#soil nutrient testing

[farmerstrend]

Is this the Largest Sweet Potato in Kenya? The Inspiring Story of Manoah Kilach's 11-Kilogram Sweet Potato

In the verdant Ngata area of Nakuru County, Manoah Kilach has transformed agricultural practice through meticulous organic farming and technological innovation. A retired educator turned agricultural entrepreneur, Kilach stands as a testament to the potential of modern, sustainable farming techniques. On a sun-drenched Friday morning, Kilach proudly displayed an extraordinary achievement: an…

[feralfens]

[speed runs thickening the top soil layer in one spot]

[howdoesone]

How does one determine the pH level of their soil and adjust it accordingly for optimal plant growth?

Soil pH is an important factor in plant growth and health. The pH level of the soil determines how well plants can absorb nutrients from the soil. Most plants prefer a slightly acidic soil, with a pH between 6.0 and 7.0. If the soil is too acidic or alkaline, it can negatively affect plant growth and development. In this article, we will discuss how to determine the pH level of your soil and…

[tenth-sentence]

For example, many acidic, sandy soils in humid regions are deficient in boron, copper, zinc, manganese, molybdenum, or iron and can benefit from nutrient supplementation.

"Plant Physiology and Development" int'l 6e - Taiz, L., Zeiger, E., Møller, I.M., Murphy, A.

[wanologic]

college au prequel: what happened to danny during junior year - 2940 words

Viscous green liquid sludges through a dry river bed, whetting the cracked ground and seeping deep into the void. Soil softens, becoming fat with nutrient. In the most basic definition, still itself, but filled with new matter, ready and accepting of more. This is what it was made for, its purpose. It has been sitting, dry and untended for too long. In this symbiosis it is more than it dreamed to be. Complete in the sense that it has been starved.

--

Danny wakes up, the dream lingering.

He’s been feeling odd lately, despite the fact that he is more comfortable in his skin than ever. He has a goal, he has support. 

A bridge, he called himself.

Even if he’s only sixteen and his influence is contextually small, he has time. People are listening. Ghosts are listening. Small steps over a long period will get you where you need to go, and he’s still just a kid. 

A kid who has to get ready for school.

He goes through the familiar motions, snags a quick breakfast and lets his parents know he’s headed out, that he’ll see them later. He’s out the door and on his way before he knows it.

Danny’s grades have improved since his freshman year. The pressure to keep things secret has all but alleviated and his family is sticking close. The world might not know that Fenton and Phantom are the same, but the people who matter do.

He’s managing. Thriving, even.

His extracurriculars are atypical of a high school junior, but he plays his role well. The Ghost Investigation Ward meets Phantom and the Fentons on neutral ground that evening, working their way methodically through a tangle of red tape. Teaching, learning. There’s always danger in compromise, but both parties are being two faced. It’s civil for now.

He’ll do this from the opposite angle on another day, playing border guard for the dimensional tear nestled into the fabric of his basement. Walker would be proud of him. He’s enforcing the Rules.

And it’s all going well as far as he can tell. Things are so much less chaotic than they were, his brawls feel like bonding, his head is no longer on a swivel.

For now, it’s off to his room. A space for himself to decompress after a long day's work.

He spends a lot of time thinking about a prehistoric past. What the future might look like once his job is over. This solid physical reality fed that swirling and infinite realm of emotion directly, once. It didn’t last, but time has passed. 

Danny is more aware of this fractured nature than most. He’s sure it’s why he’s had so much success. Why the responsibility falls on him. He feels it every time he calls upon his second self. 

And that’s what it is, isn’t it? Human first, ghost second. Humanity is the frame of reference he was born with. Everything new he experiences in this strange half-life is compared against it. Spectra once asked him what he was. But humanity is in his nature. He is a creepy boy with creepy powers. He’s sure of it. 

Going ghost.

Returning to humanity.

Not that he prefers one over the other. He’s made the choice. More than once. When his memories were erased or his powers short-circuited he always took them back. Felt the thrumming and euphoric energy pulsing through his being once again. His shape projected and unreal. Weightless. It feels incredible.

At some point, some late night discussion about feelings, whether it was with family or with friends, he realized his dual nature was more of a privilege than he could ever hope to fully comprehend. His human half feeds his ghost half everything. His ghost half is complete. No wonder he’s so determined, so strong. He has never once craved emotion the way the others have. He has intrinsic access to everything. Every failed test, every frustration, every joy, every thrill. He is comfortable and whole. Has no need to lash out. Two separate identities working together as two polar magnets, inseparable through the strength of their attraction, moving through the world as one.

