#field pea plants

[inthecityofgoodabode]

November 2022: The Thursday

It was a gray day but warm enough for just short sleeves: 

Our succulent planting is hanging on but did not enjoying a week of freezing overnight temperatures: 

We’ve had a lot of hawk predation at our bird feeders so we’re leaving this mostly dead stand of blue salvia up to provide extra cover for the song birds: 

It is dead now but this is how thick the pumpkin vine got: 

Picked some collards for tonight’s dinner: 

This is probably the biggest cool season planting we’ve had to date: 

Plants largely unfazed by the freezing overnight temps - 

Yellow field pea: 

Pincushion flower: 

Cilantro: 

The lone warbler is back. These three photos are as close as it would let me get: 

Barking at the dogs next door: 

All shagged out after a long bark: 

Tonight’s menu: 

My queen’s handiwork: 

Except for my side dish, dinner was in my queen’s hands. My job was to keep the sink from getting too cluttered up with dishes. I also diced all the onions needed for the meal & grated some cheese: 

Just a little cheese: 

Dinner - turkey & dressing, roasted sweet potatoes, collards & kale, peas and radiatori & cheese: 

May the days find you well & your travels be safe. Cheers, y’all: 

[mybrainproblems]

love to search for advice about planting certain types of cover crops and then it turns out that little reddit blurb on google is from some stardew valley or farm sim subreddit 😂

[serapheseraphim]

I need to go frolicking in fields again.

[continent-of-wild-endeavor]

I feel like I may be accidentally selecting for hulls on my field peas that are harder to see.

A lot of cultivars of Vigna unguiculata* have hulls that turn purple when they're mature, but before they start to dry out. Purple hull and pink eyed peas are two common varieties like that, and it makes them real easy to spot for harvesting. Other kinds stay green, or maybe just go a little paler/yellower when they're ready, and those you have to hunt for among the leaves.

I don't know what varieties I started out with, but there's at least two normal-sized kinds in the mix, and hull color varies among them both. I never get every pod picked at the optimal time, but the ones I miss dry well on the vine, so I just pick them when I do find them, and put those dried bean in a jar to plant next year. Which means, as far as my unnatural selection, that the ones that don't turn a convenient color when they're ready have an advantage. They're more likely to get 'selected' for propagation (i.e. forgotten & then found later), as long as they produce well enough to be statistically significant in the seed jar.

Beans are pretty stable over the planting generations, as they mostly pollinate themselves, but they do produce crop-outs from time to time (like my exciting new fat variety - I'll do a post about them soon), so the color may drift over time. I've been growing these from my own saved seeds for ~10 years, and at least some of them are still purple (maybe half? maybe less), but then I don't really know what I started with, so idk if they've changed. I could start taking more notes, I guess.

*This species includes all the field peas, cowpeas, black eyed, purple hull, lady peas, Sea Island red peas, and a hundred other cultivars of similar beans. I call all those field peas, as a general term. Yardlong beans are also in this species, and some other Asian varieties I'm not as familiar with. Crowder peas, too.

Now, some people (and google) seem to think that crowder peas and field peas are the same thing, and they're wrong. Similar, yes. Closely related, yes. Cooked about the same, also yes. A crowder pea might even be considered a type of field pea, but not every field pea is a crowder. They crowd together in the pod, see, and it changes the shape of the pea, leaving an indent where the next one pushed up against it.

Proper crowder peas:

vs. ordinary purple hulls:

[byzerodigital]

Field beans - Avvari | Mocchai | Chikkudu | Hurulee | Bakla | AmaraVayal Foods high-quality fileld beans, also known as field Peas, Avarai / vayal avarai that are sustainably sourced from small-scale farmers in India. These versatile legumes are a nutritious addition to any diet, Providing plant-based protein, fiber, and antioxidants. Our field beans are carefully selected and processed to ensure maximum nutrition and flavor.

[quill-of-thoth]

So Gregor Mendel (yes, the guy with the pea plants) wrote down that he wanted to be given a thorough autopsy after he died. The year he died was 1884. Autopsies were increasingly common at the time, but Mendel was an Augustinian friar and the arguments preventing donating your body to science for teaching autopsies, research, etc. were theological. The “ethical” source of teaching cadavers for doctors to autopsy was (in many places) the bodies of executed criminals, as a sort of post-mortem punishment.  Mendel became a monk specifically because he couldn’t afford to study otherwise, even after one of his sisters donated her dowry to the cause. He did too well as a monk to continue his work as long as he wanted: he got promoted to Abbott and the last sixteen years of his life were spent doing administrative work, and his experiments weren’t properly replicated, or examined as a viable alternative to then current theories on inheritance, until 1900. But he chose to donate his body to science (which he loved) and be of material benefit to the field of medicine, which he didn’t practice but two of his nephews did.  There’s just something beautiful about a guy who lived through the era where having your body dissected was the height of dishonor, in an institution that had advocated against the practice, deciding that anything that helps humanity as a whole was worth doing. There’s something just as beautiful about the fact that he was exhumed for genetic sequencing on his 200th birthday - usually we don’t just dig people up and grab their genes as a surprise party, because in addition to it being a lot of work we can’t assume they would have appreciated it, but Mendel? He would have been jazzed. 

[the-faceless-bride]

can i have yandere clawd and deuce poly 😪 iltsm( i love yr writing ur one of my fav writers btw 💞)

Omg. I love both of them so much. 🥩🐍 Bluckle the FUCK up, it's a long one. I love them so much. I gave each their own section as to how this started, then the poly together. If you want more of them... Please... Please ask me. P.s. sorry about all the monster puns, I couldn't help myself

🌕New Ghoul in School🐍

Warnings: OOC Clawd, OOC Duce, OOC Cleo?, OOC Draculaura? Clawd being a kicked puppy, yandere content, controlling behavior, turning to stone, non-con hugging, cuddling and Kisses, forced closeness, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR!, accusations of cheating, emotional cheating?

Characters : Clawd × Reader × Duce

Proof read : nope

Requested?: yes

You had just transferred from your normie school, Turns out people are so accepting of finding out you're a monster. So you transferred to Monster High, and being a new ghoul didn't seem so hard until you tripped an orange werecats tail and she picked a fight with you...

"and just Who, do you think you are? I don't know how you are your Normie friends play, but you don't want to mess with me Ghoul. I'll make you sorry-"

"why don't you go and pick on someone your own size Torilie?"

"yeah, Dude. Not cool."

🐾🐍 • and that's how it started. Just two Mansters defending the New Ghoul. They knew Torilie was one to pick fights and figured they would help you stay out of trouble for the time being. And the three of you became three peas in a pod. And while you all thought it was great, their Ghoulfriends... Had other ideas.

🐍🕶️ • Cleo started having problems as soon as you had arrived. Your first day she already knew who you were, what you were, where you came from, and if you were cool enough to be popular and associate with the Ghouls she does. And she deemed you not worthy. And that was putting a strain on your friendship.

🐍🕶️ • Duce was grown increasingly tired and frustrated. He loved Cleo, he did. But she could be... Emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausting. When they go out he has to change his personality to not embarrass her, she dictates who can can hang out with and when, and he has to constantly hear from her that he should be doing as she asks and says and do it happily as she goes against what her family wants to be with him. He doesn't want to do that anymore. He wants to be able to Shoot Hoops with Clawd, sit with Jackson at lunch, and talk about the Hissstory test. Listen to whatever playlist Holt made or play dodgeball with Slow Mo. Without Cleo saying when he can and can't.

But he just can't leave her. He's become so dependent on her. Hell, the last time She went to Scarise without him, he nearly went crazy as he didn't know what to do. He couldn't leave Cleo. Even if he wanted to... Unless. Maybe he didn't need to be dependent on her. Maybe. He could be dependent on you.

