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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Part 6 of childhood friend Simon

“You missed a spot.”

“Like hell I did.”

Simon’s eye twitches as you snort, turning back to your phone. “Some sniper you are, blind bastard.”

The silence stretches for one, two, three…..

“Where?” he sighs.

“Left side of your jaw.” You gesture at the spot just near where it curves, a few centimeters from the corner. He runs his thumb over the spot and finds a patch of stubble.

“Fuck.”

“‘Like hell I did’,” you mock.

He narrows his eyes, points threateningly. “Watch it or I’ll shave an eyebrow.”

You snort, unconcerned. “Remember that time I did shave my eyebrows?”

He smirks as he runs the razor over the bit he missed, double checks he got it, then rinses in the sink.

“Wasn’t it because of some stupid YouTube video?”

“Yes, and I still have nightmares about having to draw them in.”

He nearly snorts water everywhere trying not to laugh, quickly wiping his face off with the towel you hand him.

“Didn’t your mum start calling you caterpillar girl?”

Your mouth drops open, scandalized.

“Simon Riley you swore you’d never bring that up again!”

He laughs outright as you chase him from the bathroom, whacking him in the arm. When he puts his hands up in mock surrender, you give him one last swat for good measure.

“Assaulting a military officer is illegal.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re legally dead, aren’t you? So wouldn’t that be desecrating a corpse?”

“I’ll have to ask Laswell.”

“Or we could ask Johnny. I bet he’ll know.”

The implication of Johnny knowing versus having an opinion is not something Simon’s equipped to parse before his first cuppa.

“Johnny’s just gonna side with you.”

You shrug - because it’s true. Johnny may be Simon’s (other) best friend, but he’s also a shithead that takes every opportunity to fuck with Ghost. And with you around “protecting” him, he’s been an absolute bastard.

“Then we’ll ask Gaz and John too,” you offer as you step into your shoes.

You’ve been lining them up next to his boots off to the side. The contrast of big, black leather next to your much smaller trainers would be almost comedic if it didn’t make his chest warm.

A reminder that you’re here with him, in a place he usually spends all his time wishing to see you. He’s called you countless times on the same bed you’ve been sharing for the past week. And now you’re wearing his official SAS hoodie (complete with his name on the back) and invading his wardrobe, about to go with him to breakfast in the mess.

Johnny, in a shocking twist, doesn’t think it’s desecrating a corpse to smack Simon.

“Well, he’s Ghost, aye? So it’d be exorcising him, no?”

Your eyes go all big as you turn to Simon with unholy delight. He makes a mental note to throw Johnny onto the mat once more than usual during their next spar.

That’ll have to wait though, because he’s promised you range time and then the obstacle course. Johnny tags along, interested to see your marksmanship when Simon’s talked it up so much.

He watches on, pride bright and hot in his chest, as you walk through all the steps he’s taught you. It’s even his favorite gun in your steady hands, fingers elegant as you load, chamber. Click the safety off and settle into your preferred stance.

The first two shots hit the target, though off to the side, the second closer to center than the first. You pause, take a breath before he even says anything. Then fire again. And again. And again. Until the mag is empty and he brings the paper target back.

A neat cluster of 15 holes, dead center.

“Atta girl,” he rasps, tugging you into his side and pressing a kiss against your hair.

“I did good?” you ask, beaming.

“Lass, even those first two would have been the end of some poor sod,” Johnny chimes in, patting your shoulder. “Guess the LT isn’t such a bad teacher after all.”

Simon narrows his eyes. “Was that even a question?”

Johnny shoves the ammo box at you. “A pint says you can’t do it again.”

“You’re on!”

—

The obstacle course is slightly less of a success.

“Oh, hey, Si,” you giggle, clinging onto the rope for dear life. “Ya come here often.”

He snorts. “Did you get stuck?”

“No!” You huff, scowling. “Im just… hanging around.”

He’s enjoyed watching you navigate the course - more importantly, he likes that you enjoy climbing around. Even if he’s had a small heart attack every time your foot slips or you wobble.

“Oi, you’re holding up traffic,” Gaz huffs, rapping his knuckles against your foot.

“Do you mind?” you call back. “Im telling Simon bad jokes.”

“Oh, by all means then.”

Simon snorts, jerks his head for you to continue. Johnny laughs as you shimmy along, laughs harder when you almost fall flipping him off.

Once you make it to the other side, Gaz climbs up after you and starts demonstrating how to do the next section. Simon and Johnny follow along, the latter cheering you on.

Movement from the corner of his eye draws his attention; Price, determined set to his shoulders. Simon recognizes the glint in his eye.

“Got ‘em?” Simon asks, hopeful.

Having you spend all day with him on base has been a subconscious fantasy come true. You, close by and safe, under 24/7 guard. But the circumstances have made his skin crawl, made it difficult to enjoy the novelty. Woken him up in the small hours of the night and hug you as close as he can without waking you.

“Fuckin’ got ‘em,” Price confirms. “Laswell’s got the docket prepped. All that’s left it briefing and prep. You can be wheels up in a few hours.”

Simon cracks his neck, anticipation sparking in his veins. His gaze slides to you, to his teammates helping you down from the wall. Price follows your gaze.

“You good for this one, Simon? Got your head on straight?”

Simon flicks him a look. “You know I’m good.”

“I know Ghost is good. What about Simon?”

He blinks, gaze going back to you. You can tell already even from a distance, by the set of his shoulders, that something is going on. You’re still relaxed, but there’s a questioning curve to your mouth as you stop at his side, fingers curling in the sleeve of his shirt.

“Something happened?” you ask.

“We found the group targeting you.”

“Oh!” You arch your eyebrows, eyes bouncing between him and Price. “You’ll be taking care of it, then?”

Simon turns back to Price, a silent “well?”.

“We’ll discuss strategies during the brief.”

You perk up. “Do I get to come?”

“Might as well,” Price sighs. “Let’s go.”

—

In the end, of course Simon is going to go. You’re his girl, always have been. He trusts his team, but when it comes to you, he’ll see this done right. And the only way to be sure, the only way to have peace, is for him to eliminate the threat himself.

Johnny’s coming along, of course. The slightest bit of tension in your shoulders eases when Price decides it. Simon presses his thigh into yours.

When the brief is done, strategies and timelines set, you follow him back to his barrack. He gears up while you sit on the bed, idly inspecting his vest while he straps into everything else.

“Nervous?” he asks.

You tilt your head back and forth considering. “Not more than usual before you leave. It seems like this is pretty standard for you, more or less. Why, should I be nervous?“

He snorts. That’s his girl. “No.”

You hum, picking at the Velcro of his SAS patch. He pauses, watches your face. You’re not anxious, but there’s… something.

“What’s up, buttercup?” he asks, chucking you gently under the chin.

“I…” you pause, hum. Try again. “I don’t like that you’re going out just because of me.”

He frowns, settles on the edge of his bed. You lean with the dip in the mattress, pressing warm and solid against his side.

“I feel like… like I messed up somehow, and now you have to fix it for me.”

He blows out a breath, yanking the mask off. You tilt your head to look at him, eyes soft, the tiniest frown on your face. He peels his glove off too, to cup your cheek. Revels in the warmth and smooth skin against his scars and callouses, always a little surprised when you lean into it.

“I’d get you world peace if you asked for it,” he replies.

“You’d be out of a job,” you half-joke.

“You are my job, daft thing.” He shakes his head, leans in until he can thunk his forehead gently against yours. “You’re what brought me back from the grave. Knew I still had work to do, that you still needed taking care of.”

