#such a cool fact

[writing-whump]

👋 Hellooo

Sooo I've been thinking about some ideas for part3-something serious as you asked for opinions 🤭 (I actually even Googled for it tbh xd)

And I saw that fever, severe pain and infection related things are quite common after appendectomy. Well, if we consider that Hex's appendix infected and he stayed for a while like that (idk, a day or less?), it's possible that there's still some infection in his body even after the surgery which his shadow cannot heal. In short, I believe it's a good chance for Hector to whine and being grumpy due to really high fever, feeling sick (coughing and shortness of breathing are two other possible complications as I read on google) while Isiah and Arnie are taking care of him..

As I was the one who insists for Isiah&Hector parts I thought I should help 🤭 but I trust and love your imagination, so I'm sure you'll write another great part for them when you have time and energy!

Thank uu!! Take care&Lots of love 💕🤍

-🌸

Thank you for all the ideas & even research! That's so sweet. Hope this lives up to it :3

Appendix part 3

"Can I have some water?"

"Yes," came the immediate reply from Isaiah. Hector was currently draped over his lap, feverish forehead against his brother's stomach.

"But real water. Not that sweet shit you've been feeding me."

Isaiah laughed softly, his stomach muscles vibrating under Hector's ear. "It's a rehydration solution. You can't take more than a few tiny sips to keep it down and this actually helps. The water does not do enough."

Isaiah's voice was still a picture of calm, but Hector thought he was staring to pick up on the difference between real calmness and fake, carefully controlled big brother voice. He talked with authority, the intent to reassure dripping from each syllable.

Hector also noticed Isaiah talked more formally when he did this. The opposite of relaxing, truly.

Isaiah's hand landed on his shoulder. He rubbed little circles on his arm, waiting for Hector to tense up to start lifting him. He always waited for Hector to make the first move, the decision to get up, even if it was just a little twitch to his hands. As if he was scared not to do something Hector wasn't ready for.

It was kind of nice. It made Hector feel like he was in control of what could be controlled. Otherwise he was content to leave the rest to Isaiah. There was something very relieving about it.

It allowed Hector to whine and complain about everything, even though he could hardly come up with anything better himself.

His insides were boiling. Weren't you supposed to be cold with a fever? His clothes were sticking to his skin with sweat.

The cut on his lower right side was radiating pain. There was no comfortable position to be in, it just hurt. He shifted around sometimes just to try it, but every movement just send more spikes of the searing heat up.

Hector took shallow short breaths, as little as he could just to not move his stomach too much. It even still felt bloated, although he couldn't eat for the last two days.

Hector groaned when Isaiah helped him sit up, leaning back against his brother's chest. Isaiah held the glas with a straw to his lips. Hector drank greedily, his throat dry and hot.

Although the liquid was nicely soothing and cold, the sweetness almost made him gag. He held it in, swallowing heavily before almost choking on the next sip.

He coughed, doubling forward. His eyes went black with the pain that clawed at his stomach with the movement.

Isaiah quickly put the glass away, tucking Hector back against himself as his chest heaved with the painful coughs. He murmured something that Hector couldn't understand, carding his cold fingers through Hector's hair.

Hector whined quietly, glad for the contact. At this point it was a shock to him that he wasn't steaming from the way his insides cooked in his skin.

"You are okay, you are okay. Just breathe."

Hector managed a pained scoff. "It fucking hurts. Keep your stupid advice."

On some level he understood he was being mean and whiny and that he probably shouldn't be relying on Isaiah's endless well of patience. But he also couldn't really formulate why it was bad, his brain breaking his sentences in two before they were finished. He was going to figure it out later.

"Just four more hours to go," Isaiah said, but his hand froze in Hector's hair. He turned back towards the door as if hearing a noise Hector wasn't catching.

It was just great, that without his shadow he was basically deaf. Like a damn human.

"Could you hold on for a minute? I need to check something," Isaiah said, looking down at Hector.

"Yeah, yeah. Get out. I need a break from you anyway," Hector said acidly.

Isaiah sighed quietly. He gently maneuvered himself from under Hector without jostling him, easing him down on the pillows.

Hector slumped back against them, stretching his hands. There was a warm spot left after Isaiah.

He rolled a bit away from it, looking for coldness in the sheets. It was soothing for just a bit, the cool part of the pillow and the untouched cover...