He slips the familiar glowing rings across his body, the cool wash of ectoplasm coursing through his veins. Back again, blood pumps oxygen to his cells. Human. Ghost. Human. Ghost.

--

This time the dream is stranger.

The river craves the ocean. 

Danny feels the sand cake beneath his nails as he digs a trench, a violation of the river’s established bed. There’s a trickle as a thin and frothy stream flows out of sync with the current along the path he lays. It longs for the larger disconnected body ahead. A curious tendril seeking an easier path. He digs deeper, automatic, compelled by a force he doesn’t quite understand. 

Is this a bridge too?

He’s both excited and afraid to find out.

The liquid pools at his fingertips as fast as he can dig. Nudging. The sand is saturated and wet in front of him. He’s not sure how much further he has to go. But if he can claw his way through this dense barrier he’s sure it will pick up momentum even without him. The fluid mass can carve its own trench. Wider. Faster. Wider again.

He wakes up in a cold sweat. He somehow feels incorporeal. This isn’t right. He looks at his hands. His fingers in the dark. Clean. Spotless. He feels the sheets beneath his body, the press of the blanket above. So he’s still human then, wrong as it may seem. He clutches at his chest as he tries to calm his racing heart, quell the strength of an intense emotion that he cannot describe. It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying.

He stops digging and fashions a dam, not yet ready for what the final connection could mean.

His head hurts.

Nausea tucks itself against his gut.

He takes a shower.

--

It’s Saturday and he has business in the Ghost Zone.

He shifts, expecting the weird feeling to subside. Instead it’s more of the same. Something is off. He ignores it. A thing to worry about later when he has less to do.

His work that day goes smoothly, another step in what he can only hope is the right direction. And it feels nice, giving in to the compulsion and focusing on what is in front of him, what is currently begging his attention, rather than the problems lurking beneath the surface. It is a learned behavior, one he falls back into easily.

Upon his return he feels like he is dragging a piece of the Infinite Realms back with him. The air seems to thicken, the cold steel walls of the portal are closing in on him. The exit is a pinpoint.  He’s being called back. He wants to move forward. He can feel silky fingers worm their way over his skin, hundreds of tendrils trying to pull him into their embrace. He stays strong. Moves with intent. The invisible hands can’t find enough purchase and he is finally welcomed back into the Physical World like the denizen he is. 

The caress stays with him much longer than he’s willing to admit.

--

Weeks go by and he only feels stranger and stranger. High. His attention slides off of everything so easily, his eyes blurring mid-conversation, a stuffy feeling, like a balloon that’s expanding well past the boundaries of his head. He loses time. Cancels appointments. He doesn’t feel well, sorry, he’s going to stay home today.

There is something Danny knows he needs to do. He can’t keep existing in limbo like this, his job only half-finished, pulled in two directions but choosing neither. His powers will wane once again in his indecision. His purpose sits unfulfilled.

He lays back and stares at the softly luminescent stars pasted to the ceiling of his room. Takes deep and even breaths as he struggles to remain present. His sister is worried for him, he’s sure. The best he can do for her is secretly practice what she has preached.

Danny eventually thinks back to that trickling stream. The slimy offshoot of the coursing river. He thinks of the dam he dreamed up all those weeks ago, sure it’s bigger now. His denial adds weight and height to the metaphor. Every day it feels less like a figment of his fucked up imagination and more like the worlds are trying to tell him something. What’s on the other side now, he wonders? Is the river still flowing? Are the fruits of his labor still there or has that little hand-clawed pathway dried up? How large is the reservoir pressing up against that sandy hill if it hasn’t?

He’s scared. 

He doesn’t want to know. 

But this isn’t what he promised himself.

A peek can’t hurt.

--

The dream comes easily, now that he lets it.

The funny thing about water is that it always finds a way. No matter what people do, how they try to tame it, erosion is inevitable. It starts as a dark wet splotch, the faint idea of a tiny breach in the all-but-permeable barrier between worlds—the river and the ocean. As the spot expands a dip forms on the horizon. The water moves. Under, through, over. Destructive. Alive. Danny shouldn’t have looked but he can’t stop what has already started. Equilibrium will be achieved one way or another. It was only ever a matter of time. He stands in the shallows, cowed as the wall comes down. Slowly first, then all at once.

