#Tooth Growth Rate

[amnhnyc]

Smile like Smilodon, because it’s Fossil Friday! This saber-tooth cat roamed the Americas during the Pleistocene, and went extinct some 10,000 years ago. Scientists estimate that its signature teeth, which could reach lengths of 7 in (18 cm), grew at the rapid speed of .24 in (6 mm) per month—double the growth rate of an African lion’s teeth. To unsheathe these knife-like canines, Smilodon could open its jaws twice as wide as today’s big cats.

You can spot this fearsome predator in the Museum’s Hall of Primitive Mammals. We're open daily from 10 am–5:30 pm! Plan your visit.

Photo: D. Finnin / © AMNH

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

1. Arizona governor Ok's over the counter birth control

Arizona Gov. Katie Hobbs (D) has expanded access to over-the-counter birth control that will “soon be available to Arizonans,” according to a press release.

Arizonans 18 and older will soon be able to go to their local pharmacy and purchase oral contraceptives without a doctor’s prescription.

2. ‘Great news’: EU hails discovery of massive phosphate rock deposit in Norway

A massive underground deposit of high-grade phosphate rock in Norway, pitched as the world’s largest, is big enough to satisfy world demand for fertilisers, solar panels and electric car batteries over the next 50 years, according to the company exploiting the resource. About 90% of the world’s mined phosphate rock is used in agriculture for the production of phosphorous for the fertiliser industry, for which there is currently no substitute.

3. U.S. Is Destroying the Last of Its Once-Vast Chemical Weapons Arsenal

Decades behind its initial schedule, the dangerous job of eliminating the world’s only remaining declared stockpile of lethal chemical munitions will be completed as soon as Friday.

4. Chinese scientists create edible food packaging to replace plastic

By incorporating certain soy proteins into the structure, Chinese University of Hong Kong scientists successfully created edible food packaging.

5. World's 1st 'tooth regrowth' medicine moves toward clinical trials in Japan

A Japanese research team is making progress on the development of a groundbreaking medication that may allow people to grow new teeth, with clinical trials set to begin in July 2024. The tooth regrowth medicine is intended for people who lack a full set of adult teeth due to congenital factors.

6. No Longer Endangered: The Bald Eagle is an Icon of the ESA

When the Endangered Species Act (ESA) was enacted in 1973, bald eagle population numbers across the country showed that the species was close to disappearing. Before the ESA, in the 1950s and ‘60s, eagles were shot routinely despite the protection. The ESA listing helped bring public attention to the issue.

Through the early 1970s and into the early ‘80s, numbers increased gradually. Then, as you got into the ‘90s, there was still gradual growth. From the late ‘90s into the 2000s, the population really exploded. There was a doubling rate of every several years or so for a while.

7. Deforestation in Brazil's Amazon drops 34% in first half 2023

Deforestation in Brazil's Amazon fell 34% in the first half of 2023, preliminary government data showed on Thursday, hitting its lowest level in four years as President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva institutes tougher environmental policies.

Data produced by Brazil's national space research agency Inpe indicated that 2,649 square km (1,023 square miles) of rainforest were cleared in the region in the half year, the lowest for the period since 2019.

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That's it for this week :)

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[transformersmr-hq]

TFMR Worldbuilding asdf - Vosian Exquisite

Aside from Seekers, one of the most unique thing Vos famous for is its delicious confectionaries. From crystal candies to mirror cakes, desserts made from Vos is considered luxurious goods that are popular among posh upper-classes as one of Cybertron's best delicacies.

The answer to the question of 'why there are so many confectioners in Vos?' Can be found in the fact that flightframes in general, which takes up about 80% of total Vosian population, have terrible fuel consumption rate. Since their body literally requires them to stop and take a snack as frequently as possible, Vosians always had high demands for quality snacks to have during their 'Cookie Break'. This naturally led to the growth of confectionary business , which resulted in Vos being Cybertron's #1 candy maker.

Among many types of desserts found in Vos, the one that is considered the best of the best is called "Vosian Exquisite". It's a bite sized piece of rich and dense oil cake, topped with luxurious foodstuff such as liquid metal and crystal candies. Authentic Vosian Exquisite is sold in very high prices, because they are also considered as an artwork too. Even Vosians themselves find it hard to even see this dessert, let alone actually buying a box for themselves, unless they are rich. There are also mass produced version of said candy, developed for common folks and tourists, but obviously they use much cheaper ingredients.

Vosian desserts are also notorious for how tooth-rottingly sweet they are. There is this one dessert called 'Maximo's Kiss', which is officially listed as Cybertron's sweetest dessert ever. It's a variation of Vosian Exquisite, which fills the inside of oil cake with energon whipped cream. An average grounder would start to feel sick if they attempted eating more than 3 at one sitting, and even flightframes struggle to eat more than 6 at a time.

[mosaiclobster]

Swords and Saddles (Farmer x Hayden)

This 4-part fic is wrapping up very soon, so I figured it'd be fun to cross post before the final chapter goes up! This is the first chapter of my 10k+, E-rated Farmer x Hayden fic - if you like it feel free to check out the rest on AO3 xo

CHAPTER 1: SPRING

Hayden stepped into the frigid morning air, and breathed deep. He loved spring: growth, snowmelt, sun. It was the perfect time to welcome a new face to Mistria.

Hayden rubbed his hands together for warmth, and headed for the stables. Once he’d answered all the neighs and whinnies, Hayden grabbed a handsomely embroidered leather saddle off its perch. It was the same one his daddy rode on, and his grandpappy too. It wasn’t as old as Sweetwater, but almost nothing in Mistria was.

Hayden was proud of that legacy. It used to sit heavy on his shoulders, but he was strong enough to carry that weight. Unfortunately, most of Sweetwater’s horses weren’t strong enough - big enough - to carry him.

Rufus was 18 hands tall, and used to pulling plows and wagons. Hayden placed a broad, comforting hand on his speckled gray neck. “How ‘bout a little ride next door, huh?”

Rufus nickered good-naturedly, and took the saddle without complaint.

The new farmer had arrived late last night, but word traveled fast around Mistria. It was a small, close-knit town with an earned reputation for drink and gossip.

It felt even smaller now - some folks left after the earthquake. Hayden didn’t blame them, but he didn’t write them letters, either. There were buildings to repair, and animals to tend to.

Hayden braced against his stirrups, and looked eastward. Could be nice, having a neighbor again.

He spotted Celine first: her pretty, pleasant face, framed by blonde hair and a seafoam green half-cape. He’d known her all her life - not all of his, though. Sometimes it was hard to shake off the years between them.

The other woman was a head taller than Celine, even in flat leather work boots. Her linen shirt was tucked into brown, high-waisted trousers, and stark white against her olive skin. It brought out the freckles on her forearms, and the red in her long, curly hair. Auburn, that was the word for it. Chestnut for horses, auburn for people.

White was a bold choice for clearing farmland, but her cowboy hat looked well loved, and nicely fitted.

Hayden noted all of this without once pulling on Rufus’s reins. Celine’s eyes were wide as saucers, but the other woman only raised her brows. Instinct finally commanded him to stop, just short of spraying them both with dirt.

Celine was a kind girl, and slow to anger. She never shied from speaking her mind, though. “Hayden! You almost ran over poor Artemisia.”

“Ha! That’s a mouthful.” He blurted this nervously, and loudly.

Artemisia looked up at him, shielding her almond eyes from the early morning light. The sun made them golden.

She touched the brim of her cowboy hat, and smiled. “You said it. That’s why I go by Artie.”

Her nose was strong, and a little crooked - broken, mended, broken again.

The rest of her face was no less striking. Full lips, suited for a wide, expressive mouth. Thick brows and high cheekbones, marked by laughter and time. How much of it? Hayden wasn’t sure, but he’d put some tesserae on her being closer to Valen’s age than Celine’s.

She was beautiful. None of the gossip had prepared him for that.

Artie let Rufus sniff her outstretched hand. “He friendly?”

That voice. It was smooth and sweet, like honey.

Hayden patted the gelding’s neck, and tried to ignore the pounding in his chest. “Sure is. He likes meeting new folks as much as I do.”

Artie’s grin was wry, and gap-toothed. “That makes three of us, then.” Rufus snorted in agreement.

Celine’s gaze flitted between them. “Since you like animals, you should visit Hayden’s farm-”

“-Come by anytime. I’d love to introduce you to the herd. Or the flock, depending on who you ask.”

Hayden’s reins were slick with sweat. He squeezed the braided leather until his knuckles whitened.

Artie tipped her hat again. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

Was that a wink, or a trick of the light? Hayden reached into his saddlebag, and prayed his hands wouldn’t shake.

“Here, before I forget.”

He held out a rusty old watering can, stuffed with bags of seeds. “Just a little something to get you started. Turnips are easy to grow, and they love Mistrian soil.”