You sniffle a bit. Always do when he digs up the words to remind you how much you mean to him. Not that he thinks you ever doubt it. How could you? But sometimes, he thinks, it bears repeating.

“You haven’t made a mess, luv. But even if you did, I’m always right here with a mop, yeah?”

He’d burn alive just to keep you warm. Drown to fetch you a glass of water. Anything, everything. Just so long as you’re still here, still his.

“I’ll take care of this and then come home to you. Due for a holiday anyway.”

You close your eyes, a faint little smile tilting your lips. He can’t look away. Never can.

“We can go on that camping trip you’ve been talking about,” you say.

“Yeah, luv. Toast marshmallows like the old days.”

You hum, a proper smile finally blooming across your face.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Promise you’ll come back. Both of you.”

“Promise. Be good for Price while I’m gone.”

You open your eyes, a mischievous sparkle in them. “We’ll see.”

—

You see him off on the tarmac, serene and assured. Stripped of faith and belief, there is one certainty in your life, always and forever. And it’s Simon. He’s going to come home to you, because he promised he would.

“Raise hell, Si.”

“Already raised the dead,” he muses, hell shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Aye, I’ve got just the C-for it.”

You groan at the joke, but don’t deny Johnny a parting hug and peck on the cheek. “Look out for each other.”

“Will do, hen.”

You don’t hug or kiss Simon. Don’t need to, you’ve said your goodbyes. You squeeze his hand and then step back as he heads for the plane with Johnny chattering all the way.

“Alright, little miss?” Price asks when it’s just the two of you.

“Always,” you reply, turning to smile at him.

You have to be, for Simon.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #childhood friend simon #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader

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galacticnova3 · 1 year

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Since she has now flown off I am obligated to post the order of potato fairy extra large that I looked after for several days. Aka a gloriously chumby Polyphemus moth— the second one I’ve seen alive in over a decade— that decided to hang around our porch for most of its adult life. I saw the first live one on the same day, but he flew away when I tried to get close. But still, that’s a great sign that their population in my area is finally starting to recover! Anyways, here’s the wonderful big little creacher where I found her, which should probably make it clear as to why I moved her. Ants don’t mess around and I wasn’t gonna just leave her inches away from danger.

I was pretty glad I did, as even after her wings were fully dried and extended and everything she couldn’t actually take off. See: her first “flight”.

Big fan of the loud impact PLAP sound, really added to the already very good demonstration of gravity. Worry not, she was totally fine afterwards. Here she is that night and the day after! Very cute and fuzzy, 1000/10.

The next day I thought she had flown off, but then the day after that she was back on the porch! I could tell she was the same one because of her damaged antenna. She started laying eggs on the house and I realized that wasn’t going to be good for the caterpillars that might hatch, since it was a relatively long distance to any host plants even without including the vertical climb to reach branches of leaves. Since she clearly felt safe where she was, and I was also worried about ants and birds and possible insecticides, I ended up making a little “baby box” for her out of a thoroughly rinsed plastic container that initially held salted honey-roasted peanuts. I gave her a stick to hold on to which also gave her a route to climb out of the box if she wished, and provided various fresh oak leaves to lay her eggs on. Figured it would be a good setup because I could easily move it to a safe place once she was done, and keep an eye on the eggs until they hatched. I might even try to raise a few caterpillars if the eggs are fertile. However, during the process of me setting that whole deal up, she decided I looked like a good egg laying spot.

You can see the “glue” that sticks the eggs to surfaces! It was cool to see up close: she’d lay an egg, wait for it to dry, and then lay the next right by it. She ended up sticking four on me before I was able to gently nudge her to the egg laying box. The stick was eventually deemed an acceptable substitute, and over night she… made an egg stalactite of sorts on it? Very weird, I think, I dunno; most of what I read online said their eggs would be laid in spread out clusters of two to three on suitable host plants. I know it wasn’t because she couldn’t get out, as when I went to check on her she had already made her way to the top of the stick and was hanging off of it outside the box. I didn’t think to take a picture of that as I needed to drive to college, but source: dude trust me. Here’s a picture of the egg sculpture I took when I got home.

When I was done with that I went to move her off the porch where she had been staying safe for the last 5 or so days to the more wooded area of the yard, but she ended up flying off to the treetops on her own after I brought her into the open. I guess laying a bunch of eggs made her finally light enough to fly. Maybe she was feeling upset at me for not being able to pay child support and making her lay her eggs on a stick instead? Or she was just doing normal moth things or whatever. It was bittersweet to watch her go, but I’m glad she had the chance to soar the skies at least once before her time was up.

@onenicebugperday

#rambling #bugs #insects #moths #polyphemus moth #I will miss you potato fairy extra large

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crevicedwelling · 1 month

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it took me a few minutes to realize what I was looking at here, but it wasn’t predation: these Azteca ants were fiercely guarding this Theope (Riodinidae) larva for the nutritious honeydew it secretes from glands in its rear (photo 2). at first I thought it was a normal caterpillar being eaten by ants, but after walking past a second time I saw what an unusual specimen it was!

not sure what the bulbous ornaments on its head are for, but it did sort of look like clustered ants, maybe some sort of ant mimicry in case no ants were in attendance? literature on this genus suggests they cannot survive without defense from Azteca

#bugs #ant #hymenoptera #caterpillar #lepidoptera #riodinidae

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libraryofmoths · 7 months

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Moth of the Week

Salt Marsh Moth

Estigmene acrea

The salt marsh moth is a part of the family Erebidae. This species was first described in 1773 by Dru Drury. It is also known as the acrea moth.

Description Both male and female moths have white heads, thoraxes, and forewings with a varying pattern of black spots on the forewings, with some moths having no pattern at all. They also share an orange-yellow abdomen with a vertical line of back dots. On the male, the hindwings are the same organge yellow while on females the hindwings are white. Both males and females have three or four black dots on each hindwing.

Wingspan Range: 4.5 - 6.8 cm (≈1.77 - 2.68 in)

Diet and Habitat The caterpillar was first thought to be a pest to salt-grass, but in fact it prefers weeds, vegetables, and field crops such as dandelions, cabbage, cotton, walnuts, apple, tobacco, pea, potato, clovers, and maize. Adults do not feed.

This moth is found in North America, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Kenya, Colombia, and Mexico. It prefers open habitats such as openings in woods, thickets, farm fields, grasslands, and marshes. It is called the “salt marsh moth” because it is common in coastal salt marshes (tidal marshes) along Pacific, Atlantic, and Gulf coasts.

Mating This species of moth does not emit pheromones from the tip of its abdomen but instead from its throat or the to of its abdomen. These moths are seen from May to August but can be seen all year in southern Florida and Texas. It is presumably during May and August they mate in most parts of their range while they mate all year round in Florida and Texas.

Yellowish eggs are laid in clusters on the host plant leaves. Females usually produce 400 to 1000 eggs in one or more clusters. It is possible to find a single egg cluster containing 1200 eggs. Eggs hatch in four to five days.

Predators This species is frequently parasitized as larvae, usually by flies in the Tachinidae family. In Arizona, the most common parasites were Exorista mellea and Leschenaultia adusta while two other parasitic flies were also seen: Gymnocarcelia ricinorum and Lespesia archippivora.

Both the larval and egg stages are oararzitized by Hymenopteran parasitoids such as Apanteles diacrisiae; Therion fuscipenne, T. morio, Casinaria genuina, Hyposoter rivalis; Psychophagus omnivorus, Tritneptis hemerocampae Vierick; Anastatus reduvii; and Trichogramma semifumatum.

A cytoplasmic polyhedrosis virus is known to harm this species but there are little data on its importance and effect.