The edges of panic are sharp and he realizes what is happening only a beat too late. 

The dam breaks.

He screams.

He was the dam, he is the trench, the rapid connection of energy flowing out of bounds and rushing along a new path. Lightning striking the rod to avoid burning down the house. The portal below him is a wound, a tear. He is something asked for, something natural. His mind can’t keep up as he struggles to regain ground and prevent being swept away by the violent current.

Dim awareness of his physical body comes back to him slowly as he writhes against the foreign dimension assaulting his senses. A second death. His double life was a conceptual marvel, a switch flipping from on to off, and back on again. He is the embodiment of two worlds, split, distinct. His quest to join them together requires this of him, doesn’t it? Whatever autonomy he has against the will of the universe cannot remain if he truly wants to serve his purpose. It’s a choice he has to make. One that he has been making. One that has been made.

He takes a deep and shuddering breath.

He tries to let go, and finds that he can’t. It’s like being electrocuted all over again, his nerves fried and his joints stuck rigid. It’s a feeling that is impossible to control, tense as he is.

His breath still comes ragged as colors around him saturate and the world warps. He can feel his fear, his desperation, feeding the momentum of whatever is happening. The exchange of emotion, osmosis through a rapidly deteriorating membrane. Thousands of overlapping inputs assault his mind as he feels the energy sliding around in the folds of his brain. He breathes through it. It’s not at all painful, but it is intense. His human points of reference aren’t working to help him conceptualize what is happening. His atoms are buzzing with newfound energy and the world is no longer solid. He tries once again to attempt the mindfulness ritual Jazz has been shoving down his throat, tries to name five things around him. The exercise fails him as he feels his brain liquefy in his skull. He gasps at the sloshing sensation, back arching. He’s going to be unmade.

Instead of loosening his grip, he tightens it. Remembering what it is to be human with all the force he can muster. His knuckles are white. Sweat slips down his brow. If he can’t let go, he has to hold on. He is gasping, thrashing. He’s hyperventilating, he’s sure, but no oxygen floods his system. He wants release, wants off this ride. The world outside of his perception ceases to exist. Flesh slips from his bones and it feels so, so good.

Then he sees it.

His eyes are blind, but he perceives it, somehow. The yawning void of the infinite realms is so much bigger, so much hungrier than he had ever thought. Reading that tablet, all that time ago, he thought his purpose was something simple. Easy in a way that a fourteen year old imagination could rationalize. The earth and the zone were two physical spaces that only needed to understand each other and hold hands to achieve that elusive harmony. 

He’d been wrong.

It’s not the earth that feeds the realms. Dimensions aren’t something that can be explained by an elementary understanding of mass and matter. They aren’t some static three dimensional points in time and space. They are universes of their own, expanding, interstitched in a nasty and sticky web of inexplicable physics folding over and back on themselves, forever too complicated to pry apart.

The realms are fed by the conscious universe perceiving itself, the soul, the spirit, whatever you want to call it. Emotions aren’t some grid of faces on a paper, they are infinite, they are cause and effect, the chicken and the egg, projecting forever in a möbius loop human understanding can never truly describe.

He’s going to go insane, he concludes. Here on his bed, on some random weekday, alone in his room. The magnetic pull of his two halves are phasing into each other, becoming imperceivable as the two separate forms he once knew. He’s not even sure that he really exists at this point. 

There is another choice to make.

He thinks back to what he knows about this buried history, Pariah Dark, The Ancients, wonders if they considered this connection, what they knew about how this should happen. Is there a way to do this that is objectively correct? If he knew more would it be easier? Or would it go down just the same? He has no desire to conquer. Only to be a bridge. A tether. An example. To show that this merging from two to one can be peaceful, a shift in perception rather than a violent overhaul. It is unavoidable now. His only wish is to remain recognizable as himself. 

He focuses not on his mind but on his body. He has to rebuild from the ground up or risk losing himself forever. Start small, a beating heart. Vascular systems. Skeletal. Muscular. Take a breath and pump blood into the empty cavern of his skull. Human is what he knows, though he’s never had to think about it quite this way before. His nerves lace through the structures he’s struggling to create, half intuition, half memory. It feels like being a ghost, all projection and thought, a deep and innate understanding. He knows this. He’s existed this way every moment of his short life and he can do it again. He’s alive, his blood is red, his flesh is tangible.