Artie brightened. “I owe you one. Thanks, neighbor.”

Hayden managed the handoff alright, but he was eager to ride off before he could make an ass of himself. “Sure. Come by anytime.”

He’d said that already. Celine pursed her lips.

Artie smiled. “Be seeing you.”

Hayden rode Rufus towards Sweetwater, and marveled at the unseasonable warmth.

Half the town would be after her. He’d look like a bumpkin compared to Balor or Ryis, and a dullard compared to Jupiter or Adeline.

Hayden shook his head. He wasn’t the competitive sort, and there was no point in getting worked up over somebody he’d never have a shot with anyway.

He caught himself looking over his shoulder. Artie waved.

Nothing wrong with making a friend, at least.

It took a few days for Artie to make good on her visit. For one absurd, harrowing moment, it felt like summoning magic; he worried that the singular force of his thoughts had finally pulled her towards Sweetwater. He worried that, somehow, she knew what those thoughts were.

He’d been having dreams, too. The kind you can’t tell anyone about - that you shouldn’t even have in the first place.

Hayden focused on weeding his bed of tulips, and waited for Artie to approach. He was going to be friendly, neighborly, and normal.

“Mornin’.”

He looked up at the sound of her voice.

Artie was wearing a sleeveless white tank top and denim overalls with one of the straps undone. Her arms were well muscled, and crossed under her chest.

No bra this time. Hayden made eye contact, and held onto it for dear life. “Mornin’. You here for introductions?”

Artie smiled. “That’s right. Word around town is you’ve got a lady of the house.”

Hayden couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s one way of putting it. Smartest animal I ever raised - do you want to meet Henrietta at the beginning of the tour, or at the end?”

“Let’s save the best for last.”

Artie had an easy rapport with the animals, and a natural curiosity about them. Henrietta seemed charmed by her interest, and preened indulgently while Artie peppered Hayden with questions.

Hayden tried not to sound too eager. “Thinking about starting a flock of your own?”

“Someday. Henrietta’s a lot to live up to, though.” She gave the prize-winning bird a farewell pet, and followed Hayden towards the front gate of Sweetwater.

He pointed at the sword on her back, glinting in the morning sun. “You’ll make quite the livestock guardian.”

Artie flinched. Then she unsheathed her blade, and smiled. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’m trying to convince your pal Errol to open the mines. All kinds of treasures down there, I hear.”

That explained the pickaxe, then. He dared a closer glance at the rest of her - no dirt or grass stains.

Hayden kept his tone curious, and light. “So, how’re you liking farming so far?

Artie stopped walking. She stuck her sword into the ground, and leaned on the hilt.

“It’s different.”

Compared to what? Treasure hunting? Hayden suddenly realized how little he knew about this woman, or where she came from. “Different always takes some getting used to. Can’t be the toil of it - you look strong.”

Just a friendly observation. He’d say the same thing to March.

Artie’s biceps twitched out of reflex, or pride. “Thanks. No, it’s not that.”

Hayden watched her try to find the words. He knew the feeling well, and gave her time to think.

Finally, a sigh. “I’m not good at waiting. I want something, I go and get it. I’d work twice as hard if I could make it all go twice as fast.”

“If only, right?”

Hayden was just being polite. He loved the pace of growing crops, of nurturing new life. Each plant and animal had its own natural rhythm. He was a patient man. He didn’t know any other way to be.

Artie leaned deeper into the hilt. The neckline of her top gaped open a little, but Hayden kept his focus on her reddish curls.

Artie’s eyes roamed freely: first over Sweetwater, then over Hayden. “Got any tips for a greenhorn? Or any ideas on how to pass the time?”

Hayden swallowed, and pushed past the shame of where his mind leapt first. “I hear the fishing’s good around here. Never took to it, myself.”

“Oh? What do you like to do, then?”

Something in Artie’s gaze sent a pleasant shiver up his spine. He put the feeling aside - it was a perfectly reasonable, neighborly question. “Spend time with friends, mostly. Play some cards, have a couple beers.”

Artie grinned. “I like that too. I had dinner at the Sleeping Dragon last night, can’t wait to go back.”

Hayden seized on the chance to change the subject. “Make sure to come in on Fridays. I’ll save you a seat at the poker table, but fair warning - Olric’s on a hot streak.”

“That doe-eyed blacksmith? You’re kidding.”

“I’m not! Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Artie gave him a once-over. “Alright. If Olric ends up with more tesserae than me, I owe you a beer. And if I win, you owe me one.”

Hayden crossed his arms, and smiled. “Sure, I’ll take that bet.”

She pulled her sword from the grass, and slung it over her shoulder. “Good. See you Friday.”

Not flirting. Just a friendly wager.

Hayden repeated those thoughts like a mantra for the rest of the week.

But when Friday night arrived, Artie did not. He told himself it was a relief - better this way. When Balor took the empty seat beside him, he didn’t protest, but it took him a few minutes to stop glancing over his shoulder at the door.

Then, a quiet panic set in. Maybe she’d just been humoring him. Maybe she regretted the bet, and decided to avoid him all together. He might’ve ruined her first Friday in Mistria.

A familiar voice snapped him back into awareness. “Hayden, are you alright? You look pale.”

“No checkup needed, doc. Just a little tired.”

Valen shook her head. “You’re not drinking enough water. Hemlock, can we get a pitcher for the table?”

Hayden groaned, but knew better than to argue. She’d been like this since they were kids. He dutifully sipped from his glass, and watched Terithia shuffle the deck with a flourish.

“I thought you were saving me a seat, Hayden.”

He’d never heard Artie say his name before. Somehow, that was more disarming than her hands on his shoulders.

Everyone greeted her warmly. Hayden was no exception - he stood up, and clapped her on the back. “Don’t worry, we can make a spot for you anywhere.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Scooch over, then. You too, Balor.”

The men moved their chairs apart, and let Artie slide in with her own. “Thanks fellas. So, Olric. I hear you’re the one to beat.”

He smiled good-naturedly. “I’m still learning how to play.”

Terithia shuffled the cards again. “Don’t listen to him, lass. He’s a slippery one.”

Hayden learned two things that night: Artie was good at poker, and bad at losing.

He didn't fare any better, but he felt like a winner when Artie brought his beer to the table.

“You got me this round, Farmer Hayden.”

Balor tutted in mock disapproval. “A bet about betting, that’s something you don’t see everyday. Feel free to cut me in next time.”

Artie leaned back in her chair. “I get the sense you’re in on just about every deal around here, Balor.”

“It’s my business to be. Buy me a beer, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Hayden shifted his attention across the table, towards Valen. He didn’t want to impose on whatever was happening next to him.

“How’d you make out tonight, Valen?”

“Broke even.” She sipped her wine, and smiled coolly.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “‘Course you did. Wish I could say the same.”

“Oh? I’d say you came out ahead.” She clinked her glass against his pint of beer.

The demands of spring kept Hayden from spending much time with Artie. There were mares to foal, and crops to harvest, and more mouths to feed than ever. Fridays were the exception: he kept saving her a spot at the table, and she kept taking it.

One Friday, as summer neared, Hayden was late - a filly had wandered off, and it took him hours to soothe and bridle her. He walked into the Sleeping Dragon, dead tired and parched, to find Artie’s cowboy hat on the seat beside her. There was a beer on the table, full to the brim.

An impulse seized him. Hayden picked up the hat, and placed it on Artie’s unsuspecting head.

That got a laugh, especially from Artie. Everyone else settled back into conversation - Hayden could barely hear her over the din. “Look who finally decided to show. Thought you could use a drink, whatever it was that kept you.”

It was so full, he had to take the first sip without lifting his glass. Leaning down like that, it was hard to keep his hair out of the way - he reached for it, but Artie was faster.

“Careful, there.” She pushed his hair behind his ear, and lightly held it back while he drank.den

No one seemed to notice. Hayden sat back in his chair, beer in hand, and tried to think friendly, neighborly thoughts.

[stacksonreversebang]

Eggcellence

Art by @geekmom13 Written by @always-mimits

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Mpreg, Idiots in Love, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Like The Softest Thing I Have Ever Written, Light Angst, Like the smallest amount of angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oviposition, non-graphic birth, Babies, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Personal Growth, Pack Feels, Pack Dynamics, Pack Bonding, But Only A Kind Of Small Part Of The Fic, Kanima-Werewolf Jackson Whittemore, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Crack Treated Seriously, Kind Of, Light Crack but it’s still there

Words: 21,127

Summary:

Jackson and Stiles hook up at a party after their freshman college finals. Things become quite interesting that summer. “Enemies to Fathers; hate fucking to oh fuck.” Katie telling me about the art. 🤭

[carpisuns]

Huntlow Hearts Exchange gift for @amanitaaurelia ! Happy belated Valentine's Day 💕

Rating: G

Word count: 6.3k

Summary: She spun around, breaking the vines around her ankles. “Why do you still call me that? We only got to play flyer derby together one time. I’m not your captain anymore.”

