonlessnight14 @lucienofthelakes

[gilded-sunrays]

Hello 👋🏻 um.. I wanted to say I really like your writing style and I hope you doing well.😊 I'm quite new here, and I'm rather shy with communicating with people... I wanted to know are you accepting requests ?

If so I would you mind if I asking of scenario of yoriichi with a extremely kind hearted and affectionate fem/reader from his childhood, Who just like to care for those around her giving gifts and try to somehow make them happy.

I want to know how would he react around her? How would he confess to her? You could also make it a short headcanon I don't want to trouble you.

Oh I'm sorry if I talked already too much!!! you don't even have to answer me if you don't want to. Just Thanks for reading my nonsenses😅. I hope you have a good day and I wish for you and everyone a happy life and 😄 take care👋🏻🙏🏻

¡! ❞Confession.ᐟ

|| Pairings: Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi × Reader || 𖤐 Masterlist

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi had always sensed a special bond with you. In a world where his own family had turned their backs on him, your presence was the only one that felt welcoming. 

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi admired your kindness and gentle spirit, how you would go out of your way to assist strangers, share your groceries with neighbours, and do those small, thoughtful things just to bring a smile to others faces. 

▪︎And although he may not have felt worthy of all your selfless kindness, he made every effort to reciprocate it. Whether it was cooking your favourite meals when you got back, assisting you with chores, or simply tending to you a massage.. and whatnot

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi just adored the moments spent with you, with the adorable little creatures that just seemed to gravitate towards him. You two would take some food along to feed them—bunnies, squirrels, little birds, and whatnot. With him around, they even felt calm around you.  

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi was a man of few words, often wearing a calm expression when in company, yet he became surprisingly chatty when it was just the two of you.

▪︎While Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi still remained mostly quiet, his attentive listening made it clear that he cherished every word you shared. His face was usually stoic, with only a hint of smile passing through, but you had gotten used to reading his expressions.  

▪︎As time went on, you both had matured and grown into adults. Living together and managing a home as literal children had made you two an unstoppable team.  

▪︎Having each other by your sides, there was no task that seemed impossible—taxes (did he even pay taxes living high up in the middle of nowhere though..?) cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, or budgeting. Over the years, it all became second nature for the two of you. 

▪︎As this bond grew, so did Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi's feelings for you. In his eyes, you were flawless, like an angel—a light that simply kept him from withering away in his life. 

—And you were the light that he vowed to protect for many years to come

"Y/n.." he began softly, as you both sat by the pond where your paths first crossed.

 "My soul has traversed far and wide to find yours.. In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours."

 He continued, lost in memories of you as he reminisced about your beautiful smile and your pleasant aura..

 "..and In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.." 

As he took his rough hand and gently cupped your cheek, leaning in closer, his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered— 

"I love you.. y/n"

|| A/N: Tysm for requesting <33, I sincerely hope you enjoy it! And nah, its not nonsense, infact-- my inbox is pretty much always open for anything, so feel free to send in whatever..lol!

[triscribe]

Chapter 4

“I’m going to get you for this,” Fren groaned, picking up yet another crate of books. “Just had to climb that tree, and see a wagon in distress-”

“We’d have come this way anyhow,” Tali pointed out. “My scouting just meant we showed up a little sooner, before Ma’am Shan hurt herself trying to lift the wagon free on her own.”

“Hn.”

“Quit griping about us doing a good thing, Freniden.”

“Hnnn.”

Rolling her eyes, the girl picked up a sack of woodnuts and swung them over her shoulder. They’d gotten down to the last pile of things that needed loading back into the peddler’s wagon, and for all of her best friend’s complaints, they hadn’t lost more than a single hour.

“Thank you again, dear,” the old goblin smiled as Tali handed the sack up to her. “You don’t know how much it means to me that a couple of youngsters such as yourselves were willing to step in and lend a hand.”