General predators such as lady beetles, softwinged flower beetles, and assassin bugs prey on these caterpillars, but are not thought to have a large impact on population.

Fun Fact This species has 4 subspecies: Estigmene acrea acrea, Estigmene acrea arizonensis (Rothschild, (1910)) (Arizona), Estigmene acrea mexicana (Walker, (1865)) (Mexico), Estigmene acrea columbiana (Rothschild, (1910)) (Colombia).

(Source: Wikipedia, University of Florida, Missouri Department of Conservation)

#libraryofmoths #animals #bugs #facts #insects #moth #lepidoptera #mothoftheweek #Erebidae #salt marsh moth #Estigmene acrea

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lumiconic · 1 year

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things they remember

❥ summary: things they remember ab u and ur relationship!

❥ characters: diluc ; xiao ; thoma ; cyno ; arataki itto ; albedo ; tighnari ; venti

❥ content: fluff, gn reader

�� note: just some cute fluff hcs!

… diluc remembers the smell of your hair, the intoxicating scent of apples and grapes that leaves him heady and dizzy, your face presses into his shoulder and his gloved hands twist through strands of your hair in a brief second of serene calm, and he inhales the most wonderful aroma that he wishes he could save forever so that all that clouded his mind was the thought of you, when he thinks back to his quietest, happiest moments, he remembers softness and sugar and apples and you.

… xiao remembers a color that gives him comfort, pearly, iridescent white, like almond tofu, misty opals, like puffs of your breath in the morning cold, the shade of the clouds that surround liyue’s highest peaks as you climbed them with him slowing down to stay with you, a determined smile fixed resolvedly on your face and the way you whooped, your gleeful voice echoing through the mountains when you finally ascended to the top, and your hands clutching his, that shade of hazy white he loves so much.

… thoma remembers the first date you had, a picnic underneath a maple tree with leaves as red as windwheel asters, a bouquet of flowers wrapped with gold ribbons on the cloth. the first time he heard you, really heard you speak after admiring you from afar for so long, and what a beautiful voice you had, what a beautiful smile, how you were so dazzling it almost was blinding. and today he’s recreated the picnic for your fifth anniversary, and you’re still just as beautiful as you were, even more so.

… cyno remembers that your favorite color is blue, that your favorite food is sweets with apples in them, that your favorite flower is padisarahs and your favorite person is him, your birthday, the name of your pet dog, the sound of your voice cheerfully singing out his name, your laughter at a silly one liner he made (and stored a thousand more in his brain to hear that sound again), he remembers the exact shade of your eyes, he remembers the feeling of you in his arms and warmth in his heart.

… itto remembers that you like the taste of sweet melon, one of inazuma’s popular flavorings, and every time he sees anything flavored with it he swipes it off the shelf, never mind how much it costs, and brings it home to you proudly with stars in his eyes. you laugh, try a bite of whatever it is – hard candies or smoothies or macarons – and then pull him into a hug and thank him from the bottom of your heart, and when he kisses you he tastes sweet melon, almost as sweet as you.

… albedo remembers clutching a caterpillar in his palm and crushing it into starry dust before opening it again and revealing a tiny, perfect butterfly that fluttered away in a breeze of silver glitter, your wide eyed look of absolute delight as you begged him to do it again, starstruck by his expertise and wanting nothing more than to see him do a thousand more feats of what looks like sorcery to you, and how you still treat him as though he’s a wonderful magician, a gift from the archons themselves.

… tighnari remembers an odd dream of his that he was lying in a field of flowers, soft cushions of pink and yellow, and he felt weariness drain away as he stared up at the sky with its golden sun, relaxed in the silence for once with responsibilities so far away, and then he blinked awake and found himself with his head in your lap, your fingertips tracing along his forehead, and you smiled down at him and cupped his chin in your palms as you gave him a kiss hello and his face flushed red.

… venti remembers blowing wisps of dandelion fluff off the green straw, watching the white puffs float away on a breeze as he wished, clutching clusters of dandelions to his chest with slender fingers as he bowed his head and prayed to a more powerful god than he that you could be his, that you could see him the way his throat choked up every time he looked at you and was struck silent for once in his life by the power of the love he felt for you, that one day you could reciprocate his longing.

thank you so much for reading, and pls leave a like + reblog + follow if you enjoyed!!

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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I've been dreaming of the Undersea Advisor.

In life, there are many variables to account for. Ah, but variables can be manipulated.

He remakes the world in his image.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

There are several little glass containers, lined up in a neat row, on his work bench. He is the master, and this is his craft: pocket dimensions, each with a different biome bottled.

Here is a lush garden with enchanted roses and caterpillars that blow smoke, and a savanna where miniature beasts race about. A desert with its own oasis--a massive scarab running amok, a regal castle he had painstakingly constructed with a pair of tweezers for a peacock no bigger than his thumb... He had even somehow managed to create a sleek building blinking blue lights and a crumbling chateau overrun with moss and bite-size bats.

His current project is a bowl of salt water, a layer of sand decorated with seaweed and coral at the bottom. He had taken the liberty of tucking fake jewels, a plastic treasure box, and a model of a sunken ship in.

For flair, he chuckles to himself. All that's left is to find proper aquatic specimens to house in it.

From the doorway, Jade adjusts the straps on his backpack, making sure that they're secure, that his supplies are in order. His boots laced, his jacket buttoned, he marches out the door and into the wilderness.

The forest is quiet and without trees but is not devoid of life.

Instead of trunks, there are stems--plump, pillowy, in various shades of white and cream. They are wider at the base and narrower at the head, which gives way to fluted undersides. Gills, Jade knows, a very different kind than those of a merman.

The air is clean and refreshing, lightly washed with spores. Not visible to the naked eye, but at the right refractions of sunlight, Jade can see them dancing into shapes upon the wind.

Circular shadows are cast across the ground, belonging to the caps that tower far above him. Mushrooms--macro-sized--have taken over the feet of the mountain, making it a suitable hideout for his hobbies. Sunlight spills through the cracks between the clustered caps, forming golden pools along the forest floor.

Jade makes a game of hopping upon them, one by one.

It isn't long before he comes upon the stream that cuts through the heart of the wood. A thin and humble little thing, able to be crossed in a single stride of his long legs.

Jade drops his backpack and drops to one knee. He inspects the fresh water up close with a careful eye. It's clear and still at the edges, white and foamy in the center, where it flows the fastest.

His heart leaps when he sees it--a streak of silver darting by.

He kicks off his footwear and rolls his pants up, silently stepping into the stream. Jade is cautious about not splashing, to avoid making noises or movements as that would disturb the wildlife.

He stands there, watching. Waiting, waiting, for that next fish to pass.

He thinks he sees it, a glimmer laid deep in the water. He reaches for it, fingers grazing wetness, but does not complete the grab.

“You like that, don’t you? The feeling of being in control, a life dancing in your palm,” a musical voice rings out. “It grants you security, assuredness.”

His eyes flicker down. His reflection shifts in the churning water, but he can see its mouth moving when his doesn’t.

An obstacle—amusing.

Jade purses his lips into a patient smile. “Oya, does a pixie presume to know those who visit their forest?”

“I am no pixie. In this pool of tears, all is laid bare,” his reflection says, “and given truth.”

“You claim to speak the truth. If that is the case, then you take no issue with divulging sensitive state secrets?” Jade’s smile grows, turning sharp. “To demonstrate your veracity, of course. I do not intend to misuse the information.”

“I know that you lie as easily as you breathe,” the pool replies, “for I have knowledge of only the souls that gaze into me.”

