#flower proliferation

[beguines]

Today, strawberries have replaced much of the citrus and olive trees in the strip, and despite the relatively small area of farmland used for this sector, it enjoys high economic and social value. In all of the ways that citrus cultivation has been targeted, strawberries seem designed to survive Israel's eco-colonial practices. Strawberries are able to survive on partially saline water, they have faster production cycles, are easier to cultivate and replant after destruction and uprooting, are more mobile after moments of displacement, require less space and distance between each planted crop, and enable farmers in Gaza's northern peripheries and along the buffer zones to remain visible to the observing Israeli occupation forces. As a crop with limited historical roots in the country, it adapts well and is highly versatile. The use of compost for the cultivation of strawberries enables significant increase in fruit productivity, saving Gazan farmers the use of precious water supplies and decreasing its need for the use of fertilizers.

Despite this, the conditions of Gaza's ongoing colonial isolation and erasure make it increasingly impossible for farmers to sustain their livelihoods off of the land, even with strawberry production. In today's Gaza, as the agricultural export industry is fully reliant on the Israeli permit system, strawberries are slowly being replaced with other low-growing, fast-yielding, cost-effective and high-demand fruits and vegetables. Indeed, as a colleague at the Union of Agricultural Work Committees, the largest agricultural development institution in Palestine, told me during my time in Gaza, the most recent crop to slowly begin its replacement of strawberries in this line of forced colonial transition is pineapple—with the first pineapple farm planted in Khan Younes in 2017.

Examining the conditions that make strawberry production more practical and fuel the transition from citrus production requires examining the ongoing Israeli colonization of natural resources that supplant and suppress traditional modes of relating to nature. Witnesses of Israeli neo-colonial violence, the disappearing orchards in Gaza mark its new disconnected reality. The transition from the orange to the strawberry—and perhaps later to pineapple—is more than a shift in markets and produce. They affect the history and identity of Palestinians in Gaza. The links between cultivation and national or communal identity are well-known and documented in other contexts, including their intersection with colonial nation-branding. But in the context of aggressive climate change the instabilities, tensions, and erasures that come with transitions in vegetation are growing increasingly stark. For example, in the case of the Swiss canton of Valais, global heating has resulted in the growth of cacti, Opuntia, that are proliferating on the mountainsides of the canton, encroaching on natural reserves and causing a biodiversity threat. Used to "seeing their mountainsides covered with snow in winter and edelweiss flowers in summer" warmer and drier temperatures have given way to what is named in media coverage as an "invasive species colonizing the slopes." Launching an uprooting campaign in 2022, the press release stressed that "this invasive and non-native plant is not welcome in the perimeter of prairies and dry pastures of national importance." Evidently the discourse mobilized is dominated by aggressive language of aliens and invasion, which contributes to the use of violent and war-like metaphors to push for pre-emptive and combative control. In the Gazan case, the transition, as well as local responses to it, are less pronounced and weeded through long-term colonial policies imposed by the occupation. That said, the transition to strawberry cultivation nevertheless carries a similar ecological, cultural, and socio-political impact. In place of the orange, the strawberry is surfacing as the symbol of Gaza, redrawing the boundaries of the identity of its besieged inhabitants. Whereas in the past the orange was a continuous link between Gaza and the rest of historic Palestine, with deep generational roots and a symbol of steadfast and continuous presence, the abrupt transition from oranges to strawberries distances Gaza from the constructed identity and vegetal knowledge production of Palestinian farmers elsewhere. Put differently, this symbolic and political transition at the level of fruit production can be seen as another mechanism through which Israeli neo-colonial violence reifies Gaza as an enclave: divided and partitioned from the rest of Palestine.

Shourideh C. Molavi, Environmental Warfare in Gaza: Colonial Violence and New Landscapes of Resistance

[probablyasocialecologist]

By combining food-bearing trees and shrubs with poultry production, Haslett-Marroquin and his peers are practicing what is known as agroforestry — an ancient practice that intertwines annual and perennial agriculture. Other forms include alley cropping, in which annual crops including grains, legumes, and vegetables grow between rows of food-bearing trees, and silvopasture, which features cattle munching grass between the rows. Agroforestry was largely abandoned in the United States after the nation’s westward expansion in the 19th century. In the 2022 Agricultural Census, just 1.7 percent of U.S. farmers reported integrating trees into crop and livestock operations. But it’s widely practiced across the globe, particularly in Southeast Asia and Central and South America. According to the U.N. Food and Agriculture Organization, 43 percent of all agricultural land globally includes agroforestry features. Bringing trees to the region now known as the Corn Belt, known for its industrial-scale agriculture and largely devoid of perennial crops, might seem like the height of folly. On closer inspection, however, agroforestry systems like Haslett-Marroquin’s might be a crucial strategy for both preserving and revitalizing one of the globe’s most important farming regions. And while the corn-soybean duopoly that holds sway in the U.S. heartland produces mainly feed for livestock and ethanol, agroforestry can deliver a broader variety of nutrient-dense foods, like nuts and fruit, even as it diversifies farmer income away from the volatile global livestock-feed market.

[...]

Trees actually have a much longer and more robust history in the Midwestern landscape than do annual crops. Think of the Midwestern countryside before U.S. settlers arrived, and you might picture lush grasses and flowers swaying in the wind. That vision is largely accurate, but it’s incomplete. Amid the tall-grass prairies and wetlands, oak trees once dotted landscapes from the shores of Lake Michigan through swathes of present-day Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, and Missouri, clear down to the Mexican border. These trees didn’t clump together in dense forests with closed canopies but rather in what ecologists call savannas — patches of grassland interspersed with oaks. Within these oak savannas, which were interlaced with prairies, tree crowns covered between 10 percent and 30 percent of the ground. They were essentially a transition between the tight deciduous forests of the East and the fully open grasslands further west. And in the region where Haslett-Marroquin farms — part of the so-called Driftless Area, which was never glaciated — trees proliferated even more intensely. In pre-settlement times, according to a 2014 analysis coauthored by Iowa State University ecologist Lisa Schulte Moore, closed-canopy forests of oaks, sugar maples, and other species covered 15.3 percent of the area, and woodlands (low-density forests) took up another 8.6 percent. Prairies — the ecosystem we readily imagine — composed just 6.9 percent. Oak savannas made up the rest.

10 September 2024

[lightaflaem]

𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 [𝐨𝐧𝐞]

content warnings: heavy gore, zombies, infectious disease, mentions of blood, hospitals, cheating, profanity, violence, usage of weapons and guns, mental health problems, implied anxiety attacks, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, protected sex

word count: 5.5k

summary: just when everyone thought that the flu-like virus which led to a global outbreak four years ago had finally settled down, a new variant struck that escalated rapidly and became out of control. with limited supplies and life at stake, you were left with no choice but to team up with your ex-boyfriend, oikawa tooru, to navigate and seek shelter.

keiya.speaks: this is an entry for @pixelcafe-network 's 2024 spooktober event 🎃

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You wished that all of this was just inside of your head.

You begged the ups that once you open your eyes, you’ll be in your favorite figs scrub suit, caressing your Beckman Coulter DxH 900 hematology analyzer, praying that the reagents would be enough for your hospital’s bed capacity as your laboratory supervisor forgot to place an order for this month’s supplies.

Or maybe wooing your Cobas e601, hoping that your quality control would be in the range of the mean so you would be able to run all your chemistry specimens smoothly. Maybe when you finally open your eyes, you’ll be back inside the laboratory, signing all your patients’ results as a Medical Laboratory Scientist.

However, when your eyelids unfolded and a baseball bat swung towards you that nearly grazed the tip of your nose, you were back in this stinking reality.

“I swear to fucking hell, Tooru, stop spinning the bat like that, you nearly hit me again!” you hissed, trying to avoid the piece of wood for the nth time. Your eyes caught a glimpse of the nip of skin that has been hanging around the bloody barbed wires wrapped around it for heavens knows how long and instantly, you felt your insides turning upside down, nearly throwing the acid of your stomach in disgust. 

“Aww, chibi-chan is annoyed, you’re too cute to be annoyed. You can’t be annoyed at me, darling. You’re stuck with me.” Tooru smiled, his eyes turning crescents while grabbing a few cans of easy-open tuna paella and throwing it into the creaky shopping cart.

You’re back in this reality where everyone around you has turned into a living dead—basically zombies. People might think that this is just a foolish tale told by someone like you however, it wasn’t. When everyone thought that the Corona virus that set the world into a pandemic four years ago had ended, well it hasn’t really ended that well yet.

A new variant mutated and current vaccines didn’t work that much into protecting the people. Eventually. Everyone started getting sick again and the cases doubled, tripled, and continued proliferating like hell. Hospitals were full of patients with flu-like symptoms and quarantine was implemented once again. With the lack of research and scientific approach, never have you ever imagined that the simple flu virus that was once contained will mutate into something more damned, something more hellish—and that is taking over its host’s nervous system and respiratory tract, owning it completely just like the mad cow and rabies disease. At this point, you didn’t really understand it that much because there’s a lot of factors and unknown elements. With that, the once feared virus has already taken over the world again but this time, much worse than the first one.

Two weeks since the virus has flipped Japan 360 degrees, 14 days of being stuck to survive with Oikawa Tooru, your ex-boyfriend. 

Shit happens for real, right? But when that menace, caramel-eyed, 6 footer guy who dragged his best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime, into his shenanigans suddenly showed up in your workplace with a bouquet of flowers 3 years after your break-up, you felt your blood boiling as the last thing you wanted to see is his face.

And another shit happens is that the very same day he showed his arrogant face to you, that’s also the day when the whole city went rabid and everyone suddenly started biting each other as the undead symptoms manifested in most of your emergency room patients. It was like a trigger that suddenly detonated, sending signals to all of the infected to attack.

That’s how you found yourself in an abandoned grocery, picking up some goods before you eventually hit the road to seek a temporary shelter while looking for a permanent one with your ex-boyfriend, who’s now taking advantage of the life or death situation to get closer to you once more.

“Phew, looks like we got everything we needed.”

Your gaze shifted to the items inside the cart. Canned goods, instant meals, protein bars, biscuits, some snacks, bottled waters that could probably last up to a few days depending on the consumption, energy drinks, basic medicine and first aid, batteries, ropes, some toiletries and personal necessities, and a box of condoms.