Hector opened his eyes. Even his skin hurt. Looking up the ceiling felt nauseating and he felt like he was choking a bit more with every breath. They came hard and short. Hector was too fearful of the pain that would explode if he let himself take a deeper one.

He hated the way his stomach rose and fell so obviously. The round puffiness around it, the way his loose shirt brushed against the gauze on the wound.

He hated everything.

The wounded wolf reached for his shadow on instinct, trying to coax it up ahead of time. He could feel it stirring under his call, like a quiet warm presence at the end of his mind.

That was progress from the numbness from before. But it wasn't enough. It made Hector's chest hitch with a quiet sob at the helplessness.

He balled his hands into the sheets, digging his fingers into the fabric. Trying to find something grounding.

At least Isaiah's calmness, the warmth of his concern at Hector's back, the soothing trust this was just temporary small discomfort and he would be okay...Even just the pathetic way he would pet Hector's hair or rub those little circles onto his shoulder...something soft and pleasant to focus on in the sea of pain made a huge difference.

The weight of not having it suddenly hit him like a brick in the head.

Did he say something again that pissed Isaiah off? This was still such a new territory. It didn't feel natural to be so...so careful around Isaiah. Hector had never done it and he wasn't sure he knew how.

But Isaiah required more sensitive treatment now...why was it again?

Hector felt a wave of guilt and sadness wash over him, but just as it hit he couldn't remember why he felt that way.

There was just a new load of horrible-ness on top of the pain and heat and general ickiness.

"Is-" Was he really going to beg him to come? For real? Wasn't that even more pathetic?

He grid his teeth together, not sure why he felt like crying. He wanted...he didn't know what. To go home? To go away? How would that help?

Everything was so confusing. Why was he in this state again? And more importantly, why was he alone?

"Zaya?" Maybe he would know. Isaiah always knew everything. Especially about what to do next. "Arnie?" Or maybe Arnie. Arnie knew more about emotions than Hector ever could. His younger brother understood what hurt people and what pleased them with a skill of a chessmaster. Hector should ask him...what did he want to ask? It felt important. How could he forget?

He sobbed quietly, chest constricting with panic. The panic made the nausea worse, slimy heaviness pooling in his stomach.

Hector tried lifting himself up on unsteady arms, his mouth dry, but he could feel the goosebumps of nausea climbing up his arms and neck. His teeth throbbed. Oh god, he didn't want to throw up again, it always hurt...

No such luck though, his chest heaved. His stomach rolled, sqeezing and contracting back into itself as he gagged. He manged to drag himself over the rim of the bed, before his arms buckled underneath his own weight.

He dry heaved painfully over the edge, the pain in his wound burning like he was on fire.

That's when the door burst open. Isaiah gave him a shocked look, before his features smoothed out and he climbed up into the bed behind Hector.

One cold hand went to Hector's shoulder to prop him up, the other to his forehead. Isaiah helped him to lean over the edge. A splash of the sweetened water made its way up.

Hector whimpered from the pain, the gag turning into a ruthless cough right after.

"Shhhhh. I'm here, I'm here. You are okay. All good now. Deep breath."

I can't fucking breathe, he wanted to protest, but all that left his lips was a whine and a strangled burp, punctuated by more coughing. His chest hurt, another little note in the cacophony of pain.

Isaiah turned Hector over gently to prop him up against his chest again. It made breathing a little easier. As if he had heard him after all.

Hector closed his eyes. They were burning with the tiny drops of liquid that managed to force their way out.

Isaiah wrapped an arm around his forehead, petting his cheek and then his hair, pushing the sweaty blond curls behind his ear.

"Shhhh. Sorry, bud. I just called the hospital to check over the symptoms. They say the nausea is normal, but we should check you in if the fever doesn't go down soon."

"I'm not going back there," Hector moaned. "Look what they did."

"They helped you. If they didn't operate, your appendix would have burst and killed you. It's not that much harder to kill a wolf than a human," Isaiah said sternly, not leaving room for an argument. "Now try to relax. Your breaths are too shallow, that's why you keep coughing. You need to breathe properly."

"I want to lie down," Hector whined. Even slumped against Isaiah like a toddler and his head spinning, he wanted to lie lower.

"Can't do. Breathe for a bit. Your lungs need more space to stretch out. Sitting up will make it easier."

Isaiah still petted his hair and Hector didn't have enough strength to his pride to dislike it. He leaned more into the touch.