“A shame. I was quite curious about your awe-inspiring powers. Alas, there are limits put on greatness. It appears as though a puddle can never match the ocean in size nor in bounty.”

His reflection is not irked by his needling. “If you wish to take, then you must offer up a piece of yourself of equal value.”

“You have said that I lie as easily as I breathe. Is the word of a liar worth its salt?”

“You must speak truthfully.”

“But if I am a liar, and you have assumed my appearance, does that not, by proxy, make you a liar as well? That means what was uttered earlier is a lie, and I must tell an untruth—which I have already provided.”

The reflection pauses, considering the logic. Slow horror dawns on its expression—stolen from him—and it glowers.

"Liar," the reflection bitterly spits. It vanishes into the frothing waters.

There's a sigh, then the shudder of a release that fills the forest of mushrooms. Something, somewhere, has shattered.

Silver fills the clear stream, coloring it one shiny, metallic shade. Fins and scales bat against his skin. Healthy, plentiful.

Jade plunges an arm elbow-deep, and--

He gasps.

Something latches onto his arm and violently tugs. He's brought face-to-face with his own shocked expression, droplets hissing at him.

The stream, Jade realizes, should not be this deep.

He resists, trying to throw his body weight back, but the force holds tight. The slimy grip tightening like a fist.

He does not to fully relish in the surprise, so rare a feeling for him, before there is another strong pull. Jade falls forward, eyes wide as the water hits him in full.

Slowly, slowly... he finds himself sinking into an abyss.

It's the sea, deep and dark, shrouded by black mist. A ship-shaped shadow looms, at the inky depths--and through holes punched in the hull, undiscovered treasures wink up at him. Chests of forgotten gold and gems, like stars blinking in and out of view.

He dangles, suspended, like a puppet left upon the stage that has closed for the night. The scene, the stands, empty, save for the vague shapes of coral and twisting tendrils of seaweed.

Something shifts among the plants, and Jade tenses, preparing for a fight.

A long shape darts by, and his gaze tracks. The markings on it glow teal, peering through the murk--he recognizes it at once, relaxing.

"Floyd."

The name bubbles up and breaks upon the surface of the stream.

His twin circles him, his weaving tail sending Jade's jacket billowing. One is in the body of a human and the other, in their true form.

Floyd wordlessly grins, showing teeth like knives.

Behind him, the shadows swirl--a mess of writhing, squishy limbs and agonized moans. Tentacles, tentacles, painting a canvas with darkness.

A voice calls from somewhere in the void.

Floaty, far away.

"... de....... ade..."

"Jade!!"

He snaps awake, drawing in a deep gulp of air. As if he had just arisen from a dive.

Jade is seated at his workbench, blanked on either side. "Floyd, Azul..."

"We came as you had instructed, but it appears that now is not a good time," his dorm leader remarks. "You were sleeping like a log when we arrived."

"So I smashed a window with a rock and we let ourselves in!" Floyd declares proudly. Azul casts him a wary look.

"Just so you are aware, I am not to be held accountable for any damages incurred," he says hastily. "It was entirely Floyd's idea--I warned him against it and had him sign a liability form to assume any and all fees, should he ignore my advice and proceed with his ill-advised plot."

"Pfft." Jade chuckles. "My apologies. I must have become so enraptured in my project that I neglected to maintain a proper sleep schedule. The fault is mine, so I will not press charges."

Azul sighs, relieved. "Now, back to the matter at hand. For what reason have you summoned us here today?"

"Ah, that." Jade holds up his fishbowl, beaming. "I wished to share this with you both."

"Mmm, what is it?" Floyd asks, peering into the container. His face comes out the other end of it stretched wide and distorted, like the result of a funhouse mirror. "Looks like just some water to me."

"Another terrarium, I suspect." Azul pushes up his glasses as he surveys the other containers on the work bench "I see, so you've made one each in the image of the dormitories at Night Raven College. This one must be Octavinelle."

He suddenly frowns.

"Wait a minute, what is this?!" Azul thrusts a finger at a round little octopus suctioned to the inside of the bowl. The area around it is clouded with wisps of black.

"Hehehe, looks like Jade was right on the money with this one. That's so you, Azul."

"I-It is NOT!!"

"Really?" Jade's brows lift. "As I recall, you were exactly like this, tears and all, when..."

"AAAAAAAAH, stop, stooooop!! D-Don't say it, I can't bear that!!"

Jade laughs--soft and musical--granting his wailing dorm leader that single mercy. His chest is warm and full, a feeling his lies don't come close to.

I believe I’ve found myself company that is much more entertaining than any world right at my fingertips.

It’s his truth, the only one he has told this entire time.

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batsvnte · 1 year

Text

𝐅𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 • 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing(s): Wally Darling

Sypnosis: The neighborhood gains another new friend out of the blue

Warning(s): mention of social anxiety (?), bits of scopophobia, ooc possibly, improper grammar

Word count: ???

Notes: male puppet!reader (he/him pronouns), possibly turn this into a little story. characters belong to @/partycoffin & Art belongs to @/owg005

Well into the early mornings, everyone was starting with their routines to get ready for another day in the neighborhood. They were all curious for what the day could bring to them. Though some would silently hope for something new to happen. Not that everyday was boring for them. There was something interesting going on in their everyday lives. The neighbors couldn’t help but want something.. brand new. It was a low possibility that it would come true for them, but maybe today would be the day.

First one to be out of happens to be Howdy Pillar. The tall caterpillar had made some plans for himself to restock items in the store, including the certain apple stand that was always empty by the end of the week. Howdy was outside of his shop in the midst of the morning hours. His arms carefully upholding a new supply of apples that was greatly adored by one of his neighbors. He couldn’t help but sigh at the thought of that certain neighbor coming to visit his shop to gaze at the apples.

“Excuse me?”

Howdy nearly spins himself around to the unfamiliar voice. His eyes go down to an unfamiliar puppet. He stood a little bit shorter than him, fiddling with his jacket sleeves as he meets with Howdy’s gaze.

Howdy brings a friendly smile on his face. “Howdy there new neighbor! My names Howdy Pillar, what’s yours?”

Extending one of his arms out to the new neighbor/customer for a simple handshake. The puppet looks down to his hand before swiftly reaching up and grabbing his hand firmly. “(Name) (L/N).”

Giving his hand one shake, Howdy brings his hand away in order to finish his morning tasks. Though on the inside he was excited. New customer means new neighbor to hang out with and be friends with. Howdy couldn’t wait to tell the rest of the neighborhood about this.

“Uh..” (Name) takes glances between him and the shop with uncertainty in his eyes. “Are you open today or did I come at a wrong time?”

Howdy shakes his head as his carefully refills the bin with fresh new apples. “Nope! You came at a perfect time, (Name). Say, you can have a look around in the shop if you need to.”

(Name) nods nimbly as he steps into the store. It was like some regular store that you would find in a little town. Various of supplies stocked neatly into categorized places in the store to make it more organize than before. (Name) took note the deep care and high amounts of effort that Howdy put into the store. It made him curious though as he wonders about, finding what he needs since he had just moved in the night before. Pulling out a little note that was folded neatly into his pockets, he checks over the list of items that was important to have for his first week of being in the new neighborhood.

He was almost done with the list. All he had to get was some apples and he’ll be on his way back to the safety of his home. He was almost in a rush to get home. (Name) had the thought of more people coming into Howdy’s store, which would create a bit of a cluster. Not that his store was small but since he didn’t know the neighborhood that well, he wasn’t sure of how many people visited the caterpillar daily.