Box of condoms?

“Oikawa Tooru, you perverted sex animal!” you felt your face heating up despite the broken air conditioner kept on running, setting the whole area into freezing point.

Tooru was laughing his ass off as you picked up and threw the packets of rubber on his chest. He was bursting so much that he dramatically wiped his fake tears.

“We’re in the middle of a fucking apocalypse and you still have the time to pull shitty pranks just like that!” you exclaimed, face puffing in vexation. “If you don’t have a goddamn thing to do—”

“GRRAAAGH!”

“Fuck!”

A squeal leaped out of your mouth as you saw a flesh-rotting guy approaching Tooru from behind. It let out a deafening howl, echoing in the empty store. Its skin was pale, almost white with purple veins popping in its throat up to its face. The pieces of tissue that were decomposing and filled with maggots were falling into the floor, scattering everywhere. Eyes were bloodshot and scarlet red blood was pouring out of its mouth, approaching the both of you with speed. It can fucking run?! 

In an instant, Tooru secured you behind his back and gripped on the bat’s handle with force. As the raving undead approached, he swung the piece of wood with full strength, leaving a huge missing chunk on the man’s head as the muscle flew away due to the impact. Blood spurted out everywhere and you could see pieces of its brain being tangled in the barbed wires. It fell on the ground convulsing before becoming motionless, indicating that it’s already finally dead again.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Tooru’s eyes landed on you, checking you from head to toe.

You were frozen in your place, still trying to comprehend what happened. It wasn’t the first time that you were attacked yet you could still feel your insides being scrambled whenever you’re placed in the exact situation. You felt like you’ll seriously never gonna get used to this scenario.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright. A-are you okay?” you questioned, meeting his brown orbs back. Tooru just laughed hysterically, pushing his hair back and settling the wood just above his shoulders.

“Of course! It’s the grand king after all.”

Piece of shit. You thought. He’s already 27 yet the silly nickname that he was given way back in his junior high volleyball days were still fixated on him. He’s a serious menace.

“C’mon, Iwa’s probably wondering why the hell we’re taking too long. As much as I wanted to say that we took this precious time to make out, I’d rather not.” he commented as he pushed the cart forward. You could see from his back how his gaze changed, sensing if there’s still a threat around you.

When the both of you exited the store, you were greeted by your two companies.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” Tobio hurriedly went towards you, examining your physical state. “We heard the noise from outside. We're ready to barge in, you know?”

“Oi. I’m here. Why didn’t you ask me too?” Tooru sniggered in annoyance as the black-haired man continued ignoring him as he was not existing at all. Of course, the former did not let it go and started a childish, rivalry eye to eye against each other.

It was just broken when Iwaizumi squeezed himself in between to check the items inside the cart.

“You guys forgot my snickers, you fuckers.” his forehead creased when he did not catch a glimpse of his favorite chocolate bar that he clearly instructed earlier. You mentally slapped your head as you realized it just now.

“Now Iwa-chan, this is not the right time to freaking enjoy a chocolate bar.”

“Shut the fuck up, you trash. I’ll stuff this cart into your mouth.”

“And I love you too, Iwa-chan!”

Both you and Tobio stood there with a facepalm on your faces as you watched the two best friends bicker with each other in the middle of goddamn ruins. Some people wouldn't be convinced that they have been friends since high school but they really are.

One of the few good things despite the catastrophe is that you somehow luckily ended up with the people you’ve already known. When your workplace turned into madness, Tooru and Hajime managed to pull you away from the crowd of insanity to hide and ended up escaping together safely to the hospital’s parking lot. However, little did the three of you know that there’s also a few undead lurking there. You felt the numbness taking over your body as you recognized some of them as your colleagues—Yamaguchi Tadashi, a nurse on the 6th floor and Sugawara Koshi, a pediatric resident. They were moving mindlessly, drool dripping on their lips as they no longer recognized their own self.

Before Tooru could drag you away from it, a familiar Suzuki Jimny in solid kinetic yellow stopped in front of you. The door flew open, revealing Kageyama Tobio, a phlebotomist and your college friend, screaming to the three of you to get inside the car.

And that’s how you ended up navigating the now ghost roads of Miyagi with these three. The first instinct is to drive to the government facilities in Tokyo to get help; however, it is nearly impossible to reach your destination when you’re unarmed, have no supplies, and do not know what terror lies ahead on those roads. Good thing is that there’s still electricity and water, however, cellular phone signals and wifi are now down so you couldn’t get any help through local authorities. With that, the three of you decided to stick with each other to gather and prepare everything you needed and move little by little at a time.

“Man, you seriously have horrible taste in color.” Tooru spoke to Tobio as he closed the door of his Suzuki Jimny, clearly provoking the younger one instead, all he received was a scoff, ignoring his remark.

“Tooru, stop it.” you berated your ex-boyfriend and blew you a kiss instead that made your eye roll heavenly.

In no time, you’re back on the road with Hajime driving, Tobio on the passenger seat, leaving you and Tooru in the backseat. Your itinerary for today is to find a house to stay in for a few days before finally driving out of Miyagi for good since the last house you went to got infested with undead.

Every night, you get nightmares from the images of the undead. Whenever you dream about it, it’s always detailed to the point that you could smell the malodorous odor of the rotting bodies. The terrifying screams were also echoing in your eardrums that sometimes sent a strike of headache on your head. But sometimes, you also dream about your life before all of this happens. Your happy life whom you’ve worked hard to achieve. Somehow, you managed to pull yourself together otherwise, you’ll lose your sanity and even worse, become one of the undead. However, you really don’t know how long you could still hold yourself in one piece.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Tooru managed to tickle your sides as your mind was hastily floating in cloud nine. You turned to him and saw his soft gaze locking on you. You noticed how his hazel hair that matched the color of his eyes is now cropped into a shorter one compared to its length when you were still dating him three years ago. He’s also wearing a graded specs now whom you did not recall him having one before. His pointed nose and chiseled jaw are now more prominent due to the weight and baby fats he lost. Arms and body became more muscular, skin got a little tanner than usual probably because of his training in Argentina as a professional volleyball player.

Tooru’s really handsome. He’s got the type of attractiveness where you’ll look over your shoulders to glimpse at him once again whenever he passes by. Despite his childish personality, he’s really kind and a gentleman that made him easy to penetrate inside the heart of his crowd. He’s got the aura wherein he can bring the best out of you when you’re with him. He's like the daylight you’ll see when you reach the end of the night sky.

Your relationship with him was stable. You fight but all the arguments are talked and reflected thoroughly. He always gives you whatever you want and need. Handles your tantrums very well and does not hold grudges against you or anyone else. He makes sure that he can show and make you feel all the love languages he could ever think of. He’s the best boyfriend and best friend you’ve ever had. It was so strangely stable to the point that you thought that he’s the one you’ll marry. However, when he accidentally left his phone in your apartment and you caught a glimpse of a contact with a picture of a girl asking if he had fun last night with her on his text messages, your dream of marrying him and being each other’s end game shattered.

He tried calling and chasing you for almost a week after that but you didn’t give him a chance to explain, knowing that only bullshit will come out of his mouth after he blatantly cheated on you just like that. After that, the only news you heard about him is that he’s flying to Argentina to turn his dreams into reality of becoming a professional volleyball player. He never tried contacting you again after that, not even once.

Three years later, he finally achieved his dreams as he’s all over the news as the best setter CA San Juan has ever had and now he’s suddenly back as if nothing happened between the two of you, alive and kicking. 

“Nothing, just tired.” you lied, not having any energy left to converse with him. You felt a calloused, warm hand placed above your left elbow, thumb caressing your skin. Your eyes flew and saw Tooru’s bruised and wounded hand attempting to soothe yours. “What the hell—”

“It’ll be alright, Y/N. I promise you. We’ll get through this, just like we always have.” he left out a soft yet reassuring smile before releasing your arm. You don’t know why but you felt like a hope ignited inside you. A sense of solace hit as you felt that Tooru never once had second thoughts in you. 

You find yourself erupting a small smile. There’s indeed hope despite the darkest times.

Standing in front of a 2-storey modern house, you clutched your baseball bat as you prepared yourself for a possible undead atack. It wasn’t that big but it’s enough for a family of three to live in. The exterior has a monochrome color palette with wooden doors and tinted glass windows that reflect your worn out states. It also has a balcony that has a few clothes hanging on the railing.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Hajime looked up at the towering building.

“I hope so.” Tobio answered, leading towards the door.

Slowly, Tobio twisted the automated door knob that surprisingly opened without any difficulty. The four of you exchanged looks, swallowing the balling lump in your throats as you set a foot inside the house. You were greeted by an eerie silence upon entering the abandoned house. It was decorated with lavish interiors and monochromatic palette, matching with the exteriors. The floor is made with oak wood and the walls are marble that added extra fire to the aesthetics. The second floor has a bathroom, one master bedroom, a guest room with two beds and a balcony that faces the streets. Overall, it’s a nice house and seems like the owner is well-off based on their residence.

Hajime and Tooru checked the second floor and found nothing but a few pieces of clothes that seemingly belonged to a man. However, inside the closet of the master bedroom, they found a leather bag of guns, ammunition and a copy of the firearm’s registration. You were not knowledgeable that much in firearms but you immediately recognized AK-47, M16, and the famous Smith & Wesson Model 27 that you once saw in the anime Banana Fish.

“Damn, so those really exist in real life.” Tooru made an exaggerated comment as the weapons were carefully being laid in the long coffee table by Tobio.

“We’re already in an apocalypse, you shithead. Guns like these are more realistic than this fucking hell situation.” Hajime retorted, blood is always boiling at his best friend’s idiocratic remarks.

“Let’s just keep these in one place and take it once we’re moving away. For now, let’s stick with our current weapons so we can utilize everything at once.” you proposed, earning quick nods from the boys.

“Ah, my darling is so clever! Come and give me a hug.” attempting to cage you in his chest, you quickly dodged your ex-boyfriend's arms and pointed the baseball bat a few inches away from his face.

“Don’t you dare touch me, Oikawa.”