The panicked emptiness from before dissolved at Isaiah's touch and explanation. His chest undone from the knot, he dared to take a bit longer breaths, head clearing out as oxygen refilled his lungs.

"I got a new towel." Arnie stuck his head into the room, whispering like Hector was sleeping. "You think-"

"Yeah," Isaiah said, voice vibrating under Hector. "The fever isn't any better. Not climbing up though."

Hector forced his eyes open so he could brace himself for the cold touch of the water-soaked cotton.

Isaiah unwrapped his arm from Hector's forehead so Arnie could circle the towel around his head instead.

Hector sighed contendly at the coolness. He was starting to see a way out of this by focusing on everything nice that he could feel. Like little beacons of light in the suffocating fog of pain.

Fog was way better than a fire, after all.

He focused his bleary eyes at his youngest brother. The kid had dark circles under his eyes and there was a telling redness to them. With the wet eyeslashes and the shaky way he moved, Hector knew he must have been crying.

Was that why Hector saw so little of him?

The night felt like a week to him and Arnie was absent for most of its days.

"Hey, pipsqueak," Hector said in a rough voice, opening his palm.

Arnie knelt down on the floor, throwing the previous not cold towel at the splash of sick next to him.

He took Hector's hand in both of his, a tiny quiet sob escaping him at the contact.

"It's alright," Hector said. His voice sounded like he gurgled nails before. "Don't cry."

Arnie's breath hitched, but he tried to smile. He pressed his cheek to his own shoulder for a second to wipe it dry. "'m not."

"Did someth'ng happen?" Hector asked, suddenly confused at the possible reason for Arnie's distressed. He thought he understood just a second ago.

Arnie blinked at him, his eyes going to Isaiah in concern. He squeezed Hector's hand. "It's nothing."

"Uhmmm....Liar."

Arnie's giggle was watery. He climbed into the bed beside Hector, curling up against his middle brother's side, the only one of the three that was lying instead of sitting.

Hector made great effort to lift his hand and put it onto the top of Arnie's soft blond head.

Isaiah made a pleased, almost approving noise at the back of his throat, relaxing under Hector's weight.

The oldest wolf adjusted the towel around his forehead, then wrapped his hands snuggly and gently around Hector's waist. Avoiding the injury, but also holding him a bit straighter. Tighter.

"Just three more hours."

Hector nodded, leaning his head back, tucking it under Isaiah's chin.

Cocooned like this by his brothers, he felt like there wasn't that much that could happen anymore.

[lemongogo]

mimics

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Giant Emerald Pill-Millipede: when these enormous millipedes are all rolled up, their bodies can be as big as a baseball, a tennis ball, or a small orange

This species (Zoosphaerium neptunus) is commonly known as a giant emerald pill-millipede. The females can measure up to 90mm long (roughly 3.5 inches), making this the largest species of pill-millipede in the world.

There is a significant degree of sexual dimorphism in this species, with the males measuring only about 45mm (1.8 inches) long -- roughly half the size of the females.

Giant emerald pill-millipedes are found only in Madagascar, which is home to several endemic species of giant pill-millipedes (order Sphaerotheriida). The Malagasy name for giant pill-millipedes is "Tainkintana," which means "shooting-star."

Pill-millipedes use conglobation as a defense mechanism, which means that they can curl their bodies up into a spherical shape so that their dorsal plates form a protective shield around the softer, more vulnerable parts of their bodies, just like an actual pill-bug or a "roly-poly."

When they roll themselves up completely, they look almost like gently polished chunks of malachite, emerald, or jade.

Giant emerald pill-millipedes will sometimes form large swarms that travel together as a group. This is the only species of giant pill-millipede that engages in any sort of swarming behavior, and the purpose of that behavior is still unclear. The swarms often contain thousands of individuals, with almost all of them moving in the same direction, even when there is no physical contact that might allow the millipedes to "herd" one another along.

Their swarming behavior also has some very peculiar features, as this article explains:

During swarming, Zoosphaerium neptunus individuals pay little attention to their surroundings; many specimens were observed walking straight into and drowning in small puddles. Some swarms even display ‘cliché lemming behaviour:' in Marojejy, a large part of a swarm walked into and drowned in a small river.

No single specimen was observed walking ‘against the current,' all specimens were moving in the same direction (southeast), even when not in contact with one another.