(Name) couldn’t shake the fact that there was something watching him the moment he stepped outside. His posture straightens slightly as he takes quick glances around. Howdy had just finish restocking the fruits outside of his shop so he was back inside doing whatever was needed. (Name) takes a few steps towards the apple stand but the feeling of being watched was slowly getting to him.

Just grab the apples, and go pay for the items. Grab the apples, and try not to have a public freakout over someone staring. Just grab the dang apples—

“Hello neighbor,” A new voice came from beside (Name). “It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?”

(Name) takes quick glances around him before realizing who was talking to him. Finding a smaller puppet that could be standing around 3 feet tall. A calming smile on the blue-hair puppets face that made few of (Name)’s worries wash away. He looses the grip he had on his little bag of goods.

“My name’s.. (Name) (L/N).” He forced himself to speak at a louder tone, just so that he can hear what he was saying.

“Wally, Wally Darling.”

(Name) made a mental note of the names he knows so far to remember them. He grabs a few apples that he needed, concluding that’s all from his little checklist. (Name) turns back to see Wally still.. somewhat staring at him. In his hands he had an apple. Maybe that’s where the staring was coming from? He couldn’t confirm it for sure, seeing that Wally seems content with the apple in his hand but also being in the presence of a new neighbor.

“Welcome to the neighborhood, (Name),” With that same smile on his face, his gaze onto the taller puppet. “I didn’t hear the train coming in this morning.. when did you arrive?”

(Name) tries to remember exactly when he got here. He steps inside the shop with Wally following him. “Late at night, maybe at 12.”

Unbeknownst to (Name), Wally’s eyes never really left him at all. He was always interest in anything that comes to mind. As of now he was more interested in the new neighbor that came here without any warnings or signs. He was more than happy to be able to talk to (Name) this early in the morning.

After paying for the items that he got (that resulted in 2 minutes filled with awkward jokes and some heart filled laughter), (Name) heads back to his house with Wally tagging along side with him. Most of the conversation taking place was Wally mainly talking to (Name). Telling him more about his friends and what they’re like. Some may have (Name) a bit curious about them but he keeps his attention to Wally.

“There’s my house..”

Wally didn’t hesitate to turn his attention to the building. Finding it to be similar to his with (f/c) covering the entire house. Little patterns of (s/f/c) that matched up well with the original color that was placed with it. There was some things decorated outside of the house to match along with the aesthetic of the building. It was well fit for (Name).

“I should go put these up. Thanks for walking me back to my house Wally.” (Name) had a small smile on his face as he looks down to Wally.

Wally looks back over to (Name), observing his features for a short bit. “It’s no problem, I’m glad to be here and get to know you friend.”

After bidding their goodbyes, Wally find himself walking off to another direction away from the house. His friendly, never changing smile still kept on his face as his thoughts be taken over by his new friend. There was more than meets the eye to him, and he had some hope that he would get to know (Name) better. Hopefully much sooner than expected.

hhhHhHHh I started this yesterday and was so inconsistent with this oneshot. Idk how to write out Wally that well I hope this wasn’t to OOC for him or Howdy

#welcome home #wally darling #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x reader #ghouul #Ghouul writings #welcome home oneshot #welcome home x reader #apple to my eye 🍎#Wally x reader #welcome home clown illustrations #x reader

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lilacmingi · 3 months

Text

ALICE IN WONDERLAND AU ♤ PART 5: NAMJOON

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Caterpillar!Namjoon x fem reader

Word count: 2,480

You had been running for quite some time and figured it was okay to walk for a few minutes and give your lower limbs a break—they were aching anyway. Never in your life had you ran so much in such a short amount of time. You never needed to.

Now walking at a relaxed pace, any thoughts you had about running away from the red knights were replaced with other thoughts. An endless list of unanswered inquiries swirled around your mind like a raging hurricane. One after another, more and more questions popped into your restless mind.

What's so special about you and why was everyone after you? You're just... you. Nothing extraordinary or special.

Everything you'd experienced thus far had felt too outlandish to be reality. You couldn't remember how many names Yoongi had mentioned. Six? Maybe seven, men liked you?

Ridiculous.

The tip of your shoe kicked at a rock, sending it rolling along the dirt path you were walking along. You didn't even know where you were going or what lied ahead. You were lost once again and this time you didn't have a feisty cat boy to help guide you.

You can't have run very far, but maybe you had gone far enough to put a little distance between you and the threat. Then again, you were unsure of how long Taehyung was able to keep those knights distracted. For all you knew, they could be hot on your trail.

As if the universe was playing a cruel trick on you, the sound of distant marching reached your ears.

Seriously? You sighed internally.

Breaking out into a sprint, you dashed down the dirt pathway to keep some separation between you and the hoard of knights. It was at that moment it dawned on you that you were leaving shoe prints in the dirt. With limited time to come up with a plan, you did the first thing that popped into your head which was to run into the cluster of plants to the right of the trail. Instead of continuing through the mushrooms and tall grass, you leapt over the path and into the lush greenery on the left, going that way instead, hoping your little trick would buy some extra time.

"Maybe that'll hold them back for a while." You spoke to yourself and took off into the thick growth of mushrooms and curly vines.

Your running never ceased no matter how bad your legs throbbed or your lungs burned, refusing to stop until you could no longer hear the perfectly synchronized marching.

You huffed and puffed for air, panting heavily and stumbling forward, as your knees were on the verge of giving out on you.

At that moment, you could hear someone's voice from somewhere up ahead. Whoever it was wasn't talking nor singing, but something in between. Every line he spoke came out in a rhythmic way that was pleasing to the ears. The words he uttered were done so eloquently and without any slip-ups. This man's voice was entrancing and pulled you towards it like a siren song.

Too enraptured by the stranger's mesmerizing voice and hypnotic words, you paid no attention to your surroundings and tripped over a tree root that had breached the ground.

"Ow." You grunted and sat up a little, rubbing your elbow where it had harshly collided with the dirt and grass during the tumble.

Surveying your surroundings, you found that you were in a clearing amongst the tall and unruly plants of Wonderland that you had been running through for what felt like hours.

"Stupid girl." You heard someone speak. Lifting your head, you spotted a man sitting in a fancy wingback chair made of rich blue velvet, a tall messily-stacked tower of books on the ground beside him. He was dressed sharply in a blue silk suit with a white cravat. Perched between his fingers was the mouthpiece of a hookah which sat beside the stack of books in the grass.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You should watch where you're going." He remarked, taking a puff from the hookah.

"Yeah well... people make mistakes." You huffed, getting up and dusting yourself off.

"Who are you?" The the man inquired, blowing smoke rings into the air.

"I'm Y/n."

"I know who you are."

"Then why did you ask?"

"You still didn't answer my question. Who are you?"

"I already told you."

"No. You didn't."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"I believe it's you that's lost your mind. You can't seem to remember your last visit here, can you?"

"How do you know that?"

"Silly girl. I know all."

"Well, if you know all then surely you know that I haven't the slightest idea who you are." Your arms crossed over your chest annoyedly.

You hadn't been in the presence of this man for more than a minute and he was already starting to grind your gears. Forget his pretty prose and rhythmic speaking.

"I'm Namjoon." He responded.

He seemed like a know-it-all, but you had to admit, he was very attractive. From his tanned skin to his sharp eyes and full lips. He was good-looking indeed, but his personality was ugly and undesirable.

"What's on your mind, baby?"

"What did you call me?"

"You heard me, baby." He punctuated the nickname this time.

The way he said it made your heart skip a beat. His voice dropped an octave and became breathier when he uttered the affectionate term.

You shook your head in an attempt to shake away the thoughts.