Hunter blinked, magenta eyes wide. “Of course you are.”

“Why?”

“Because … because I’d follow you anywhere. Captain.”

After another failed attempt to make a portal door, Willow feels at fault. Just when she's about to break down, Hunter finds her.

when we talk like this

“Ugh, it’s no use!” Luz groaned. “We’re never gonna figure out a way to make a portal work.”

Willow frowned, watching Luz pace back and forth across the clubhouse floor. Normally, Luz was the one who was brimming with enthusiasm and ready to try new ideas. But lately she’d gotten restless. Agitated.

“We can’t give up yet! We’ll find a way,” Amity said, trying valiantly for certainty but not quite making the mark.

Luz stopped pacing. “How? Without Titan’s blood, we don’t have power. We can’t—”

“Actually,” Hunter cut in, drawing out every syllable, “there might be another way.”

Willow glanced at him. He was grinning with his tooth gap on full display, brows arched, absolutely dripping with Golden Guard confidence.

Flapjack twittered softly on his shoulder. They all looked at Hunter expectantly.

“And? Care to share with the class?” Gus put down whatever human doohickey he’d been playing with. “Dude, we’ve talked about the dramatic pause thing. I mean, I of all people appreciate the power of some good theatrics, but you really don’t need to make a whole production of it every time you have an idea. Just spit it out.”

Hunter’s grin slipped into a pout. “Fine,” he said, sweeping his forelock out of his face.

His hair had grown shockingly fast since they’d arrived. After just a few weeks, the back was long and scraggly. Willow had to wonder how he’d managed to keep it so short and neat before. At this rate, he must’ve had to pay daily visits to the castle’s barber.

He’d pulled it back in a tiny blond tuft at the back of his neck. She couldn’t decide whether it was stupid or cute. (Both, probably.)

“Okay, so, we know we need Titan’s blood to power the door,” Hunter said. “And obviously we can’t get any here. But what if we could use a substitute?”

Luz’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of substitute?”

“Well, I’ve read a lot about how the Titan’s magic powers the Boiling Isles. Every natural ecosystem, every living thing that grows on the Titan’s corpse is infused with its magic. If we can get something that’s been growing on the Isles, there might be enough Titan magic in it to power the door.”

“But how are we supposed to get something from the Isles without a door?” Vee piped up.

“That’s where the captain comes in.”

Willow blinked. “Me? How exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“You can use your plant magic to recreate a plant that’s native to the Isles!” Hunter said. “Of course, it would be best to use an actual plant from the Isles, but after centuries of native growth on the Titan, the magic should be part of the plant’s genetic structure. So if Willow is able to create a plant with her own magic that’s a close enough match to the native plant—to the point that it has the same genome—we just might have what we need.”

“Hmm,” Gus said. “Sounds like a long shot.”

“Right, but what do we have to lose by trying? Besides, if anyone can do this, it’s Willow, right?” Hunter turned to her. “What do you say, Captain? Worth a shot?”

Everyone was staring at her now. Gus, Amity, and Vee looked pretty convinced by Hunter’s presentation. Even Luz looked mildly hopeful. And Hunter was waiting patiently for her answer, no trace of doubt on his face.

“Um,” she said.

I can do this. I can do this.

Willow took a deep breath and stood, shoulders squared. “Yeah. Let’s give it a go.”

Hunter beamed at her. “Cool. Well, um, we probably want to pick a plant that we know grows close to a confirmed deposit of Titan’s blood. That way the magical connection will be stronger. Any ideas?”

“What about Eclipse Lake?” Amity suggested. “The blood is gone now, but at least we know it used to be there.”

“Good idea. Do we know what kinds of plants grow there?” Hunter asked.

Willow frowned, trying to remember back to her botany class. “Well, I know that there are starfire lilies in that area. They’re really old and pretty rare, but they’re really useful for potions, because if you pluck the petals they leak this kinda sticky blue stuff that’s supposed to amplify the effects or whatever potion you’re making.”

Luz’s head snapped up. “Like Titan’s blood.”

“Sort of.”

“That sounds perfect,” Hunter said. “Do you think you can conjure one?”

Willow bit her lip. “Um, we dissected them once in class. I think … yeah, I can do it. I just have to remember the pattern.”

“Take your time,” Hunter said.

Willow closed her eyes. In her mind, all plants had a pattern—a signature unique to every species. When she held it in her mind she could feel it in her fingers, her palms, a tingling up her arms and to her chest, the source of all her magic. It was a pull, a question, a call to bring the plant to life. Like if she asked with enough certainty, it would answer with leaves and stems and blossoms at her feet.

Tentora razor plants had a spiky pattern, sharp and angular. Gemmaranda bushes were cloudy and dreamlike. And starfire lilies—she squeezed her eyes shut tighter, remembering—they were like a shower of sparks.

“Ready,” she murmured.

She raised a finger, holding the pattern in her mind. Then, carefully, she drew a spell circle. It glowed in the air, and when it faded, an enormous lily burst through a crack in the floorboards.

“Nice work, Willow!” Gus said. “Does it look like the real thing?”

Willow inspected it. A supple black stem. Large, sharp-edged leaves. And dark blue petals, with flecks of luminescent orange scattered across the surface like glowing embers.

“Yeah,” she said. “It looks right to me.”

“Okay, so, do we just … pick it up?” Luz crouched down by the flower. “Maybe we coat the edges of the door in the blue stuff?”

“Let’s try that,” Hunter said. “Captain, wanna do the honors, since this is your handiwork?”

“Sure.”

Willow plucked a petal to release the liquid, and the lily let out a cry. Everyone jumped.

“Titan, what was that?” Gus shouted. “Willow, did that thing just scream at us?”

“Oh! Sorry. Forgot to tell you about that little side effect. They’re a little bit vain, and going bald is not exactly their favorite.” She winced as she plucked another petal, letting the liquid spill over her fingers. “Sorry, little friend! This is really important, I promise.”

When her hands were properly dripping in starfire juice, she stood and walked to the door. Everyone followed her out of the clubhouse, watching as she ran her fingers along the doorframe, staining it midnight blue.

They all stared through the open door, waiting with bated breath. The seconds ticked by. No light. No sign of magic. Not even a spark.

“Well,” Gus said finally, “I’m gonna take that as a no.”

He said it lightly, casually, like it was a joke, but Willow knew Gus well enough to recognize the disappointment in his voice. Behind her, Luz let out a weary sigh, and Willow felt her own heart sink inside her chest.

She’d gotten too used to being hailed as the best plant witch at Hexside. She’d forgotten what it felt like to fail like this. And somehow, this felt even worse than Professor Hermonculus humiliating her in class. He didn’t matter to her anymore. He was cruel and callous and he’d always been wrong about her.

No … this time, away from her dads, trapped under glass, crushing her friends’ last seed of hope—all with plant magic, the one thing she was supposed to be good at …

This time felt much worse.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” Amity said. “We’ll figure something else out. Thanks for trying, Willow.”

She offered a small, encouraging smile. Something about it made old fire spark inside Willow’s blood. She knew Amity wasn’t like that anymore, that she wasn’t trying to be condescending, that she was just trying to be nice, but it made Willow remember things she’d rather forget. Those early days when they’d first started hanging out again, back when Amity went out of her way to compliment Willow for every small, unimpressive bit of magic. When she’d heap on encouragements every time she made a small slip-up—even when she didn’t slip up. Back when Amity still saw her as Half-a-Witch Willow, something small and weak she had to protect. Someone who wore failures on her shoulders like a cloak. Someone who couldn’t help anyone, even herself.

Willow forced a smile. “Would you guys excuse me for a minute? I’ve gotta go, um, check on the garden. I’ll be right back.”

She strode past Hunter, refusing to look him in the eye. She couldn’t bear to see whatever brand of disappointment she would find there.

The summer air was sticky, and the sun beat down on her bare shoulders. She really should go water the garden—it hadn’t rained this week—but instead she found herself venturing further into the woods. Gardening always made her feel better when she was stressed or sad, but it didn’t help with this kind of mood. Her hands had balled into bloodstained fists, shaking at her sides. She didn’t trust them to be gentle right now.

In the cover of the trees, Willow paced back and forth across undergrowth. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and it felt like her veins were stretching under her skin, magic coursing through every bloodpath in her body.

She forced herself to stop moving and close her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. She counted the seconds on her fingers, just like her dads had taught her.

Her eyes snapped open. Dad. Papa.

Where were they now?

A familiar ache seized in her chest. There was nothing she could do to help them. No way to protect them, or even know if they were okay. She couldn’t even help her friends here, couldn’t find a way back home, couldn’t do … anything.

A lump formed in her throat, and hot tears blurred her vision. She blinked them away furiously, remembering at the last second not to touch her face with her sticky fingers. She wouldn’t cry over this. She had to be strong. For Gus, and Hunter, and Amity, and Luz. For her dads. For everyone.