Of 273 randomly collected individuals, 105 were males, while 168 were females. The males were 8.3 - 14.1 mm wide (average width 10.4 mm). According to the inner horns of the posterior telopods, all males were sexually mature. The females were 9.95 - 15.4 mm wide (average width 11.4 mm). All females displayed non sclerotized vulvae and were sexually immature.

Some researchers argue that the swarming serves as a defense mechanism, providing a layer of protection (or at least some cryptic cover) against local predators, but the swarming behavior is still poorly understood.

Important Note: I just want to remind everyone that these animals belong in their own natural habitat -- they should not be trapped, bought/sold, traded, shipped, collected, or kept as pets. This particular species does not survive well in captivity, either, and the demand for these "exotic" invertebrates is putting the wild populations in jeopardy. The previous article discusses those issues, too:

Another possible threat for Z. neptunus swarms are collections for the pet trade. There exists a large demand in Japan, Europe and North America for 'green -eyed monsters’ as pets. Giant pill -millipedes from Madagascar unfortunately have a very short survival time in terraria. The species is specialized on low-energy food (dead leaves), and adapted to the cool climates (<20°C) of the highlands. Specimens in terraria often starve to death quickly.

So I know that they're adorable and really, really fascinating...but let's just let them be their chunky, adorable little selves out in the wild where they belong.

Sources & More Info:

European Journal of Taxonomy: Seven New Giant Pill-Millipede Species and New Records of the Genus Zoosphaerium from Madagascar

Madagascar Conservation & Development: Swarming Behavior in the World's Largest Giant Pill-Millipede, Z. neptunus, and its Implication for Conservation Efforts

Bonn Zoological Bulletin Supplementum: The Giant Millipedes, Order Sphaerotheriida (an Annotated Species Catalogue) (PDF)

African Invertebrates: Madagascar's Living Giants: Discovery of Five New Species of Endemic Giant Pill-Millipedes from Madagascar (PDF)

[retquits]

question because i'm curious...

+ tell me your favorite pokemon/reasoning in the tags i'm nosy

[prlssprfctn]

Somewhere in the year after Jason becomes a part of Bruce's family, a strange book appears on the desk of Bruce's personal study room. A book about parenting traumatised kids. He opens it, leafs though a little, noticing certain phrases underlined, and closes it back. Alfred probably left it. Just a few days ago, they had a short argument regarding his parenting methods, and he seemingly tried to prove his point by additional literature. Bruce is going to read it later.

...He doesn't have time, actually, and eventually, the book stays forgotten, tucked between many others.

Years pass. Jason dies. And then comes back, complicated and different, frustrating and hard to crack. Thinking about Jason — a habit, always a habit — becomes some kind of roulette: he either remembers something nice, comes up with some courage to talk with his son, at least through comms, at least not directly, or the exact opposite thing happens, sending them both out of balance.

It is the middle of cleaning day, when Alfred suddenly picks up the exact same book about children victims and how to take care of them, and to Bruce's surprise asks where does this book come from.

'What do you mean?' Bruce frowns. 'You gave it to me when I just adopted Jason. Well, not gave, I would say tactically sneaked in, but...'

'I would remember that,' Alfred frowns. He goes through a few pages, and his face softens. 'It wasn't me, master Bruce.'

And suddenly, it clicks.

*Jason* left it. He underlined lines that probably felt relatable to him, that maybe could help them both in their new, hard journey. A shy kid he was, though, very smart, he would never actually speak with Bruce directly — he would try to leave him hints. To open up more in a subtle way.

To—

Oh.

Bruce suddenly can imagine his little son overhearing his late argument with Alfred that day, all these years ago. Mulling over, "this kid is deeply traumatised, master Bruce" and "well, I can't get inside his head, Al" lines. Figuring out how to easen his burden. How to be understood and yet accepted.

And Bruce... unknowingly discarded that.

As usual.

Unknowingly, cluelessly, and yet so simply — he discarded everything that was dear to Jason, everything that meant something for him.

As he grips the book in his hands, caressing the soft cover, he can't help but wonder if any of the information inside, little highlights Jason did, are still working for him. If he still can fix it.