Beaming, Tali glanced over her shoulder to give Fren a significant look. He grimaced back - though whether that was from hearing Ma’am Shan’s words or the strain of lifting a heavy crate, she wasn’t certain. Tali took the opposite side, and together they heaved the container up and into the back of the wagon. Ma’am Shan, only just getting the sack of nuts situated, jumped at the sound of its heavy impact.

“Goodness!” The peddler shuffled back over. “I don’t remember that one being quite so weighed down...”

“I mean,” Fren panted, “There’s at least twenty books in there, so...”

Ma’am Shan just tutted, shifting a few of the tomes around. “Ah-ha! That’s where I stuck this beauty.” Out of the crate, she lifted a hefty sized rock with both hands, turning it from one side to other and causing the mottled gold and cream surface to shimmer.

Fren wheezed. “Is that a gryphon’s egg?!”

“You recognize it!” Ma’am Shan laughed. “Not many people would, in this day and Age.”

Tali blinked, glancing between them. “Uh. Including me, apparently. What’s a gryphon?”

“A remnant from Sarant’s primal past, my dear,” the old goblin hummed. “A fabled beast that’s grown ever scarcer over the millennia - there’s only a handful left, hidden up in the Broken Crags, which is where I came across this treasure. It’s been magically preserved, you know; this sheen, where the light hits, isn’t natural at all. Typically, gryphon eggs are extremely dull in color, to better blend in with their stony nests, much the same as the infant plumage of their hatchlings.”

Fren batted at Tali’s shoulder until she turned to meet his wide-eyed gaze. “That tapestry, in the Wizard Tower’s foyer? With the battle, and the knights on flying mounts? Those are gryphons.”

“Ohh...” Tali recalled the massive piece of art, and her bemusement at seeing it for the first time, thinking the massive half-bird half-cat creatures must have been the result of someone getting a little too excited with their magical experiments. “Those things were big.”

“Indeed,” Ma’am Shan said with a chuckle. “Flocks of them used to be quite the nuisance for dragons- but that was a long time ago, I suppose.” She hummed, running a claw over the surface of the egg, before looking at Fren with a glint in her eye. “Here.”

“Wh-” Startled, the boy only barely managed not to fumble as the egg suddenly dropped into his hands. “What?”

“Consider that a token of my appreciation, for your spell and your additional help,” the goblin grinned.

“What?! Do you- do you know how much you could sell this for in Sarantan City?!”

“Oh, quite a few copper pieces, I expect, even if it isn’t much more than a pretty paperweight right now.” As Fren continued spluttering, she winked at Tali, who snickered. “Now, I can’t simply thank only one half of my pair of rescuers - what would strike your fancy, dear?”

“Hm. Maybe something interesting to read?”

Ma’am Shan clucked her tongue. “I have just the thing, for an intrepid adventurer headed northward.” She dove back into the crate of books, digging around for several moments, before re-emerging with a tome that looked ready to fall apart. Tali accepted it gingerly, wary of the cracked binding and battered cover. “It’s hardier than it looks, dear. I’ve been carrying that thing around for years, waiting to find it a good home.”

Curious in spite of herself, Tali eased the book open to its title page, and blinked. “This is... a diary?”

“Well, more of a field journal,” Ma’am Shan replied. “But I daresay the notes inside will be of more use to you than half the treatises in Sarantan City’s libraries. Especially when it comes to being civil with Amkyn folk.”

Both kids jerked their heads up to stare at her, Tali’s mouth opening in protest, only to stall as the goblin raised a warning hand.

“This road goes straight up to the Borderlands, young ones,” she said, suddenly sounding a great deal more serious. “And for all that the lofty rulers of the southern lands like to insist on it being a firm barrier, the region is fluid, and a great deal more difficult to navigate if you’ve only learned from one side of history.”

Tali shivered, something cold creeping down the back of her neck. But when she blinked, the air once again felt warm, and Ma’am Shan had returned to smiling like a doddery old peddler.

