#feed shrub

[parsapuff]

Who put the entire charmony dove copypasta in my poll come out rn

[sarahthecoat]

YES! and biodiversity is one thing every person can actually do something about. obviously if you have a yard, or that strip between the sidewalk and the street, or a windowbox, you can plant native plants, and that will actually make a difference. (make sure they are true natives, not hybrids or cultivars or "nativars", barf, who came up with that misleading bs)(and make sure they have never been treated with neonics or other poisons) cheapest way is to buy seeds from one of the organic suppliers, then you know they are safe. but if you can find and afford starts, that is faster.

In the future, children will think our ways are strange. "Why do old people always grow so much milkweed in their gardens?" they'll say. "Why do old people always write down when the first bees and butterflies show up? Why do old people hate lawn grass so much? Why do old people like to sit outside and watch bees?"

We will try to explain to them that when we were young, most people's yards were almost entirely short grass with barely any flowers at all, and it was so commonplace to spray poisons to kill insects and weeds that it was feared monarch butterflies and American bumblebees would soon go extinct. We will show them pictures of sidewalks, shops, and houses surrounded by empty grass without any flowers or vegetables and they will stare at them like we stared at pictures of grimy children working in coal mines

[rederiswrites]

It's been years since I started seeing nutrient flows constantly in my daily life, and the more I study agriculture, the more I see them.

See, every time you harvest something, you take the nutrients in that item away from the soil, and they go somewhere else. When I put a banana peel in my compost bin, I think (a little gleefully) about how I've just added an exotic, different profile of nutrients to my own property--but I also think about that distant banana plantation that lost tons of nutrients per year to US grocery stores, and I wonder what they replaced those nutrients with.

The farmer across my field grows corn, which gets harvested for feed. Corn is a nitrogen-hungry crop. Every year, that corn sucks up nutrients, which get harvested and shipped away. The farmer, being a conventional farmer, mostly replaces those with a conventional fertilizer. Nitrogen is often applied to fields in the form of ammonia fertilizer, which is made via a process that binds nitrogen in the air with hydrogen from natural gas. This feels like a vast resource, but of course we know it's not inexhaustible and not without cost.

Ideally, said farmer does soil tests and applies a carefully considered amount of ammonia. It is taken up by the growing plants and relatively little is lost. Possibly (often), though, some of the ammonia is leached out via rain and ends up in waterways, where it causes plant overgrowth and algal blooms, which harm the waterways in several ways, and turn those nutrients from a resource into a contaminant.

Meanwhile, the corn is also uptaking a variety of other nutrients from the soil which the commercial fertilizer is NOT replacing. Year by year, those nutrients get shipped off to distant feedlots and depleted in the soil. Eventually, those nutrients are gone from my neighbor's field and, quite possibly, languishing in a manure lagoon somewhere in, say, Indiana, where one can only hope it's properly treated and made into compost. But, you know. Not necessarily.

When I buy compost at the store, it's usually based in either cow manure or "forest products". Hopefully, depending on brand, those forest products MIGHT be collected municipal yard waste. Which is pretty good. Those suburbanites don't want their leaves, I do, win/win.

Except that because those suburbanites raked their yard waste, they now need at some point to fertilize their trees, shrubs, and turf grass. Meanwhile, they've eliminated habitat for the many insects that use leaf litter to either overwinter or reproduce. They may not be counting the costs, but the costs don't stop existing.

The ebb and flow of nutrients is something that, in the current system, goes utterly unregarded by most of the people taking part in the process. Even gardeners bring nutrients onto their soils mostly without thinking about the places those nutrients came from. I think in a sustainable world, that needs to change.

Also probably we need to do a hell of a lot more cover-cropping.

[amnhnyc]

You are what you eat: just ask the hooded grasshopper (Teratodes monticollis)! This uniquely-shaped  insect feeds primarily on leaves—and it’s perfectly camouflaged to look like one, too. Females can grow up to 2 in (5.2 cm) long, while males are only about half their size. This species might be spotted near trees or shrubs throughout parts of India and Sri Lanka.

Photo: pathanimran, CC BY-NC 4.0, iNaturalist

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

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It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

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[michaelnordeman]

Cows grazing at the Nötön-Åråsviken nature reserve—a peaceful presence with an important task. By feeding on grass and shrubs, they help maintain the open landscape, preserving the rich biodiversity of the area. Värmland, Sweden (June 18, 2024).

[birdstudies]

April 16, 2025 - Palau Fruit-Dove (Ptilinopus pelewensis) Found only in Palau, these doves live in mangroves and other forest habitats. They feed on fruit, foraging mostly in the canopy and occasionally in shrubs and other plants near the ground. They build flimsy platform nests from twigs in trees or shrubs where females lay a single egg.

[roach-works]

Why did wheat become a widespread staple crop given that it's difficult to harvest/transport/etc? This is not meant to be snarky or combative in any way, it's a genuine question. Are there any books you'd recommend for learning more about this kind of economic and technological history? Thanks.

sorry, i've long since forgotten all the actual books i've read about it, but i will always recommend This Guy:

also as very much a non-expert, my semi-informed opinion on Wheat is that growing complicated and difficult compared to going to the grocery store, and doesn't stack up very well to living in a food forest like north and south americans managed, either.

however, wheat is a grass, and grass grows in a lot of places that people also like to live in, and so wheat farming isn't as crazy a venture as it might otherwise seem.

in a lot of climates, it's possible to plant the grass, harvest the grass seeds, and store the seeds long enough to get you through the part of the year where there's nothing much to eat. if you manage your social and material technology right, you can store a lot of the seeds, and you can even transport them around before they rot, meaning you can now export the seeds from places where grass grows into places where it doesn't. the stalks of the grass that you can't eat provides food for the animals you need to help you grow the grass. and transport the seeds, too.

the social structure required to grow wheat in bulk (a steep and violent hierarchy) does three things: feeds everyone in it with enough extra that the guys on the bottom of the organization can survive to grow more wheat next year, and allows the guys on the top can sequester the rest as profit, consolidating their power. the third thing is that as land is converted to wheat fields, it stops yielding any other food but wheat, which locks people into the system for good. once a people depend on a staple cereal grain for their main source of calories, there isn't an easy way back: forests are chewed away for more wheat fields and those woodlands that remain are shifted towards hardwoods for agricultural tools, rather than food forests with fruit/nuts/shrubs, and even those maintained as game preserves still can't support the needs of entire villages.

in arid and semi-arid conditions, it's even harder to step away from dependence on grain farming because there the agricultural development is along rivers where the land can be irrigated, and the population of people supported by grain production is extremely concentrated into those small areas rather than spread across the entire biome.

in the northern parts of eurasia where grain couldn't be produced at scale because it was too rocky and too cold, people mostly went fishing, and when they grew stuff it was hardy root crops like beets and turnips.

DISCLAIMER: this is all very approximate. but now you know as much as i know.