[amnhnyc]

Peek-a-boo! Have you ever seen the granulate shellback crab (Hypoconcha arcuata)? Growing about 0.6 in (1.4 cm) long, this unusual-looking crustacean inhabits coastlines along parts of the western Atlantic, with a range that includes parts of the United States, Mexico, and Brazil. Unlike hermit crabs—which hide inside their chosen shells—this critter uses its posterior legs to secure shells onto its back, often shouldering pieces larger than its own body, as a defense against foes.

Photo: Austin Smith, CC BY 4.0, iNaturalist

[sharksplease]

Shark fact:

Sharks will wear Remoras as hats. This is because they are best friends.

[catchymemes]

A very useful guide to buying Gelato from a Italian local

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF 2 MOVIE FLASHBACK SCENES LETS GOOO!!

(Original post @/Dawko on Twitter)

[mochasucculent]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in

[protectoursharks]

The body shape of a fish can tell you a lot about it! It can tell you where they like to hang out, how they hunt, what they eat, and more!

Let's use the Asian Arowana (Scleropages formosus) as an example!

Based off the rounded caudal fin (the "tail"), this fish is not a very fast swimmer

Having the dorsal fin and anal fin right near the end of the fish's body suggests it is an ambush predator

The flat head suggests it hunts at the surface

The upturned, large mouth suggests it catches its prey from below

Arowana are ambush predators that hunt at the surface!

They don't need to go very far very fast, hence the rounded caudal fin (which is the slowest moving fin)

Having posterior dorsal and anal fins are a common trait amongst ambush predator

They primarily hunt at the surface! They will sit near the surface and grab small fish, bugs, crustaceans, and even occasionally a bird!

4. Fish that catch their prey from below sometimes do it via suction. They'll open their large mouth, and as the water gets sucked in, so does anything in the water. And the larger the mouth, more water will more quickly fill into the mouth, catching larger and faster prey

[2022dirt]

Fallen snow on Christmas lights.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Brenthia Moths: these moths can mimic the appearance and mannerisms of a jumping spider so convincingly that actual jumping spiders will sometimes attempt to court them

The markings, posture, and movements of a Brenthia moth (genus Brenthia, also known as a metalmark moth) all contribute to its disguise; the moths move around in short, jerky motions that mimic the movements of a jumping spider, and their hindwings are covered in black-and-white bands that strongly resemble the tucked-in legs of a salticiid spider, especially when the moth displays its unique wing position. The disguise serves as a defensive strategy, enabling the moth to avoid being preyed upon by actual jumping spiders.

In some cases, that disguise may work a little too well, as jumping spiders may actually mistake the moth for a potential mate and then attempt to engage it in a courtship/mating dance (which must be a pretty awkward and bizarre experience for the moth, tbh).

The resemblance between a Brenthia moth and a jumping spider may not seem terribly convincing to us, as human beings, but as this article explains:

When discussing animals mimicking their predator, it is important to remember that we humans are not the target audience. This means that the imitator may not look too convincing in its mimicry to us, but still manages to trigger a desired response from said predator.

Jumping spiders have also been known to respond to Brenthia moths by exhibiting a territorial display, which is yet another behavior that the spiders generally reserve for other spiders.

This study expands on the adaptive benefits of the moth's disguise:

In controlled trials, Brenthia had higher survival rates than other similarly sized moths in the presence of jumping spiders and jumping spiders responded to Brenthia with territorial displays, indicating that Brenthia were sometimes mistaken for jumping spiders, and not recognized as prey.

The illustration below shows the basic/general resemblance between a Brenthia moth and a jumping spider:

Sources & More Info:

New Scientist: Moth's Disguise is so Good, Spiders Love it Instead of Eating it

Animal Behaviour: Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

Science: This Moth Could Pass for a Spider

PLOS ONE Journal: Metalmark Moths Mimic their Jumping Spider Predators

Gil Wizen: Jumping Spider Mimicry in Brenthia Moths

Moths of North Carolina: Brenthia pavonacella

[geek-22]

I cannot for the life of me find the OG post, if anyone knows what these accounts are called now I will cry (positive)

[prlssprfctn]

AU, where Bruce accidentally gets de-aged (physically and mentally), and the first person he bumps in is... Red Hood.

To Jason's defence, he didn't connect the dots at first. He was just patrolling around his usual turf, thinking of nothing in particular, when he saw a small child in a ridiculously serious suit, sulking around Crime Alley. He looks distraught, and considering that he looks rich, it is no surprise - that is not a place for him. So, he is either lost or something happened, right?