“Now, thank you again for all your help, but I believe the time has come for us to part ways.” Surprised, Tali glanced behind her, ready to point out they still had a few things to get back into the wagon - only to pause as she realized the ground beside the road was empty of any remaining boxes or bags. “Good luck finding whatever it is you’re looking for, dears, and may the Moons give you their favor.”

“Erm, thank you? Safe travels, Ma’am.”

Both youths stared as the old goblin moved to sit on the front seat, and flicked the reins to get her horse moving. Only once the wagon was out of sight around a bend in the road did Tali manage to shake off her strange feeling.

“That,” Fren announced to the open air, “Was not normal.”

“Yeah, well. At least you got a weird egg out of it.”

As her friend launched into a rant about rarity and primal creatures and sheer value, Tali’s gaze dropped to the book still lying open in her hands, and the words written out in a slanted script not dissimilar from her own:

First Hand Accounts of Arriv and Amkyn, by Tanu

(Off-limits to any nosy mage students trying to sneak an early preview)

Carefully, Tali shifted her grip in order to flip through some pages. She caught glimpses of long paragraphs in the same handwriting with messier notes crammed into the margins, a few awkward illustrations followed by much more detailed, precise diagrams, and a different colored ink that seemed to be someone else adding their own words to the author’s accounts.

An interesting read, indeed.

Trials of Youth Ch1

(...so. So far my attempts to get in a good headspace to finish this book's second draft have not gone well, which means it's time to take drastic action. Hence, sharing the first handful of chapters here, and seeing if my friends having someplace to screech and ask what's next will help)

Dawn bloomed.

In the southern plains, sitting near the very top of a cottonwood tree, a girl admired how light spread across the land, transforming everything by simple use of illumination. When enough time had passed that she could see her surroundings clearly, the fourteen year old turned and looked down.

“Fren! Time to get up, lazy-bones!” A muffled grunt was the only response. Rolling her eyes, the girl started to climb downward, swiftly passing her own hammock to crouch beside the one below. With a teasing grin, she started to push at it, swinging the cloth and its inhabitant from side to side. “Frennnn.”

“Mm’up.” A hand and arm were stretched up out of the mess of blankets, before flopping back over.

“Freniden Brusan, if you don’t wake up in the next thirty seconds, I’m tipping this thing over and dumping you out of it.”

Bunched-up cloth and curly black hair were pushed aside so that her friend could direct his glare towards the girl. “You wouldn’t.”

“I most certainly would.”

“We’re twenty feet in the air, Tali!”

“Then you’ll just have to use your all-powerful wizardly talents to keep from getting injured.” She released her hold on the hammock and stood. “Now come on!”

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up,” the younger boy grumbled, kicking his blankets off and reaching for his bag, hanging from a nearby branch. “I swear, everyone in your family is a lunatic, rising at dawn and ordering other people to do the same...”

“I’m sorry, does this come as a surprise to you?” Laughing, Tali climbed back up to avoid the smelly sock Fren threw in her direction. Within a few minutes, both children had donned their outer traveling clothes and rolled up their hammocks, stuffing the bulky bundles into Fren’s enchanted satchel. Once they’d clambered back down to the ground, the wizardling pulled out some hard biscuits and dried meat for their breakfast.

“So,” he asked around a mouthful of food. “Now that we’ve successfully gotten too far from the city for your father’s search parties to find, do we have a destination in mind to start looking for this missing sister of yours?”

Tali frowned thoughtfully. “Well, much as I want to find Lillia, we could stop by your old home first, visit your family-” She stopped when Fren snorted.

“Bad idea. My relatives wouldn’t let us leave for at least the better part of a month, which I know would drive you insane.”

“It would?”

“Oh, yes. Nothing interesting ever happens in Fammon.”

“Well, fine then, if you don’t want to see your uncle and aunt and cousins, we’ll just go straight north.”