P.S actually here's the last thing about wheat: it probably all started as a way to reliably source and produce beer, which was invented a long time before bread. bread was invented from wheat when the guys who were producing the beer seeds wanted to start exporting beer seeds to people who wanted beer far away, so they baked the seeds into tablets you could easily transport and then ferment with water once you got to your destination. eventually the traders who were transporting the beer kits started eating them, too, and crackers as a snack food really took off. look up the wikipedia article on beer if you don't believe me.

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Believe in the Pink Fairy Armadillo

The pink fairy armadillo, also known as the pichiciego (Chlamyphorus truncatus) is a species of armadillo found only in central Argentina. They reside primarily in sandy flats, scrublands, and grasslands. They are extremely sensitive to environmental changes, and require certain species of shrub as well as copious amounts of compact sand for a suitable habitat.

Pichicegos spend the majority of their time underground, only emerging at night to forage. They feed mainly on ants, and supplement their diet with other insects, especially beetles, larvae worms, as well as various plants and roots. C. truncatus is also sometimes referred to as the 'sand swimmer' due to its ability to burrow quickly through sandy soil.

The pink fairy armadillo is named for its distinctive pink 'shell', composed of 24 leathery segments that are attached to the back via a thin membrane. The rest of the body is covered in fine white hair. These two features help individuals maintain a constant internal temperature despite the extremely hot days and frigid nights of the Argentinian desert. In addition to its unique looks, the pichicego is also notable for being the smallest known armadillo species. Adults can be anywhere from 90–115 mm (3.5–4.5 in) long, and typically weigh about 120 g (4.2 oz).

Very little is known about the mating and reproductive habits of pink fairy armadillos. Based on what is known about similar armadillo species, it is likely that females only have a small litter of 1-3 pups, and they will nurse them for some period of time. However, outside of mating, adults are known to be highly solitary-- though not aggressively territorial.

Conservation status: The pink fairy armadillo is currently listed as Data Deficient by the IUCN, as very little is known about this creature's population size or spread. However, in 2006 it was listed as Near Threatened, and due to its sensitivity to changes in habitat quality or structure it is likely threatened by climate change, habitat destruction, and agricultural activities.

Photos

Mariella Superina

Ivan Gutierrez Lemaitre

Mariella Superina

[thenerdykneazle]

Amorous Tension

Summary: Poppy is quite sure her best friend has feelings for our favourite heir of Slytherin. MC is quite sure she doesn't, despite abundant evidence to the contrary. When Ominis asks MC to help him study for an upcoming potions exam, she jumps at the chance. TL;DR: Two idiots in love brew amortentia together.

A collab with the lovely @darch7995, who created the audio version of this story. Listen to the first part here and the second here.

Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Warnings: the mildest of hand kinks, kissing, a surprising amount of schoolwork, stressing about exams, failure to communicate

Word count: 4185

You tapped your quill anxiously on the edge of your parchment, forming an ever-growing blot of ink in the margin. You were re-reading a paragraph in Flesh-Eating Trees of the World on a South American anteater-eating shrub. The words made as little of an impression in your mind as they had the first time.

A hand settled on top of yours, startling you.

“You’re going to put a hole in the table if you keep that up. And I doubt Madam Scribner would be pleased,” Poppy said teasingly.

You sighed, setting down the quill before dropping your head onto the table. “I’m going to fail. I know nothing. Less than nothing, even. Garlick is going to laugh me out of the greenhouse,” you said hopelessly.

Poppy rubbed your back comfortingly. “No, she’s not,” she assured you.

You let out a frustrated groan. “I’m never learning the difference between Jacaranda muscipula and Delonix geogalinivorae. They’re both just bloodthirsty ferns.”

A smooth voice came from behind you. “Jacaranda muscipula is native to South America, and its diet consists largely of deer mice. Delonix geogalinivorae is found in Madagascar and feeds exclusively on tenrecs.”

Your head shot up off the table. “Ominis,” you said in a higher pitch than you’d intended. You twisted in your chair to see your aristocratic classmate standing there looking effortlessly flawless.

“Hello, MC, Poppy,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I take it you’re dreading Garlick’s exam as much as Sebastian is.”

You scrunched your nose. “More, probably,” you said dismally.

“Well, I had come to see if you might be able to help me study for Sharp’s exam on Monday,” he said. “I could help you with herbology after. Of course, I’d be happy to help even if you don’t have time for potions practice.”

You gaped at him. He was asking you for help? Amit and Sebastian both had top grades in potions. You’d taken to it quite well, but the two boys had several more years of experience than you did. Garreth knew every ingredient and recipe inside and out, though he almost never stuck to the instructions – you could see why Ominis wouldn’t have asked him for help.

Your stomach leapt at the idea of spending time at the bench – just you and Ominis, brushing elbows at the cosy workspace. It was always dizzying being in such close proximity – the effect of his expensive cologne, surely.

Poppy would probably argue differently. She’d just been pestering you just that morning about your alleged feelings for the sarcastic Slytherin.

“You’re the biggest flirt I’ve ever met, MC,” Poppy said, rolling her eyes as you walked to the Great Hall.

Garreth had just been talking to you out in the courtyard about needing to acquire Thornback Matriarch venom for a new potion he was working on. You had told him he’d probably be better equipped than you were at charming the ladies into giving him what he wanted.

“I think you’re jealous and just need to ask the Gryffindor out, already,” you argued, shooting her a quelling look. “I was just being funny.”

“Mhmm,” she replied sceptically. “Well, I think it’s funny how I’ve seen you flirt with Garreth, Leander, Sebastian, Amit, and even Imelda, but when a certain serpent with stormy eyes and chiselled cheekbones comes around, you turn into a frightened little puffskein. You go all ruddy-faced and start stammering.”

She was poorly suppressing a smirk as she looked at you.

You scoffed. “I do not stammer!”

“Yeah, and I don’t fancy Garreth,” she replied sarcastically. “Admit it, you’ve got a crush on Ominis.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you asserted, glaring at her.

She raised a hand to her lips to stifle a giggle. “Then why’s your face match Garreth’s luscious locks right now?”

“Oh, shut it!” you said, increasing your pace so that Poppy fell behind.

She just laughed at you. “You’re only proving my point, you know!” she called after you.

Poppy elbowed you sharply between your ribs. You’d gone far too long without replying. “Ow!” you hissed at her.

Ominis had a nervous look on his face. “Sorry?” he asked.

“Oh, no, that wasn’t at you,” you said quickly. “I mean, I’d love to study with you.”

His expression immediately brightened. “Wonderful! When are you free?” he said.

“How about now?” you suggested as you began to pack up your things.

“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt,” Ominis said.

“No, it’s fine,” you insisted. You shot Poppy a reproachful look. “I’m suddenly feeling unsafe here in the library.”

Poppy stuck her tongue out at you. “Yes, I need to go help Professor Howin feed the thestrals, anyway. You two have fun,” she said much too giddily.

You sent her one more glare as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “So, shall we use the Room of Requirement?” you asked Ominis.