He takes the helmet off, as he usually does when he is dealing with kids (they got scared easily) and carefully approaches a brooding baby.

'Hey, shrimp. Where are your parents at?'

That said shrimp turns around, his big blue eyes looking confused and lost, and Jason thinks he looks awfully familiar.

'I am not shrimp,' he protests instantly, pouting at him. 'And they are somewhere... here. We just left the movie theatre together!'

Jason glances at the abandoned movie theatre, back at the little rich boy with a familiar frown, and it clicks. This is his fucking dad. Suddenly, a kid - but it is fucking Bruce Wayne, for sure.

'Was watching Zorro by any chance?' Jason still asks, just to be sure that he is not going insane.

Bruce - and it must be him - beams at him.

'Yes! This is a great movie, by the way.'

Oh, hell. At least, he didn't witness his parents' death just yet. Jason wasn't sure he would be able to deal with his father being so small, and mourning his mom and dad. He would probably cry himself at some point.

'Hey,' Jason calls out for him slowly, squatting down; God, who would've thought that this little shrimp would become so tall and big in the future. 'Aren't you... You must be Thomas's kid, right?'

Okay, yeah, Jason is going to lie to this kid. Because there is no way he manages just to steal Bruce as a stranger to bring him back home; it is still a kid, even if it is his father. Right?

'You know my dad?' Bruce tilts his head, little fingers tugging on the hem of his jacket; suspicious.

'You could say that,' Jason nods. 'Alfie... I mean, Alfred called me. Asked me to pick up a kid, since Thomas and Martha got an urgent call.'

Fuck his life and stupid life choices. What the hell he was even doing? He looked like a mugger; or like a psycho. But Alfred was his best bet - he could call him, after all; ask, well, support his idiotic made-up story.

'No one calls Alfred Alfie but my dad,' Bruce pouts in a very, very spoiled manner.

'Well... I do. We served together in the army,' he blurts out.

His armour, apparently, is enough a proof for the kid to nod slowly.

'Okay. But you gotta take off your strange mask first,' Bruce folds arms on his chest.

...???

Did this kid just agree for an unknown man to take him home? Like this? Who could've thought that this pouty child would become the most paranoid man alive in the future?

'Uh, why?'

'So I can remember your face and do an identikit, if you turn out to be a bad guy,' Bruce smirks stupidly. 'Duh.'

Jason is going to cry. This kid is so cute.

'Yeah, duh,' Jason huffs, but despite his better judgment takes the domino mask off as well. 'Go on, take your time. My identikit should be the prettiest, shrimp.'

Bruce... gawks at him. His eyes are comically wide now, mouth open, and then, he jumps a little closer to him - oh, God, he is jumping when excited? - putting his hellishly cold hands on Jason's cheeks.

'Woah. You look like dad.'

'Uh,' Jason nods awkwardly, and because he is an idiot, adds a joke: 'We are brothers, actually. Just don't talk much.'

...Apparently, little Bruce can't take jokes. Because he lets out an adorable gasp, and throws himself on Jason as if they knew each other for ages now.

'Uncle? That's so cool. You look like Zorro!'

Damn this little kid, and this stupid family. Damn Joe Chill and the night he killed this kid's parents. Damn it all. Bruce might be an asshole sometimes, but he was so... cute and innocent.

'Thanks, shrimp,' Jason slides a domino mask back on, picks up little Bruce with one arm, and grips a helmet with another. 'Come on, let's go home. Alfred will make your favourite tiramisu.'

'You know my favourites?!'

Jason sniffles.

'Yeah. Yeah, I do, kid.'

If he gets so emotional over this kid, he has no idea how worse Dick is going to be once he finds out.

Oh, this is going to be one hell of a night.

[amnhnyc]

Have you ever seen a white Common Raven (Corvus corax)? No, this isn’t a new species… or a ghost. 👻 This Raven’s striking pale plumage is the result of the genetic mutations leucism or albinism. Leucism is a reduction in all types of pigmentation, including melanin. Albinism is the inability to produce or distribute melanin. One hint to tell the difference? Individuals affected by leucism often have blue eyes, while individuals with albinism have pink eyes. White Common Ravens are rare. An estimated 1 in 30,000 individuals is born without this species’ signature black plumage.

Photo: Cos van Wermeskerken, CC BY-NC 4.0, iNaturalist