Fren raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? That’s all the great Petalia Crant can come up with?”

“That’s all we need,” Tali argued, looking ahead with a fierce expression. “We go north.”

“I’m starting to have second thoughts about running off with you...”

“Too late to change your mind now!” Tali playfully punched her friend’s shoulder, and giggled when the chubby boy pretended to stagger.

“Hey! Easy with those muscles of yours! I may have extra padding, but that doesn’t mean it won’t get bruised!”

“Oh, quit being such a whiner.”

“Bully.”

“Wimp!”

“Aquimbe!” Before Tali could blink, a spray of water caught her in the face. She spluttered, ducking away as Fren cackled. The spell ended after a moment, water spout fading back into nothing, though the girl remained very much wet.

“That,” she declared, wiping at her face with the edge of her cape, “Was so not fair.”

“Forgive me for wanting to get the upper hand just once,” Fren grinned.

The pair continued to banter as they walked on, eventually finding a road heading in the right direction. Tali checked it over for recent tracks while Fren whispered a quick scanning spell for nearby people. Neither of them found any signs of fellow travelers.

“Should we risk it?” The wizardling asked. His friend shrugged.

“May as well.”

Winding as it may have been, the road nonetheless took them north, and the pair made good time. By mid-morning, they’d covered several miles, and stopped for a water break on top of a shallow hill. When she handed back the water skin, Tali decided to climb another tree, to get a look at their new surroundings.

The girl had only gotten part way up the trunk, though, when something not too far away caught her eye.

Fren flinched as she suddenly landed beside him, fumbling the water skin and nearly dropping it. He didn’t have any time to ask what she’d seen before Tali was dashing off down the hill. Scrambling, Fren hurried after. A few minutes later, they rounded a bend in the road, and he too saw what had grabbed his friend’s attention.

A small, weather-beaten wagon was stuck, one of its front wheels trapped by a deep crack in the earth. The driver, a wrinkled old goblin, strained as she tried to pull it free without much success. Harnessed to the front of the wagon, her horse saw the two human youths first, and whinnied.

“Hello there!” Tali called, slowing her steps as she approached. “Could we offer you a hand?”

The goblin, who’d paused at her horse’s sudden warning, looked over in surprise. “I wouldn’t mind a bit if you did! I just need a tad more oomph to lift it free, I think.”

Tali immediately stepped to her side, crouching in order to get a good grip on the frame of the wagon before glancing over her shoulder. “C’mon, Fren, hurry up.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wizard student, remember? Elvitaere.” A soft yellow light sprang from the pendant tied around his left wrist, enveloping the wagon and causing it to slowly float into the air.

“Oh my,” the goblin gaped. 

Huffing at her friend’s dramatics, Tali nonetheless pushed the wagon’s side, nudging it away from the hole. As soon as all four wheels were over even ground again, Fren ended the spell, letting the wagon gently set back down. The old goblin clapped her hands in delight.

“That was wonderful!” She gushed. “Saved my poor back and everything! Thank you so much, dearies.”

“You’re very welcome,” Tali said. “Is there anything else we could help you with?”

“Well, now I feel silly, but I’d emptied out everything I could to make this old hunk lighter - I don’t suppose the two of you would mind giving me a hand putting it all back, would you?”

Blinking, Fren leaned over to look at the other side of the road. Sure enough, several blankets were spread across the ground, dozens upon dozens of books and knick-knacks and other peddler’s goods piled atop them. He gave Tali a side-eyed glance, and sighed when she glared back.

“Happy to be of assistance, ma’am.”

[beetlbi]

Wing au real???!!? This is incredibly low quality bc it’s the only screenshot I could find and didn’t feel like taking my own lol. Yapping in the tags if you’re curious abt this au :3

[vampiricsheep]

Don't think I've seen this question make the rounds before, so:

Do any of your OCs hunt/fish/trap? Who taught them, and why do they do it? Do they have preferred gear or quarry?