You hardly know this man, Y/n. You reeled yourself in. And he's rude.

"This is definitely a dream." You muttered under your breath lowly.

"What's that? You need to speak up, love."

So first it was stupid girl and now it's love?

"Nothing."

"Oh come on, sweetheart. You used to tell me everything."

"How should I know? I can't remember."

"Just trust me, Y/n."

Rolling your eyes, you dropped your arms at your sides, which up until that point had been crossed over your chest. "Is this a dream?"

"What do you think?" He questioned.

"I don't know. I've been back and forth with myself about that since I got here. For a while I thought it was a dream, but I was told it l wasn't. Everything is so strange and seems like a dream, but it feels very real. The emotions, the fear, the confusion. All of that seems real."

"Hm." He took a puff from the hookah and blew the smoke directly in your face. "What exactly makes you think this is all a dream?"

Coughing, you used your hand to fan the clouds away before speaking.

"Well, for one there was a giant beast searching for me. I've met a bunny hybrid, a man with a mysterious twin that no one has seen, a cat hybrid, and a hatter that's batty as ever. To top it all off, every single one of them have been fighting over me. That's what's really convincing me that this is all part of some bizarre fever dream."

"Silly girl." Namjoon chortled. "You really think you're not attractive enough for men to fight over? You think you're not desirable?"

"Not exactly. Four men fighting over you and kissing you all in one day is a bit unrealistic, is it not? I mean, it's almost as if I'm in a story or something."

Without a word, Namjoon stood up from his chair, taking long strides as he approached.

"That's where you're wrong." He whispered lowly, planting one hand on your waist. "You have no idea how entrancing you are."

As much as you wanted to speak, you were unable. Namjoon's charms had rendered you completely speechless and you were frozen in place.

"I can't believe you think so lowly of yourself." He murmured, tracing your jawline. "Oblivious girl."

You didn't have time to retaliate with a snarky comment as Namjoon leaned in closely, closing the gap between your faces.

Thinking you were about to be kissed for the third time that day, your body stiffened in preparation, but you never felt his lips on yours. Instead, he turned his head slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the outer corner of your mouth.

"Does it feel like a dream now?" He asked lowly, his breath fanning against the side of your face.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry.

"No." You barely managed to utter.

He pulled back and ran his thumb over your bottom lip, desire clouding his eyes.

"I really want to kiss you properly, but I'll save that for a later time."

As much as you wanted to ask what that was supposed to mean, you couldn't. His gentlemanly display of affection had your heart racing at a rapid pace. Everyone you'd met so far had kissed you in one way or another and you found it nice that Namjoon chose not to go directly for the lips like Yoongi and Taehyung had so boldly done earlier. It showed that he cared about you, even if only a little bit, putting your comfort over his desire to place his lips directly upon yours.

Namjoon could see the spaced-out expression on your face and chuckled softly, guiding you to his chair where he returned to his seat, patting his lap.

You were hesitant.

"Don't be shy." He beckoned.

You obliged, albeit awkwardly, and took a seat on his legs.

"I'd offer you another place to sit but as you can see, there is none."

"Right. Of course." You nodded.

It was a bit awkward just sitting there, especially in his lap, so you tried to come up with a topic to talk about.

"What exactly were you doing earlier before I showed up? Reciting poems?"

"You heard me?"

"I did. You sounded great."

"Really?" He asked, cracking a smile that showed off a charming set of dimples.

"I must admit, I was entranced. Your rhythmic way of speaking was almost hypnotic. It was like you were putting on a performance."

Your praises made a monsoon of affectionate emotions flood through him, his stomach filling with a flurry of butterflies.

"I love to read and if I find an excerpt or poem that speaks to me, I memorize it. I must have been practicing when you showed up."

"I suppose you have to find something to pass the time when you're sitting in the middle of nowhere." You joked.

"Actually, I do have a place of my own."

"You do?"

He let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a huff and scoff. "Well I certainly don't sleep here in this chair out in the open."

"Of course you don't. How ignorant of me." You commented, giving a playful roll of your eyes.

"You're starting to sound like me." He tittered.

Namjoon's attitude had changed a noticeable amount since first meeting him not too long ago. You quite liked this side of him. It was much better than the arrogant know-it-all that was grinding your gears earlier.

"Do you happen to know Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, and Jungkook?" You inquired.

"Of course I do. They're my friends."

"Then you know you've got some incredibly brave friends. They've been protecting me."

"From The Red King, right?"

"How did you—" You stopped mid-sentence.

"I know all." The both of you spoke in unison, laughing softly afterwards.

"I know about The Red King situation." He stated. "Word travels fast here."

"Taehyung said he sent Jungkook to get me and bring me to him so he could protect me."

"Taehyung? Protect you? That's hilarious." Namjoon laughed.

"Why?"

"I love him to death; he's one of my best friends, but he's a bit... irresponsible sometimes. He gets way ahead of himself and underestimates the situations he gets himself into."

"Ah. I see."

"If anyone can protect you, it's The White King."

"Yoongi mentioned him during an argument with Taehyung." You noted.

"Those two are arguing again? About what?"

"Again?" You echoed.

"They don't get along well." Namjoon sighed, visibly exasperated just talking about it. "So what was it this time?"

"This is embarrassing, but they were fighting about me."

"I should've known. You had mentioned something about men arguing over you, but I wasn't aware it was my own friends." He shook his head in disappointment. "Did they pull any moves on you?"

"Well—"

"Y/n?"

The sound of your name being called in the distance had you sitting up straighter, trying to figure out who it was. There was rustling in the plants, which meant someone was making their way towards you.

"Found her." Yoongi's voice was above you.

Glancing up, you saw the cat hybrid floating in the air, looking down at you from his suspended position in the atmosphere.

Taehyung then emerged from the tall plants, dusting off his silk robe.

"Thank goodness you're okay! I told you I'd look for you. Did I not?" He lifted his head, gasping when he saw the scene in front of him.

Taehyung was looking forward to finding you safe and sound, but what he didn't expect was to find you sitting in Namjoon's lap.

"Give me my Y/n back, Joon."

"She's not yours." He spoke sternly, wrapping his arm around your waist in a protective, maybe even possessive, manner.

"Do you like him, Y/n?" Yoongi questioned, crossing his arms as he returned to the ground.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Namjoon cut in before you could say a word.

"Leave her alone. The poor girl has been through enough today."

"C'mon, sweetheart." Yoongi held his hand out to you, silently beckoning you to come with him. "I can take you somewhere safe."

"No, come here." Taehyung extended his hand as well.

"She's not going with either of you. Taehyung, you're an idiot for thinking you could keep her safe." Namjoon spoke sharply.

"Excuse me?"

Yoongi snorted, causing Taehyung to shoot a sharp glare at him. The hybrid cleared his throat and was quick to wipe the grin off his face.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"It's the truth." Namjoon stated. "You get way too overzealous and think you can take on the world, but you can't. In fact, if Y/n stayed with you, she'd probably be locked up in The Red King's castle right now."

They all started arguing after that, shouting over one another and throwing insults left and right with no signs of stopping.

Not again.

"Guys, please don't start." You groaned, pulling Namjoon's arm off of you and getting to your feet.

Just like back at the tea party, none of them heard you, too engrossed in their own petty argument to listen.

Throughout all the commotion, you didn't even notice the sound of The Red King's knights marching straight towards you.