“That sounds perfect!” he replied brightly.

You led Ominis out of the library and started the long climb up to the 7th floor of the astronomy tower. You were glad to stretch your legs after sitting in the library for so long.

“I don’t know how you can keep those carnivorous trees straight in your head,” you commented as you strode down a long corridor. “They look exactly the same to me when they’re not in bloom.”

“Do they?” he replied, sounding intrigued.

For a moment, you wanted to sink through the floor. Obviously, the fact that the two trees looked alike was of little consequence to him. “Sorry, I wasn’t even thinking.”

Ominis chuckled. “It’s all right,” he said, clearly amused. “It’s strange to think that they seem so similar to you. They feel quite different. The jacaranda tree has very rough bark, and the geogalinivore has waxy leaves. Plus, it has a sweet smell – sort of like oranges.”

“That’s actually very helpful. Thank you,” you said.

He smiled softly at you. You couldn’t help but notice how one of the beauty marks on his left cheek disappeared into his dimple when he smiled. “I’m glad to be of service,” he replied.

You could feel your face flush, though you had no reason to be blushing. You were relieved when you reached the 7th floor and the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. You cleared your throat. “Right, well, we’re h-here,” you said, cringing at yourself for tripping over the words.

Ominis held the door open for you as you entered the Room of Requirement. “I appreciate you helping me practice. Sharp’s class was hard enough when I knew what I’d be expected to brew. Having to prepare to make any one of four potions has been quite stressful.”

“It is a bit ridiculous,” you agreed as you started pulling ingredients out of your cabinet.

“Honestly! It’s hard enough keeping the ingredients for one potion straight – let alone for the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, Draught of Living Death, Veritaserum, and Amortentia,” he said.

“It is a lot,” you said. “Where should we start?”

“Hm…Well, I don’t think I would be very productive after testing potions for sleep or euphoria. We’d best leave those for later,” he replied. “What do you think? Amortentia or Veritaserum?”

“Amortentia’s easy enough to test. We can tell if it’s right just by how it looks and smells. Let’s start with that,” you suggested.

Ominis smirked. “You just don’t want me getting you to spill all your secrets,” he teased.

You chuckled. “You’re right; I don’t,” you agreed honestly. You weren’t exactly a secretive person ever since you didn’t have to hide your ancient magic anymore. However, the thought of not being ableto hide anything if you wanted to was terrifying.

“Amortentia it is, then!” Ominis said. “It’s the one I’m best at, anyway.”

He lit the flame to heat the cauldron before beginning to grind the moonstone with a mortar and pestle.

“So, what does Amortentia smell like to you?” he asked, chatting as he worked.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted as you leaned a hip against the bench.

“What do you mean you’re not sure? Were you holding your breath when we brewed it last week?” he teased. He cracked two ashwinder eggs into the cauldron before adding the powdered moonstone and stirring it together.

“No! I just…Well, I guess it’s that it doesn’t smell like anything to me,” you admitted.

“You must be joking. Surely you smelled something,” he replied incredulously.

“Just the usual musky dungeon,” you joked. “I thought I’d just brewed it wrong at first, but yours didn’t smell like anything to me, either.”

His brows drew together. “That is curious. I know I made mine right, because it…Well, it worked for me,” he said, his cheeks colouring a bit. “Do you just not find anyone attractive, then?” he added casually as he began cutting the thorns off of some rose stems.

“I don’t know. I mean, I used to think I did, but…now I’m not so sure,” you replied. “I don’t know what could be wrong with me to not smell anything if I did like someone.”

“I’m certain there’s nothing wrong with you, MC,” Ominis replied.

You sighed. “I hope not,” you replied before biting your bottom lip anxiously. “I thought maybe everyone was lying about smelling different things, and it’s really just an odourless potion. But I checked three different texts in the library, and they all said the same thing Professor Sharp did about the smell being unique to what each person finds attractive.”

“It’s definitely not odourless,” Ominis replied with a smirk. He shook his head as if to snap himself out of something before clearing his throat. He turned his attention back to the potion.

He added the thorns to the cauldron before beginning on the petals. You watched his hands as he plucked the petals off the stems, stacked them neatly, and rolled them together before slicing them into thin, even strips. He was quite skilled in his technique. Despite sharing a bench in potions all year, you’d never really noticed how fluidly he worked. There was an almost entrancing nature to the graceful movements.

“So, what does it smell like to you?” you inquired as you forced yourself to stop staring at the veins winding over his wrists and across the backs of his hands out to his slender fingers. You had always thought there was something nice about his hands.

“Oh, there is no way I’m admitting that,” he replied.

“But I told you when you asked,” you argued.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Nothing doesn’t count as an answer.”

“But it’s the truth! I can’t help that I didn’t smell anything,” you argued.

“I’m still not telling,” he insisted. He added the rose petals to the potion. His brow furrowed as his fingers skimmed over the fronts of several bottles. “Which is the pearl dust?”

“Third from the right,” you said before letting out a laugh as a realisation struck you.

“What?” he asked a bit defensively. “Did I grab the wrong one?” He shook the sealed bottle by his ear to listen to its contents shift within.

“No, that’s the pearl dust. I just…” You giggled again, and his scowl deepened. “I just realised that’s the last ingredient and the first thing I’ve helped you with. Seems like you barely need me here.”

He relaxed almost instantly, even laughing a bit himself. “Well, it’s much easier to brew here,” he explained. “I know which ingredients are which when they’re in my own containers – and even most of yours at this point – but almost all of Sharp’s bottles are identical. I have to figure out what’s in each one every time I pick it up. Sometimes it takes four or five tries to find what I’m looking for. It wastes so much time.”

“That sounds extremely frustrating,” you said sympathetically.

“It is,” he lamented as he added a spoonful of pearl dust to the cauldron. He stirred it clockwise three times before lowering the flame. “There! It should just need to simmer for a bit, and then we’ll see how it turned out.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” you said as you settled into a high-backed chair, kicking your feet up on the ottoman in front of it.

“I appreciate your confidence in me,” he said. “You know, I was even worse at potions when I was younger. I tried summoning the ingredients to myself in the early years, and it was usually a disaster. In first year, we had to brew a burn salve during our exams, and I simply could not find the dittany, even after sifting through all the ingredients on my bench three times. I gave up and summoned it, and it knocked over all the bottles in front of it on its way to me. They rolled all over the bench, and I had nearly plunged my hand straight into my cauldron trying to put them back in order. During another exam, I tried to summon flobberworm mucus, and all the bottles of the stuff came flying towards me at the same time.” He laughed. “It was all over me, my bench, the floor. Amit nearly slipped in it trying to come over and help. Professor Sharp was livid, but I think he felt too badly for me to give me detention.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, as well. “Oh, I’d have died on the spot!” you said.