[autisticrosewilson]

First of all, you have given me so much to work with, thank you so much. Second of all, I’m really glad you could see where I was going with Grant’s real test not actually being about killing Slade. Third of all, I absolutely love what you’ve suggested with the powers and I am currently designing met gala esque outfits for the trio and Tara’s specifically is really fun to play around with. I’ve been thinking to show they’re becoming more divine I’ll change their hair and eye colours but not their faces for the most part. I was drawing robin Jason with Natalia and decided he should have brown eyes and a crooked nose from breaking it as a kid but once he returns his eyes get weird (eg go blue and occasionally other colours), a patch of his hair went white and he lost all of his scars. Also, I think the closer they get to divinity I’m gonna draw cracks on their body that glow with their specific colours just to hammer home how they’re shedding their mortal forms.

With Tara being able to see the strings of fate, I though it’d be fun to give her a harp and then with Jason having the see no evil trait I thought it’d be fun to give him weighing scales since lady justice wears a blindfold. Idk what to give Grant though. I mean probably a weapon of some sort or maybe a Shepard’s crook that he can turn into a scythe to play into the sheep, wolf, Hunter thing.

With Jason and Tara’s splintering, I love the idea of them making fun of Grant for being the baby god. He hasn’t even had a cult yet, gosh he’s so young. Also them being besties just holds a special place in my heart.

And I just came up with this, of course they have parallels to the trinity but in universe rumours of their existence have been around much longer than Bruce, Clark and Diana. They’re the big three of the justice league but these guys are justice gods. So they start calling themselves the justice trinity but then people get confused about which trinity is which because the justice leagues’ trinity sounds awfully close to the justice gods’ trinity. The new all caste is certainly more distinctive branding but the point isn’t to be distinctive, it’s to be petty.

I'm so glad my unmedicated rambling helped!!! And I'm so excited for the outfits!!! I love when characters start becoming less and less human, when they're stuck in that uncanny valley spot of not quite human but not entirely Other, when they lose control and the cracks start to show...um I should probably give a warning for slight body horror elements. Not in the gore sense, in the "this body is not made of flesh and there is something divine clawing it's way out". Uh also there are teeth. Just. Teeth. I dipped into a little bit of cosmic horror at the end there because I wanted to cover my bases with mixed mythologies

Jason, with his defined splinters, is usually depicted with three faces in ancient texts. The Child, gaunt and dark colored, is said to appear before the downtrodden and impoverished. The few stories remaining tell of kindly people who give him an offering, and in exchange he reveals his true form, with his crown of golden ivy and beautiful strong wings to gift them bounties of food and water and riches. Other stories tell of not so kind encounters, where The Child witnesses an injustice - typically against women or children - and again reveals his true form, one with clawed hands and a mouth dripping with blood. Scholars argue what the wings looked like, but whichever All-Caste member annotated it before has compared their likeness to either a Robin or a Shrike.

There's also The Ghost, He appears young at first glance, but his hair is wirey and gray, his eyes milky and unseeing, in bloodied armor he greets the souls of the damned as they're delivered to him, and with scarred hands he wipes the tears of children taken too soon. Accounts of this face are few and far between, but all of them are entrenched in sorrow.

Finally there is The Soldier, scarred and still smoking from the ruins of battle he emerges, giving voice to the weak and resources to the needy. He champions revolutionaries and philosophers first, a strategist who delights in the liberation of the people from corrupt systems. Accounts of him usually come from times of famine and war, and he was particularly popular with poor villages, who would mark the graves of their dead with the symbol of his sword as offerings. For some reason or other, he got particularly popular with the youth, girls and boys both seemed to pray for him and leave him offerings.