➯ Part 6: Hoseok

Masterlist ᝰ

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz

#namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #kim namjoon #bts alice in wonderland au #bts au fanfic #bts au fic #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic

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notwiselybuttoowell · 2 years

Text

For the past couple of years, I’ve been working with researchers in northern Greece who are farming metal. In a remote, beautiful field, high in the Pindus mountains in Epirus, they are experimenting with a trio of shrubs known to scientists as “hyperaccumulators”: plants which have evolved the capacity to thrive in naturally metal-rich soils that are toxic to most other kinds of life. They do this by drawing the metal out of the ground and storing it in their leaves and stems, where it can be harvested like any other crop. As well as providing a source for rare metals – in this case nickel, although hyperaccumulators have been found for zinc, aluminium, cadmium and many other metals, including gold – these plants actively benefit the earth by remediating the soil, making it suitable for growing other crops, and by sequestering carbon in their roots. One day, they might supplant more destructive and polluting forms of mining.

The three plants being tested in Greece – part of a network of research plots across Europe – are endemic to the region. Alyssum murale, which grows in low bushes topped by bunches of yellow flowers, is native to Albania and northern Greece; Leptoplax emarginata – taller and spindlier, with clusters of green leaves and white petals – is found only in Greece; and Bornmuellera tymphaea, the most efficient of the three, which straggles across the ground in a dense layer of white blossom, is found only on the slopes of the Pindus (its name comes from Mount Tymfi, one of the highest peaks of the range).

What I have come to understand about these plants is that, by virtue of their evolutionary history and their close association with the soil, climate and wider ecosystem in which they have emerged, they embody a certain kind of knowledge: an understanding and accommodation with the places they have found themselves in. Humans have sought out deposits of rare metals for thousands of years, and developed ever-more violent ways of accessing them, but these plants have been around far longer, and have found more equitable and regenerative ways of doing much the same thing. Perhaps we have something to learn from them.

Hyperaccumulators are far from being the only non-humans that we might learn from, as scientific research in recent decades has shown us. Take slime moulds: strange, unicellular creatures somewhere between fungi and amoebae, which turn out to be very good at solving some very hard mathematical problems. Researchers at Lanzhou University in China have shown that Physarum polycephalum, a particularly lively slime mould, can solve the “travelling salesman” problem – a test for finding the shortest route between multiple cities – faster and more efficiently than any supercomputer humans have devised.

Cows, sheep, dogs and other animals have been shown to predict earthquakes in advance of tremors which register on seismographs. Squids and octopuses, we have learned, spread their neurons out through their bodies in ways that allow their limbs, and perhaps other faculties, to act independently of a centrally controlling mind. Spiders store information in their webs, using them as a kind of extended cognition: a mind outside the body entirely. A new conception of intelligence is emerging from scientific research: rather than human intelligence being unique or the peak of some graduated curve, there appear to be many different kinds of intelligence with their own strengths, competencies and suitabilities.

We’re also discovering all kinds of abilities which suggest whole worlds of being and awareness among non-humans we were previously unaware of. Plants, it turns out, hear and remember. In one experiment, they demonstrated the ability to respond with chemical defences to the particular sound of caterpillars munching on their leaves, even when it came from a tape recorder. In another, mimosa plants – which curl their leaves up when disturbed – learned to ignore being dropped a short distance when it proved harmless, and to react in the same way when tested days or weeks later, having in some way internalised this experience. Meanwhile, beneath the forest floor, we have become privy to the commerce and conversations of trees as they trade nutrients and information between families and species through the networks of fungi which connect their roots, in ways we are only just beginning to understand. These, too, are kinds of intelligence: and among other things, they are the way other species have learned to survive life-threatening events.

In the struggle to mitigate and adapt to climate breakdown – and all the other entangled crises we face – we are starting to recognise that other ways of knowing and acting on the world, from indigenous knowledge systems to changes in our own consumption and patterns of life, are vital to surviving and thriving on a hotter, wetter and more conflicted planet. We know too that this survival is dependent not only on our own abilities and inventions, but on the survival of the other species we share the planet with. The collapse of biodiversity which is already occurring makes it harder for us to hold back the collapse of whole ecosystems on which we too depend: for the pollination of crops, for disease resistance, for safe and sufficient food, for protection from fires and other natural disasters. We will flourish together, or not at all.

The deep knowledge that is possessed by animals, plants and others – their intelligence, we should begin to say – is another reason why we must preserve and protect them. But more than this: we should be listening to them, learning from them and working with them. The hyperaccumulator plants, for example, show us there are other ways of getting what we need from the planet; they also remind us that there are limits to what we should extract, as to turn them into another agroindustrial resource like soya beans or palm oil would be just as damaging. The knowledge that there are other ways of being intelligent on this planet should force us to reassess the centrality and usefulness of our own. Other worlds are not only possible, they have been growing around us all along.

#climate change #intelligence #plants #greece #slime mold #that hyperaccumulation study sounds really interesting

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myrkmadr · 10 months

Text

Hela & Personal Correspondences [ The Path to Morrow ]

K E N N I N GS S && E P I T H E T S Mother of the Forgotten Sister to the Lonely Lady of Dires Lady of Secrets Harbinger of Final Breaths She who Summons Silence She of Broken Bone Lady of he Mirror-Self She of Rot and Gore

A N I M A L S Moths and Butterflies Maggots Caterpillars Corvids Shrikes Carrion Birds Wolves Juncos Roadrunners Hummingbirds Wolfhounds Bombay Cats Ragamuffin Cats

P L A N T S Roses Yarrow Queen Anne’s Lace Lilies Spider Lilies Fungus Molds Nightshade Fallen or rotten tree bark Yew Birch Clusters of dried/preserved flowers

S O U N D S Ambient noises in the background Water drops in the distance Light rain showers Slow violins Distant middle-tone drum beat n an ominous manner Static/Noise Creaking of very old wood Deep humming

M U S I C Helvegen by Warduna People are Strange cover by Johnny Hollow Koudou by Dir en Grey True by Akira Yamaoka Room of Angel by Akira Yamaoka Clint Eastwood by the Gorillaz

F O O D S Panes Dulces y Panes de Muerto Conchas Churros Plain doughnuts Meat stews Green chili Oatmeal Farina/Cream of Wheat Muffins Dark Chocolate Chocolate Pudding Dark Coffee with only a little sugar Espresso

S T U D I E S Taxidermy Pathology Psychology History of old buildings, even local places The stories of the elderly Stories of people who have passed on Nursing Machiavelli Oscar Wilde Fairy Tales & Nursery Rhymes Gothic Literature Dark Satire Treating and taking care of graves and bones Ancient History Her history The history of wherever you live, where you have gone, etc Woodworking Carving The varieties of funeral rites in other places

B O D Y Skull & Bone Jewelry Vintage Old lace Dried Flowers Large blotches of Vitiligo Silver, Black, White Antique White/Yellow Pale Pastel Pink Tinge of pale mint green Hematite Spinel Onyx Thin Black Spiders Black Widows Length

M I S C Stone Stone walls & pillars Stone & Wooden kitchenware Water damaged Books Books falling apart Old, creaky buildings People forgotten in the past Cemeteries Graves & Graveyards Old Dirt Mines of Moria Sorrow & Sadness Calm before and after storms Numbness Kindness Newborn children Elderly people Piles of carrion insects Dead Trees in the midst of forests Plague

#heathenry #norse paganism #norse polytheism #crown and stone

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krys-loves-otome · 6 months

Note

Trick or treat! Mostly treat, please!

Mostly a treat, you say? Which means there is a little room for trickery, yes?

And who is better at trickery than dearest Mitsuhide?