“I nearly did. It was utterly horrifying,” he said. “I pretended to be sick for three days after that because I couldn’t stand the thought of facing everyone. I even had Sebastian bring me food so that I didn’t have to go out to the Great Hall. But I’ve learned to bounce back from my Blind Boy Moments quite quickly since.”

“Could Sharp not just label the ingredients for you?” you asked.

Ominis scoffed. “No, he insists that every good potions student should be able to identify the ingredients on their own,” he said, exasperated. “He wouldn’t even let me come in beforehand to label them myself because other students might see them. He also won’t let me use my own containers because it’s all got to be ‘standardised’ so it’s fair.”

“Well, that’s quite the opposite of fair! He’s putting you at a disadvantage,” you said. You could feel yourself getting angry on Ominis’s behalf.

“I am perfectly capable of identifying the ingredients. Just because I can’t see them doesn’t mean I’m incompetent,” he said bitterly.

You were taken aback as his ire turned toward you. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you are, Ominis, I swear!” you said earnestly. “It just seems unreasonable that he won’t accommodate you at all. It’s so frustrating. I have an uncle who’s blind. He wasn’t born that way – he had an accident. And he’s a Muggle. So…it’s a bit different, obviously. But he’s worked in kitchens all his life. When he first went blind, he couldn’t cook anymore. But his boss’s wife, Marjorie, was blind, too. She taught him how to navigate the kitchen again without being able to see. They made adjustments to things so he could keep working there.”

“You have a blind uncle?” he asked, seeming shocked.

“Almost all my life. He married my aunt when I was just a baby,” you explained. “He cooks even better than a house-elf, too! Don’t tell Feenky I said that, though. Or Deek, for that matter.”

“I can’t believe you have a blind uncle,” Ominis said, still stunned.

“Really?” you asked. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never met another blind person,” he said.

“Never?” you said, surprised.

“Not once,” he confirmed. “My parents weren’t exactly looking to find me a support group. It’s exceptionally rare in the wizarding world, anyway. So, they sort of just kept me hidden away until school. They hadn’t even expected I’d get a letter even though I clearly had magic. It wasn’t until I figured out how to navigate by wand that they stopped treating me like a doll instead of a child. Even my Aunt Noctua was rather overbearing. No one ever believed I could do something myself until I showed them I could.”

“I can’t imagine how difficult it was going through all of that on your own,” you said.

Ominis gave a haughty huff. “Yes, well, I think I’ve done all right for myself,” he said firmly, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

“You’ve done more than all right, I’d say,” you argued. “Which reminds me, you still have to tutor me in herbology after this.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry; I haven’t forgotten,” he said.

“You’d better not have,” you said sternly. Your severe expression didn’t last, though. You couldn’t help but smile around him. “Wait, so, if you didn’t have anyone to help you figure things out, did you invent the spell that lets you read books?”

“Ah, well, I suppose I wasn’t entirely on my own. Sebastian found that spell in an old tome in the library. Some languorous 17th-century scholar grew weary of having to keep his eyes open whilst reading,” he replied. “It worked quite well in my favour.”

“If there’s one thing Sebastian excels at, it’s research,” you replied.

“Yes, and it’s been both a blessing and a curse in my life,” he said irritably.

“I feel the same,” you said wearily.

Ominis spun back toward the potions station. “It smells like the potion’s ready,” he announced.

You got up and walked over to inspect it. “Mother-of-pearl sheen. Perfect spirals of steam. Excellent work, indeed, Ominis.”

He blushed at your praise. “Any essence of musky dungeon emanating from it?” he joked.

You laughed. You leaned over the cauldron and breathed in deeply to play along. “Oh,” you said, caught off guard by the smell. “Yeah, actually. It…” You took in another breath. It was masked beneath the cologne Ominis was wearing, but you could distinctly smell the cool, earthy scent that permeated the lower levels of the castle. “It does.”

“Merlin, MC! You don’t have a crush on Professor Sharp, do you?” he asked, aghast.

“Gods, no!” you replied immediately. “It’s not the dungeons, anyway. It’s different. But…familiar.”

You tried to smell it again, but it was still too hard to tell. You hadn’t realised earlier just how strong Ominis’s cologne was that day. Usually, you found the scent rather pleasant, but, currently, it was making it extremely difficult to smell anything else. You grabbed a phial and poured some of the potion into it. “I can’t tell what it is. I need to smell it in fresh air.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I smell foul?” Ominis demanded as you walked away from him.

“No, not at all,” you said before taking another sniff of the potion. “It’s just that your–”

Your voice died in your throat as two realisations struck you simultaneously. The first was that the earthy scent you had identified was the exact smell of the Undercroft. The second was that you still smelled Ominis’s cologne just as strongly even though you were on the opposite side of the room from him. The phial slipped from your hand and shattered on the wood floor.

“Are you all right?” Ominis asked, rushing over to you in a panic. “Did the potion burn you? I heard glass break. Did you get cut?”

He took both of your hands in his to feel for any injuries. The tips of his fingers brushed gently over your skin, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

“Sorry, no, I’m fine. I just–I hadn’t realised…something,” you said. You heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Poppy had been right. You did fancy Ominis.

Ominis released one of your hands to raise his to your cheek. “Are you certain that you’re okay, MC?” he asked.

Your skin burned hot under his touch. “Y-yes, of course. I was just surprised when I placed the smell,” you said.

He tilted his head in interest. “Oh? What is it?” he asked.

You bit into your lower lip, keeping yourself silent as you wavered on whether to confess. He did seem to be rather doting at the moment. You wondered if he might return your affections.

“Perhaps I should’ve brewed the Veritaserum first, after all,” Ominis joked. “Maybe then I could finally get you to tell me what you smell.”

You laughed. “That’s not necessary. I just…Well, I’m pretty sure it’s, um…the Undercroft,” you said. Your nerves increased with every word, but you felt a flood of relief after getting them all out.

“Oh,” Ominis said uncomfortably. His whole body went rigid before his hands dropped away from you. “I…I see.”

“Ominis, I…” you started, trying and failing to figure out how to take the words back. You imagined the mortification you were experiencing was similar to how he had felt standing covered in flobberworm mucus in front of his peers.

“Well, I suppose I should still tell you what I smell, since you told me what you do,” he said sombrely. “Though, I can’t imagine it will be all that surprising.” He took a steadying breath. “It smells like old parchment, like those dusty pages Professor Weasley had you collecting last year. And I smell the mallowsweet you always carry around with you. And your shampoo. I always smell it when you hug me or fall asleep with your head on my shoulder.” He cleared his throat. “So…there you have it.”

“Are you upset about this?” you asked, bewildered by his tense reaction.

He forced a laugh. “What? No, of course not!” he insisted, but it wasn’t quite convincing. “I’m happy for you.”

“Happy for me?” you repeated, even more confused.

“Both of you, I mean,” he clarified, giving you a pained smile. “Although I’ve never asked Sebastian about his feelings toward you, with the way he flirts with you, I’m sure he reciprocates.”

“You think I fancy Sebastian?” you asked.