🐍🕶️ • Duce began to test the waters, which was the start of his obsession. For example at lunch when Cleo tells him to get the green eyed Salad and a water, he'll then turn around and ask you... Sometimes when you feel the burn of Cleo's raging stare you won't respond or say the same as Cleo, but on the days you don't pay attention or to stressed to care you recommend the meat plant sandwich and the yummy razzberry soda pop you've been drinking the past few days. And he'll pick your recommendation. And it Infuriates Cleo. He likes that with you, he has a choice, where Cleo demands and tells. You offer and recommend.

🐍🕶️ • this intimately ends in an explosive argument that Spectra has a field day covering. And Duce does something, not him. Her. Or anyone else in the school say coming. "I'm breaking up with you Cleo." a long still silence fills the halls as everyone takes a moment to process what he just said. Before Cleo screams and storms away, and Duce... Doesn't feel as heartbroken as he thought he should.

🐍🕶️ • Duce starts spending most if not all his free time with you and Clawd, well. Mostly you as Clawd gets called from Draculaura a lot. And while he's sad he can't spend more time with Clawd he's happy to spend time with you. You help groom his snakes, you help him pick which sunglasses he should wear each day, (even though they are all just different shades of red) as well as his many band sweaters. Rumors spread like wildfire, especially with Spectra's gossip site.

"Duce trades princess for new Ghoul?! Stay tuned for the possible new hot relationship??"

🐾🌕 • when Clawd first met you he thought you were great! He got a new friend to hang out with! Sure Manny, Heath, Gill, and Duce we're cool but Clawd has a thing for fashion and self-care, that's not something he really talks about with them BUT that's OK! cuz now he can talk about it with you! He ended up spending a bit of free time with you, anytime Draculaura was out and shopping or just Fanging out with her Ghoulfriends or catching up with her Cousin, he would spend his afternoon with you. Getting his hair straightened and trimmed, getting manicures so his nails don't get too sharp and ridged. And eventually, when he's comfortable with you, he'll start playing games. Like fetch or chase. The only issue is that when Duce started to come around more and Cleo trying to keep him on a leash, slowly Draculaura started calling him and needed him more and more. He didn't think much of it, until Duce's big breakup with Cleo. A week later Draculaura wouldn't leave him alone for a second, and anytime you started approaching she took his hand and pulled him in another direction.

🐾🌕 • it started becoming draining, he loves spending time with his Ghoulfriend. He truly did. But not when every two seconds she was hinting and implying all the time he spent with you was him creeping around behind her back. Nothing he did or said made her change her mind, now everything he did seemed to set her off. She was so paranoid, that he went out of his way to make her a gift to show that he loved her, but he accidentally made it worse, he had to try and hold back tears and puppy cries as she said, "Bad Clawd!" over and over while tugging his ear. He doesn't understand what he did wrong, he just made a new friend. You nor him did anything. So why was she being like this?

Any attempts to talk about it were shut down, as she tried keeping him away from you. And he just couldn't take it anymore, he liked being clingy but he was clingy because he genuinely wanted to be around his partner not just sticking to them like glue-watching like a hawk to 'catch them in the act'. He would go as far as to say this was worse than the time he was dumped for Valentine the love manipulator.

🐾🌕 • Clawd began to confide in you, Draculaura wouldn't listen to him so he was happy you did. He spent hours just sitting under a tree at the back of the school with you, drawing doodles in the dirt, ears tucked back to his head as he vented about his feelings and how the recent arguments had affected him, you tried to help every time. But eventually, word got to Draculaura about your little meetings, and stormed over one day with her ghoulfriends in toe.

Both you and Clawd had to endure the burning glare of the Ghouls, Draculaura ranting and raving and ultimately giving him an ultimatum. You or her. And Clawd's ears pinned flat to his head, he didn't want to lose his Ghoulfriend but he didn't want to lose you either. But before he could answer Draculaura said something that gave him the push to his ultimate answer. "ugh, I should've known! A guy hangs out with other guys like him! And Duce is a lying, dirty, cheater and so are you! And this new Ghoul sure has some nerve to go around sneaking with other Mansters knowing they are dating someone! If that's the kind of Manster you are Clawd then maybe... Eh *hick* MaYbe we shouldn't Be togEther!" a moment passes where Clawd looks down into Draculaura's wet violet eyes, sighs, then answers. "maybe we shouldn't." the ghoul's Gasp and Draculaura sobs, "FINE! WE ARE OVER!"

🐾🌕 • Clawd thought relieved he wouldn't be interrogated every day and being told he's bad, he's still heartbroken that the Ghoul he thought he'd spend his life with was gone. He clung to you and Duce for security and long talks to make him feel better and eventually, he did. Clawd was back to his peppy, wide-eyed, excitable self again. In fact, he's the happiest he's been. His mood wasn't Even shaken when he found out Draculaura had begun dating his sister, he just didn't care. He was happy.

🐾🌕 • It wasn't until a late-night Chat; that you and Clawd had stayed over at Duce's house after seeing a new skinwalker Scareitage Boovie that Clawd discovered that not only He had feelings for you but so did Duce... And well, he had always liked Duce maybe even more than just a bro, but this changed everything. And they agreed. A scarily wonderful idea...

"Vampy puts doggy out for good? Or does Doggy like the Dog house with his chew toy?"

🐍🐾 • now Duce and Clawd are softer yandere's than the normal. But that doesn't mean they won't use force if they need to. Duce is a Dependant, laid-back, stalker-type yandere. He's ok with letting you have wiggle room as long as he knows where you are at all times and can get to you in a short period. Whereas Clawd is a Clingy, overprotective, worshiper-type Yandere. Clawd wants to be near you all the time if you let him, but he's ok with letting you go for a while as long as he has Duce he always knows where you are because Duce knows, if at any point Duce doesn't know for some reason or he's not around Duce to find out, he'll use his nose to track you down.

🐍🐾 • You probably wouldn't know they are yandere's unless you start trying to spend more time with others that aren't them. The more you try and hang out with Operetta and Cupid they start to get a little more aggressive and demanding of your time and attention. Which can trigger some alarm bells that something isn't right. The best thing would be to try and talk and compromise they are willing to do that as long as you promise to let them keep tabs "for safety reasons," and you spend time with them immediately after.

🐍🐾 • after a month or two they start to be more openly affectionate and act like a Throuple, it went over your head at first with Duce's laid-back attitude and Clawd's over-excitable personality being normal, but the more Clawd wanted to play fetch and hug you, and Duce constantly being around you despite having the freedom to hang out with his other dudes you start to get the idea they might be romantically interested.

🐍🐾 • You opened to the idea, and the relationship seemed to be working well... Until they started to become, overwhelming. Clawd always over your shoulder, Duce always seeming to know where you are... Even when you didn't tell him where you were. And things took a turn when you tried to tell them you needed space. "You're... Breaking up... With us?" you sputtered, you definitely didn't answer and deny fast enough as you felt your body start to stiffen and cold. Duce had turned you to stone. Clawd whimpered while holding your cold stiff stone body, "im sorry sweetheart. But we can't have you running from us. Just be good ok? Please?" after that you'd been chained to them by that point. Nobody would've believed you if you told them the school's Cool guy and oversized puppy were forcing you into a relationship...

🐍🐾 • they aren't too harsh on punishments. For the most part. Once you tried to run away once, you waited for a moment to be alone before printing off trying to get somewhere, anywhere but there. But you forgot who you were dealing with and Clawd chased you down. Clawd's punishments involve many forced hugs, kisses, and closeness. If he shows how much he loves you at some point you'll see it's true and love him too! Right?

Duce will turn you to stone anytime he gets an idea you're about to run off. He makes Clawd drag you to his house. Which takes a lot of manipulation and convincing. Clawd doesn't want to lock you away to be alone. He wants you to be around them! But Duce scares him into going along with it. Even sometimes provokes him to anger to be more willing to lock you in a dirty old basement.

🐍🐾 • overall. As long as you stay and promise to love them, and don't mind clinginess it's a cute relationship... But if you reject them, you'll spend a lot of time in an old basement in Duce's home, alive but unable to move. To feel. Or scream.

[infamous-light]

You Belong to Me Ch. 1

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior, blood, aftermath depiction of violence

You woke up every morning to the faint glow of dawn filtering in through the small, frost-covered window of your cramped living space. The air was cool and still, carrying with it the subtle scent of weathered stone and aged wood. It was a far cry from the comfort of your former life, but you have long since resigned yourself to the harsh realities of servitude since you began living in Castle Dimitrescu three months ago.

With a weary sigh, you pushed yourself upright. The blanket slid away to reveal the simple cot that served as your bed. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and planted both feet onto the cold, unforgiving surface of the wooden floor. It made goosebumps travel across your arms.

Ignoring the slight chill in your bedroom for now, you walked over to a small dresser, and with a gentle tug, you pulled open the drawer, revealing an array of neatly folded uniforms within. You sift through the selection, your fingers grazing over soft cotton blouses, tailored trousers, and dresses. After thoughtful consideration, you settled on a plain white blouse paired with sleek black trousers.

Once dressed, you made your way over to where a small basin sat atop a stand, tucked away into the corner of your bedroom. Cupping your hands, you scooped up the frigid liquid and splashed it onto your face. As the droplets cascaded down your cheeks, you reached for a hand towel hanging nearby and patted your face dry. You turned your attention to your hair next and picked up an old hairbrush resting on the stand. As you ran it through your strands, you felt the satisfying tug of knots being smoothed out.

After combing your hair, you placed the hairbrush back down with a soft clink and grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste tucked next to the basin. You applied a pea-sized amount of toothpaste onto the bristles and began to brush your teeth. Once two minutes have passed, you rinsed your mouth and toothbrush and placed it back on the stand. With a sense of cleanliness and readiness, you leave your bedroom, prepared to face the day ahead.

You walked down the hallway, the quiet tap of your shoes thumping lightly against the carpeted floors. The walls, painted a pristine white, were lined with gold accents that shimmered under the candles’ soft lighting. Alongside the decor, various paintings adorned the walls, depicting scenes of women dancing in sunlit fields or portraits of people.

The interior of the castle was beautiful, you could admit that, but beneath it all lurked the unsettling reality of torture and death. Behind closed doors, unseen horrors unfolded. All the maids lived in constant fear, their every move scrutinized, and their slightest mistake met with brutal punishment. The halls were haunted with their pained screams and whispered pleas for mercy.

The price of disobedience and the consequences of crossing the line drawn by Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters was one you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Eventually, you reached the supply room door and turned the handle. The hinges protested with a soft, familiar creak as you swung the door open. Inside, shelves were neatly stacked with cleaning supplies. Just as your hand reached out to grab the items you needed, you heard a familiar voice behind you say your name.

You turned around and a rush of warmth flooded through you as you realized it was Catalina. Since your arrival three months ago, Catalina had become your closest friend, an anchor, guiding your life through the horrors of this castle.

“Good morning.” Catalina greeted you with a warm smile, her chestnut brown hair cascading in gentle waves around her shoulders.

“Hey, good morning.” You replied, returning her smile.

“Are you ready for another grueling day?” She joked lightly, though her voice was tinged with exhaustion.

“Yeah,” you forced to maintain your smile despite the unease that gnawed at your insides. “But we’ll get through it like we always do.” You added, summoning a bit of reassurance for both you and Catalina.

The corners of her mouth downturned, forming a subtle frown as she spoke. “I wish I had your optimism right now. I have to help Maria clean up Miss Daniela’s bedroom,” she continued, her tone heavy with a sense of foreboding. “I dread what I’ll find in there.”

You grimaced in response.

Daniela was the youngest of Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters. She was known for her volatile and unpredictable nature. Her actions often left everyone on edge. At any given moment, Daniela's demeanor could shift like the wind, turning from saccharine to savage in the blink of an eye. It was best to avoid her completely when it came to the Lady’s three daughters.

“Well, I hope it’s nothing too bad.” You murmured.

“Me too,” Catalina said with a soft smile. “But I’ll see you later at lunch, okay?”

“Definitely. See you then.”

As Catalina left the supply room, you grabbed a bucket already filled with soapy water, a mop, and a couple of washcloths. With your supplies in hand, you made your way over to one of the hallways assigned to you. Upon reaching your destination, you carefully set your supplies down. The mop leaned against the wall while the bucket of cleaning solution sat nearby.

Taking a moment to survey the large window, you noted the thin layer of dust and grime obscuring the view beyond. Determined to restore its clarity, you dipped one of the washcloths into the water and wrung out the excess liquid soaking the fabric.

Positioning yourself at the first window, you finally got to work.

***

As you finished wiping down the last window, the midday sun shone high above the mountains, letting you know that it was nearing noon. Satisfied with your work, you gathered your cleaning supplies and began to make your way back to the supply room.

However, as you walked along, the silence of the castle was shattered by the sudden, blood-curdling scream of a woman. The chilling sound was quickly followed by a sickening gurgle. Dread washed over you like a wave as the implications of what you had just heard sank in. Without hesitation, you quickened your pace, clutching your supplies in a death grip as you hurried away from the source of the horrifying noise.

“You there, stop!”

A menacing voice cut through the air, and you halted in place. Every muscle in your body tensed as you recognized the commanding tone of Cassandra, the middle child of Lady Dimitrescu. Encountering Cassandra was an ordeal in and of itself. Though not as overtly unhinged as her youngest sibling Daniela, Cassandra's brand of cruelty was more insidious. Her actions were calculated, designed to inflict maximum suffering upon those unfortunate enough to cross her path. She was known to be the most sadistic among her sisters.

With a knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach, you slowly turned to face her, meeting her piercing gaze with trepidation. However, your attention was soon drawn elsewhere as you noticed something deeply disturbing: blood dripped from the edge of her sickle, staining the floor in dark, ominous droplets.

“Come here.” Cassandra drawled out, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. Her lips curved into a sly grin as she extended her index finger, beckoning you over.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to comply, your footsteps hesitant as you approached her. Her grin widened, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes as you stepped closer, feeling the weight of her gaze upon you.

“Clean this mess up.” She said lowly as she inclined her head toward Lady Dimitrescu’s study room.

“Yes, Miss Cassandra.” You whispered obediently.

As you cautiously stepped past the door frame, a scene of horror greeted you. There, sprawled in the center of the room, lay the lifeless body of a maid. Her throat was gruesomely slashed, the wound jagged and brutal. A pool of blood spread like a sinister halo around her head, seeping into the cracks of the floorboards.

For a moment, you stood frozen in shock.

Time seemed to stand still as you struggled to comprehend the brutality of what lay before you. Your eyes were fixated on the lifeless form, unable to tear your gaze away. You had never encountered a dead body before. The sight was jarring, shocking you to your core.

You had seen the aftermath of violence before, heard the distant screams, and seen leftover blood etched into the fibers of the carpets, but never have you come face to face with death itself. This was different.

This was raw and real.

Your eyes briefly caught sight of a large key adorned with the Dimitrescu family crest, resting delicately next to her hand. Before you could ponder its significance, Cassandra's voice, smooth as silk but laced with an unsettling edge, whispered close to your left ear.

“Don't mind her,” she purred, her breath brushing against your earlobe like a cold breeze. “She had it coming.”

Startled, you gasped and instinctively stepped forward, desperate to get away from her.

Cassandra chuckled and stepped around you without a single care in the world. She bent over and retrieved the key, slipping it into the pocket of her dress. Then, in a chilling display of strength, she seized the young woman by the collar of her blouse, her grip unyielding as she dragged the limp body along with ease. And then, as if forgetting something, she paused, turning slowly to fix you with an unnerving gaze.

“Consider this a lesson. This is what happens to those who attempt to escape.” She remarked, her tone almost causal, as if discussing the weather. Her eyes then drifted toward the trail of blood that stained the floor. For a moment, her eyes lingered on the crimson mess before meeting your own again, a smirk playing on her lips. “You may want to hurry and clean this up before Mother makes an appearance.”

The implication of her statement hung heavy in the air.

“Yes, Miss Cassandra.”

As Cassandra finally departed the room, a surge of anguish threatened to engulf you, but you suppressed it. With trembling hands and a heart heavy with dread, you forced yourself to maintain composure, though every instinct screamed at you to turn and run.

There was no time to waste as you got started on cleaning the blood up.

Time seemed to warp and twist, stretching into an eternity as you meticulously cleaned every speck of blood off the floor. With each swipe of the mop, your hands shook uncontrollably, the memory of what had transpired haunting your every move. Every corner you scrubbed, every stain you erased, felt like an attempt to cleanse not just the physical space, but the sorrow that threatened to consume you from within.

Just as you thought you couldn't bear another moment of the suffocating silence, you heard it. The unmistakable sound of heavy high heels clicking through the hallway. Your heart almost leaped into your throat, but instead, pounded against your ribs like a caged animal desperate for escape.

The click-clack of her high heels came to a sudden stop.

A tense stillness settled in the air, thick and palpable, as you sensed her presence looming by the doorway. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled and stood on end, a primal instinct warning you of the danger that stood before you. But your eyes remained fixed on the floor, as if it held the key to your salvation.

And then, finally, she spoke, her voice like velvet. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

You found yourself momentarily stunned. You didn't know how to respond. Your mind raced, searching for the right words, but they never came. You had never spoken to her before, until today. So, you settled for her title instead.

“My Lady.” You managed to utter softly.

But there was only silence in response.

You shifted uneasily, unsure of what to do next. Was she waiting for something? Did you do something wrong?

With a hesitant glance upward, you found yourself locking eyes with Lady Dimitrescu.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you held her gaze, a sense of unease creeping over you like ivy winding its way around your limbs. There was something in the way she looked at you – a hunger, a thirst for something you couldn't quite name – that made your insides curl.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment passed, and she offered you a knowing smirk – a flash of pearly white teeth that sent a chill down your spine.

Your pulse quickened as you watched Lady Dimitrescu walk past you, her tall figure casting a long shadow across the floor. But then she stopped, the sudden cessation of movement sending a jolt of fear through you. You could feel her presence hovering somewhere behind you, a suffocating weight that seemed to press down on your very soul.

“You missed a spot.” Lady Dimitrescu said but it sounded almost playful.

“I-I’m sorry, my Lady,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll get that cleaned up right away.”

Your heart hammered in your chest like a relentless drumbeat as you scrambled over to her. Kneeling beside her, your eyes caught a small spot of blood that you had missed, a tiny droplet that clung stubbornly to the floor. How was she even able to see that?

You pulled a handkerchief from your pocket, fingers fumbling slightly in their haste. With gentle precision, you began to clean the area, your movements slow and deliberate.

Finally, when the task was done, you gazed up at her, seeking some sign of reassurance. But what met your gaze was unnerving – a smile that sent shivers down your spine. It wasn't the smile of satisfaction you had expected. No, it was something far more sinister. Her lips curled upward, revealing a glimpse of something altogether different – a flash of fangs.

“You may go.” Lady Dimitrescu said, her voice carrying an eerie calmness.

“Thank you, my Lady.”

With a deep, respectful curtsy, you dared not linger any longer than necessary. As you hastily gathered your belongings, you could feel her eyes boring into the back of your head as you left her study.

You navigated the many hallways once more, each twist and turn blurring together seamlessly. Desperation clawed at you, urging you to put as much distance as possible between yourself and Lady Dimitrescu.

As you rounded another corner, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, both physically and mentally. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you breathed deeply, letting the tension melt away. But even as you tried to calm your racing heart, your mind couldn't shake the image of the way Lady Dimitrescu stared at you.

There was something off about it, something you couldn't quite put into words.

You hope you never find out.

***

The morning sun casts a soft golden glow through your window, signaling the start of a new day.

With a languid motion, you stretched your limbs and pushed the covers aside, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Rubbing your eyes, you let out a soft yawn and glance around the room, the familiar surroundings gradually coming into focus. Yet, something seemed out of place.

Your gaze drifted to the door of your bedroom. You frowned as you saw a small, folded piece of paper lying on the floor, just beneath the edge of the door.

Intrigued, you rose off the bed and padded your way across the room toward the note. You bent down and picked it up. Unfolding the paper, you found yourself staring at what appeared to be elegant handwriting scrawled across the page.

My dearest pet,

It has come to my attention that your talents are wasted on menial tasks. Therefore, it is with great pleasure, and without room for negotiation, that I hereby command you to assume the role of my personal servant from this day forth.

You shall attend to my every whim and desire with the utmost devotion. You will be at my beck and call, ready to serve me without question or hesitation.

You are expected to begin your shift at 9 A.M. in my bedchambers. Do not be late.

Yours faithfully,

Lady Alcina Dimitrescu

Blood froze in your veins.

As you read those words, an icy grip tightened around your heart.

Pet.

Being labeled as Lady Dimitrescu's “pet” made your stomach churn. At that moment, the room seemed to close in around you, suffocating you with its hold. You released the note from your trembling fingers, watching it flutter back to the floor.

None of this made any sense.

Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t known for keeping pets. The very idea seemed absurd, yet she called you one.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, she also wanted you to be her personal servant. That fact alone was terrifying. You were already forced to work in this castle but the prospect of serving directly under her? That was a whole other matter.

You stole a glance at an old clock perched on your dresser. It was 8 A.M. You knew you had little time left before you were expected to be in her bedchambers, ready to fulfill whatever tasks she demanded of you.

Many thoughts flittered around in your mind, swirling like leaves. Among them, one stuck out the most. The desire to escape burned within you like a flame refusing to be extinguished.

No.

The idea was foolish. It would surely get you killed. You have already seen what Cassandra did to that maid yesterday.

But what if you took your time to plot your escape?

Escaping the castle would not be easy. It would require cunning, stealth, and a plan so foolproof that even the Dimitrescu family would be caught off guard.

Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against you, you have to try. You refuse to live the rest of your life as some noblewoman’s pet.

Turning on your heel, you got dressed and left your bedroom. With each step, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as though a pair of unseen eyes followed your every move. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of someone lurking in the shadows, but the hallway remained empty. You quickened your pace until the sound of your name pierced through the stillness of the hallway.

Startled, you pivoted to find Catalina standing there. Her smile, usually bright and welcoming, faltered as she took in your demeanor. Concern etched across her features as she walked over to you, her hands settling gently on your shoulders. Her touch offered both comfort and support.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Her voice carried genuine worry. “I didn’t see you at lunch or dinner yesterday.”

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling dry and constricted.

“No, everything is not okay.” You managed to rasp out.

“What’s wrong?” Catalina's expression softened with empathy.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of Lady Dimitrescu’s words pressing down on you. But you needed to confide in someone, and she was the only person you trusted enough to share that information with.

“I received a note this morning from Lady Dimitrescu. She said that I’m to be her personal servant starting today.”

Catalina's reaction was immediate. A light gasp left her lips, and her hands, which had been resting reassuringly on your shoulders, fell away. The color drained from her face, leaving her complexion pallid as her lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I don’t know what to do.” Your voice quivered, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. “I’m scared.”

Catalina's brow furrowed as she sought to understand the situation.

“Why did she ask you to be her personal servant?” she asked, her tone gentle yet probing. “The grand chambermaid usually attends to the Lady’s needs.”

You reached up, delicately brushing away the tears that gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I’m not sure. She just said that my talents were wasted on menial tasks.”

There was a long pause as she absorbed your words.

“This is very unusual.” Catalina murmured; her voice laced with unease.

A queasy sensation crept up from the pit of your stomach, coiling like a serpent as you hesitated to tell Catalina how Lady Dimitrescu addressed you in her note as well. You were reluctant to say it out loud.

Pet.

You were no longer a person, but a possession.

[libraryofmoths]

Moth of the Week

Salt Marsh Moth

Estigmene acrea

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cottonlemonade]

A Simpler Life [Part 3]

word count: 2296 || avg. reading time: 10 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, neighbors to lovers

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.

[part 1] [part 2]

The next day you waited in the front yard for him on his way home and invited him for dinner again. And the day after that. And after that. Before long, you offered a standing dinner invitation and he happily accepted.

Now Kita’s steps quickened when he called it a day. It became rarer that he stayed until sundown to maybe do something that could be easily taken care of tomorrow. Having dinner with you every night was almost as if … almost like… coming home to you. The first thing he did when he stepped through your gate was go check on your plants. The tomatoes were doing really well and your radishes, while a bit on the puny side, also weren't too shabby. He wound a few of the newly formed pea vines around the trellis, then went to knock on your door.

A wonderful smell wafted in his nose but his heart only jumped when he saw you. You were setting the table, an apron around your plump hips, your hair tied up to a bun. It took every ounce of self control he had not to greet you with “I‘m home“. But maybe you‘d find it funny if he did? He tucked the thought away for later. Right now he dusted off his clothes, took off his shoes and stepped inside.

With the rainy season came a new routine for Kita. He loved this time of year because his fields thrived in this weather and it was fun for him to go check on their growth every other day when there was a break from the downpour. While the rain splattered loudly on the roofs and puddle-strewn streets, he stayed inside, doing the paperwork that came with farming, going over numbers and making phone calls to ensure the supply chain was in order once it was time to harvest mid fall. Before, he would have used the remaining time in his days to read or do some maintenance around his home, fixing little things he noticed or building a new piece of sturdy furniture to then deliver to his grandmother in the little hamlet he grew up in 40 minutes away. And while he did do all those things, he made very sure to keep aside more time for you as well. You met up in town for a cup of tea or to go to the grocery store together or drove to a neighboring town for a famous fish market he had told you about, eating your fill of gorgeously fresh sashimi and having a drink under the beautiful traditional awnings of the shops while looking out onto the stormy waves of the ocean. You never called it a date. You always made sure to refer to it as an “outing” and while he was glad to spend time with you, no matter what it was called, he couldn’t help but deflate a little whenever you clarified it to the people in your town who had gotten curious and suspicious about how often you two were spotted together. “Our Kita never spends this much time with anyone, let alone a pretty thing like ya. Ya should pay Yumie a visit soon, I reckon.”, one of the grandmothers had noted the other day and Kita had vehemently shaken his head behind your back to make her stop. The last thing he needed was word getting back to his grandma. She would want to meddle or as she would put it “help”. She would probably invite you over for dinner and ask all kinds of embarrassing questions, strongly hinting at the fact that she wasn’t getting any younger and Kita should hurry up and give her a pretty wedding and plenty of great-grandchildren. It wouldn’t matter that her grandson hadn’t made any romantic advances to you yet or that you perhaps didn’t even see children in your future. In all honesty, Kita would be happy with whatever you wanted. You would want children? Alright, he could get started on that straight away as far as he was concerned. You would want to spend your days with him alone and get those little goats you were gushing over the other day? He would gladly comply and build their enclosure as soon as you’d say the word. But as much as he was yours, you weren’t his. He was accompanying you on outings and although you were incredibly sweet and initiated contact often, he had learned that this was just the way you were. And he was foolish to read anything else into it.

He almost didn‘t hear the knock over the rain. It was early in the morning and he sat on his couch with a cup of tea and a book but looked up when he heard your voice calling his name.

Opening the door he came face to face with a pitiful pout.

“My home flooded.“, you announced.

“What?“

“Apparently the roof isn‘t roofing as it should and now there is a huge puddle in my living room.“

A few minutes later he stood in your doorway, marveling at the myriad of blankets and towels laid out on the floor while in the middle of the room a big flower printed bucket was steadily filling up with water trickling in from the ceiling.

He would have a word with the town‘s realtor later for selling you a house that was anything less than perfect.

“Once the rain calms down a little I’ll have a look at it. Weather report said it should be dry in the afternoon.”

You threw him a hopeful smile.

“Really? Thank you so much! Can I make you lunch in return?”

He shook his head and upon seeing your face falter he immediately followed it with, “Ya’ve been cooking for me for weeks. Lemme do it for once.”

Personally, you thought you deserved an award for not drooling all over Kita‘s kitchen table. Seeing him shake out his wet hair when he returned from a quick run to the greenhouse for some fresh veggies was already testing you but now he was preparing said fresh veggies to turn into omurice and you were just about ready to lose your mind. There was something so wonderfully cozy and domestic about seeing this man prepare his produce with a little unconscious smile on his lips. His shoulders, broadened by the field work, moved smoothly as he fried the rice and you didn‘t hear him at first when he asked you a question, because your thoughts were somewhere else entirely. The meal immediately turned into your new favorite dish and his cheeks blushed when you couldn’t stop gushing about how good his rice tasted. You learned a while ago that it was a big source of pride for him when people complimented his produce, so you made sure to do it whenever possible, suppressing all the squeaks rising in your throat when you saw him turn shy. As you two enjoyed lunch, he requested more stories about your traveling and how you came to Japan, listening intently and asking for more details here and there. Laying a hand on your well-filled tummy you leaned back and let your eyes wander through his pristine home and out the open window, watching the continuous streams of collected rain drizzling from the shingles of the porch awning. Your eyes fell onto the little open shed next to his gate and the curled up form of his dog lazing around underneath.

“Shouldn’t we let him in?”, you asked and Kita followed your gaze.

“Hm? Why? Roku is a guard dog. He lives outside.”

“But… it’s wet outside.”, you mumbled.

“It’s nice in the hay, I promise.”

“Hm…”

“Don’t worry, he is doing well. If he’d be in here he couldn’t do his job properly to guard ya.”

Using his chopsticks, Kita placed a red bean mochi for dessert on a small plate with more fresh strawberries and handed it to you. You accepted and chewed the sweet treat thoughtfully, still looking outside, unaware of his adoring smile.

The rain did let up in the afternoon just as predicted and together you carried a ladder and some supplies over to your house. You insisted on helping and although you couldn‘t do much to assist, you noted that you could still cheer him on and make sure the ladder didn‘t fall.

Moving slowly on the wet roof he went to work. The leak was fortunately nothing major and it didn‘t take long to fix. On his way back to the ladder however -

He drew in a sharp breath when he felt a muscle pull in his shoulder.

“Oh my gosh, are you alright?“, he heard you call from the ground.

“Yeah. Just slipped.“

Kita almost missed a step on his way down when he suddenly felt your hand supporting his back. He was really trying not to enjoy you fussing over him but when you led him inside and ordered him to sit on your couch while you prepared an ice pack, he couldn‘t help but play it up eeever so slightly. And then regretted it instantly when you offered to apply a muscle relaxant balm. Ears and cheeks burning, stomach stirring, skin tingling and thoughts racing, Kita focused on a wood knot on your floor, telling himself to calm down as you rubbed the balm onto his shoulder.

With the start of the new week he was once again busy with errands in town and the city and only got to see you for your daily dinner - by now his favorite part of the day. When he got home on Friday night, he was surprised that Roku didn‘t come to greet him as he stepped out of his car. Kita looked around and found the black and white dog snuggled in the open shed in his usual space but now lounging luxuriously on a very plush dark blue pillow. He sighed as he knelt down to pet the soft floppy ears, Roku blinking sleepily up at him but not moving from his new bed.

It looked like you made it yourself, it even had the dog’s name embroidered on the side.

“She really spoils us both, hm?“, Kita muttered and Roku grumbled in agreement.

And so, with another sigh, he decided to confess to you. Soon. Even if just for his own peace of mind.

Once you had left after dinner and he was alone with his thoughts, Kita tried to focus on his book but his mind kept wandering. He had never confessed to anyone before. Quite honestly, as much as his grandmother would have been disappointed, he had been fully prepared to be alone for the rest of his days. He never would have guessed that a gorgeous foreigner from the city would take up residence in his heart. You reminded him of the little wild tulips that dotted the fields with white each new spring. They had always been his favorite because although maybe unassuming and almost delicate at first glance, when you looked closer they were resilient and just… beautiful. He should probably write you a letter to let him choose his words carefully. Yes. And he’d deliver the letter to your doorstep to then patiently wait for your response.

“Did ya already get this one?“, you asked. Deciding to use the break in between downpours Kita had suggested to do some pruning in your veggie patch. The soil was soaked and muddy but the stone plates he had laid down a few weeks ago kept both of you from sinking in.

He smiled and nodded, working on the tomato plants while you went over to trim the superfluous sprouts from the bell peppers. He noticed some days ago that you had started to use his dialect in a few words here and there and every time it happened, his stomach did a little somersault.

“Thank you, by the way. For everything else, too.“, you said suddenly. He looked at you for a moment before continuing his task.

“Don‘t worry about it. It‘s not a big deal.“

“I don‘t just mean the pruning. I mean everything. It‘s a huge deal!“, you exclaimed, “You helped me with my garden, I don‘t know what you did to that realtor but I got compensation for the leaky roof and a whole handwritten apology letter. You give me advice, share your phenomenal produce for free, built me a planter, fixed my roof“, you gave a nervous chuckle while he blushed at the list of your appreciation, “and you mean to tell me none of that is a big deal?“

“Because they‘re only natural when ya love someone.“, he shrugged and froze a moment later mid-snip when he realized what he had just said.

“What?“

“I…“

“You… you love me?“

He took a deep silent breath. “Well… yeah.“, he then said in a tone as if confirming the sky was blue, “I thought it was rather obvious.“

When you didn‘t respond, he went back to pruning, trying to exude his usual air of calm but his heart pounded in his chest. There it was. And you didn‘t say anything. So you didn‘t feel the same after all. But at least it was out now. He examined the leaf of a momotaro tomato when he felt your hand on his cheek, turning his head to you. His eyes widened when your lips touched his. Short at first. You looked at him, probably waiting for a reaction, then leaned in again.

Kita squeezed his eyes shut to drown out the rushing sound in his ears. With trembling hands he needed two attempts to get the gloves off his hands so he could cup your cheeks and pull you closer.

a/n: This is truly everything I love 😌 I loved writing it! The next part will be spicy so if you’d rather keep this story sfw this is where the “important plot” ends 🌟

art: coloring done by @keiko-chan

[part 4]

[bethanythebogwitch]

Native Wildflowers collection

Native wildflowers from my previous job. All pics by me. Not an exhaustive list. Split into multiple posts due to the image limit.

Starting off with everyone's (read: monarch butterflies') favorite: milkweed. Common milkweed is on the left. I think what we called common milkweed was actually 2 closely-related species. On the right is swam milkweed, which likes wetter soil. Butterfly weed in the bottom is a milkweed, but its sap is clear instead of white so some people don't realize that. It's also much shorter than most milkweeds.

We have 2 main gentian species. These flowers don't open all the way and only larger insects like bees can force their way in. These bees then seek out gentians as an exclusive food source, making it more likely for them to pollinate the gentians. Cream gentian (left) is white and can get very tall on good years. Bottle gentian (right) is a small, low-lying plant that hides under other plants. This picture was taken early in the season so they're pretty pale. They turn bright blue when they're in bloom.

Yellow (left) and purple (right) coneflower

Mountain mint (right) and downy wood mint (left)

Wild raspberry (left) and dewberry (right). My personal nemeses when I was moving through the prairie. Thorns are not my friend

Foxglove beardtongue, which comes in a common white color (right) and a rarer purple variant (left). Below is false foxglove, which is a hemiparasite (plant that gains nutrition through parasitism and photosynthesis) that leaches off of oak roots

Bee balm, this one has a lot of ornamental cultivars

Rattlesnake master, a badass name for a weird and spiky plant

Ironweed. We have a few species and I don't know how to tell them apart

Wild quinine. In the 3 growth seasons I worked here, this one became much more common.

Prairie coreopsis (left) and tall coreopsis (right). Guess what the difference between these two is

Rosinweed (left) and cup plant (right). Two closely related species.

Maryland senna (left) and partridge pea (right). Similar (but not closely related) species that grow pods full of seeds. As they dry, the pods peel open and send the seeds flying out.

Prairie dock. These grow very tall and have huge leaves that are cool because the roots bring up water from deep underground

Ashy sunflower, a hemiparasite that kills goldenrod and tall grasses. As those two are very aggressive plants that can take over whole fields. ashy sunflower seeds are a great way to fight back against them and help increase biodiversity.

Cardinal flower. This one is endangered so its great that it's doing well and even spreading where I worked.

Common thistle. This one is unfortunately losing ground to invasive Canada thistle (not actually from Canada) and isn't very popular, but bugs love it.

Black-eyed Susan (left) and sweet black-eyed Susan (right). The latter is larger and doesn't tolerate shade as well.

Continued in part 2

[blenselche]

whys Fern's hair always spun around Finn's arm?

Little Finn #1 is just a visual representation of the piece of soul in the sword to help us sympathize w/ what the experience must be like, right. Fern looks like Finn cuz the grass demon literally grows itself around that piece of soul, there ain't no human in our boy. SO! Fern having human hair would be strange and I hc that it's like really thin trellising vines. (Ever seen field peas? A bit like that.) I just like the sweet, passive interaction of it clinging to other people. It's also like a little tell that he's still infected by Finn-ish clingy-ness despite what he may say to the contrary.

I'll insert weird plant anatomy anywhere I can. If he's ever drawn w/ freckles, uh no! he's not. Those are mint rust scars cuz he gets sick like a plant :). He's got the organs of a demon, his bones are exine, his muscles/tendons are like flexible woody stems, his skin is like that of an air plant, he's got phloem fluid for circulation and he guttates (sweats/cries) xylem sap. He can change into grass obv but I wanted to flesh him out a little. Most of this goes for HW, too.

[mercurygray]

Apologies Owing

Well, they're finally here - the pilots, that is. The base's WACs have some opinions they'd like to share.

A follow up to this piece - and an announcement! I'll be trying to post all of Cord's drabbles on AO3 at Pavilioned In the Fields.

--

The talk over dinner was about nothing but the officers.

There was no consensus yet, it seemed, over who was the handsomest. Netta was stumping for Brady, the one who'd ridden his fort straight into a rut in the middle of the airfield and had walked away without a scratch, but Anita and Mary Dacre both wanted to speak of no one but DeMarco - or rather, the dog he'd brought with him, who had kindly consented to pets and treats and much crooning while his owner stood by and beamed at himself for the genius idea of getting the husky to find his Friday night dates for him. (Mae, too, seemed taken by the idea of the dog, though she was a little too world-wise to let the pup's gorgeous blue eyes win her over to his owner.)

"I liked the one that blew us a kiss," Nina said, almost loyally, still mooning into her soup about it nearly three hours later, elbow firmly planted on the table while she started wistfully into space. "What'd you say his name was, Phoebe?"

"Biddick," Phoebe said, wisely taking the middle road and saying nothing about anything apart from name, rank and serial number, reaching around Nina's elbow for the salt. "Curtis Biddick. Flies with Richard Snyder."

"The one who looks like Leslie Howard?" Becky looked like that was more her speed. "Now there's a man I'd let do a few close maneuvers."

"Curtis Biddick," Nina smiled dreamily, staring off into space obviously having heard nothing Becky had said. "It was so romantic."

"You gotta watch out for boys like that, Nina, they're usually more trouble than they're worth," Mae said, locking eyes with Phoebe across the table and exchanging abbreviated smiles.

"You all can have fun with the squaddies, but I feel like aiming a little higher," Ethel said with a cutthroat grin, inspecting the arch of her brow in the convex of her soup spoon. "That blonde who drove in with Major Egan looks like he really could be in pictures."

"Cleven," Phoebe supplied, before anyone could ask. "Major Gale Cleven. He's Egan's best friend, apparently. He came up to tower, didn't he, Cord? With Major Egan and Demarco?"

"He did," Cord said, non-committal while she wiped some sauce off the corner of her mouth and considered whether she wanted to try chasing down the last of her peas. "Seemed nice enough."

"Hmmm." Ethel looked unimpressed, and perhaps a little put out that Cord, of all people, had gotten an eye in to the main chance that she clearly couldn't appreciate properly. "Nice enough to have a girl at home?"

But no one ventured an answer for her - the half of the table that was facing the doorway all clammed up at same time as the man himself approached the table, uniform immaculate and blond hair swept just so over his very handsome face. The table stood up as one, Nina accidentally flinging her spoon into her bowl with a clatter.

"Ladies. Was wondering if I might have a word alone with Lieutenant Callaway." His voice was all gravitas and gravel, and Ethel looked like she'd die of envy the way she was glaring across the table at her lieutenant.

Mae's eyes, on the other hand, flashed with delight, and Cord looked around the table to see that nearly everyone else was smiling the way girls smiled when they thought you had something to keep a secret about. She felt hot with betrayal. Now just what do you all think - "I think we're all finished, Major, we can leave," Mae offered, gesturing to the rest of the table to get going. "We'll catch you up, Cord." Mae promised, beaming back at her friend, following the rest of the group out the door and back to barracks.

Cord took a breath and studied her shoes for a moment, hoping that none of that heat had made it to her face, and Cleven hadn't seen any of their hinting smiles - or heard what Ethel had just said. She waited until the crowd cleared the door to speak. "Sir?"

"Seems I owe you an apology, Lieutenant."

Whatever she'd been expecting him to say ...wasn't that. "…What for, sir?"

Cleven's gaze was patient, though it looked like that patience was being tested a little at the moment. "Whatever John's done here for the last month."

It took Cord more than a moment to realize he was talking about Bucky Egan. She'd plumb forgotten his first name was John, if she'd ever known it at all. He introduced himself to everyone as Bucky. "…that's very kind of you, Major Cleven, but I'm not sure that's your apology to make, sir."

"Well, a fellow can try." He smiled - a brief thing - and Cord realized why Ethel thought he'd do well in movies. Underneath those baby blue eyes ran some very, very still waters. Well, they'd have to be, to have Egan for a friend. "He - he means well, usually. He's just not…real good at thinking things through sometimes."

You can say that again. "That's…not a quality one looks for in an executive officer, if you don't mind me saying, sir."

Cleven chuckled - a sound Cord was getting the impression most people didn't hear very often. "No, it most certainly is not. But he has others - a damn fine flyer, a good man to have with you in a fight, and a - a good friend."

The quiet fortitude was growing on her - a strong contrast to Egan's boisterous take-all-comers antics. And he'd come here, when he didn't have to, when nothing said he even needed to, to apologize, on the sole basis of one meeting this morning where she'd stood her ground and been short with his friend. He noticed things, Major Cleven did - and that counted for something. "He must be, to have you making apologies for him on your first day here."

Again, the smallest of smiles. "He'd do the same, if it had been me that had stepped wrong. I'm just trying to…pay the favor forward." He took a breath, and looked at his shoes. "He, ah - he mentioned you were from Ohio."

"Dayton," Cord supplied, wondering when this had turned from an apology into an interview.

"Pretty prime flying country out there at Wright-Patterson," Cleven said quietly, glancing at her with softly curious eyes.

"Yes, sir, it is. I practically grew up there - my dad worked on the base, as an engineer. Worked pretty close with the test pilots."

"Is that how you got into the tower?"

"More or less, sir."

"Heard Brady say you were the calmest voice alive, talking him in today."

The 'for a woman' that had doubtless followed the original comment went unsaid, and Cord measured out her own smile. "Well, there's two types of pilots, sir - those who've had a belly landing, and -"

"-those who will." Cleven finished the old chestnut with a smile. "They teach you a lot about belly landings in Dayton, Lieutenant?"

Cord took a deep breath, remembering the rumbling, skating feeling of the plane underneath her, the nameless terror that the brakes no longer worked and her steering was in God's hands, waiting endlessly while the machine skidded heavily to a halt and she planned her exits, preparing to make a run for it. "A fair bit, sir."

"Hopefully we won't give you any more." He caught her gaze and held it. "Let me know, if he gives you any more trouble? We can't have our controller off her game."

She looked him in the eye and knew, instinctively, that he meant that, and if she said something, he would take her at her word - something not too many men on this base would do. That counted for something, too. "You'll be the first person I tell, Major."

He nodded, glad to be heard and understood, and turned to leave, before thinking of one last thing. "And maybe you'll let your friend know the girl at home is named Marge?" His smile was nearly imperceptible, and Cord almost laughed to see it. So he had heard. That's a very dry sense of humor you have there, sir. "Wouldn't want anyone …getting the wrong idea."

She nodded, happy that there was something here she could do for him. Oh, we're going to get along so well. "Of course, sir." Well, Ethel, serves you right. She could just see the other woman's face when she told her that Cleven was definitely off the market.

The understanding, it seemed, was mutual - Cleven gave a little nod and put his hand in his pocket. "Enjoy your evening, Lieutenant."

"And you, Major."

He went back outside, and Cord's eye followed him through the windows to the group of pilots joking and laughing in the road outside, probably getting ready to go into town. What reason could he have given for stopping in the mess hall? Or maybe he didn't need one. Egan hooked his arm around his friend's shoulders, and Cord caught a glimpse, again, of Cleven's fleeting smile - wider now, laughing with his friends as they set off for the village and the pub. And they're best friends? Well, they do say opposites attract.

Cord tidied her seat and exited the mess, surprised to see Mae was sitting on the bench outside the mess, apparently waiting. She got up as Cord stepped outside, grinning from ear to ear. "A word alone with Lieutenant Callaway, huh? You got something you want to share with the class, Cord?"

"Oh, buzz off, Mae. He just wanted to -" She paused, feeling, suddenly, that the apology was not for public consumption. "To thank me, for helping Brady land."

Mae nodded, a little impressed with the new Major. "The way she's going, I think Netta's gonna thank you too."

--

You can read more of Cord here on tumblr at her tag.

[deathlykek]

Introducing Michael Lockwood

Okay, so I say that I have an OC in this game so here he is

ladies and gentlemen, Michael Lockwood

Michael is a forest wizard whose heart is connected to a unknow forest near to a village on England.

The story says a long time ago his parents were worried about their son become a squib due he can't manifest his magic, so his father send him to a field where he can clear his mind found his magic.

One day the kid caught his attention to the forest which was behind his grandma's house, so he went into it and inspired, found his magic, without noticing the forest offers its magic to have a bond with him for being kind-hearted, michael accept it and he started to take care of the forest, playing, laughing and learning more about the magic of nature.

He's so kind, happy and always cares about his loved ones. Always wants to keep everyones safe from others.

He has the power of manipulated magical and non-magical plants, his main ability is summon plants or trees to help him to fight.

Likes baking, animals, plants in general, cozy things, walk through the forest, tea parties, collect mushrooms and reading books.

Dislikes stormy days, peas, sadness, being annoyed by others, forgotten, messy rooms, rotten fruits and can't show magic to muggles.

his weakness are fire spells and being a nuisance for wizards.

he can't be perfect but he'll make sure that you have a good day despite everything...

HERE ARE SOME PICS OF HIM:

And here's some drawings of him:

(I'm still deciding to change his side bangs or not, anyway here's him in my style)

soon I'll talk about his relationship with others in HPMA.

[continent-of-wild-endeavor]

Garden log 6/13/23

New plantings!

Blue mistflower (Conoclinium coelestinum) inside the garden fence, southwest corner. Will need to keep watered in summer, but this spot is wet in winter/spring, so I hope they'll do well once established. Added composted manure from the back pile, as the soil is poor there.

And swamp sunflower (Helianthus angustifolius) by the drive gate, where it's rarely dry. Little picket fence to mark it while it gets established, & protect from the mower. Added only grass mulch. Both from neighborhood plant swap. Watered in well.

New row of butter beans, with composted manure over hoed up soil. Beans soaked ~6 hours before planting. Been watered twice since.

Field pea vigor comparison. Leftmost: white ones. Middle: fatties. Right: standard purple hull. Varieties change at the fence posts. The two wimpy varieties are in a little more shade, thought still seems like plenty of sun, and they get a lot of dust kicked up onto them from the chickens bathing right outside that fence line. But the soil should be about the same, so idk. Perhaps I'll give them some compost, or make manure tea.

Look at my pretty bean babies grabbing onto their new supports. Go beans go!

Also watered the pussywillows. All are still alive (even the one I weed whacked), though growing slower than I'm used to with black willow. Perhaps this is normal.

[woso-fan13]

Baby Bunny

You plopped onto a bed in the middle of the group, landing on your stomach. Reaching over to steal a cookie from an open packet, you feel someone grab your hips. Accepting your fate, you allow the hands to pull you up and into a lap. You look up to see Emily, who tries to shift you to be cradled in her arms. 

“Em, no, I can’t. I can’t regress or I won’t be big for practice tomorrow.”

You can’t ignore the look of heartbreak on her face when you don’t call her ‘Mommy.’” But you knew what she was trying to do and as much as you wanted to relax, you couldn’t. 

“Shh, baby,” she coos in a voice that alone could cause you to regress, “calm down. Mommy’s got you. You just need to be little.”

You try to wiggle out of her grip, fighting your drop hard. Your cookie falls out of your grasp, Lindsey brushing it aside and sitting in front of you. She grabs your wrists in one hand, her other cupping your cheek. She could see the tears beginning to drop from your eyes and she knew that she had let you go too long without dropping. She leans forward, planting a kiss to your hairline. 

“Relax, sweetheart. There’s no practice tomorrow, but we have something else planned. You can stay big if you want to, but it might be more fun when you’re little.”

You become slack in Emily’s arms, gasping shaky inhales. And then an infantile cry pierces through the air. Emily stands with you in her arms and begins pacing the room. Your head is buried in her neck, searching for any possible comfort. Lindsey rushes around, gathering a clean diaper and a onesie for you, as well as grabbing your pacifier and comfort blanket from the dresser. 

The others could hear your cries through the wall. They knew that- after you had some sleep and love- you would love the surprise tomorrow. 

—-

You’re on your belly when you wake up, whining to let your mommies know that you woke up. Strong arms pick you up and pull you into a warm body. You relax for just a few seconds before you realize that these aren’t Mommy’s or Mama’s arms. You take a big breath to start wailing before you hear a familiar voice. 

“Whoa, there, sweet pea, you’re okay.” 

You look excitedly up at the voice, your unfocused eyes trying to look at your Aunt Mallie. You babble happily at her, giggling when she scrunches her face up at you. She wasn’t one of your moms, but Mallie was the next best thing. 

You allowed her to quickly change you and pull your pajamas back on before you start fidgeting. She laughs as you try to alligator roll away, catching you before you end up on the ground. 

She ends up settled in the bed, propped up against pillows as she cradles you. You're happily suckling away at your baba, playing with and twisting the ring on her finger. Eventually, your bottle was gone, you were burped, and you were left simply staring at Mal through hazy eyes. She would be quick to admit, this was one of her favorite ages. You were an absolute cuddle monster, you never talked back, and you could be entertained by her tapping your belly every few minutes. If she had her way, she would have kept you wrapped up with her all day. 

But the door soon opened, two familiar figures entering. When you hear their voices, you start wriggling, babbling a ‘mamama’ sound repeatedly.

Their eyes meet, silently cursing. They had let you go so long without regressing, they knew that you were going to be young. They just didn’t expect you to be that young. You weren’t even at an age where you could really appreciate the surprise. But what’s done is done, and they just had to move forward and hope that their surprise included enough non-choking hazards. 

—-

You were feeling slightly older by the time you and your moms got to the field, now just over a year. You were walking between them, your hands firmly gripped in their own. They didn’t trust your balance enough to keep you upright and they didn’t need a meltdown. 

You look up from your feet to see your friends, letting go of your moms’ hands and excitedly toddling towards them. Luckily, Alex scooped you up into her arms before you managed to trip over your own feet. 

“Look at that, I caught a baby bunny. Hi baby bunny!” She greets you, tipping you back. You squeal, your hands gripping tightly to her shirt. She laughs, and hands you over to your Mama when she reaches for you. 

You try to snuggle into Mama, but she stops you. Pouting, you begin to try again when she pulls you away from her body and sets you on the ground. You are so close to throwing a tantrum when Mommy steps in, pushing something into your hands.

“Alright, kiddo, today’s a very special day,” you look at her, focusing on her words, “it’s Easter, which means we had a very special visitor last night. Do you know who?”

“‘Unny!” you shout excitedly. That was an easy question. 

“Well done! And the bunny left us lots of eggs, so we need to go find them.”

Emily hadn’t even finished explaining everything to you before you took off at a rapid stumble to find eggs. Deciding to follow your lead, your moms grab your hands and allow you to pull them around on your search for the brightly colored plastic eggs. 

The rest of the morning was spent at the field, everyone enjoying the fresh air and the lazy sun. They all happily sat through multiple tours of your Easter basket and allowed you to babble brightly. Kelley took to chasing you, laughing as you would toddle a few steps. When you started getting wobbly, she would grab you from behind and swing you through the air. Your giggles rang loudly through the stadium. 

At least a dozen phones captured videos and photos of the excitement. Videos of your shrieking laughter and your happy shouts were shared, and pictures of your facial expressions were laughed and cooed over. It was certainly a memorable holiday.