A while ago, I made an attempt of using clusters to try and map out my thinking process when it comes to fic writing, so I could try and visually see where ramblings could take me. Here's the IkeSen portion of that (admittedly quite large) clusterfuck of ideas, based on an idea from an old Fictober prompt: You Keep Me Warm

So, based on this image and that Mitsuhide is at the forefront of this idea, let's go have a lil wip!

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The road to recovery wasn't an easy one, Mitsuhide was quick to realize, when he had found you had thrown your blankets off, once again. Even wrapping you as if you were a small caterpillar in the chrysalis did little to deter you. Perhaps he should next seek out midwifes for advice on techniques swaddling fussy infants as clearly his method was lacking. With a sigh, he knelt beside your bed and corrected the sheets, pulling them over your shoulders. It eased his frayed nerves that you were steadily gaining your strength back, thankfully. What he didn't like was discovering your chilled limbs whenever he checked on your during the night. Doubly frustrating was finding other parts clammy with fever. He wiped your brow with a cool, damp cloth. "…Is cold." you whispered hoarsely, shivering. "You'd be warmer if you kept your blankets on." Heavens above, he was turning into Hideyoshi, he thought with a bitter laugh.

Askbox Trick or Treat!

#meme thingys #krys's adventures in fanfiction #ikemen sengoku #mitsuhide akechi #ask box trick or treat #not an angst nor a bedwarmer but a secret third thing #I think that image was originally made last year?#and didn't make much from it #maybe a wip wednesday that originally featured Lancelot but I never got to include him #something to consider for later #lol

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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hey love <3 heres a cm request for spencer

“I just like proving you wrong.” <3 (i can send more quotes later if you would like)

"You don't seriously think you're gonna win, do you?" A hand on your wrist stopped you from rifling through your wallet, fingers brushing against a $5 as Spencer stared unimpressed down at you.

"Well I was gonna try," You huffed, eyeing the neon green stuffed caterpillar hanging from a hook above the ring toss booth, "No harm in that."

"Except that you'll be down $5."

"And hopefully up one stuffed caterpillar." You grinned up at him, the expression brighter than the sun that beaded sweat down the backs of your necks.

"The statistical probability of winning these kinds of games is only around three percent," Spencer eyed the deceptive 'easy-to-win' sign that hung just below the stuffed prizes on the tent with great disdain, "And that's best case scenario."

"Well," You wriggled your hand out of his grip, plucking the bill from your wallet and handing it to the teenager working the booth before Spencer could stop you, "The statistical probability of me doing it anyways is 100%."

Spencer scoffed lightheartedly at your indifference towards reason, taking two of the three rings that you were handed while you focused on throwing the first one, "Why do you do this?"

One throw, a miss. The ring had landed on the cluster of bottles, but it hadn't hooked around any of the necks. You held your hand out for another, taking it from Spencer without even looking back at him. You stayed firmly silent as you concentrated, tongue wetting your lips as you narrowed your eyes onto your target.

Another miss. This time balanced precariously opposite the first. The final ring hung from your fingers, the fate of your $5 suspended with it. You sent it flying, watching intently as it landed squarely between the two already balanced on the bottles. It toppled over behind the arrangement, but bumped the other two rings just so, enough that they slid an inch each way and slipped over the necks of the outermost bottles.

You turned back to Spencer with a triumphant grin, haughtily taking the stuffed animal you were handed as your prize. His dumbfounded expression was only fuel to your fire, pride bleeding into your words, "I just like proving you wrong."

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iambic-stan · 9 months

Text

The Next Chapter

This is a little story set in the Star Trek universe, though I left out the characters' names.

"What are you reading tonight?" she asks, leaning over in her chair to peek at my padd. "World Running Down by Al Hess," I tell her. "A 21st century projection of what our time would be like. It's not completely wrong, I'll give it that." She chuckles, then powers down her own padd. "I think one thing is true for me in any century, though," I say, because I've had my mind on one thing only for the past several hours, and I know her well enough now not to pretend anything different. "So I'm going to ask you if you have your stethoscope, even though it's literally in the same drawer every time I'm here." "Instead of just saying that you want me to listen to your heart?" she asks pointedly, her eyes boring into mine, harshly without being unkind somehow. I chuckle and think to myself that this is the safest place I know out here--with her. I think about how it has made me feel better time and time again, and yet--she's right--I do hesitate to say what I mean. I watch in silent anticipation as she turns, pulls the instrument from the drawer, then arranges the earpieces comfortably into her ears. For a moment, we just gaze at each other, her right hand holding the chestpiece, index finger over the cool bell. She looks almost picturesque. When she places the diaphragm on my chest, I feel a surge of emotions, all the most magical kind. "Hey, you sound crystal clear. How do you feel?" she asks after a few seconds have passed. Hearing that question makes me grin from ear to ear. "I feel so great right now," I tell her. This little metal circle makes me feel more connected to everything--to her, but to existence as well. I never have the words to do it justice, but the feeling is divine.

I close my eyes and feel the muscle pulsating--contract and expand, contract and expand, like waves rushing up to shore, out and back again. It's life and I didn't ask for it but it's beautiful--and she's sharing it with me. She's listened for a while now; I didn't think she would listen for so long. My mind wanders further, and I'm young again--no cognizance of the stress of adulthood to come. It's a warm, buttery Sunday afternoon, and I'm running through a field of tall grass. Green grasshoppers that camouflage themselves in the blades hop about, and I chase them single-mindedly, only to be able to hold one and admire its alien face until it leaps from my hands. I circle an oak tree until I find a cluster of tent caterpillars, petting them absent-mindedly. I have no idea what time it is, and I have no reason to care. Tomorrow doesn't exist. "You sound really relaxed," she says, breaking me out of my reverie. "I'm not used to hearing you fully relaxed. You're such an anxious person, even when you let go a little...it's usually still there, somewhere." I shake my head involuntarily. "Thank you for listening," I say softly. "Thank you for letting me into your life this way," she says intensely, the expression on her face and her dogged eye contact telling me she really means it, more deeply than when she's said similar things in the past. There was a time when she would always preface or supplement such words with sarcasm. It's a level of sentimentality that seems unlike her to show, making it all the more precious to witness. "You probably think you know, but you don't really know what some of my days are like. I have my constants that I've come to rely on when it's too much. One of them is you--and knowing that at some point during the week, I get to let it all go for a moment and just listen to the steady beating of your heart," she says in a quiet voice. I feel so flattered that I'm rendered speechless. I reach over and hug her tightly, focusing on the feeling of our hearts being so near each other. "I love you so much!" I exclaim, and it's not until later that I realize I said it so openly and without all the fear and paranoia that lurks in the back of my mind when I use those words.

I hear the synth and guitar from an old band, Florence + the Machine, and somewhere from the depths of my brain I dredge up the lyrics "I hear the music/I feel the beat/And for a moment/When I'm dancing/I am free," when I position the stethoscope's eartips in my own ears, and watch as she adjusts the neckline of her blouse to accommodate a small but transformative piece of metal. The difference this little gadget makes defies language, I'm thinking as I gently press it to her skin and all at once, hear about her day, her life, and just her. I feel so much more connected, instantly and fully, as she smiles. Maybe, I think, it's possible to be dancing while sitting still, as my mind dances in sync with this wondrous muscle. After a few minutes of listening--noticing the rhythm, the variations, a skip or two, and her breath alongside the valve sounds, I hand the stethoscope back to her, saying "thank you" for the hundredth time. I can't help but say it out loud, even if I'm starting to think it's superfluous. I'm full and revitalized, ready for the next chapter in my book--or life itself.

#cardiophilia #cardiophile #stethoscopes #auscultation #heartbeats #cardiophile story

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