But she didn’t feel strong today. She felt lost, and weak, and broken, and that made her angry—angry at herself for failing again, angry at Belos for hurting people, just … angry.

A groan slipped through her teeth as she paced through the trees again. She still remembered the time when Luz and Amity had entered her mindscape and seen all the burning inside of her. She thought she was done with burning now. But sleeping embers have a way of sparking back into life. Like buried seeds that burst through shell and soil to clamor toward the sun.

Her mindscape was a forest, but Willow had always thought of herself as a garden. She had a multitude of scattered seeds inside her. Some she cultivated carefully (compassion, patience, loyalty, confidence—all the things she wanted to be). And some she ignored, hoping they would never sprout. Those seeds scared her. She didn’t want to know what they could be if they grew.

But some of them grew anyway, without her permission, for years and years, because “out of sight” never really was “out of mind.” She hated that about herself—that underneath all the layers of bud and blossom that she painstakingly grew from her own tears and sweat, bitter seeds slept beneath her soil. They woke unbidden, taking stealthy root inside her heart, creeping upward to choke out every goodness she had fought so hard to keep alive. Anger, fear, hopelessness—they were all like thorny vines that tangled in her ribs and twined around her veins, relentless weeds that crawled through every space and corner and filled her blood like poison, like—

“Captain?”

Willow flinched, pulled back to the reality of the forest around her—the creaking trunks, the fluttering leaves, the rich smell of dirt and moss. And an alarming tightness around her feet. She glanced down to see a thick knot of vines wrapped around her ankles, thorns pressed against her skin.

It had been a long time since that had happened to her.

“Captain?” Hunter asked again.

“What?” she snapped—harsher than she meant to. She kept her back to him, face burning. Maybe he hadn’t noticed the vines.

Hunter hesitated. “Um, we decided to take a break. Camila’s making something called lemon … laminate, I think? Some kind of human drink. If you want some.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The starfire juice had dried a little, but it still made her fingers stick together. She took in a slow, deep breath. “No, thanks.”

“Um, are you sure? Luz says it’s—”

“Hunter, please go.”

A pause. “Captain, are you okay?”

Finally, she broke. She spun around, breaking the vines around her ankles. “Why do you still call me that? We only got to play flyer derby together one time. I’m not your captain anymore.”

Hunter blinked, magenta eyes wide. “Of course you are.”

“Why?”

“Because … because I’d follow you anywhere. Captain.”

Hunter held her gaze. His cheeks were flushed, but he stood tall, shoulders squared, like he was ready to follow her into battle right this second. It was the stance of the Golden Guard. A proud soldier who wasn’t afraid of anything.

But Willow had seen Hunter when he was afraid. And lonely. And unsure. She’d seen him happy too—having conversations with Flapjack that she couldn’t really follow, nerding out over some weird human thing with Gus, laughing at Luz’s Principal Bump impression.

It was hard to remember sometimes that not so long ago, he’d been the leader of the Emperor’s Coven. Now, instead of a white cloak and a golden mask, he wore a brightly colored shirt with a pattern of weird squiggles and shapes. (What had Luz called it again? “Bowling alley carpet.”) He looked strangely out of place against the muted forest backdrop, but somehow, he’d always seemed to belong in this place much more than Willow ever did.

Still, he wanted to get back home, and he’d been counting on her back there. Hunter was smart. He studied a lot. He cared a lot. He offered more ideas than anyone else. And he’d seemed so hopeful about this one. And somehow that fact made her failure even worse. Of everyone there, why did it cut the deepest to know that she’d let Hunter down?

Willow sighed. “You shouldn’t follow me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This isn’t a flyer derby match. It’s—it’s real life, and it’s complicated, and it’s scary, and if we lose then …” She swallowed. “You just—you shouldn’t put so much faith in me. I don’t know what I’m doing. And I’m just gonna screw it up, like I always do. Like I just did.”

Hunter was quiet for a moment. “Is this about what happened with the door? It wasn’t your fault. We all knew it was a slim shot.”

“No—I mean, yes, but it’s more that that! I just …” Willow sank onto a mossy log. “I’m so tired, Hunter. I’m so tired of being half a witch.”

He didn’t answer for a long time, until she wondered whether he had left. But when she glanced up, he was still standing there, head bowed, with his face hidden in shadow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like that. I—I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you, especially when I knew it probably wouldn’t work, and—”

“It’s not you,” Willow said quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did you,” he said. “It seems like you conjured that lily perfectly. The only reason it didn’t work was that it was never going to work. It wasn’t a proper substitute for Titan’s blood. I mean, it was just a stupid theory. You can’t blame yourself for not being able to bend the laws of magic.”

“It wasn’t a stupid theory,” Willow said. “Just an untested one.”

Hunter let out a breath. “And now we know it doesn’t work.”

“Right. Now we know.”

Hunter perched on the log beside her and stared down at his shoes (the weird rubber slip-ons with holes in them—his “clowndals,” according to Amity).

“I still think about it all the time, you know,” he said. “That day.”

His voice was such a timid, quiet thing—so unlike his usual eager chatter. His brows were drawn, shoulders sloped, eyes glued to the forest floor, his whole stance colored with remorse.

“What day?” she asked.

“The day we met. When I kidnapped you all for the Emperor’s Coven, and I thought you would be happy, but then you said … you said the same thing. That you’re just half a witch.” He squeezed his eyes shut, like even the thought itself was painful. “I felt awful. I couldn’t believe I had made you of all people feel so … small. I know what that feels like. And I promised myself then that I would never make you feel that way again.”

“You didn’t.”

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Then why are you saying it now?”

“Because … I know that people look up to me now. Gus. Luz. Even Amity, I think.” She glanced his way but didn’t dare to include him in the list (although, if she was honest, she was pretty sure he should be the first one—a thought that made her feel strange and proud and nervous all at once).

“And I guess sometimes I’m just scared,” she went on. “Scared that underneath everything, I’m still just Half-a-Witch Willow. That I’m just pretending I’m someone different, and everyone’s gonna figure it out. That I’m gonna fail them, because I’m not strong enough to protect them, and I was lying by promising that I could.”

She took a shaking breath, gripping her knees. “And I can’t fail. I have to be strong, so we can all get back home. So we can save our families. So we can saved the Isles.” She shook her head. “I’ve been slacking off lately. I should be training more. If I’d been training maybe I’d be stronger. And sharper. My magic would be better. Maybe I could’ve conjured up a better lily. One that actually would’ve worked like you said.”

“It was never going to work. Even with a real lily from the lake.”

“Well, we don’t know that. I probably got something wrong. Maybe if I’d—”

“Cap—Willow.”

She fell silent, eyes drawn to the shape of his profile, smattered with gold that filtered down through the leaves.

Hunter breathed in. “I’ve been in the Emperor’s Coven for as long as I can remember. With the best and brightest and strongest witches on the Boiling Isles. But until that day at Hexside, I had never met a witch a like you.”

Willow heartbeat stumbled. She wasn’t sure whether it was what he said or the fact that it was Hunter who said it.

“Your magic is like nothing I’ve ever seen,” he continued, talking faster as he went. “You’re as good as some of the coven heads—and they’ve had years more experience than you! But—but what makes you a great witch is more than just your magic. It’s, like … your”—he paused, apparently struggling for words—“your heart? I don’t know; I’ve known a lot of talented witches whose magic was impressive technically but it just lacked … something. It felt kind of empty, I guess? But yours is never like that.”

He still hadn’t looked at her, but his hands had sprung to life, like they were weaving a subtle magic of their own as he spoke to the trees around them.

“Obviously I can’t do magic,” Hunter said, “but I’ve studied about to a lot. And one thing I learned is that inner magic always has an emotional core. And the quality of the magic depends on where it comes from. And yours … yours always comes from this place of compassion and care and protection. I think that’s why it’s so strong. You’re a powerful witch not just because you’re good at magic but because you’re a good person.”

His voice was slowing down now, softening to match the murmuring trees, and his hands came to rest on knees, gripping the hem of his shorts. “You’re kind, and smart, and brave, and strong. And—and when you don’t feel brave you’re still strong. And when you don’t feel strong you’re still … you’re still … Willow.”

At last, he turned to her, holding her gaze with a look in his eyes that made something stir deep in her chest.

“You’re Willow,” he repeated, softly, almost reverently, like it meant something, like her name was an answer to the most important question. And somehow, she got it.

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Hunter groaned.

“Ugh, I don’t know how to say what I mean,” he said. “That was—sorry, that was probably stupid. I—I want to make you understand, but I just—”

“I understand.” Willow paused. “Thank you.”

A blush spread from his cheeks to his ears. “A-anytime,” he said.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The longer she watched him, the more the stirring in her chest grew stronger—like the flowers of her garden were just waking up, unfurling their petals to greet the sun.