The way these manifest on Jason is subtle at first. I could go the body horror route, but I won't. Yet. Instead I think his splinters show up as reflections, shadows, imprints. The faint echo of bell-like laughter when Jason does a move he learned as Robin, the image of a younger him with longer hair and unblinking eyes staring at him in the mirror. It gets worse when he gets the blades, the white streaks his hair, the swirling mark covers more of his skin every time he uses them, he trails the scent of smoke and blood behind him like a signature. His scars...they should disappear. They have for everyone else who used the pit, but instead his skin starts cracking. Any place he's ever been scarred glowing cracks break up his skin. He can't feel them, but he's always aware of them, the meaning behind them, the divinity literally leaking through his body. His eyes aren't brown anymore. They aren't even green. He looks in the mirror and they are copper, molten and burning. He tries his best to keep his mask on.

What do you think of when you imagine the word divinity? Probably something like Tara. Something with skin carved from stone, with moss and fungus crawling up her legs and snow laden shoulders. They say her hair is made of swirling clouds and the sun and moon are her eyes.

Some say she's a nymph although no one knows what kind. You're just as likely to see her name among the naiads as the dryads. Whether flowers bloom where she dances or waves crash when she sings, she's known to be more vicious towards suitors than her sisters.

Others have said she's a faerie, who takes the faces of lost daughters and lovers, slipping into their places seamlessly, forcing unruly men to pay their dues. Others say she's a shifter of a different sort, with a shawl of feathers and a crown of twine and gems. Stories range from men trying to steal her coat (and paying dearly) to lost children returned safely home on the back of a swan.

Tara doesn't think about it at first, the way gravity tends to cede to her, she doesn't notice how sunflowers turn their faces towards her instead of the sun. She doesn't notice the way her face...shifts. it's imperceptible really, and it's not like she looks in the mirror all that often. But everyone around her notices it, on some level, the way her expressions are off. A little too exaggerated. The way her limbs bend just a little too oddly. The way she never looks quite the same as she did the day before, the way she picks up features from the people around her the way she picks up rocks from ground to add to her collection. Clay molded subtly into the image of those she loves, a museum of everyone she's ever met. She does notice when her hair starts going white at the ends, the strange way her hair starts to curl unnaturally, almost floating. She's not so upset about her eyes, the deep blue of her father that has glared down at her day after day, she has changed her hair, her face, her language but she could not change her eyes. It seems she didn't have to, when she wakes up with one a little too silver to be gray and one a little too gold to be brown. And then her skin starts splitting, a cavern made from a broken rib and ravines made by the slashing of knives. She doesn't even bleed anymore, they never scab over. They crystallize, amber like ambrosia, like ichor. Her body a geode waiting to be cracked open to let the thing within finally break free.

They know the least about Grant, whatever he used to be. Half written scrolls, torn or burnt or simply stopped abruptly, illegible journal entries with symbols never recorded in any known language, half finished sketches where the details are never quite clear. A few things are usually consistent though, signs that he's been there, usually from hunters down on their luck or the particularly old and sickly. First, the howling. Like a wolf or a storm, although later accounts would add that it occasionally sounds like a mechanical whirring. Then the rabbits, dead and gutted, but not a trace of blood. Piles of them left in heaps on doorsteps or windowsills. Some have reported knocking at strange hours or finding teeth in their homes, a mix of human and animal. There is one photo on record, the most recent thing in the archive most likely, of claw marks on the side of a barn, too big and oddly serrated, certainly not from anything native to the area. Elderly that report these phenomena typically pass from heart problems within the week, according to some of the old medical files.

Grant came back wrong. Physically, at least. He knows that he's still himself for the most part, dying didn't make him a selfish asshole he did that all on his own, but...but something is wrong with him. It's the way lightbulbs flicker when he's mad and how cameras, no matter the quality, never quite get a clear shot of him. The way Joey can't ever grasp his features, not fully, the details slipping from his mind like water. The way eyes on his face slide right past, unable to look directly at him. It's in the gray spreading from his roots and his eyes too wide and dark to belong to something human. It's the way death clings to him like a second skin, sickly and pallid turning the tips of his fingers gray. His teeth are starting to feel too sharp for his mouth, and he hears things no one else does, whispers of voices that Are Not and Can't Be. The worst part is the orange, liquid candlelight under his skin, lighting up all of his veins and scars, webbing together like the world's worst game of connect the dots. No, there is no mistaking him for something human, so there is no reason to try. If this is his fate then he will take it, because he is not a sheep and he will not be a wolf, he is a hunter, and he is hungry.