“Why? You loved my touches. You were begging for my touch—”

“Shut it!”

You shused him by swiftly covering his mouth with your right hand. You could feel his lips twitching against your touch, eyes forming a curve as he smiled infuriatingly.

“Love birds, take your business upstairs. Me and Tobio will share the guest room, the two of you in the master bedroom so you can make peace with your demons. Don’t think of bitching up because I ain’t taking any shit today.” Hajime firmly said before grabbing the weapons one by one to store them in the small compartment under the coffee table. You felt your face being flushed with much embarrassment as the two guys witnessed your bantering. Tobio was about to appeal but he met the death stare of Hajime, making him pursed his lips.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you shared a room with your ex-boyfriend. The whole 14 days with him, you either get your own space or share a room with all of them. That's why your vital organ is now leaping so hard that it might jump out of your ribcage.

After arranging and dividing the supplies so that it can last for a few days, the four of you improvised a barricade on the door and covered the window so that you wouldn’t see the streets outside that holds a few abandoned cars, splurt of blood on the road, decomposing human pieces, and some bodies that are unrecognizable.

Seeing the first-aid kit that you grabbed earlier in the kitchen counter, the memory of Tooru’s wounded and bruised hand suddenly flashed in your mind. Without a second thought, you found yourself getting ice from the functional freezer and wrapping it in a clean cloth before wetting the piece of fabric so that the cold temperature could easily penetrate. In no time, you were now standing in front of the master’s bedroom, slowly peeking to see if Tooru’s awake.

You saw him sitting on the edge of the bed that is facing the door, clutching a polaroid film in his hand. His face is blank yet a void of sadness was swarming in his brown eyes as he sighed and kept the picture back in his wallet. Your lips parted as you recognized that he’s still using the wallet you gifted him on his last birthday before you broke up.

“Tooru?” you spoke, casually pushing the door. “Can I come in?”

He let out a chuckle. “Of course you can.”

With that, you slid your body inside the room. His eyes were fixated on you as you sat down beside him, placing the kit on your lap. Your hands were trembling as you reached for him, which he willingly lifted without any question, gently patting the iced towel on his bruises that he probably got from mishandling the baseball bat.

“Wow, never have I ever imagined that I’ll get a special treatment from a medical laboratory scientist. You know you can just kiss the boo boo and it’ll go away instantly.” he winked, making you roll your eyes at him again.

“Shut up. My treatment fee is really expensive for idiots like you.” picking up the disinfectant, you slowly rubbed it on the sides of the small cuts with a clean cotton ball, earning a winced from him as the sting penetrated the wound.

Tooru was silent the whole time you’re icing and dressing his hand. He knows that whenever you're doing something healthcare related, you don’t want to be disturbed as you pour your hundred percent concentration into it. He knows this better than you.

“You never gave me a chance to explain myself, Y/N.” he opened up when he saw you finished sealing the wrapped gauze pad around his palm. “At least let me explain this time. I cannot swallow the fact that we’re already in the middle of this goddamn situation and you still haven’t got the peace of mind you deserve.”

You could feel his stare burning at you. When you met his eyes, it was full of perseverance as if he’s not going to let you exit the room without listening to his explanation. To be honest, you really don’t know to yourself why you’re refusing to hear his side. Maybe you’re afraid of the confrontation. Maybe you’re scared of the fact that he cheated and he’s going to confess it in front of your face. Maybe you’re rejecting the reality that Oikawa Tooru did cheat on you with somebody else.

Gathering all your strength, you let out a deep exhale before speaking. “Give me a reason not to kick you out of this room.”

Tooru’s demeanor changed when he heard those words. It was hard for him to gain your trust once again after everything but if he’s given the chance, he will never let go and prove himself to be worthy of your heart once again.

“It was a prank.” he started, making your face puzzled. “It was a fucking shitty prank pulled by my teammate, Kindaichi. I remember him doing the same thing to Kunimi before but we all laughed it off since Kunimi’s single. I don’t remember when he did it but I think when I left my phone in the locker. He changed his number’s contact photo and name into a girl’s name. After that I went straight to your apartment. I seriously forgot the existence of my phone that day since we’re really having fun and I was late for my practice the next day. When Kindaichi heard that I left my phone somewhere, he texted it and that’s the part where you saw it and thought that I was cheating on you. I confronted him after that with Iwa-chan. That's why I know all of it and he said sorry. I never spoke to him after that.”

He let out a sad smile. “That’s basically everything. I tried contacting you, calling, messaging, and waited outside of your apartment for three hours but you weren’t there. I really wanted to talk with you because we both know that I’ll be leaving for Argentina in a few weeks but yeah, it happened and we can’t really change anything about it anymore.”

Tooru’s bandaged hands slowly made its way to yours, clasping both of his palms on your hands. “I’m so sorry that I let it go just like that. I know that I’m three years late but if there’s anything that I can do to make everything right again, I’ll prove it to you in any way you want just to trust me once again. Even as just friends…Y/N, you’re the best girlfriend and best friend I ever had in my whole life and thinking about everything that happened between us and how it ended just like that puts me in misery.”

Fuck. you thought. You don’t know if the world is playing with your vulnerability right now but after hearing everything, you feel like you’re stoned in your place. You feel like your insides are being scrambled and you wanted to vomit every single thing you ate for the last 14 days with him. All this time, it was a prank. A fucking prank that caused so much damage in both of your lives and relationship. A prank that made you lose your former significant other. And the most fucked up thing about it was you could’ve done something to prevent your relationship from crumbling down. It was completely in your control yet you let him slip away from your finger. If it wasn’t for your stubbornness, Oikawa Tooru is still your partner until today.

“Shit! Y/N, I—sorry! Fuck, please don’t cry.” Tooru panicked when he saw the pooling liquid in your eyes start streaming down your cheeks, eventually wetting both of your hands. You didn’t even realize that you were already a crying mess as you hollow your cheeks to prevent the pitiful sobs escaping your mouth.

With much fragility, Tooru enclosed your trembling body into a warm hug that instantly melted all the pain you’ve been feeling. You could hear your hearts beating together against each other’s chest.

“It’s okay. We’re okay now. I finally found you again. I love you so damn much, Y/N.” he whispered in your ear, right hand caressing your back.

After a few minutes of staying in that position, you finally calmed your hurricane. You pulled away, greeting his worried eyes with your puffy and red ones. Upon meeting his gaze, you felt your heart soften as Tooru’s caramel ones penetrated in yours. His lips formed into a small smile when he saw the way you looked at him.

He will never forget those doe eyes of yours. The very first time he saw your eyes, he instantly fell in love and he knows deep inside that he’ll keep on falling in love with you in every chance he gets. In every universe and in every lifetime, his heart only belongs solely to you.

Your faces acted on their own, slowly moving towards each other until your warm lips clasped with each other. The tension that was middling the two of you finally broke today. It started gentle, lips moving together in sync not until Tooru’s hand grabbed your jaw, lightly turning your face to the side to deepen the kiss as he explored the cave of your mouth that he hasn’t tasted for years.

You pushed yourself above him, finally straddling his lap and wrapping both of your arms around his neck as the innocent kiss suddenly turned into a heated one. Tooru would lie if he said that he didn’t miss all of this. The feeling of being intimate with someone that he hasn't given a chance after your break up because he doesn’t want to do this thing if it’s not with you.

Grinding yourself against him, you felt the growing bulge that was now poking your heated core. You couldn’t help but to let out a soft moan that made Tooru halt his action. It turned him on.

“Y/N, do you want to do this?” he asked, eyes now filled with lust. You nodded, wiping the corner of your mouth. You could feel your cheeks firing up as embarrassment crept in your soul for wanting him.

“Words, love. I need your consensual words.” he commanded you.

Despite the awkwardness you’re feeling, you couldn’t help yourself especially when you felt him fully erected under you. “Y-yes, Let’s do this.”

That’s all it takes for Tooru to gently place you in the bed and continue kissing your unattended mouth. His hands started roaming around your breasts, squeezing both of it tenderly that earned another moan from you. You felt him smirking against the kiss before he humped above you, aligning his clothed bulge that was restraining against his jeans and rubbing it against your clothed pussy.

It ignited a pool of wetness as you felt the hardness being rubbed in you.

“H-hgggh…Shit,” you cursed, eyes shutting from the luscious friction.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m so hard for you.” Tooru said as he massaged your core with his hand. He felt the wetness leaking from your clothes that made him bite his lip in horniness.

He went down from his position as he pulled the hem of your scrub suits down, completely removing your bottom garment that revealed your wet panties. Tooru mentally cursed at his view. All he did was kiss and teased you and yet, you’re already a pooling mess for him. The way how your body reacts to you is driving him insane.

Slender fingers started circling around your clothed core that sent a jolt of pleasure in your body, making your back arch. Tugging the only piece of your bottoms down, he successfully removed the clothing swiftly. He was welcomed with your dripping pussy for him. He didn’t waste another second and devoured it hungrily, tongue nibbling your clit.

“Ahh!” you let out a loud moan as his warm muscle made contact with your pussy. He was licking and placing soft kisses before alternating it with sharp circles by his tongue. The way he glides his mouth against it was driving you in nuts, almost making you see stars.

“Shit shit Tooru, it feels so good!” you did hesitate to let out another moan when he inserted a finger inside you. When he felt that your walls adjusted to it, he slid another one before moving his digits in and out.

You don’t know what to feel due to the intense pleasure that was being thrown at you when he started scissoring his fingers inside. You felt like you could cum with just his fingers. Tooru’s eyes never left your sight and watched how you’re taking his fingers really good.

“F-fuck, Tooru. Please! I want you…Fuck me! I want to come in your dick,” you pleaded messily as you felt your stomach being tied in knots.

With that, he took his fingers out and started stripping his bottoms. His aching hardened cock finally freed itself and slapped against his abdomen. This wasn’t the first time that you saw Tooru naked and this wasn’t definitely the first time that you saw his member but shit, its length and size never fails to amaze you.

Quickly grabbing his wallet, he took out a piece of rubber which you quickly recognized.

“You really took the condoms earlier?” you asked, eyeing at the packet of condom that is now being torn from its packaging.

“Just a few pieces. For emergency.” he grinned as he slid the rubber on his dick without any problem. You laughed as you already expected that from him.

Positioning himself between your legs, he grabbed the shaft and started rubbing the tip against your pussy, almost teasing you. The damn idiot was smirking the whole time and slammed his dick inside you that made you yelp.

“Fuck! Tooru, what the hell?!”

“You like it rough, don’t you?”

He started rocking his hips slowly before picking a consistent pace that made him groan in pleasure.

“You’re so fucking tight and wet, Y/N. Fuck love, I love you and your pussy so much.” he said in between the thrust like he’s worshiping your whole self. You let out a chuckle that was replaced with erotic sounds as he started thrusting in a much faster pace. You felt your walls being stretched out but at the same time, it felt so good that his dick’s the one who’s stretching you out. Tooru found your g-spot in between the thrust that earned you a loud moan as the waves of electricity slammed your body.

“Yes! There! I-it’s so good! Y-you’re so good!” you moaned out as the same spot was abused by his dick repeatedly.

You felt that he’s nearing because his thrust became incredibly faster and impatient. His face was now grunting as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, lips parted in pleasure. Your stomach starts hardening as your core feels like it’s going to combust anytime. Your insides are tightening so much, indicating that you’re also nearing.

“T-tooru, M’gonna c-cum,”

“Me too, love. Me too.”

He replied incoherently, thrusting a few times more before pulling his member out, coming inside the piece of latex. You also released the coil that is forming inside you before he could even pull his dick out.

The both of you were panting so hard with your legs trembling and chest heaving. Tooru collapses on your top with a smile, kissing your lips once more before burying his face on your neck.

“I love you, Y/N.” he said, which made you let out a genuine smile.

Meanwhile, across the wooden door of the master’s bedroom, Tobio was standing with two cups of your favorite 3-in-1 iced coffee that was meant for you and him, right hand completely frozen on the doorknob’s surface as he listened to the alternating erotic moans launching from each other’s mouth while making love.

© lightaflaem. do not repost on any platform.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Some 20 hammerhead flatworms have been spotted in Westmount. The invasive species from Asia secretes a dangerous paralyzing toxin and is increasingly present in North America. Lisa Osterland, a retired teacher, discovered about 20 hammerhead flatworms (bipalium) in her garden in Westmount, a municipality on the Island of Montreal. Earlier this week, while removing slugs that were eating the flowers in her garden, she noticed a type of invertebrate she had never seen before. [...] Their proliferation is a cause for concern, not least because this worm secretes a paralyzing toxin, tetrodotoxin. "It's one of the most powerful molecules in the biological world, the same molecule that is produced by puffer-fish," Normandin said. "If a young child puts soil in his mouth and ingests a flatworm or two or more, there's a real risk of damage. If ingested, it's a toxin that will first attack the perioral region — the face, the tongue and everything in the esophagus," and "in such a case, the child needs to be hospitalized very quickly," the expert added.

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[spelllingandthemysteryschool]

My Little Pony was a figurine copyrighted by Hasbro and first produced in 1982. Based on My Pretty Pony, a larger and clunkier toy with unimpressive sales, My Little Pony was, despite the singularity baked into its name, always plural. There was no “pony,” never a one. Only ponies—many ponies, always proliferating, mutating, re-accessorized. Earth ponies and sea ponies and winged ponies and, of course, unicorn ponies. Each pony with its distinctive not-to-be-found-in-nature shade, its shimmering corn-silk plastic mane, its rump printed with an allegorical symbol, a.k.a. “cutie mark”: ice cream, clover, seahorse, stars, flowering plants, and on and on, emojis avant la lettre. The ponies’ bodies were plastic. For now, the ponies would not decay, although fire might melt them or a car wheel crush them. Their eyes were round and bedecked with long lashes. The irises were illustrated in such a way that each pony eye appeared perpetually brimming. Highlights, as on a meniscus of dew, were standard. The ponies might weep soon. They might cry for joy. They might look in your direction.  The ponies lived in Ponyland. It is not clear where they came from nor how they reproduced. They were of course inside the television, part of a twenty-two-minute weekday cartoon show called, fittingly enough, My Little Pony, and thus inhabited a visual realm, temporally constrained, yet constantly available if one had a VHS system and knowledge of how to record. They were material, as stated. They were moving images, as stated. They could be purchased and held. They could be watched. They were very smooth, seamless, without any roughness. One might run a hand down their necks, across their shoulders, along their backs. One might brush their plastic-scented, flower-colored hair. The myth-world of My Little Ponies was of a part with other myth-worlds of the mid to late eighties: the land of the Care Bears; the stationery empire of Lisa Frank; the intergalactic realms of She-Ra, of Wildfire the magical horse, of the ThunderCats. These myth-worlds ebbed into one another and got confused; it did not matter that they originated with unaffiliated copyright holders. They had rainbows, lots of rainbows, and craggy cliffs and lush forests and desert planets with buried fortresses, and were elsewhere, always elsewhere, beyond the sky or the solar system. You did not attain these places by walking down the street. They were like heaven, although no god was present. Devils aplenty: deranged scientists and bitter witches and space dictators and reanimated corpses with surprisingly good social skills were available to frustrate bliss. But there was no singular author of the good, no logos. There was only a puffy, sparkling spirit that cheerfully resisted death, corruption, and gratuitous violence—the ponies were mild imps who lived in terror of a Christian Satan. They always won out but it was by no means certain they would survive. These were the terms of the contest: a shimmering tribe of hunter-gatherer horses versus a citadel-dwelling autocracy equipped with what I now take to be early sixteenth-century levels of technology and opposable thumbs. You collected the ponies. You displayed the ponies. You made the ponies move and speak. You had them interact with She-Ra or perhaps Panthro, your favorite ThunderCat. You watched the cartoon series and the mediocre animated movie. You understood the personalities in question, the greater stakes. You sided with the good. You experimented with the struggle of the good and caused the plastic bodies to crash into one another. You brushed their tangled silky hair and sometimes cut it off with safety scissors.

— Lucy Ives, “Of Unicorns: On My Little Pony”

[maryflorlovyblog]

"Flower of all seasons Even in winter it proliferates In summer it's not hot She appears and then it's gone In autumn, the most beautiful But she owns the spring."

Source: THINKER - William Neri

[infiniteeight8]

Stephen getting into origami and now they are everywhere including Tony's lab.

There’s a red paper dragon on Tony’s workbench. He opens a drawer and finds hearts and stars made from patterned paper. There’s a frog abandoned on a stair, and folded flowers decorating the dining room table. He gets out of bed and finds a paper crab stuck to his ass.

Their friends first chuckle at the proliferation of origami, and then sigh, but weeks later, Tony still smiles at each one, because they aren’t made with magic. Finally, after years of seeing his hands only as a sacrifice, Stephen has discovered the beauty and fun they can still bring him.

[greenwitchcrafts]

Yarrow

Achillea millefolium

Known as: Allheal, angel flower, arrowroot, bloodwort, cammok, carpenter's weed, death flower, devil's mustard, Devil's nettle, eerie, field hops, gearwe, green arrow, herbe militaris, hundred leaved grass, knight's milfoil, noble yarrow, nosebleed plant, plumajilo, seven year's love, snake's grass, soldiers thousand seal., squirrel tail, stanch grass, tansy, thousand-leaf, thousand weed, woundwort, yarrowway & yerw

Related plants: Is a member of the daisy family Asteraceae that consists of over 32,000 known species of flowering plants in over 1,900 genera within it such as chamomile, coneflowers, dahlia, daisy, dandelion, goldenrod, lettuce, marigold, mugwort & sunflower

Parts used: Leaves & flowers

Habitat and Cultivation: This hardy plant is native to temperate regions of the Northern Hemisphere in Asia, Europe & North America

Plant type: Perennial

Region: 3-9

Harvest: Harvest yarrow when the blooms only when they have fully opened. It should be cut right above the leaf node to encourage the plant to potentially flower again. Many choose to harvest the flowers in the late morning when the dew has dried before so that the plant is not stressed by the extreme heat. Hot, dry spells right before bloom seems to be ideal for producing the most fragrant leaves.

Growing tips: Plant in an area that receives full sun to encourage compact growth and many flowers about 1-2 feet apart. In partial sun or shade, yarrow tends to grow leggy. Yarrow performs best in well-drained soil. It thrives in hot, dry conditions; it will not tolerate constantly wet soil. Loamy soil is recommended, but yarrow can also be grown in clay soil as long as it does not always stay saturated with water. While this plant is technically considered invasive only in noncultivated settings, common yarrow still needs to be planted in an area where you don't mind proliferation. 

Medicinal information: Yarrow has a history of being used for fever, common cold, hay fever, absence of menstruation, dysentery, diarrhea, loss of appetite, gastrointestinal (GI) tract discomfort, and to induce sweating. Some people chew the fresh leaves to relieve toothache. Yarrow is applied to the skin to stop bleeding from hemorrhoids; for wounds; and as a sitz bath for painful, lower pelvic, cramp-like conditions in women. Some people chew the fresh leaves to relieve toothache.

Cautions: Yarrow is commonly consumed in foods, but yarrow products that contain a chemical called thujone might not be safe because it is poisonous in large doses. Yarrow is not recommended for use during pregnancy or chestfeeding as it causes risks of miscarriage. Yarrow might slow blood clotting. In theory, taking yarrow might increase the risk of bleeding in people with bleeding disorders. In some people, it also might cause skin irritation & is toxic to cats & dogs.

Magickal properties

Gender: Feminine

Planet: Venus

Element: Air & Water

Deities: Achilles, Aphrodite, Cernunnos, Faeries, Oshun & Yemaya

Magickal uses:

• Add the flowers to a satchet or dream pillow to encourage prophetic dreams

• Hang a bundle above your bed on your honeymoon night to ensure lasting love for 7 years

• Place across your thresholds or plant near doorwaysto prevent negative energies & influences from entering your home

• Burn as an incense before or during divination to increase psychic abilities

• Wear as an amulet to attract love, friendships & give courage

• Place yarrow under your pillow & if you dreamt of your love, it was a positive omen. If you had a bad dream, or dreamt of other people, it wasn’t

• Combine with mugwort as tea to drink before divination to increase psychic powers

• Put near yourself while practicing divination to increase your psychic abilities

• In spells, use to re-establish contact with long-lost friends or relatives & attract their attention

• Braid into your hair to tap into inner wisdom

• The I-Ching divination was originally performed with dried yarrow stems

• Wash crystals& crystal balls with a yarrow rinse to bring about clarity of vision

• Drink yarrow tea & a cinnamon stick to  release hidden truths

• Place on a coffin or grave to help the spirit cross over/ let go

•For powerful protection, pick yarrow flowers and charge them in the sun. Once charged, take the flowers and sprinkle them outside your home to prevent negative influences and energies away from entering your home

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

The Encyclopedia of Natural Magic by John Michael Greer

Wild Witchcraft by Rebecca Beyer

Plant Witchery by Juliet Diaz

A Compendium of Herbal Magick by Paul Beyerl

The Herbal Alchemist Handbook by Karen Harrison

The Book of Flower Spells by Cheralyn Darcey

[uwmspeccoll]

Typography Tuesday

Fleurons or Printers' Flowers have been a prominent element of typographic tradition at least since the early 16th century, especially those of designer-punchcutter Robert Granjon. They became less used over the 17th century, but were revived in the mid-18th century when Pierre Simon Fournier introduced an entirely new style of printers' flowers. Soon after, their use enhanced as a fashion for classical typography changed the concept of type decoration at the end of the 18th century. The revival of fine typographic design in the late 19th century spurred a proliferation of new fleuron designs in the 20th century that has not abated to this day.

Fleurons may be combined in innumerable ways to create ornate and intricate typographic patterns. Today we show a few of those patterns from Fleurons, Their Place in History & in Print, written, designed, printed, and bound in 1988 by English type and printing enthusiast Mark Arman at his Workshop Press in Thaxted, Essex, in an edition of 170 copies signed by the author/printer. This book is another from the recent of from the estate of our late friend Dennis Bayuzick. Of printing fleurons, Arman writes:

. . . they can be grouped in a variety of combinations: elaborate arrangements are possible, and great enjoyment may be had exploring their possibilities. When I realised all this I began a collection of type decorations which, in the past seven years, has grown considerably. Part of the enjoyment has been finding specific designs. . . . All my 19th century decorations have come from old printing houses which have ceased to operate, or have gone over to litho, so they make a very mixed assortment. . . . [These] are illustrated in the following pages and the text gives a brief account of the craftsmen who created the design.

View other posts on decorative type patterns by Mark Arman.

View other books from the collection of Dennis Bayuzick.

View more Typography Tuesday posts.

[all-things-are-nothing-to-me]

"Authoritarians may seek to control an individual's body. Since anti-oppression is the basis for anarchist thought, some individuals or groups have found that those who identify as anarchists are most sensitive to accusations of being oppressive. This sensitivity is exploited in order to conflate a mere opinion with fact, giving it the power to control. This may range from an opinion that one race has ownership over a particular hairstyle, to an opinion that one sex has ownership over a particular gender or gender expression. Authoritarians may then seek to ban individuals who openly disagree with these opinions from events or spaces, or even enact physical violence on them."

"Authoritarians who find power with identity politics are quick to disregard, silence, or altogether erase perspectives that are not socially valuable in upholding their dogmatic and unnuanced view of oppression. Any ideas coming from those belonging to the oppressed category are given precedence, regardless of their relevance to anti-authoritarianism; while any ideas held by those belonging to the oppressor category are automatically treated as suspect or less worthy of consideration.

This leads to the acceptance and proliferation of a subculture where those perceived as oppressors are intentionally given less opportunity than those categorized as oppressed. Rather than creating genuine equality by abolishing identity categories (along with their corresponding forms of oppression), the larger social hierarchy is inverted, and oppressive power is merely transferred rather than destroyed."

[particular-one]

dropped your hand while dancing.

pairing. gepard landau x gn!reader cw. angst. hurt/no comfort. failed relationships. fluff to angst. passing mention of alcohol. marriage proposals. set after the events of the jarilo-vi trailblaze mission. author's note. this song destroys me every time i listen to it, soooo. if this fic ever sees the light of day, know that this stayed in the vault for terribly long. my debut solo geppie fic...! and its angst. whoopsies.

despite the absence of the morning sun, belobog was glowing in anticipation in celebration for one of, if not the biggest event that the city would hold for the year.

the cityfolk were crowding around the central plaza of belobog, excitedly chatting away for the display of romance that they will be seeing in less than an hour as others continued to fix the decorations in the area. from a distance, the children were running amok near where the snacks were located just as their parents exasperatedly tried to get them to behave.

and you were in the middle of all that bustle, your grip snaked around the stem of your champagne glass and a faraway smile on your face at the sight of it all.

it was the wedding today. and it was everything you imagined and hoped it could be — and even more.

silks as white as belobog's snow proliferated every part of the venue, decorated with blue petals that you can only surmise as gepard's favorite flowers. the captain, no matter how much he enjoyed doing so, was terrible at gardening. the first time he told you about it, you had laughed in his face, watching as his ears turned red in embarrassment as he tried to hide his reaction.

how exactly did you and gepard meet? you hailed from the underworld, so your judgement about silvermane guards had been clouded. everything was scarce down in the underworld, thus, you did not exactly have the most fulfilling of lives in the past. natasha had been your parental figure since you were a child, but even the promise of her protection was not enough to hinder you from wanting to leave jarilo-vi.

when the fateful day had arrived, you remembered how your heartbeat quickened in pace as you raced up to the overworld — only to be greeted by the incarnation of the sun himself, just as how you remembered thinking when you first laid eyes on gepard.

he had been leading the silvermane guards in ensuring the smooth entry of the underworld citizens when the both of you locked eyes for a little too longer than a minute. needless to say, you were drawn to the captain of the silvermane guards against your own judgements.

and he was too, you knew that for sure.

you were dragged away from daydreaming too much just as someone bumped into you — a young girl, probably around the age of twelve, donned with two brown pigtails in her hair who shouted an apology to your direction (probably because she bumped into you), before she disappeared the other way. almost right after her, a young boy, the same age as her, was shouting for her to stop running, but you could see that unmistakable smile in that boy's face that you could probably assume as affection.

you could definitely forgive a little lover's chase.

your hands had been flipping through the parchments that supposedly included the map of the vast universe — or at least, only the planets existing in the data archives — that you had traded your credits for when you felt a pair of calloused hands wrap around your eyes.

“guess who?” you laughed, knowing very well that only one person in the world would dare to do this to you. “i know it’s you, gepard.”

your lover chuckled at the sound of his name, before you felt that small peck on your head and his fingers intertwining with your free hand as gepard took the seat adjacent to you. “what are you up to?”

your other hand had been preoccupied with tracing the path of nearby planets to jarilo-vi, the ripples in the paper creating the feeling of excitement as your finger brushed across the map. you could feel gepard’s eyes on you as you didn’t respond, only engrossed in what was right in front of you.

whether or not the captain seemed to mind that you didn’t answer him, gepard simply squeezed your hand in his, just as you could hear him move closer to you. “you got another map?”

“yup! who would have thought there were neighboring planets near us? if i could just save up enough credits… i’ll be off on the next ship away from this planet.” the prospect of escaping the planet had long allured you when you were child; quite inevitably, you still hadn’t lost sight of your goal to get away from your home planet, desperate to seek out another that wouldn’t let you down like jarilo-vi has.

gepard hummed amicably in your excitement, though you had half-expected that he’d share something else to your own musings, just like he always did. “is something on your mind, geppie?”

“no, no. everything’s fine." his words spoke with utmost reassurance, but the same reassurance didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes. you could feel a pit of uncertainty in your stomach, but you didn’t know if it was right to push; so, you simply turned back to your map.

“one day, i’ll definitely fulfill my dreams and start my life the day i’m away from here!” you boasted in pride, just as you see your love stare at you with an expression that you could never quite comprehend that night.

you had downed your third champagne of the event, just as you absentmindedly set down the empty glass on the table where the rest of the food sat. you barely even caught a whiff of the roasted poultry, but your stomach already grumbled at the pristine sight of the delectable food enclosed inside the chafing dish.

even as you hear the silvermane guards curse about the lopsided flower decoration that looked like it was about to fall, even when you overheard that the officiant of the wedding seemed to be running late, everything still looked perfect.

and you could only assume that it was gepard’s own doing. he would want this day to be something to be remembered, after all.

you had been too engrossed in your latest reads that you hadn’t realized that it was an hour past midnight if it wasn’t for the multitude of buzzing notifications coming from your phone.

naturally, it came from your partner, with countless ones that asked where you were and if you had eaten. your stomach grumbled at the thought; clearly, you had not.

so there you were, dragging your feet as you hurriedly ran back home — the shared quarters that you shared with gepard. you had only moved in with him several months into your relationship which … took a lot of convincing from gepard’s part.

he really wanted to try living with you, he had pleaded. and you found it difficult to say no to him when he looked so excited about the promise of it all.

your hand twisted the handle of the door, trying to quietly enter so as not to wake gepard up. the lights were closed, so you had figured that he might have been asleep.

swinging the door open, you tiptoed your way into the place that gepard had referred to as the living room. your body was aching from running out in the rigid cold weather, so all you wanted was to sink yourself into the velvety couch, but you didn't expect to see gepard sprawled over in the couch, no doubt fast asleep.

right in front of him sat two plates of belobog sausage with a messy pile of rice. though one of the plates included a half-eaten sausage and barely any trace of the rice, the other remained untouched, almost as if it were waiting for someone.

you. gepard had been waiting to eat with you.

guilt crept up to you, as you took a bite of the food that he prepared for you. it was no longer warm, as you had anticipated — which only meant that he had been waiting for a while before you finally came home.

"hey, hey geppie." you were gently shaking his shoulder just as you could feel him stir under your touch. "thanks for the food. i .... i'm sorry i didn't answer your calls." though gepard didn't fully awaken, you could feel his shoulders tense before visibly relaxing at the sound of your voice. "mmm,,... love you, y/n." he murmured, before you could hear the faint beginning of his snores.

no doubt, he was tired. you had leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the head, just like he always did, but stopped midway. your hands were grazing the side of his face, before pulling away to instead drape a blanket over his sleeping form.

i love you too, gepard, you thought.

you didn't understand what had stopped you, nor why you couldn't find the voice to return his words, but you simply chalked it up to your torpor. not before long, your own exhaustion finally caught up to you and claimed you as you fell into a deep slumber.

"y/n?" the familiar voice of gepard's sister brought you away from your thoughts, as you whirled around to see serval, carrying her guitar in one hand and a couple papers in the other. your eyes widened when she ran over to envelop you in a warm embrace, holding all of those items and all. you had almost expected that she would ... well, never mind that.

"you're here! i... i'm- well, this is a pleasant surprise." you had allowed yourself to smile just as serval studied you intently. "of course. i wouldn't miss this for the world." a bitter laugh spilled from your lips, and you had only hoped that serval was not as perceptive as usual.

"well— i need to finish handing these out, but let's chat later, alright?" serval, as jovial as ever. you had almost anticipated the cold shoulder with how things had culminated, but she didn't.

but somehow, you wished that serval did. or more importantly, he would. maybe it would make the pain of forgetting a little less unbearable.

the day you had been waiting for finally arrived. at last, you had almost enough credits to buy your way out of jarilo-vi and start your life elsewhere. the tantalizing thought of fulfilling your lifelong dream had kept you on your toes, but the excitement was even more magnified when you remembered your anniversary with gepard, who had promised you a night to remember.

"what's all this?" to say that you were surprised was an understatement; your quarters, once a messy pile of armor, plates and nearly wilted flowers, had been transformed into a place befitting a romantic candlelight dinner.

which was ... also what gepard had prepared, as he stood in front of the table with a bashful smile. he had been holding a bouquet of fresh red roses, that his hand stretched out to hand to you. "it's for you. happy anniversary, beloved."

there were two glasses of champagne in front of your seats, along with a plate of— "is that stone-grilled olm?!" you exclaimed, to which gepard's smile shone brighter than the sun at the sound of your excitement. "i thought this was discontinued?!"

gepard only chuckled. "i may.. have pulled a few strings." you set the bouquet down as you took your seat across gepard. oh, you can already feel your stomach grumbling. "let's eat?"

you hadn't replied to him anymore, only digging in like a ravenous monster devouring its prey. you had missed the food served in the underworld, as most of them had discontinued their services after they found work in more in-demand places. you hadn't realized that gepard was just watching you eat, a small smile playing on his lips before disappearing when you let out a sound of confusion.

"you're not going to eat?" you asked, midway through a spoonful of olm in your mouth. gepard shook his head. "i, i will. in a bit." he took a sip from his glass, but his gaze never left you. you suddenly grew self-conscious, as you slowed your pace in eating the food.

"hey, y/n—" "yes?" your head snapped up, to gepard's surprise. silence fell between the both of you, before he cleared his throat to continue. "i... well, happy anniversary." you chuckled, as your fork speared through a piece of olm. "you already told me that, silly."

you had not expected to see gepard looking so nervous though, almost as if he had been hiding something. your eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion, before transforming into a more tender concern. "everything alright, geppie?"

before you knew it, gepard had reached over to hold your hand, his gaze finally meeting yours head on. "y/n. i... i know it had only been a little over two years that we had been together but it.. it has only strengthened my resolve more than anything." you didn't understand where all of this were coming from. "geppie..."

"you... you mean the entire universe to me. you are my sun, my moon and my stars. i... i know that you have your plans of leaving this city, and i understand and completely respect your decision but... i have never felt this strongly about someone, and i don't think i ever will for anyone else."

you only thought that these kind of things only happened in the tales that natasha would read to you during bedtime, but here it was unfolding, as you watched gepard get down in one knee before finally unveiling what he had been obviously hiding behind his back.

a ring. a beautiful diamond encrusted ring that you can only imagine costed millions of credits.

and it was for you.

"y/n, would you make me the happiest man alive and be my spouse?"

you could stare at gepard, mouth agape and a tidal wave of emotions threatening to sink you down from where you sat. "gepard, i—"

"we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of the captain of the silvermane guard, gepard landau and his spouse..."

of course. the wedding was starting. you blinked back tears just as you made your way to where you had resigned yourself to when you broke the captain's heart: in the sidelines.

even when half a decade has passed, you could never forget the night that gepard proposed to you with bated excitement in his eyes, you could never forget how you raised your voice in incredulity at him at the prospect of settling down in this forsaken planet, you could never forget how his sun-like smile twisted into a heartbroken frown as you uttered the word that shattered all his dreams.

you had said no to him that night, all because you did not want to be shackled down in the planet that you had made a long-standing pact to yourself to leave.

and now, you were paying the price for your own foolishness as you watched gepard marry another.

it was the first time since you saw gepard since you closed the door on him, as he stood at the end of aisle and fitted in the most stunning white suit that complemented his features. his hair had been parted in a way that made his look even more formal, but you somehow missed the tousled curls that were all over his face.

he still looked handsome as ever, which just made your heart clench in pain. you had taken the best thing in your life for granted, after all.

when you left jarilo-vi at last, all you were filled with was regret in leaving him behind. though you had earnestly enjoyed living in a different planet, you’d sometimes think about the domestic exchanges you shared with gepard during the time you were together.

when you had received a mail signed under landau, your heart had simply raced in excitement, only to fall flat on the ground when you read the contents of the invitation.

your thoughts had drowned out the words of the officiant, as your eyes only followed one person alone. gepard was standing in front, his hands joined with his would-be partner. despite the absence of the morning sun, you could have sworn the entire venue could have been lit up by gepard's smile alone.

you remembered how happy he got whenever you compared his smile to the sun. he never stopped smiling at you, afterward.

"do you, gepard landau, take auberon chevalier as your lawfully wedded spouse?” right as the officiant finished his words did gepard’s eyes finally meet yours, and it was almost as if the both of you were transported back to the first time you met each other.

gepard’s eyes seemed to widen at the sight of you, that you noticed that he never replied to the officiant’s words. “captain landau?” the crowd seemed perturbed at the sudden pause, just as you could feel your heart beat loudly against your chest.

there was a hint of despondency in his eyes as he met yours, and you could feel your breath hitch. in truth, you had half expected that the reason why you decided to show up to his wedding in the very planet you swore never to return to was to change his mind, but looking at him right now … you knew that would have been such a selfish thing to do.

“sorry, i do.” after a few moments, you watched as gepard finally managed to tear his gaze away from you. the officiant seemed relieved that nothing seemed to be going awry and continued on. “and do you, auberon chevalier…”

still, despite all— you were happy that someone had picked up gepard’s heart after you had impetuously stomped all over his, something you could never forgive yourself for.

even when the sight before you tore your heart to shreds, you were unbelievably happy that gepard had found someone he would feel so strongly about, and most importantly, someone who would not drop his heart like how you did.

you hadn’t realized that the officiant had finally pronounced them as spouses to one another until you heard the crowd go wild in cheers. gepard had finally kissed his spouse, as the people around you grew even wilder in screams.

in another life, you thought to yourself just as you finally stopped blinking back the tears that had threatened to spill from your eyes.

in another life, if i could love him again, i’d love him right this time.

written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)

[talonabraxas]

"To Protogonos [i.e. Phanes], Fumigation of Myrrh. O mighty Protogonos (First-Begotten), hear my prayer, twofold, egg-born, and wandering through the air; bull-roarer, glorying in thy golden wings, from whom the race of gods and mortal springs. Erikapaios (Ericapaeus), celebrated power, ineffable, occult, all-shining flower. 'Tis thine from darksome mists to pure the sight, all-spreading splendour, pure and holy light; hence, Phanes, called the glory of the sky, on waving pinions through the world you fly. Priepos (Priapus), dark-eyed splendour, thee I sing, genial, all-prudent, ever blessed king. With joyful aspect on these rites divine and holy consecration (telete) propitious shine." - The Hymns of Orpheus

Phanes Talon Abraxas

Phanes – The God of Creation And New Life

Phanes is the god of proliferation and new life. He was hatched from the cosmic egg and created the world as it came to be. A dual deity of light and goodness, Phanes is a vague figure in Greek Mythology. His symbols are the egg, the serpent and the zodiac circle.

Phanes’ Origins

Based on the Orphic Tradition, before the beginning of conscience and existence, Chronos (Time) created the cosmic egg, out of which emerged a deity with large golden wings on his back, wearing a helmet on his head and bearing an obscure serpent around his body. His name was Phanes Protogonos (First-Born) and he was the first deity that brought light and shaped the world. Other sources regard him as more of an abstract personification of the universe rather than an actual god, placing Nyx, The Greek primordial Goddess of Night as the first deity that came into being.

Roles and Responsibilities

Phanes’ primary role was to beget the world and make life. After the creation, he ruled over the cosmos and paved the way for the rest of the gods to come.

Phanes – The God of Creation And New Life

[atamascolily]

Looking back over my screenshots again, I noticed something that bothers me: "Walpurgisnacht" is a name supposedly given to this witch by magical girls (and not what she calls herself, unlike the other witches we encounter), and yet that name appears in heavily stylized runes on her countdown signs in the original series. Why is that? Am I missing something?

The same runes are also in the Eternal movie, although they are a bit more legible. Nothing else appears to have changed overall, although the shading/contrast on the ring and "peacock tails" (probably stylized lotus flowers common in Buddhist mandalas?) is switched up.

The art style here is reminiscent of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century European woodblock prints during the time of the original witchcraft trials. This movement was stoked in large part by the widespread proliferation of lavishly illustrated printed pamphlets, which detailed witches' misdeeds in lurid detail, and popularized many archetypes we now associate with witches, from brooms and black cats to deals and dances with the Devil.

Witches dancing with devils, featured in The History of Witches and Wizards (1720).

Similar woodblock prints, likely representing primary sources, can be seen in the background in Homura's apartment as part of her research into Walpurgisnacht, including several with dancing figures.

These figures can be seen as Walpurgisnacht is ultimately broken up in the final episode.

Just for some fun visual parallels, compare to this shot from the recap movies that wasn't in the original TV release. The main difference is that all of the figures of Homuras are the same, whereas the ones in Walpurgisnacht's circle seem to be different.

The woodblock print in Homura's apartment depicts all the dancers as identical, while the later shot makes them look more like Walpurgisnacht's individualized familiars--which they might well be. Comparison to the Clara Dolls--a large number of familiars repeatedly described as being a match for or counterpart to magical girls with individualized designs--is also inevitable.

Ironically, the Christian saint Walpurga was supposed to protect against witchcraft, but her saint's day (April 30-May 1) ended up being conflated with the witches because it occurred at the same time as Hexennacht (German for 'Witches' Night'), when witches were said to dance with/in honor of the devil on Mount Brocken--and thus when people were most in need of St. Walpurga's protection. Goethe draws on this tradition in Faust, Part One (a major influence on PMMM) for the scene where Mephistopheles takes Faust to the Brocken in order to witness the celebrations--which is also one of the texts depicted in Homura's apartment.

Another sheet reads "Ein Narr"--German for "the fool", another recurring motif associated with Walpurgisnacht (and also Homura).

Given the accuracy of these documents, these woodcuts are presumably based on eyewitness accounts (possibly magical girls, since ordinary people see Walpurgisnacht as a storm) where Walpurgisnacht appeared but was apparently not permanently defeated. Combined with Walpurgisnacht's ability to appear--and presumably disappear--without warning, and the fact that she's large enough to show up on radar as a storm, this suggests to me that Walpurgisnacht might be a time traveler or possess a similar ability to "exit the stage" and only reveal herself at the most dramatic moment(s) possible. Not only would this fit with her cog/stage motif, it would make her an even more fitting narrative foil for Homura, and add yet another parallel between them.

For both witches and ordinary humans alike, Walpurgis Night is traditionally celebrated with dancing and bonfires. Not only is Homura's name is a homonym for 'flame', Rebellion is chock full of ballet motifs, and she is last seen dancing alone in the moonlight late at night--presumably during the "witching hour" (which, depending on the source, is either between 3-4 a.m., or the hour immediately after midnight. Given the earlier scene of Homura becoming a witch as the clocks strikes midnight, I lean towards the latter interpretation).

Even more suggestively, Homura is now diegetically the Devil and appears to have taken on Kyubey's role as a contractor. If so, this strongly implies that she (and/or her double?) will have a personal relationship with magical girls as the one to whom they sold their souls to gain their power, just like historical witches were said to do with Satan. And given that these historical witches supposedly gathered on Walpurgis Night to honor the Devil... well, that does put Walpurgisnacht's likely (re)appearance in a new light, doesn't it?

...and if the 'Walpurgis' of Walpurgis no Kaiten is indeed the same Walpurgisnacht we saw before, then some timey-wimey/reality-bending/fourth-wall breaking shenanigans are afoot.

It's funny because "what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament?" is usually meant as a tongue-in-cheek joke, but if PMMM continues to take these references seriously, we might actually get to find out!

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 4 EPISODE 06 || BLOOD OF MY BLOOD ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

It’s no great matter,” he said, soothingly. “I’ve a potion that will cure all manner of ills of the stomach. Do ye rest easy for a moment, my lord; I’ll fetch water.” He got to his feet and went away, careful not to look at the boy. By the time he came back from the stream with the kettle filled, Willie had got his nose blown and his face wiped, and was sitting with his knees drawn up, his head resting on them. He couldn’t keep himself from touching the boy’s head as he passed. Familiarity be damned. The dark hair was soft to his touch, warm and slightly damp with sweat. “A griping in your guts, is it?” he said pleasantly, kneeling and putting the kettle to boil. “Mm-hm.” Willie’s voice was muffled in the blanket over his knees. “That passes soon enough,” he said. He reached for his sporran, and sorted through the proliferation of small items in it, coming up eventually with the small cloth bag that held the dried mixture of leaves and flowers Claire had given him. He didn’t know how she’d known it would be needed, but he was long past the point of questioning anything she did in the way of healing—whether of heart or of body. He felt a moment’s passionate gratitude to her. He’d seen her look at the boy, and knew how she must feel. She’d known about the lad, of course, but seeing the flesh-and-blood proof that her husband had shared another woman’s bed wasn’t something a wife should be asked to put up with. Little wonder if she was inclined to stick pins in John, him pushing the lad under her nose as he had. “It willna take more than a moment to brew up,” he assured the boy, rubbing the fragrant mixture between his hands into a wooden cup, as he’d seen Claire do. She’d not reproached him. Not with that at least, he thought, suddenly remembering how she’d acted when she’d found out about Laoghaire. She’d gone for him like a fiend, then, and yet when later she’d learned about Geneva Dunsany … perhaps it was only that the boy’s mother was dead? The realization went through him like a sword thrust. The boy’s mother was dead. Not just his real mother, who’d died the same day he was born—but the woman he’d called mother all his life since. And now his father—or the man he called father, Jamie thought with an unconscious twist of his mouth—was lying sick of an illness that had killed another man before the lad’s eyes no more than days before. No, it wasn’t fright that made the lad greet by himself in the dark. It was grief, and Jamie Fraser, who’d lost a mother in childhood himself, ought to have known that from the beginning.

It wasn’t stubbornness, nor even loyalty, that had made Willie insist on staying at the Ridge. It was love of John Grey, and fear of his loss. And it was the same love that made the boy weep in the night, desperate with worry for his father. An unaccustomed weed of jealousy sprang up in Jamie’s heart, stinging like nettles. He stamped firmly on it; he was fortunate indeed to know that his son enjoyed a loving relationship with his stepfather. There, that was the weed stamped out. The stamping, though, seemed to have left a small bruised spot on his heart; he could feel it when he breathed. The water was beginning to rumble in the kettle. He poured it carefully over the herb mixture, and a sweet fragrance rose up in the steam. Valerian, she’d said, and catmint. The root of a passionflower, soaked in honey and finely ground. And the sweet, half-musky smell of lavender, coming as an afterscent. “Don’t drink it yourself,” she’d said, casual in giving it to him. “There’s lavender in it.” In fact, it didn’t trouble him, if he was warned of it. It was only that now and then a whiff of lavender took him unawares, and sent a sudden surge of sickness through his wame. Claire had seen the effects on him once too often to be unwary of it. “Here.” He leaned forward and handed the cup to the boy, wondering whether forever after, the lad too would feel troubled by the scent of lavender, or if he would find in it a memory of comfort. That, he supposed, might well depend on whether John Grey lived or died. The respite had given Willie back his outward composure, but his face was still marked with grief. Jamie smiled at the boy, hiding his own concern. Knowing both John and Claire as he did, he was less fearful than the boy—but the dread was still there, persistent as a thorn in the sole of his foot. “That will ease ye,” he said, nodding at the cup. “My wife made it; she’s a verra fine healer.” “Is she?” The boy took a deep, trembling breath of the steam, and touched a cautious tongue to the hot liquid. “I saw her—do things. With the Indian who died.” The accusation there was clear; she’d done things, and the man had died anyway. Neither Claire nor Ian had spoken much of that, nor had he been able to ask her what had happened—she had given him a lifted brow and a brief gold look, to say that he should not speak of it before Willie, who had come back with her from the corncrib, white-faced and clammy. “Aye?” he said curiously. “What sort of—things?” What the hell had she done? he wondered. Nothing to cause the man’s death, surely; he would have seen that in her at once. Nor did she feel herself at fault, or helpless—he had held her in his arms more than

once, comforting her as she wept for those she could not save. This time she had been quiet, subdued—as had Ian—but not deeply upset. She had seemed vaguely puzzled. “She had mud on her face. And she sang to him. I think she was singing a Papist song; it was in Latin, and it had something to do with sacraments.” “Indeed?” Jamie suppressed his own astonishment at this description. “Aye, well. Perhaps she meant only to give the man a bit of comfort, if she saw she couldna save him. The Indians are much more sensible of the effects of measles, ye ken; an infection that will kill one of them wouldna cause a white man to blink twice. I’ve had the measle myself, as a wee lad, and took no harm from it at all.” He smiled and stretched, demonstrating his evident health. The tense lines of the boy’s face relaxed a little, and he took a cautious sip of the hot tea. “That’s what Mrs. Fraser said. She said Papa would be all right. She—she gave me her word upon it.” “Then ye may depend upon it that he will,” Jamie said firmly. “Mrs. Fraser is an honorable woman.” He coughed, and hitched the plaid up around his shoulders; it wasn’t a cold night, but there was a breeze coming down the hill. “Is the drink helping a bit?” Willie looked blank, then looked down at the cup in his hand. “Oh! Yes. Yes, thank you; it’s very good. I feel very much improved. Perhaps it was not the dried apples, after all.” “Perhaps not,” Jamie agreed, bending his head to hide a smile. “Still, I think we’ll manage better for our supper tomorrow; if luck is with us, we’ll have trout.” This attempt at distraction was successful; Willie’s head popped up from his cup, an expression of deep interest on his face. “Trout? We can fish?” “Have ye done much fishing in England? I canna think that the trout streams would compare with these, but I know there is good fishing to be had in the Lake District—or so your father tells me.” He held his breath. What in God’s name had made him ask that? He had himself taken a five-year-old William fishing for char on the lake near Ellesmere, when he had served his indenture there. Did he want the boy to remember? “Oh … yes. It’s pleasant on the lakes, surely—but nothing like this.” Willie waved in the vague direction of the creek. The lines in the boy’s face had smoothed themselves, and a small flicker of life had come back into his eyes. “I have never seen such a place. It’s not at all like England!” “That it is not,” Jamie agreed, amused. “Will ye not miss England, though?”

Willie thought about it for a moment, as he slurped the rest of his tea. “I don’t think so,” he said, with a decided shake of his head. “I miss Grandmamma sometimes, and my horses, but nothing else. It was all tutors and dancing lessons and Latin and Greek—ugh!” He wrinkled his nose, and Jamie laughed. “Ye dinna care for the dancing, then?” “No. You have to do it with girls.” He shot Jamie a look under his fine, dark brows. “Do you care for music, Mr. Fraser?” “No,” Jamie said, smiling. “I like the girls fine, though.” The girls were going to like this wee laddie just fine, too, he thought, covertly noting the youngster’s breadth of shoulder and long shanks, and the long, dark lashes that hid his bonny blue eyes. “Yes. Well, Mrs. Fraser is very pretty,” the Earl said politely. His mouth curled suddenly up on one side. “Though she did look funny, with the mud on her face.” “I daresay. Will ye have another cup, my lord?” Claire had said the mixture was for calming; it seemed to be working. As they talked desultorily of the Indians and their strange beliefs, William’s eyelids began to droop, and he yawned more than once. At last, Jamie reached over and took the empty cup from his unresisting hand. “The night is cold, my lord,” he said. “Will ye choose to lie next to me, that we may share our coverings?” The night was chilly, but a long way from cold. He had guessed right, though; Willie seized the excuse with alacrity. He could not take a lord in his arms to comfort him, nor could a young earl admit to wanting such comfort. Two men could lie close together without shame, though, for the sake of warmth. Willie fell asleep at once, nestled close against his side.

Jamie lay awake for a long time, one arm laid lightly across the sleeping body of his son.

27 TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA

[popatochisssp]

I would like more details on ocean boys plz. More Descendtale for us?

Descendtale

A human falls to the Underground.

They’re merciful…mostly.

But maybe not merciful enough.

They make friends with many monsters on their way through the Underground.

They kill some others.

Nobody important, none of the real friends they’d made along the way—just a handful of annoying ones who kept getting in their way, surprising them with Encounters when they were busy on their very important quest to escape the Underground and go back home.

When they leave, they put their fun fantasy adventure behind them, eager to get back to their real life.

They never come back.

The monster ‘friends’ they left behind do their best to move on.

Asgore is gone, and so are the six human souls they’d collected, so close to finally being free.

Toriel has returned, which is something, a comfort of familiarity at least to have a ruler who knows what she’s doing when hope is falling and…other things are starting to go wrong.

The Royal Guard has been disbanded, what with the queen’s mandate that humans falling down should be welcomed as friends. Which is fine, most of them all knew the most recent human as a friend, but…it does leave quite a few dogs and a fish and a few other animals out of a job and consequently, out of a driving purpose in their lives.

A handful of monsters have also gone missing. Not Fallen Down, or moved away, just…gone, without a word or a call or a note. No one really knows what happened, though there’s theories, nobody seems to know anything for sure and the unsubstantiated rumors, ranging from wild to tame, are a little bit scary.

And…the Underground’s resources are dwindling. They have been for a long time, but some of those monsters that disappeared—farmers, couriers, suppliers—their absence has unbalanced the food supply chain just a little more, and what they do have is taking longer to get to the populated areas, costing more, creating uncertainty.

In essence, monsters are getting nervous and losing hope.

Many of these problems have no clear solution, but Toriel tasks the Royal Scientist to one it might be possible for her to solve: the food issue.

After all, it may only be a mild concern now, but with the human souls gone, with how long it took to gather so many to begin with, how unlikely it is for more humans to fall down anytime soon—and to be treated as guests, even if they do fall…

It’s going to be quite some time before monsterkind has any real chance to be free.

They need to survive.

They need to be able to weather the long winter that’s to come, to remain strong and keep from falling to despair.

Certainty that they won’t starve to death in subterranean ignominy is a solid step towards that.

Alphys, happy to have been kept on after her last boss…uh. Well, she throws herself into the assignment, feeling that this is her chance to really do something great, worthy of her title.

The way she sees it, they need some kind of a staple crop, something they can produce in excess without exhausting their resources in the process.

She sets her eyes on the echo flower.

Echo flowers are hardy plants and grow well in any dark environment, in all but the driest of soils, already proliferating wildly in the Underground without any influence and thriving for a long, long, long time. Their petals have been known to make a soothing tea, but the root of the plant—a thick black rhizome—is edible, too.

It hasn’t been actually eaten very much, historically, being that the taste is…not great, a little sour and a lot bitter, no matter how you prepare it.

But it is edible, full of nutrients and ambient magic to keep a monster fed and healthy so long as you don’t mind the taste.

And…can they really afford to mind the taste, at this stage?

Toriel agrees with Alphys’ assessment. The artificial light cycles that simulate day and night are ceased and echo flowers are planted anywhere and everywhere they’ll take, roots harvested and incorporated into monsters’ diets. At first, the farming is only to supplement the scarcity of other foods, but as time goes by and most of those all but disappear, the root eventually begins replacing them almost entirely.

It takes awhile for anyone to notice the changes.

Before necessity, no monster ate or even used enough echo flower root to realize that it had preservative properties.

When monsters begin to notice they’re not aging nearly as fast as they should be, a whole host of other side-effects have started to make themselves known, all dutifully assessed and catalogued by Alphys.

Monsters who consume the echo flower root consistently, at volume, can expect to see many of the following changes in their bodies:

Light sensitivity

Darkening of the extremities

Extended periods of low activity (similar to hibernation)

Lack of appetite

Bioluminescence

Reduced metabolism

Sharpening of preexisting teeth, or growth of new ones

Heightened senses (predominantly hearing sight, and smell)

Decreased sensitivity to touch

Increased physical durability

Thorn-like growths or protrusions

Mental changes and personality drift

In addition to these is something monsters colloquially start to refer to as The Withering, when bodies begin to look thin, gnarled and frail but with no attached physical ailments.

The monsters so afflicted by their new condition…

Accept it.

There’s little else they can do, as reliant on their new food source as they are by this point, and quite frankly, none of the changes seem all that bad.

They have food, they have each other, and most importantly, they have time.

It’s all a little different, of course, but monsters are nothing if not adaptable, every bit the survivors the Queen knew they could be.

The worst thing to come out of it all is that brightness of Hotland and New Home poses a bit of discomfort to most of those who’d settled there, but Toriel oversees a mass migration back to Home and renovation of the Ruins there to make them a far more pleasant place to live.

And naturally, along the way are Waterfall, blissfully dark, and Snowdin, delightfully cold—both equally appealing neighborhoods to move into, with monsters’ new taste for such things.

Life goes on for monsterkind, still trapped in their deep cavern but now…kind of thriving in it.

The next human to fall will be faced with a very different sort of Underground than the one the last human left, darker and colder to be sure, filled with monsters who want to be their friend but are maybe…a little rusty at it.

But there should be plenty of time for them to get used to it.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans)

Not so friendly with regards to humans, these days. He knows for a fact what that last one did to a handful of innocent monsters, and has a pretty strong hunch that they could’ve undone it, or at least come back to free their so-called ‘friends’ after the dust settled…but they didn’t. Despite everything, they were no better than any other human who touched the lives of monsters, and he’s all out of belief and hope and second chances for any of their ilk

Something of a new lease on life, or at least a stubborn determination to live, in spite of monsters’ most likely fate after their abandonment—the influence of the echo flower root has made a lot of his favorite creature-comfort-type experiences (eating, sleeping, savoring warmth) more difficult to enjoy, but he refuses to let that stop him

A slight mean-streak, fond of creeping up on people, unnerving them, enjoying a bit of schadenfreude now and then… but at the same time very defensive of anyone he considers part of his in-group (monsters only for now)

Mostly drifts around his usual haunts, Grillby’s, his place, his sentry station—even though the Guard isn’t a thing and he’s not technically a sentry anymore. He still likes to keep an eye-socket out, and if a human manages to slip out of the Ruins without being caught, or if they come in the back way, he’d really like to be there to give them a good scare, and remind them that he’s watching

A little chilly, a bit avoidant, and with a tendency to push peoples’ buttons to see what they do (…well, he’s always done that one), he’s not the easiest person to get along with but… Well, there is no ‘but,’ that’s the end of the sentence.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus)

Very, very, very eager to make new friends—yes, even human ones! He befriended the last one, but…maybe he didn’t do it right, because…they left…and never came back…and if his brother is to be believed, they may have also murdered a few monsters before that… That’s probably not his fault. But he can do better! He can be a great friend! The best friend, he just needs another chance!

In the process of reinventing himself, just a bit. With the Royal Guard disbanded, that dream is dead, but the Great Papyrus doesn’t need a dream to be great! He’s working on himself right now, trying new hobbies, exploring new styles, reaching out…reaching out a lot, it’s…it’s very hard to get a call back these days, with everything going on…

Some difficulty with emotional regulation, he can go from feeling not much of anything at all, to feeling one emotion very strongly, which can lead to embarrassing outbursts from time to time. He's managing it, or trying to!

Still patrols around Snowdin regularly, even though he’s not a sentry anymore. He likes to see everyone—all the new and old faces—and it wouldn’t do to leave all his traps and puzzles to fall into disrepair, not when he has so many ideas for how to make them more difficult, challenging enough that even the craftiest human might really need to think on

A little bit scattered, a pinch forgetful, and somewhat prone to saying vaguely unsettling things without realizing they are unsettling (…well, he’s always done that one), but mostly he’s harmless! Just seeking a bit of earnest connection and people to have in his life that won’t leave

[brown-little-robin]

how my scheduled posts work

January: snow, citrus fruit, things I think will help me get through the long winter, encouragements

February: black and white art, pen illustrations, and such. I don't remember why I started doing that, but it's tradition now

March: flowers start to appear. the color pink creeps in. postage stamps and trinkets spill over

April: flowers proliferate. the tulip festival happens in my hometown, and for that week/weekend I reblog 1 million pictures of tulips. it's my way to celebrate from afar

May: the pink theme from march reappears even more vividly; opalescence and sculptures abound

June: light blue and light green—pastels, pokemon, and water

July: greenery of all sorts, ceramics, frogs, and vivid colors

August: forest scenes, purple and green, special treats just for me (it's my birthday month!), reminders about life and taking it one day at a time (birthday month reminders :])

September: yellow brown and golden things: honey, bread, hamsters, bees, sunlight. I love september

October: darker and more orange tones than september; wild things. halloween does color my october posting, I admit. forest animals feature strongly

November: preparing for winter, my queue begins to consist of comfortable things (fabric art, plushies, artworks of hugs). also, sublime if barren landscapes, to embrace the november feel(tm)

December: cozy. house paintings, fabric arts like sewing, knitting, quilts, & plushies, and Advent stuff.

This is synesthesia related (for instance, putting blue things in June, scheduling green things for days with "5" in them) but also related to what I think I'll need/want in each month, and what other people will need/want in each month.