She turned her gaze back to the trees.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I just get … angry. And I have a hard time controlling it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched for a reaction. She’d just admitted something she didn’t like to admit to anyone, even herself. Those bitter seeds and thorny vines she wished that she could kill.

But Hunter didn’t even move, and when he spoke, his voice was calm. “It's okay. Everyone gets angry.”

She turned back to him. “That’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t treat my friends that way.”

“Well, maybe, sometimes, you just need to … let it out?”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“You have a lot of reasons to be angry,” Hunter said. “You cant hold it in all the time, right? So if you ever need to be angry … you can be angry at me. It’s okay.” He offered a gentle smile, a loose strand of hair lifting in the breeze.

“Hunter, I’m not mad at you.”

“No, I know! I’m just saying that you can be mad at me. If you need to. If you need somewhere to let it go. I can take it. Promise. I’ve taken worse.”

Her eyes roved over the notch in his ear, the scar on his face, the bags under his eyes—still present after weeks of rest. He had taken a lot. Too much. But he came through it all like this—still hopeful, still trusting, still so willing to place his faith in her.

Somehow she could sense the way she looked to him. He could still see them, she was sure (the weeds and bitter seeds), but that’s not what mattered to him. He saw the whole garden. He saw her.

Willow cleared her throat, ignoring the goosebumps that sprang up on her arms. “I don’t think that will work.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t feel angry when I look at you. I can’t let it go, because when you show up, it’s gone.”

“Oh. Well. That’s—that’s good, I guess.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Isn’t it?”

She smiled. “Yeah, it is. Thanks, Hunter. For helping me feel like myself again.”

He smiled back, cheeks still dusted in pink. “Cool. Happy to help.”

She couldn’t help but stare at the gap between his teeth; his sharply bent nose; his thick, dark brows that somehow didn’t match his hair at all. All these little things that by themselves might seem imperfect. But when you put them all together, it was Hunter. And Hunter was … Hunter was …

She shook her head, trying not to notice the heat in her cheeks and the fluttering in her stomach. “I think you said there was some, uh, limmy-nad? I want to try some.”

“Yeah. Um, sure.”

They both stood, and she walked quickly in the direction of the house.

“Wait!”

He grabbed her hand but dropped it, cheeks blazing, as soon as she turned around. Her fingers twitched at her sides.

“Y-yeah?” she asked.

He sucked in a breath and addressed a patch of mushrooms at their feet. “Um, I just wanted to tell you that … I know you’re kind of carrying a lot right now, and you—you don’t have to do it by yourself. I learned that, when I ran away. I thought I’d have to be on my own. But—but you and Gus—you saved me. All of you. If it weren’t for you, I’d be—I’d …”

His brow scrunched, and he shook his head.

Willow didn’t want to think about it either.

“The point is, we may not get to play flyer derby anymore, but we’re still a team, right? We’re gonna do this together. All of us.” He straightened, and suddenly that proud soldier was back, looking her squarely in the eye. “You’re not my captain because you know what you’re doing. You’re my captain because you know who you are. And if you ever forget, I’ll be here to remind you. Okay?”

It should’ve been hard to take him seriously in this outfit, with half his scraggly hair falling out of that tiny ponytail, but all his words were bleeding with sincerity. She felt them sink into her skin and bolster up her bones—make her stand a little taller, feel a little stronger. There was a song inside her ribcage and a sun behind her eyes, and she felt her garden blooming, loud and lush and wild.

“Thanks, Hunter,” she whispered.

-------

When they got back to the house, the others seemed to be in good spirits, despite their recent failure. While they talked and laughed at the kitchen table, Willow went to the sink and scrubbed her hands, watching the blue seep out until her skin was clean again.

“Captain?” Hunter appeared at her elbow, holding two glasses of yellow juice. “I brought you some, uh, lemonade.”

“Thanks.” She took one and clinked it against the edge of his. “Cheers!”

“Huh? Oh. Um, cheers.”

They both took a sip. The drink was acidic and sugary, leaving a tangy aftertaste on her tongue.

“Oh, it’s sweeter than I thought!” Hunter wrinkled his nose. “And also … sour?”

His face twisted, eyebrows scrunching, and it was such a ridiculous, over-the-top Hunter face that she had to laugh.

“Hey, don’t judge,” she teased. “You started out as kind of sour yourself when we first met.”

He flushed. “Right.”

“But don’t worry.” She raised her glass to her lips again, hiding her smile behind its rim. “I knew you’d turn out sweet.”

He blinked down at her, liked he’d been temporarily stunned, and then a smile stole across his blushing face.

“Willow, come look at this video.” Gus snickered. “This cat looks just like Hunter.”

Hunter’s head snapped toward the table, where the others were crowded around Luz’s phone. “What? No, it doesn’t.”

“How would you know?” Gus said. “You haven’t even seen it.”

“Let me see.” Hunter lunged toward the table, nearly spilling his drink, while Luz held the phone out of his reach. Willow lingered back for just a minute, laughing softly while she watched.

(As it turned out, the cat did look a lot like Hunter.)

(It was pretty cute, honestly.)

----

That night, Willow plopped her new scrapbook on the kitchen table, opening to the first page. Camila had given it to her the other day, to fill with all the photos she’d been taking. She sorted through the pile, filing away each memory.

There were … a lot more photos of Hunter than she remembered.

“Hey.”

Willow jumped, swiveling around to find Hunter himself, clutching a potted flower in his hands.

“Hunter! Um, hi!” She quickly swept the photos into a stack, realizing too late that the one one top was a potentially incriminating picture of him attempting to twirl spaghetti on his fork.

“I, uh—I brought you this.” He held up the flower—the starfire lily, newly planted in a terra cotta pot. “I noticed that its petals had regrown, and I thought you should keep it.”

She grinned. “You brought me a flower? How sweet. Now I’m embarrassed. I should’ve brought one for you too.”

His face reddened. “No! I’m, um—technically this is already yours, so I’m just … returning it to you. I just didn’t think the middle of the clubhouse floor was the safest spot for it. But I knew you’d take good care of it.”

Willow stared. “You … you were worried about the lily?”

“Um, well, I just know that you like plants a lot. I mean, of course—you’re a plant witch. Like, the best there is. And, I don’t know, I just thought you’d probably want to look after it. Since its petals came back, you know?”

“That’s—yeah. That’s really thoughtful of you. Thanks.” She took the pot from him and placed it on the table.

“I hope I didn’t hurt it,” he said. “I tried to be extra careful when I was digging it up. Like you taught me in the garden the other day. I didn’t want to make it cry again.”

She smiled. “You did a good job. It seems pretty happy to me.”

“Um, good.” He smiled back nervously. “I’m glad.”

Willow ran a thumb along the smooth edge of a newly born petal. “I totally forgot that their petals regrow. Pretty cool, huh?”

Hunter nodded. “When I saw that they’d come back, I remembered that I’ve read about these flowers before. I used to do a lot of research about potions and stuff, to help my—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Anyway, when the petals regrow, the starfire juice replenishes too. And its stronger every time. The lily may be vain, but it’s really resilient. It’ll regrow every time it’s plucked. It’s very coveted by potioneers, because if you have one it can keep producing starfire juice for years.”

“Wow,” Willow said. “I don’t remember learning about that in class. That’s pretty amazing.”

“Yeah! Apparently they’re also very difficult to conjure, which is partially why they’re in such high demand. Not many witches have the magical skill to summon one that actually has the same properties as a real one. Except for you, I guess.”

He flashed her a smile, and something fluttered in her stomach.

“We don’t know if this one even works with potions. Maybe it just looks pretty.” She turned back to the flower to hide her face. “And you are very pretty! Your petals grew back so nicely,” she cooed down at it.

“Well, you managed to make one that has starfire juice,” he pointed out. “And that regrows its petals.”

“That doesn’t mean it works in potions.” She glanced up from the lily with a smile. “We’d have to test it to be sure, wouldn’t we? Just like your theory.”

“I don’t have to test it to know you did it right. You—you’re an amazing witch, Willow.” He rubbed the back of his neck, ears pink, and Willow felt heat rise to her cheeks.

“I think—I think you’re kind of like a starfire lily,” he said in a rush. “’Cause hard things have happened to you, but you always come back stronger. And you make all of us stronger too. Amplify our effects … or whatever. ’Cause you’re the captain, and you make the team better.”

Willow’s face felt like it was glowing now, and so did her chest. Hunter finally lifted his eyes to meet hers, and she blinked back at him, at a loss for what to say.

You make me feel stronger too, Hunter.

“Thanks,” she said at last. “That means a lot.”

He fingers found the hem of his oversized pajama shirt, fiddling with the fabric. “Also, um, just so you know … it’s okay to cry when your petals are plucked. It’s—it’s not vain. It sucks. Even if you come back stronger, it’s okay to feel hurt first. Or—or angry. Or lost.”

She stared at him, heart pounding, feeling, once again, that he was seeing straight through her—to the vines and trees and blossoms, to the weeds and bitter seeds. He saw it, she knew. He saw it all.

“Sorry!” he said quickly, waving his hands in front of his face. “Was that—? That was weird. Or, like, I didn’t mean—I was just—”

“No,” she said, “it was really nice.”

Without thinking, she stepped closer, and she could almost hear his heartbeat pick up (or maybe that was just an echo of her own).

Hunter cleared his throat. “Well, Gus and I were gonna watch a movie. If you want to join.”

“I was gonna work on this.” She gestured to the scrapbook. “Maybe next time?”

“Sure. Of course.” For a second he just stood there, arms hanging limply at his sides, like he wasn’t sure what to do next. Then he blinked into motion with a jerk. “Uh, bye!”

He was halfway to the stairs when she stopped him. “Hunter.”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

She let the pattern fill her mind—blinding beams and and blooming spots and gentle dappled gold.

Her spell circle glowed in the air, and a flower fell into Hunter’s hands.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A thank-you,” she said. “For the lily. And for helping me today.”

“Oh.” He stared down at it, gripping the stem in his fist. “What kind is it?”

“It’s called a sunflower. It’s from the human realm. It, um, kind of reminds me of you.”

He looked up. “It does? Why?”

Her fingers were tingling, and she wasn’t sure if it was residual magic or something else.

“I don’t know. It’s bright. And happy.” She paused. “It makes me smile.”

He blinked, lips parting to give her a glimpse of the gap between his teeth. Then he smiled softly, bright and warm to match the flower in his hands. “Me too.”

“Hunter!” Gus called up the stairs. “Are you coming? The movie’s getting cold, dude.”

“That doesn’t—what does that even mean?” Hunter called back.

“It means get your butt down here or I’m gonna find out what happened to Shrek and Fiona without you!”

“No—wait! I’ll be right there!” Hunter stumbled toward the stairs. “Um, good night, Captain! Thanks for the sunflower.”

“Night, Hunter.”

Willow sank onto a chair at the table, listening to the sounds of the movie drifting up from the basement. She pulled the scrapbook toward her and ran a hand over its smooth, empty pages.

They’d been busy in the human realm for these last few weeks. When they weren’t working on the portal door, they were exploring their new world, trying to make memories to distract them from home. Already Willow had dozens of photos, enough to fill half the scrapbook, probably. But where to start?

She picked up the photo on the top of the stack—the one of Hunter gracelessly eating a bowl of spaghetti. She laughed softly. Maybe not this one (but it was definitely a keeper).

The next one was a group shot, all of them standing in front of the newly refurbished clubhouse. Hunter stood at her side, with Flapjack on his shoulder, wearing a smile so bright that it rivaled the sun.

Carefully, Willow taped the photo into the scrapbook. Not too shabby! she wrote underneath.

She flipped through the book of stickers Camila had gotten her, and one of them caught her eye. A smiling sunflower, lifting a leaf like it was waving hello. She peeled it off and stuck it in the scrapbook, right next to Hunter.

Beside her, a leftover drop of starfire juice was clinging to the lily’s stem. Willow wiped it up with a finger and then pressed it to the scrapbook next to the sticker, stamping the paper with a blue fingerprint.

“To remember today,” she told the lily. “You have to remember the hard things too. Because the hard stuff leads to the good stuff, you know?”

She stared at the tip of her finger, stained once again with blue. “It was nice, to talk with him like that,” she whispered. “I hope we get to talk like that again.”

When they got home—when all of this was over—she hoped they’d get to play flyer derby. She hoped she’d get to be the captain again. (It was nice that at least to Hunter, she still was.)

One day, she decided, they’d leave practice together and have a long talk, like they did today, and she’d repay the favor and tell him everything that made him wonderful.

But for now, it was nice to talk like that here, with sap-sticky hands and thorn-bitten ankles and a heartbeat that wouldn’t stand still. It would be nice like that, she thought, no matter where they were.

Willow glued another photo to the page.

One day they would all make it home. But until then, she was here with a scrapbook, so she would fill it up with long talks, and lemonade, and starfire lilies.

[saincorner]

𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚑𝚠𝚊 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: I'm the Soldier's Ex-Girlfriend

* * *

* * *

Author(s): 송설림

𝖠𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍(𝗌): SETE

Type of babasahin: Manhwa

Status: Completed

* * *

Description:

I’d been reincarnated as the heroine of a predictable third-rate harem novel. I decided to live as the heroine and enjoy my comfortable life with the hero… but what kind of romance is this?! Having a soldier for a boyfriend, there was a constant stream of women surrounding him… and all kinds of incidents occurred. So now I was trying my best to live a normal life. I broke up with my boyfriend and married a man I’d met during a blind date but… What? My husband is the demon king?

“Ha, what do you have your guard up for? Are you scared that I’m going to do something to you? I can see that you’re scared.”

“Why would I be scared?”

“What?”

“What would you be able to do to me? Don’t flatter yourself, I’m just uncomfortable.”

“I want you to be mine, but that seems to be impossible.”

…. No matter how much I think about this, everything seems to be wrong.

* * *

* * * *

Fate can be such a b*tch sometimes. Imagine this: You’re a woman trapped inside a novel as the main female protagonist. You’ve been kidnapped time and time again to drive the plot forward, and you’re fully aware that in the future, your boyfriend will cheat on you with several women.

You’re a plot device—a tool to signify the male protagonist's growth. You’re the ending, the pot of gold at the edge of the rainbow. You’re the prize in the story. You’re the saint, and he’s the soldier. Destiny states that you two are meant for each other.

But you’re tired... And you want an escape. He’s not really changing for the better, so what else can you do? You can break up with him, of course, but will you be able to handle the string of fate?

In Maise's case, she did. She fought tooth and nail to get her life back and defied the world, which constantly tries to dictate her path. She's a strong woman who can change her fate and carve the future that she actually wants. No fate or destiny can bound her feat, and no, she's not just a female protagonist of a predictable third-rate harem novel.

* * * *

[bug-decal-kissing]

Hey friends!

Sowing The Seeds, by Mezzmer, was updated today, with 3/? Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Hurt/Comfort, Character Growth, summaries are hard lol, journey to love yourself bro, Enemies to Friends, maybe more wink wonk, tags change over time, oh my god they were roomates, past grudges, Funny Times, angst here and there, light beta read"

You can read it here:

They're getting closer mwehehehehe >:]< I love Scarab figuring out how the Time Room works as a 2D being, he gets so snippy and then Prismo goes 'teehee :3c' they are so GOOBERLY and they're WRITING TOGETHER <333 True bonding is making little guys together/j

Time Room Shenanigans + More, by DrakianDH, was updated today, with 7/? Chapters released! It has a rating of General Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Oneshot Prompts Challenge, One Shot Collection, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, Angst and Feels, Alternate Universe - Human, Kinda, It's really just a big collection or random stuff I made for January's Writing challene, frick spelling btw, Prohibited wish - Freeform, PWish, No Plot/Plotless, Some Plot, Maybe - Freeform, idk - Freeform"

You can read it here:

What is one meant to do when they find an older version of themselves being all kissy-kissy with the older version of your friend-maybe-friend-maybe-more/silly but now HA HA SCARAB CAN'T SUPPRESS HIS CRUSH ANY MORE HA HA HA HA POINT AND LAUGH/j

[amnhnyc]

Smile like Smilodon, because it’s Fossil Friday! This saber-tooth cat roamed the Americas during the Pleistocene, and went extinct some 10,000 years ago. Scientists estimate that its signature teeth, which could reach lengths of 7 in (18 cm), grew at the rapid speed of .24 in (6 mm) per month—double the growth rate of an African lion’s teeth. To unsheath these knife-like canines, Smilodon could open its jaws twice as wide as today’s big cats. You can spot this fearsome predator in the Museum’s Hall of Primitive Mammals.

To see Smilodon and more, plan your visit.

[random-thought-depository]

I think bonobo-like humans might have something weird going on with their teeth.

Human teeth, like our ovaries, seem to have not really "caught up with" how much longer than most mammals humans live and tend to reach their expiration dates long before the rest of our bodies. Maybe selection pressure for longer-lasting human teeth stopped when we invented knives.

Bonobo-like humans were much more shaped by female sexual selection that Homo sapiens. Rotten teeth aren't sexy. They'd have more selection pressure for teeth that last.

I wonder if they could have one or two extra replacement sets? Like, maybe they could have a second reserve set of adult teeth that grow out and replace their first set of adult teeth in middle age?

Imagine going through the same tooth loss and replacement little kids go through but in your 40s. That'd be a pain. You'd be a lot more likely to keep a full set of teeth the rest of your life that way though, especially in a time period before flouride water and toothpaste. Also, it's kind of cute to imagine a BLH child and parent going through tooth loss and replacement at the same time and sympathizing with each other.

The one thing that makes me hesitant to go with this idea is I did a little Googling and... I got the impression having more than two sets of teeth is pretty rare in mammals? I think if BLHs are like this it would make them unique among primates? Which makes me suspect there's no easy mutation pathway for mammals to evolve extra sets of teeth. I guess this might be another way we got screwed over by our ancestors being small, short-lived, scurrying things for a hundred million years.

Some mammals like rats have teeth that grow continuously, so maybe BLHs could have that (probably with a slow tooth growth rate cause a lot of our food is softened by cooking)? The main problem for human teeth is often rotting (basically being slowly dissolved by acids produced by mouth bacteria, I think?) rather than mechanical erosion though, so I don't know if that would be a good solution.

I guess a biologically conservative solution is they might have just milk and adult teeth like us but their adult teeth have really thick enamel. Which would imply their teeth are bigger and more robust than ours. That does feel more like how evolution usually works; no radical change, just a bunch of small increments of thickening adult tooth enamel.

This does contradict another idea I had about them though, which was that their more intense self-domestication might have resulted in smaller jaws with smaller teeth and maybe a completed loss of the wisdom teeth, something which might give them low-key "anime face," though with nowhere near the level of strange facial proportions you get in those "how anime humans would look if they were real" pictures. Low-key "anime face" with jaws and noses a bit smaller than ours would tend to make them look neotenous in a way I think would probably be kind of cute, it'd give them something a little closer to the facial proportions that make puppy and baby faces cute, so it'd fit with the more intense self-domestication thing.

Maybe they could have smaller jaws but bigger teeth, with room made for them by the completed loss of the wisdom teeth? I think that'd give them a kind of weird jaw structure though, which might make them look kind of weird. That's not necessarily a bad thing though, them having a distinctive look that's different from Earth humans would make them feel more like a different species (well, arguably they're not a different species cause they can still make babies with us, but it would make them feel more like a human population that's been reproductively isolated from Earth humans for hundreds of thousands of years). And one thing I like aesthetically about the bigger teeth but smaller jaws idea is the mix of "hyper-domesticated" and "primitive" feeling features that has a clear logic to it.

There's also extended phenotype of culture as a possibility. That's how we solve this problem: we put flouride in our tap water and brush our teeth and get cavities filled and when our teeth do decay beyond salvage there are dental implants. Modern BLHs presumably do similar things. Early, much more technologically primitive BLHs wouldn't have flouridated water and toothpaste, but... Their planet does have more poisonous plants than Earth, and that means it might also have a lot of plants which produce chemicals with interesting bio-active properties. Including maybe some plants that produce some mild antibacterial chemicals which could be applied to teeth to slow tooth decay.

Aside: I have some other ideas about how being more shaped by female sexual selection influences how bonobo-like humans age.

Maybe the most easily noticeable thing: they got a lot more selection pressure for staying kind of pretty into old age. Old bonobo-like human males tend to look very "silver fox"-ish. The primary selection pressure for this was sexual selection on older males, but since human males and females have most of the same genes the effect spilled over onto females too, and old bonobo-like human women similarly tend to look very "silver-haired MILF"-ish (a secondary contributor to this may have been kin selection for post-menopausal BLH women to still be attractive for sexual bonding, as given how BLH societies works that e.g. might have improved group solidarity - also it's worth noting here that BLH women have much later menopause than Homo sapiens women).

Related to this, bonobo-like humans tend to stay pretty physically vigorous until quite late in their lifespan, and "gross" old people problems like continence problems are less common in bonobo-like humans and when they do happen usually have a late onset, not starting until the individual has more-or-less already lived past their statistically expected lifespan.

However, this has a dark side. Bonobo-like humans tend to not live as long as us. Old bonobo-like humans tend to be kind of like a used car purchased from an unscrupulous dealer; everything visible to a casual observer is in good condition, but the hidden internals are a different story. This might be because increased selection pressure for attractiveness "diluted" selection pressure for long lifespan. Another possible factor is some of their apparent vigor in old age might be achieved by diverting resources away from tissue and organ maintenance and/or by putting increased strain on the body, trading away lifespan later for improved vigor now. And also, part of the reason they have a lot fewer wheelchair-bound old people in adult diapers is they tend to simply not live long enough to get very old. The difference in average lifespans between bonobo-like humans and Homo sapiens isn't that big, bonobo-like human average age of death with modern medical care is probably in the late 70s, but they have a lot fewer 90+ year olds than us.

[keto-avc-gummies]

Keto ACV Gummies: The Yummiest Way to Get Slim

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✔️Side-Effects - NO

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Keto ACV Gummies: A Comprehensive Guide

Keto ACV Gummies have gained immense popularity in recent years as a potential aid for weight loss and overall well-being. These Keto ACV Gummies combine apple cider vinegar (ACV), a well-known natural remedy, with the principles of the ketogenic diet to create a unique supplement.

Understanding Apple Cider Vinegar

Apple cider vinegar is a fermented beverage made from crushed apples. It has been used for centuries as a traditional medicine for various ailments. ACV contains acetic acid, the main active ingredient responsible for its purported health benefits.

Benefits of Apple Cider Vinegar

ACV has been associated with a range of potential health benefits, including:

Weight management: ACV may promote satiety and reduce appetite, potentially aiding in weight loss efforts.

Blood sugar control: ACV may improve insulin sensitivity and help regulate blood sugar levels.

Digestive health: ACV may support healthy digestion by promoting the growth of beneficial gut bacteria.

Heart health: ACV may have a positive impact on certain heart disease risk factors, such as cholesterol levels.

Antibacterial and antifungal properties: ACV may exhibit antibacterial and antifungal properties, potentially fighting off infections.

Incorporating ACV into Your Diet

ACV can be consumed in various ways, including:

Diluting it in water or juice: The most common method is to dilute ACV in water or juice to reduce its strong vinegar flavor.

Adding it to salad dressings or marinades: ACV can add a tangy flavor to salad dressings and marinades.

Using it as a pickling agent: ACV is traditionally used as a pickling agent to preserve and flavor vegetables.

Introducing Keto ACV Gummies

Keto ACV Gummies offer a convenient and palatable way to incorporate ACV into your diet. These gummies are formulated with ACV and other ingredients that align with the principles of the ketogenic diet, a high-fat, low-carbohydrate eating plan that promotes ketosis, a metabolic state where the body burns fat for fuel instead of carbohydrates.

Potential Benefits of Keto ACV Gummies

Keto ACV Gummies may offer several potential benefits, including:

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Improving overall well-being: The potential health benefits of ACV, such as improved blood sugar control and digestive health, may contribute to overall well-being.

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Consulting with a healthcare professional: Before starting any new supplement, including Keto ACV Gummies, it's essential to consult with a healthcare professional to ensure they are safe and appropriate for you.

Potential side effects: ACV may cause side effects such as digestive discomfort or tooth enamel erosion.

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[rayrayor]

So my 110 person summit done. My brain detoxifies from too much caffeine .next week will be back in the Galladrabbles and AUgust and games. Today was just trying to proof and post a few wip vhapters. New chapter is here

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/45563050"><strong>Pop Tarts for Papa</strong></a> (16202 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayrayor"><strong>Rayrayor</strong></a><br />Chapters: 5/8<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Shameless%20(US)">Shameless (US)</a><br />Rating: Teen And Up Audiences<br />Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con<br />Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich<br />Characters: Ian Gallagher, Mickey Milkovich, Mandy Milkovich, Carl Gallagher, Lip Gallagher, Liam Gallagher (Shameless US), Original Gallagher-Milkovich Child(ren), galladads - Character<br />Additional Tags: Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Parents Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Carl Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich Friendship, Galladads, Gallavich end game, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Mickey goes to therapy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Parenting Is Not For The Weak, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault<br />Series: Part 2 of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/3395215">Mickey Gallagher: Lily’s papa</a><br />Summary: <p>The next installment after Popsicles with Papa. Ian returns after a major low that required hospitalization and is on a mission to settle back the anxiety of Mickey and Lily. They begin to settle back into routine, well gallavich routines. But life with their 3 year old plus family keep them on their toes.</p><p>A glimpse into Mikey and Ian's growth after season 11.</p>

[reforestaustralia]

Banksia serrata, also known as Saw-tooth banksia, is an iconic plant. This evergreen tree can grow up to 15 metres tall and can be found along the eastern coast of Australia, from southern Queensland to Victoria. 🌳 Propagation of Banksia serrata is best achieved through seed germination, as cuttings have a low success rate. The plant prefers well-drained soil and full sun and can tolerate salt spray and moderate frost. 🌳 In terms of conservation status, Banksia serrata is listed as "Least Concern" by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN). However, habitat destruction due to urbanization and agriculture, as well as the impact of fire and disease, poses a threat to the survival of the species. 🌳 Banksia serrata is an important species in its native range, providing habitat and food for a range of fauna, including birds, insects, and mammals. The plant's unique cylindrical flower heads also provide a source of nectar for honeyeaters and other bird species. 🌳 Caring for Banksia serrata is relatively easy, as it is drought tolerant and low maintenance. However, the plant may benefit from occasional pruning to encourage bushy growth and prevent straggly growth. 🌳 In conclusion, Banksia serrata is a beautiful and practical Australian plant with ecological and cultural significance. Its conservation status and place in ecology make it a fascinating and valuable species to study and appreciate. 🌳 Seeds and plants available at 🌳www.reforest.org.au🌳 🌳 🌳 🌳 #BanksiaSerrata #SawToothBanksia #NativePlants #Banksia #Ecology #Plants #AustralianPlants (at Cape Schanck) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpBU8wuBncD/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Kindle Unlimited Book Recommendations

Picking Peaches by Ansley B Calloway

Sexual Content Level: 1/5 (not closed door, but not graphic)

Page Count: 208

Days It Took Me: 2 days

Star Rating: 4.5/5

Review: Picking Peaches is a lovely, wholesome romance featuring former pro athlete and current single dad, Ashton Reid, paired with quiet, reserved relationship blog writer Georgia Mitchell. Total beach read, this book is rather simple. You’ll love this if all you want is something sweet without a lot of character growth. Not all romantic comedies can be EmHen books so don’t go in with expectations of a beautifully crafted emotional journey that parallels an equally epic romance. Georgia and Ashton’s romance is more Fearless and Speak Now than the complex, understated romances Emily Henry pens that are more akin to Folklore and Midnights. Luckily, our love interests have the emotional bandwidth for healthy communication. There’s no third act breakup or miscommunication. Just a dose of a rather precocious child, a cat with a proclivity to run away, and two neighbors who, miraculously, spilt a pack of condoms that aren’t put to use till much later.

Behind The Net by Stephanie Archer

Sexual Content Level: 4/5 (several sexual scenes that span many pages, focus on female pleasure during sex)

Page Count: 408

Days It Took Me: 1

Star Rating: 3.75/5

Review: I’ll admit it….a good hockey romance is my guilty pleasure. Now there’s nothing to be embarrassed about guilty pleasures. They don’t set out to be Pulitzer Prize winners. They are often smutty, featuring equally well endowed and emotionally mature men, and the overlooked girl who’s actually a knockout. Behind the Net is no exception. Jamie and Pippa, former high school classmates reunite unexpectedly when Pippa takes a job as young NHL player, Jamie’s assistant. Both Jamie and Pippa feel a strong connection, or so the author claims they do. Perhaps the biggest critique of this novel is that Pippa and Jamie’s connection is simply told to the reader rather than shown. However, the sexual scenes are well written and plentiful to make up for the lack of plot. Again, books like Behind the Net don’t set out to be groundbreaking literature. They are supposed to be fun and a little ridiculous. Books like this let girls who weren’t noticed in high school have that fantasy of being loved by the cutest boy.

Ranger by Rebecca Sharp

Sexual Content Level: 3/5 (virgin hero/experienced heroine, several sexual scenes that extend multiple pages)

Pages: 344

Days It Took Me To Read: 2

Star Rating: 5/5

Review: I stumbled across Ranger on tik tok. The author self described the main male character as being inspired by Spencer Reid. Ranger and Spencer share several similarities, including their love of sweater vests, their sweet dispositions and even sweeter sweet tooth. Ranger, along with his bothers, own and run private security operation. When Sydney is in need of help her temporary landlord Ranger is eager to step up to the challenge even if that means marrying her. Their marriage of convenience grows into something very real and very strong somewhere along the line. While Sydney grows and finds herself all over again, the real growth lies with Ranger. He discovers that he can not only give love, but is worthy of receiving it. Rebecca Sharp’s dedication describes it the best however.

[tothedarkdarkseas]

I posted 446 times in 2022

259 posts created (58%)

187 posts reblogged (42%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@arrnuts

@tothedarkdarkseas

@glowinginahuddle

@gorillaz-official-art

@nicky-pink

I tagged 387 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#stuart - 86 posts

#thank you! - 56 posts

#murdoc - 48 posts

#anon au - 33 posts

#music junk - 33 posts

#headcanon posts - 22 posts

#damo - 14 posts

#fic asks - 13 posts

#&lt;3 - 8 posts

#band - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#hoping to have fun with this phase and excited for the concert and all but i simply don't think i can work the cult into something grounded

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

A couple more Stu edits. (Neither flawless, but enough to spark the imagination!)

17 notes - Posted October 13, 2022

#4

A Damon-Stu, just for the fun of it.

20 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

#3

Hand size comparison, aka it’s the Violent Femmes “big hands, I know you’re the one” of it all.

37 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

#2

Summary: “Meth mouth. S’when your tooth enamel melts and they go all sideways and fall out.” Murdoc taps a fingernail on his incisor, punctuating where Stu’s are missing. He earns an unimpressed look.

“I took some tweaker’s crap car to the face, what’s your excuse?”

“I’m English.” A commission about Murdoc's oral fixation.

Rating: Explicit. Lot o’ mouth stuff.

Notes: Hi! Bit of an unexpected post here, probably! This is actually a commission that I was contacted for by Suburban, but hopefully if you’re interested in Murdoc’s oral fixation you’ll enjoy it as well!

38 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Summary: It puts him in mind of seeing his parents or his old girlfriend after the accident, their eyes glassy and voices trembling. He remembers how he’d blinked through the dull red film that coloured his hospital room and said he was sorry. Sorry for what he put them through.

It felt unfair then. It seems unbearable now.

A character study of Stuart as he records The Fall during the American leg of the Plastic Beach tour, reworking the Gorillaz plot around the real touring timeline; or, thoughts on trauma in transit, who we are to strangers, and the link between sugar cravings and opioid dependence.

Rating: Explicit (references to sexual content and explicit substance abuse.)

Warnings: Quite a few, please check AO3′s warnings for more detail. Primarily substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms born of an unhealthy relationship, and mental health issues.

This is it, the white whale of a fic finally conquered. I’m nervous, and excited, and disappointed in old writing and proud of new growth. It’s a lot of emotion for a story, I know. More notes are provided on AO3, but I’ll just add-- thank you for the support, and I hope you’ll enjoy.

44 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[one-winged-dreams]

jackals will see the words "plague doctor" and immediately black out so 👀 im curious about 'Blood Plague with Vampires and Plague Doctor Exorcists Book'

@dearly-beeloved

OKAY. This one is my horror novel, and it's got such a long title because it's just... a lot lmao.

It's about a blood plague that infected 65% of the world, and has varying stages that some people may or may not get to. Most people have the passive stage, but the worst stage is complete transformation into a horrific monster that's pretty much a vampire in that it needs blood (by... eating whole people) to survive, super strong and agile, and weak to religious imagery (mostly Exisa, the Goddess of Mercy that the whole Church involved in maintaining the plague follows. Also there are SO many gods in this universe, even just casual ones that roam the world. Some of them are pretty freaky.)

ANYWAY, the Church performs something called an 'exorcism' on the people who transform. It involves typical exorcism stuff and... surgically removing constantly regenerating organs and teratomas and stuff until the person is 'cured' (not cured but basically not a monster anymore. They gradually start to reform back into a person instead of an amalgam of teeth and bones and other things.). The survival rate is... Not great, but the chance beats just outright putting them down.

The protags are a 14-year-old girl named Fausta that has a minor level of the plague and is training to be a Plague Nurse, and her 28-year-old big brother figure named Arnaud who is pure of the plague so he's a Plague Doctor.

The main plot is still in the works, but it involves ~gruesome murder~ and ~church conspiracy~

It's my baby right now. As a treat, he's the descrip of the peek of the first Vampire that appears in the book. tw for body horror and gore

The arms were split from hand to elbow, sharp rows of tooth-like growths in various shapes and sizes rowing the schism of flesh and bone. The bones of the fingers had grown too thick and too long to be contained, only the remains of shredded skin around the barbed appendages that extended long and far. 

As the Doctors lifted the cloth to strap in the legs, Arnaud wondered how they would even manage. The bones were snapped and twisted as if screaming out in protest to the anatomy ordained by the God of Creation. His answer came suddenly as the Doctors counted down, then snapped the almost plantigrade shape from the knees down into a straight-legged position, the body beneath the cloth suddenly jerking. 

Arnaud thought he could hear a light clicking, but the way his nerves were screaming had him considering if his senses could currently be trusted.

Next came the upper legs, spread outward into an almost impossible frog-like position. Another countdown and then an ugly popping complimented by the chorus of flesh stretched beyond its limits violently tearing.

The resulting sound could only be described as obscene, ear-splitting, and chilling to the core.