“Well, he’s the one who showed you the Undercroft,” he replied simply.

“Ominis, you’re the one he learned about it from. You’re the one I hang out with there. It’s rosewood and jasmine from your cologne that I smell in that bloody potion!” you said.

His brows knit together in confusion. “I thought you just smelled the Undercroft?” he said.

“Well, that’s what I thought when I was standing next to you – and in class last week,” you said. “You were right there, so I didn’t realise the smell of you was coming from the cauldron instead of…you know…you.”

His features went slack. “Oh…” he said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” you replied similarly.

“I’m a massive idiot,” he said, shaking his head at himself.

You smiled. “Yeah,” you said. “We kind of both are, aren’t we?”

“It would appear so,” he agreed. He laughed as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Well, this has certainly been an illuminating study session.”

You melted into him instantly. “Indeed, it has.”

“You smell wonderful, you know,” he said as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

You giggled in response. “You smell quite nice, as well,” you replied.

“I taste even better,” he said cheekily.

Your gaze immediately dropped to his lips. “Is that so?” you asked, your voice coming out husky.

“I can prove it if you’d like,” he said. His breath fanned over your lips as he spoke.

“Yes, I think you should,” you replied. “For…educational purposes.”

Ominis’s lips brushed against yours almost tentatively before he leaned in to interlock them. His heat sank into your body as he held you firmly against his chest. You snaked your arms up behind his neck as you kissed him back. Being held by Ominis – and kissed by him – felt right. You wanted to stay wrapped in his arms forever. If you could’ve, you would have fused into him so you never had to be apart again.

You didn’t know how long it was before Ominis broke the kiss, but you knew it was too soon. “I still have to return the favour for you helping me with potions,” he said.

“Yes, right. The herbology,” you replied, still breathless from the kiss. You had forgotten about those bloody shrubs altogether.

“Actually, I was thinking we should work on divination, instead,” he said innocently, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

You arched a brow at him. “Oh?” you asked. “Are you even taking divination?”

“No. I can’t exactly read tea leaves or look in a crystal ball,” he stated. The smirk spread on his lips. “But if I could, I’d see me in your future.”

You laughed. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sebastian,” you chided. “His terrible jokes are rubbing off on you.”

“You’re absolutely right, darling!” he said with a false gravity to the words. “I’d like to fix that as soon as possible by spending more time with you, instead.”

“I’d like that,” you said, unable to stop beaming at him.

“Me, too. Especially if it involves kissing you again,” he said.

You blushed. “I think that could be arranged,” you replied.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Night

beautiful words with "night" to try to include in your poem/story

Afternight - evening

Aleknight - obsolete: tippler (i.e., one who drinks liquor especially by habit or to excess)

Benight - to overtake by darkness or night especially before the end of a journey

Birthnight - the night in which a person is born

Knightess - obsolete: a woman filling the role of a knight either as a fighter or as a member of an order of chivalric import; female knight; the wife of a knight

Knightia - a small genus of Australasian trees or shrubs (family Proteaceae) with alternate leathery leaves, showy racemose flowers, and follicular fruit

Nightfall - the close of the day; dusk

Nightfowl - night bird

Nightjar - any of a family (Caprimulgidae) of medium-sized long-winged crepuscular or nocturnal birds (such as the whip-poor-wills and nighthawks) having a short bill, short legs, and soft mottled plumage and feeding on insects which they catch on the wing

Nightscope - an optical device usually using infrared radiation that enables a person to see objects in the dark better

Nightshade - any of a genus (Solanum of the family Solanaceae, the nightshade family) of herbs, shrubs, and trees having alternate leaves, cymose flowers, and fruits that are berries and including some poisonous weeds, various ornamentals, and important crop plants (such as the potato and eggplant)

Nighttide - nighttime; a flood tide occurring during the night

Sennight - archaic: the space of seven nights and days; week

Unbenight - archaic: to free from night or darkness

Yesternight - archaic: on the night last past

If any of these words inspire your writing, do tag me or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - July 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $Kaybarr1735! And if you tip me and give me a way to contact you, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week!

1. Zoo welcomes birth of four endangered horse foals

“[The Marwell Zoo in GB] said it was "delighted" to welcome the arrivals to the endangered Przewalski’s horse herd. All four are female and said to be "doing well" after two were born in May and two in June. […] “These horses, that were previously listed extinct in the wild, are an example of how zoo breeding programmes can help restore threatened species around the world.” […] All the Przewalski’s horses alive today are descended from just 12 individuals. Current estimates suggest there are 178 mature individuals living in the wild.”

2. Restoring woodlands and planting trees for sustainability success

“In 2023, [the Marwell Zoo] planted 9,000 new trees […] both within the zoo and on our surrounding land. […] Marwell tries to encourage natural feeding behaviour and nutrition by including leafy material [in animals’ feed] as much as possible. […] Planting more trees and enhancing management of our existing woodlands, prepares the way to further self-sufficiency in browse production in the future. Plus, it creates new habitats for wildlife in our woodland areas.”

3. Inclusive Playgrounds Allow Children Of All Abilities To Play

“With ramps allowing children in wheelchairs to ascend the central play structure, as well as numerous other swings and apparatus usable for children of all abilities, the 16,000-square-foot P.K.’s Place is St. Paul’s first fully inclusive playground. […] To be universally accessible, a play area must have at least 70% of its play features fully accessible, far more than required by the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). […] Play areas should allow parents and grandparents with disabilities to participate as well.”

4. Combination treatment can increase human insulin-producing cells in vivo

“[Diabetes-model mice] were treated with the combination therapy [of a plant product called harmine and “a widely used class of type 2 diabetes therapy”] and their diabetes was rapidly reversed. Strikingly, human beta cell numbers increased by 700 percent over three months with this drug combination. "This is the first time scientists have developed a drug treatment that is proven to increase adult human beta cell numbers in vivo. This research brings hope for the use of future regenerative therapies to potentially treat the hundreds of millions of people with diabetes," said Dr. Garcia-Ocaña, the paper's corresponding author.”

5. Decades of Dedication: Australia’s Largest Ongoing Urban Restoration Project

“[Friends of Lake Claremont] has transformed the area into a thriving ecosystem, re-establishing native habitats and fostering biodiversity. This year, 800 native seedlings (100 trees, 350 shrubs and 350 ground covers) have been planted on the northwestern buffer of Lake Claremont. Volunteers replaced a large Port Jackson fig (Ficus rubiginosa) affected by [beetle] infestation with native plants to enhance the local wildlife habitat, thereby benefiting insects, frogs, birds and brown bandicoots. […] Overall, the project contributes to the area’s function as a regional ecological corridor, linking inland bushlands, the Swan River and the Indian Ocean.”