[appleonjust-ice]

assorted dunmeshis‼️‼️💥

(closeups under cut)

[firstil]

Have you decided on which animal you'd be focusing on? 👀

Also, I'm interested in seeing how your ideas and stories unfold! It's good to see more xenofiction lovers and writers around

Hi, thank you for the question!

As of right now the three main characters are birds (a raven, a pheasant, and a puffin) but many other animals play a role in the story and lore. Because I’m allowing so many different species to interact with each other on the same sapient level, the lore is taking a bit to write out. (I’m also working on multiple creative projects at once!)

With that being said, I’d love to hear any suggestions/ideas people have. Everything is still in development but currently the animals are split into different “divisions” of classification— it’s basically a very simplified version of taxonomy. They have different cultures and languages with a shared common tongue. The divisions also branch off into sub-divisions, but I have a feeling I won’t cover everything immediately because of the scale of it all.

Example: wymme (the feathered), feasymme (the pawed), deonymme (the hooved), and wetymme (the webbed) are the four major divisions. Fish and insects have their own thing going on and do not share the common tongue. Some animals (bats and turtles, for example) don’t entirely fit in the divisions but that is not seen as something bad in Firstil.

[chaotic-guinea-pig]

you know, for all the flack the fanon side of the fandom gets, I feel like once you filter out the drama and discourse, you do end up with some of the most chill people. like, we're all just kids playing in the sandbox with our beloved dolls in a way we see fit, and I think that's super neat.

[nights-nonsensical-ramblings]

I'm really nervous for the third sonic movie. not for anything about the movie itself but for the fact that every single Scu thing (with the exception of drone home maybe?) Has been shortly preceded and/or followed by some kind of personal social tragedy.

And it's really weird cuz it started me writing and without that I wouldn't have met most of my current friends. But at the same time im associating it with the loss of multiple relationships.

Am I an overly anxious person that catastrophises every little thing? Yes. Am I superstitious? not really. But the fact that this keeps happening, And i keep ending up upset near an scu release due to social issues is getting really really freaky and almost makes it seem like there is something weird going on. The storyteller in me wants to call it like a deal, it got me into the sonic franchise and so many good things, but the trade off is ill feel hurt and loose something each time something in that universe comes out.

[windor-truffle]

just noticed recently that compared to other tales games, graces doesn't have many long-lasting antagonists besides the obvious final bosses (richard/lambda and the little queen/fodra). there's no subordinate group of the main antagonist like you see in Xillia, Berseria, or Abyss with the Chimeriad, Abbey Legates, and the God Generals respectively. There's no recurring rivals like Ivar(ToX), Zagi (ToV), Chalcedony(ToHr), Zaveid(ToZ) etc. (although there IS an optional second boss fight with Bryce as a sidequest in graces f). The rest of the bosses or antagonists are either monsters in a local area or only last for an arc (Cedric, Kurt) rather than getting a buildup across a significant chunk of the game like Alexei from ToV or the Renan lords from Arise. I don't think this is a bad thing, im not sure what it means other than that a majority of of graces's conflicts stem from individual situational crises rather than massive overarching goals. what can i say it's a friendship-driven game

[mdddante]

SO UHHH IA GANG.... HOW WE FEELING ABOUT THIS

[emile-hides]

Here’s probably the final update to The Shrine

[fagryanlucan]

the more I replay the game the more I firmly believe alex has cptsd and anxiety, steph has adhd, ryan has autism

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess