Since we’ve had a lovely rain, I thought I’d share something rain related that makes me smile.
That wonderful smell that comes with a new rain is called petrichor. It loosely means the blood of the gods from the earth.
During dry periods, some plants release oils that soak into the soil and rocks. These oils tell their seeds not to sprout yet. The plants are protecting their babies until the conditions are right to grow.
When the rain comes, these oils are released, along with earthy bacteria and ozone from lightning. These aromas are petrichor. You are smelling lightning, earth, and the chorus of new life!
If that’s not enough to make you smile, consider this. There is no obvious reason for humans to react so pleasantly to plant oils, bacteria, and lightning, but we do. Scientists believe this is because our ancestors were much more affected by the fickle whims of weather, and stood to starve during dry periods. That smell told them that life was returning, that the crops would grow, that everything would be okay.
The smell of rain stirs in us an ancestral, generic memory of safety, sustenance, and peace. A great primordial sigh of relief. No wonder it’s so relaxing. ^_^
the thing with history i find is there is somethings we will never know the answer to, no matter how hard we look and how hard we want to find that, and at some point that has to be accepted? you can put out a very through meticulously researched paper and sometimes what you get is “yeah maybe, maybe it happened that way, maybe not” and you have to be okay with that because it’s just the truth
so, a little while ago, andavs asked me to make her aNot Quite Normal OTP challengeand because, she’s awesome, she said she would actually do the challenge. And then I decided to do it as well because fair’s fair!
BUT, then we decided that we should do an Attempted Mind Meld Challenge. Basically, this means both of us are doing the challenge (don’t worry, I’m writing not drawing) and then posting our work on the same day and seeing how well they line up. We haven’t talked about them at all before posting so really, this is probably going to be a complete disaster.
Regardless, here’s #1: On a Swing Set
(Post Season 3B, Sterek, Angst to Fluff, 2k)
Stiles never looks up at the sky anymore.
Derek watches for it, waiting, a part of him wondering when
exactly he pinned down that small quirk that belonged to Stiles and Stiles
alone. He can’t really remember when he first noticed it- maybe his
subconscious had noted it right away, when he spent their first few
interactions in cars with Stiles while the younger boy looked towards the
heavens for help. Or maybe it was later than that, when he spent large portions
of his time threatening Stiles into helping him and Stiles’ cocky eye rolls had
come hand in hand with his computer skills. Probably it wasn’t until the long
summer that Stiles spent at his loft, researching through Scott’s shifts at
Deaton’s, staring at the ceiling as if that’s where he would find the answer.
Really, though, he doesn’t notice it until it’s gone. Until
it’s after the Nogistune and after Allison and Stiles’ eyes stop flicking
Nowadays, Stiles moves like a person who is trying very hard
to control every tick of his body, while pretending very hard that nothing’s
changed. He meets people’s eyes when they speak to him and smiles when he’s
supposed to and flails his hands when he is telling a story (though he’s half a
beat behind the words instead of two beats ahead). It isn’t a particularly good
imitation of his former self but it fools most people – the acquaintances, and
teachers, and even Lydias of the world.
His dad isn’t fooled. Neither is Scott. Neither is Derek.
And by all accounts, Derek should be fooled. Because he and Stiles, they aren’t… they aren’t
anything. Maybe they were once enemies, maybe they were once unwilling
partners, maybe at one point they grew a mutual respect and understanding but…
But it had all faded into some weird gray area. Before…
before everything, they had reached an area where it was okay for their eyes to
cling to each other, as long as they were in the middle of an argument. An area
where they were allowed to touch as long as it conveyed frustration rather than
comfort. An area where they could save each other again and again as long as
they never mentioned it.
And now… well, now all Derek can think about is the fact that
Stiles never looks up anymore and how much that bothers him.