6. Important habitat for fish in Heart of the Fraser now conserved

“British Columbia’s iconic salmon now have more protected spawning habitat in the lower Fraser River, thanks to the Nature Conservancy of Canada’s (NCC’s) conservation acquisition of Carey Island. […] Carey Island and its gravel channels offer calm and crucial spawning and rearing habitat for the river’s fish and aquatic species. […] The Pelólxw Tribe […is also] actively working to restore the resilience of aquatic habitat within this stretch of the Lower Fraser. NCC is exploring opportunities to collaborate with the Pelólxw Tribe in support of their vision for stewardship of the area, which prioritizes both ecological and cultural values.”

7. Prime editing efficiently corrects cystic fibrosis mutation in human lung cells

“[R]esearchers have developed a gene-editing approach that efficiently corrects the most common mutation that causes cystic fibrosis, found in 85 percent of patients. With further development, it could pave the way for treatments that are administered only once and have fewer side effects. The new method precisely and durably corrects the mutation in human lung cells, restoring cell function to levels similar to that of Trikafta [the standard treatment since 2019].”

8. Montana’s High Court Considers a Constitutional Right to a Stable Climate

“At issue was the appeal of a decision last year, when a Montana judge blocked a state law that prohibited agencies from considering climate impacts when deciding whether to approve fossil fuel projects such as new power plants, pipelines or mining. The ruling, by District Judge Kathy Seeley, was prompted by a lawsuit filed by 16 youths who argued that the law violated Montana’s constitutional right to a “clean and healthful environment.” It was the first ruling in the United States to effectively establish constitutional rights to a stable climate[….]”

9. The US is about to get its first solar-covered canal

“The first canal-based solar project in the U.S. is nearing completion on tribal lands south of Phoenix, Arizona. […] The long, narrow solar array design would snake along the line of the canal and tap into the local electrical distribution grid every 1,000 feet, or every one megawatt. […] “Canal solar allows for greater power production per land size, cleaner water, less power transmission losses, and significant reduction in evaporation[….]” Covering the entire 8,000 miles of canals and waterways managed by the Bureau of Reclamation with solar panels could generate over 25 gigawatts of renewable energy and reduce water evaporation by tens of billions of gallons[….]”

10. Camera traps offer glimpse of first beaver born in Northumberland for 400 years

“"It’s such a relief that they have bred successfully and to see a new fluffy kit swimming with the family[….]” In just one year [since releasing the beavers], there has been a noticeable increase in resident trout, says the National Trust, along with more regular visits from kingfishers and grey herons. There are more insects at the site, too, thanks to the organic matter that builds up behind the dams, which in turn provides food for Daubenton’s bats. […] Beavers also play an important role in creating habitats that are more resilient to the effects of climate change[….]”

July 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[harvestmoss]

🕊️💘Angel's Water

Welcome back to another magical waters post! In this post, we'll be talking about Angel's Water, which I feel is a good ingredient to have as a love witch!

What is Angel's Water?

Also known as Aphrodite Water or Venus Water, Angel's Water is called that because it is said that it derived from the angels who “seduced the daughters of man” in the book of Genesis. Angel Water is a powerful aphrodisiac love and sex potion. It can also be used for glamour magic because of its associated with the Goddess Venus/Aphrodite.

Myrtle is the main ingredient in this magical water. Myrtle is a common evergreen shrub of southern Europe. It symbolizes youth, virginity, fertility, immortality, and most importantly love. When Venus was washed up ashore, birthed, or emerged from the ocean, it is said she was covered in myrtle or held myrtle in her hand, and therefore it's one of her sacred plants.

How do you make Angel's Water?

There's a few different ways to make this water, Here's mine which should be safe for consumption (if you source your ingredients right)

Infuse or mix these ingredients together:

Myrtle - the main ingredient is myrtle, make sure there's more myrtle than of the others.

Flower waters - Rose, lavender, and orange blossoms are most common

Angelica root - This is mainly optional, for protection, and to make the name of Angel's Water ring louder.

Water - Where the ingredients will be infused or mixed.

Where do I use it?

I'd use this water when making love and sex potions. It's suppose to be a great aphrodisiac, so if a love spell requires a type of water, Angel's Water is a great one to use. It may also be used in glamour magic and be used as a face wash or be used in baths, as a way of attracting someone or something to you. It can also be used for consumption, so drink it yourself or feed it to the one you love.

[nezuswritingdesk]

giliw ko (revised)

Tags: Non-MC F!Reader x Zayne, Reader isn’t MC, Reader uses female pronouns (she/her), Spanish colonial AU! Not historically accurate (look i really tried for it to be accurate but sigh), Zayne, Reader, and Caleb are kids children during this time (around the ages of 7 to 12), appearances of Zayne and readers' parents, OOC Zayne and Caleb???, translations are included in small italics , fluff, different social classes ( this explains why your family works for his)

A/n: hello! I'll be moving my first ever lads fic to this account, I hope you won't mind and I hope you'll like as much as I do. There will be some minor revisions here and there but don't worry I'll keep it close as possible to the original. If you're curious on what the original fic was like ,I'll link it here. Header made by me as well, please don't repost or claim as your own or feed this to AI.

wc: 2,481

⋆⁺₊❅。Prologue 

Zayne remembered the first time he met you.

 He was seven years old when his mother introduced you, after she spent time looking around and asking if there was any child around his age who could get along with his quiet personality. 

Luckily,  your mother, one of the maids that raised him, had you. As a child, you had long hair, bright eyes that shone under the bright morning light, and skin that glowed under the sun’s comfort. 

And you were just around the same age as him. Perfect.  You stepped forward and bowed your head. 

“Y/N.” You said and glanced  up at him, hand stretched out, and waited for him to accept it. “Ano ang pangngalan mo?” What is your name? 

Zayne took your hand and hovered his lips above your hand. His mother’s eyes widened, and yours stared in disbelief at his actions but, yet no expression of disdain or anger painted their faces. 

“Zayne.” He said, his quiet voice slipped out of his tongue. "Ang pangngalan ko ay Zayne, binibining Y/N.  Natutuwa ako makilala ka.” My name is Zayne, Miss Y/N. I'm glad to meet you.

Zayne remembered your bright laughter. 

You shook your head at his introduction, and remarked about how formal he sounded for a boy around the same age as you. He tried to defend himself, saying that he wanted to make a good impression but  you continued to laugh. 

You looked up to your mother and his, and said the same thing. Before your mother can scold you about your mouth and behavior, his laughed. 

“Ganyan talaga siya, iha.” He's just like that, my dear. His mother said about her son’s behavior, “Parehas sila ng ama niya.” Just like his father.

Your mother nodded  in agreement. “Hayaan mo siya, ‘nak. Kahit ganyan ang kanyang ugali, mabuting siyang bata.” Let him be, my dear. Even if he acts like that, he's a good child.  

You looked at Zayne, still standing in front of you. You took his hand in yours , and made a beeline outside. Your small feet passed through their family’s beautiful garden with various flowers, shrubs, and individuals who helped maintain it. You stopped every once in a while to appreciate its beautiful colors and sweet smells. You took a whiff of Jasmines, grabbed fallen Santans, and carried Plumerias in your spare hand, all the while as you dragged Zayne behind. 

 Running past the garden, you wove through the grass and reached the vast plantation fields.

 It was already late in the morning, the plants towered over your small heads as the sun shined down brightly. There were people working on the fields, making sure that the rice being planted can be harvested once the season comes while others took shelter under tall trees. You passed through them all, making sure to give way to yourself and your new friend (despite the sighs of the workers, mainly from your father and grandfather). 

Back inside the house, the mothers laughed. 

“Ganyan ba talaga ang anak mo?” Is your daughter always like that?  Zayne’s mother asked, her voice in disbelief and filled with curiosity. She glanced outside, your silhouettes already gone. Your mother looked up from what she was doing, and nodded. 

“Opo, Señora. Ganyan talaga ang anak ko.” Yes Ma'am. She has always been like that.  Your mother answered and resumed her cleaning. 

Zayne remembered what the first few days of his life was with you in the picture. 

Most days,  he was quiet, observant, and kept to himself. He liked to read and followed his parents, who were doctors in their small town everywhere. He observed the way they treated patients, going above and beyond to help others in need in their small barrio, despite his family’s social rank. 

His father reinforced that social class doesn’t matter when they treated patients. This idea stuck with Zayne as his parents continued to expose him  to various people from different ages and social classes but most of the time, he would watch from afar, and witnessed how his parents interacted and treated patients. 

But ever since you came…things slowly changed.

He still followed his parents around, but everytime you wanted to play or talk to him, he dropped what he was doing to accompany you. You laughed and talked to him in what little Spanish and mostly Tagalog you knew and he listened, and tried his best to speak in Tagalog, mixing it with Spanish and his father’s tongue . 

Most of your days started early as you helped around the house. Your mother and the other maids would give you little tasks to do like cleaning up and wiping down the tables to keep you entertained for a while until Zayne woke up and spent the whole day together with you. 

However,  your most important task was given by Zayne’s mother, days after you two met and began to get along. 

“Iha,” Dear  His mother called for you. You stopped playing with Zayne and dusted your skirt the way you saw your mother and women and approached her. 

“Opo, Señora?” Yes, Ma'am? Your high-pitched voice replied. 

“Masaya ka rito? Kumusta kayo ng anak ko? Narinig ko sa ina mo na palaging kayo naglalaro at tinuturuan ka rin niya magbasa?” Are you happy here? How are you and my son? I heard from your mother that you two play often and he's been teaching you how to read? She asked.

You nodded immediately and began to ramble about the various activities you both liked to do. He taught you how to read and write, and in turn, you taught him to play various kids games you knew and helped him slowly break out of his quiet exterior. His mother nodded along, smiling at your anecdotes.

 Once you are done, you realize what happened. You looked down at the ground, trying to avoid her gaze. 

“Lo..lo siento, Señora…” I'm...I'm sorry, Ma'am. You whispered. She waved her hand, dismissing it. You glanced upwards and a smile returned to your face. 

“Natutuwa ako, iha. Saan magpatuloy ito dahil hindi ko pa nakita na laging ngumiti ang anak ko.” I'm glad its going well, my dear. I hope it continues. I haven't seen my son smile so frequently. She smiled before dismissing you off.

You remember how you two played with each other. 

Running outside of his home, your hands intertwined as you ran through the fields. He greeted workers a pleasant morning before you continued to drag him along. Far away from the fields, you both reach a small clearing. It was mostly flat, with several trees standing tall to shade you both. 

There you spend your days together, playing and laughing. Zayne teased you and in turn, you teased back. There were days he brought books, and taught you how to read and write your name in the dirt. 

In turn, you taught him how to climb a tree (which didn’t go as planned) and how to play the games you knew until lunch comes around and you both head back home. 

After lunch, the house was silent. You and Zayne found your own small space in a large house to simply do one thing: to take an afternoon nap before playing with each other throughout the afternoon until dinner. 

Some other days had exceptions, but nonetheless, it felt exciting as you two played and knew more about each other. You knew that Zayne likes stray kittens or any feline in general, and hates carrots. He picked at his food whenever there was the sight of it. It was the exact reason why your grandmother, the one who cooks at his family's, removed carrots from his meals. Most of all, you know that you are one of his friends—his only friend maybe, but for the ever quiet and observant Zayne, that was enough. 

Besides you being Zayne’s friend, your playmate, a boy around your age named Caleb joined along. 

Despite your different backgrounds and families, the three of you did everything together. The problem of social class never bothered you as you were children , barely the ages of 10, enjoying what it's like to be children. 

However, that ended one afternoon.

The three of you played at your usual spot. Zayne leaned against the tall tree,  Caleb laid down beneath the blades of grass, laughing , and you stood over both boys with a large grin on your face. You gloated about how you finally won against Caleb in a game of tag while he groaned in annoyance and grumbled about your loud and obnoxious behavior. 

“Ang ingay…” It's so loud  Zayne grumbled teasingly, “Mas tahimik pa ang sanggol kaysa sa iyo." A baby is even more quiet than you.

You glanced up at him. “At ano ka ba?” And what will you be? You retorted, “Isang matandang tao?” An old man?

He sighed.

Silence slowly began to envelope as you joined them and sat down on the grassy fields. The sun had begun to set, a various array of different colors painted the sky. Red bleeds into orange and yellow, with shades of pink appearing to dot the horizon as well. 

“Aalis ako dito.” I'm leaving. Zayne said, breaking the silence. You and Caleb paused and looked at him. You stared at him in disbelief,  thinking he was kidding. 

“Huh?!” You and Caleb spat out, eyes widen from the disbelief of his words. “Bakit?” Why? 

“Pupunta ako sa Maynila…at baka naman sa Europa or sa Asya…hindi ko pa alam.  Aalis ako para mag-aral ng medisina.” I'm leaving to study Medicine in Manila, or maybe Europe or other parts of Asia. Zayne explained.

Manila was a large place, the crown jewel of  the Philippines and the seat of Spanish colonial authority.  It  is the place where people go to but leave their families behind for a hope of a better life.

 Manila is the place where dreamers live, where the tall walls and gates in Intramuros block the rich and known from everyone else.  You remember stories about your parents, grandparents,  aunts and uncles, visiting the city of Manila. You remember how your eyes brightened with excitement as you wanted to know more about her beauty. 

Manila is a flame, and all the people flock like moths towards it. 

And Europe. The seats of Imperial powers, the place only a lucky few can find themselves in. Only the people with the right connections, money, and privilege can catch a glimpse of her beauty and allure. 

If Manila was like winning one small lottery ticket ,  then going to Europe was like winning the whole casino the small lottery ticket came from.

You and Caleb look at each other. 

Zayne was leaving.

You don't know when you'll see him again, or  if you'll ever see him either.  You kept a straight face, trying not to let the tears from your eyes fall. Caleb got up from the grass and squeezed your hand. 

“Talaga?” Really? Your voice said, almost cracking from the shock. “Aalis ka?” You're leaving? 

Zayne nodded, confirming his fate and their suspicions. 

“Kailan ka babalik?” When will you come back?  

Zayne shrugs his shoulders. “H…hindi ko alam kung kailan…” I...I dont know when.

You paused. 

He wasn't sure when he's coming back, and you aren't sure if he's even coming back alive in the first place— would he even remember all the times you played together as a trio if he leaves? What if he doesn't come back?  You sniffled and tried to wipe the invisible tears from your face. 

Caleb was quiet. He stared at Zayne as well, knowing that his departure would break your heart. He doesn't know if he'll be able to live this realization. The realization that Zayne would leave and the group they had made would lose their friend. 

He approached closer and pulled you and Zayne into a tight hug. 

And that's when you started to cry. 

You sobbed and stained everyone's clothes with snot as you sniffled. You wiped your tears, and grumbled a thing or two about the way you're acting. Tears continued to stream down your face as it becomes hard for you to breathe.

 Zayne and Caleb noticed your struggle and step away, giving you the needed space. 

No words were exchanged between you three as you held each other and cried until sun down. You helped wipe each other's tears before looking back at the direction of home and began to walk home, taking slow steps to absorb one of the last moments you three had together before reality stepped in.

You remembered the day Zayne left. 

You helped your mother and the other women clean the house when Zayne approached you, his father standing a bit farther away. He was dressed up nicely, in clothes similar to boys his age and his social circle. His hair was done as well, it's black strands in place. His smile never reached his eyes, his cheeks puffy. 

You dusted your skirt, pressed the wrinkled ends of your blouse, fixed your messy hair, and stepped forward. 

Standing in front of him was a reminder of the stark contrast between the both of you. 

A reminder that in the end, he was a son of the rich doctors of the province. 

And you were just an ordinary girl, born to ordinary parents , set out to live an ordinary life. 

At least, in the few years that you knew each other, social classes and privilege never mattered. 

“Aalis na ako." I'm leaving. He said,  and took your hand in his. He lowered his lips against it, and placed a soft kiss. Just like when you first met as children years ago.

You wiped a tear from your eye with your other hand. He let  go of your hand and grabbed something from his pocket and handed it to you. 

You tilted your head, and stared at the small thing beneath your palms.  It was a small flower, its colors faded turning a beautiful white to a soft brown. The sweet smell laced lightly across its small petals. You held the small flower on the palm of your hand and smiled. 

“Ang Ganda…" Its beautiful... You whispered  in amazement. He nodded.

“Kagaya sa iyo, at pinapangako ko na bibigyan kita ng maraming magandang bulaklak sa pagbalik ko…”Just like you, and I promise you that when I return, I'll give you many more beautiful flowers. He whispered, only low enough for the both of you to hear. 

His father called for him. Zayne looked away from you and returned to his father’s side. You waved goodbye and saw them leave the house, their silhouettes became smaller as they got into a carruaje and disappeared beyond the horizon.

You glanced down at the flower again, and placed it inside your pocket, patting it gently before getting back to work.

taglist: @seris-the-amious

[floylia]

ELYSIAN ♫

18. Am I wrong? ✎

“So my manager leaked my information.” It’s not a question anymore.

Scara nods apologetically as if he was at fault, eyes gleaming with genuine sincerity. This is the third time, he’s been vulnerable with you. He guides you up the cobblestone path, leading you closer to the Estate’s courtyard. The sun has already grazed its goodbye, only the moon rests above, gleaming at you and Scara. The darkness along the trees, shrubs, and boulders around the garden is eerie but something about his presence soothes your worries—something about his rare smile, hushed voice, and messy hair.

Perhaps it’s everything about him.

You pause in your tracks, watching over the waves on the beach—hands on the wooden fences standing around the courtyard, “Do you think they’ll believe me?”

“They’ll believe you once you tell your side.”

Doubt lingers, “What if they don’t?”

“Then they’re all fuck heads with no hobbies,” He swerves his head, now facing you with narrow eyes, and brows pulled together, “It’s stupid, how some of them graduated with degrees but have no basic sense of empathy or respect. They’re all entitled, gullible, and hypocritical assholes who use every opportunity to deflect their insecurities on others. It’s a crazy world we live in.”

The scowl on his face is almost laughable—how angry at the world he is on your behalf. You take note of Scara's wrath, experiencing it is not for the weak. Although, you don’t need to worry. His patience for you seems limitless.

“I can’t believe Jean lets you handle your social media accounts. You have no filter.”

He scoffs, “She doesn’t, but I find my way. They have to change the password every other week or else I might be permanently banned on every platform.”

You chuckle at his smug expression, “I want your confidence.”

“You already have it, you just need to use it.”

You avoid his gaze, “You sure do have a lot of faith in me.”

“Because I believe in you.”

For how long? You heard those same words before and they never kept their promises. Your agency, your manager. It was blind trust. Funny how life works.

“You blindly trusted me.”

You didn’t mean to say that. But it can’t be helped. What if one day you disappoint him? Will he leave too, like your manager? Or your fans?

“I knew you wouldn’t do that.”

No he didn’t. What did he know?

“There’s always a possibility—“

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” He sighs before running a hand through his hair, “Am I wrong for trusting you?”

You shake your head in guilt, realizing you let your doubts slip. Overthinking kills the mood, “It’s just that—“

“Am I wrong for wanting to be with you?” His voice softened.

You squint your eyes, unsure of what he means. You open your mouth to say something, anything to fill the silence, but nothing comes out.

So he inches forward, his left hand rests on your cheek, the other latches down to your waist, gentle and warm—you lean in to his touch, “Is it wrong to be this close?”

“No but—“

“For once please,” He sounds desperate, “Fuck what they think, focus on me and you. They can all go to hell.”

“So tell me: Is it wrong to need you at every moment?”

Once again you shake your head, this time with no interruptions.

“Is it wrong to be with you? To wake up every morning knowing I’m yours—knowing I can flirt shamelessly without doubting your feelings? Knowing I can write songs about you without hiding my love. Knowing I can feed you my favorite dishes without asking: am I doing too much? Or buy you things that remind me of you because not a single day goes by without your presence in my fucked up head.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. Everything is blurry but your gaze remains on Scara. Only him, because it has always been him.

“Am I wrong for feeling this way?” He whispers softly—so gentle that you want to apologize for trying to push him away.

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Kiss me.”

“Can I really?”

“Please.”

He does.

He does like his life depends on it.

Notes:

im on vacation but nothing will stop me from writing 😃

sorry for grammatical errors or spelling mistakes

Synopsis: After 7 years of enduring the media’s relentless pursuit of painting you as a villain, you’re forced to go through an indefinite hiatus with a tainted reputation on your head. However, just when you thought your career was over, a certain 5WIRL member wants you to feature on his solo career. Surely, this won’t affect your reputation once more, would it?

Scaramouche x fem!reader

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