His brain slams back into his body and he promptly throws up.

--

The worlds are connected once again.

Danny’s hands shake as he tries to get a grip on himself. He’s been changed. He can feel it. The Infinite Realms has marked him as he has marked it. The world is flowing through and from him. Energy hums under his skin, and in it there is access to a well so deep he’s not sure it could ever run dry. 

He finally gets it. This is what being a bridge between worlds means for him.

He gets off his bed slowly. Half floating, half stumbling for balance. His instincts are scattered and his breath no longer sits in his body the same.

This change gives him the authority and the power, the perception and understanding to mend the bleeding fracture between dimensions. He will be listened to. He cannot be hurt. His appearance no longer matters, he is what he is, wholly and entirely. He exists as a linchpin. He is the keystone in the arch where one side is living and the other is dead.

Gravity feels so odd. Like someone changed the coefficient.

He sobs and grabs his dresser for support, woozy and unbalanced, a newborn deer walking on unfamiliar legs. He intends to make his way downstairs. Wants to fall into the embrace of his parents. Needs someone to hold him and tell him that everything will still be okay. He looks to the door.

And without moving, he is there.

Breath comes hard and fast as he steadies himself. His perception catching up to the new perspective. His hand is on the handle, he radiates a trail of semi-physical matter with every motion. It will take practice to appear normal again. He’s reminded of his freshman year.

When he finally opens the door, a swirling green wall is all that meets him. He stares at it, the cold vapor of the Realms slipping around and through him.

He knows the observants exist on the other side. He is sure of it as he is sure of anything. They are there to acknowledge the crown above his head. To observe what he has finally made of himself. 

He will tell him that he didn’t want this, didn’t ask for it.

They will tell him that he is lying.

He steps through the threshold.

[kotaerukoto]

" Uh... Is the dirt nutritious? Or... Something? "

So much for trying to show her a new hobby...!

Shovels a handful of dirt out of his freshly-worked-on yard into her mouth. Nom.

[turtlesandfrogs]

Started the day by reading this article from the NY times, and I'm frankly, disturbed.

Some highlights:

"For decades, farmers across America have been encouraged by the federal government to spread municipal sewage on millions of acres of farmland as fertilizer. It was rich in nutrients, and it helped keep the sludge out of landfills."

Which I knew, and I knew that there were concerns about contaminants from like, the medications people were on. But human waste is part of the nutrient cycle, and it always made sense to me that it should be throughly composted and returned to agricultural lands, and I assumed that people in general were taking the steps necessary to make it safe.

But here's what I didn't know:

"The 1972 Clean Water Act had required industrial plants to start sending their wastewater to treatment plants instead of releasing it into rivers and streams, which was a win for the environment but also produced vast new quantities of sludge that had to go somewhere."

Which, yay, no longer polluting bodies of water, but now that means we're applying industrial waste water to agricultural lands. And have been since 1972. Which leads to this situation, among many others, I'm sure:

"The sludge that allegedly contaminated the Colemans’ farm came from the City of Fort Worth water district, which treats sewage from more than 1.2 million people, city records show. Its facility also accepts effluent from industries including aerospace, defense, oil and gas, and auto manufacturing. Synagro takes the sludge and treats it (though not for PFAS, as it’s not required by law) then distributes it as fertilizer."

So here's what some states are doing:

"In Michigan, among the first states to investigate the chemicals in sludge fertilizer, officials shut down one farm where tests found particularly high concentrations in the soil and in cattle that grazed on the land. This year, the state prohibited the property from ever again being used for agriculture. Michigan hasn’t conducted widespread testing at other farms, partly out of concern for the economic effects on its agriculture industry.

In 2022, Maine banned the use of sewage sludge on agricultural fields. It was the first state to do so and is the only state to systematically test farms for the chemicals. Investigators have found contamination on at least 68 of the more than 100 farms checked so far, with some 1,000 sites still to be tested.

“Investigating PFAS is like opening Pandora’s box,” said Nancy McBrady, deputy commissioner of Maine’s Department of Agriculture."

This is fun:

"The E.P.A. is currently studying the risks posed by PFAS in sludge fertilizer (which the industry calls biosolids) to determine if new rules are necessary.

The agency continues to promote its use on cropland, though elsewhere it has started to take action. In April, it ordered utilities to slash PFAS levels in drinking water to near zero and designated two types of the chemical as hazardous substances that must be cleaned up by polluters. The agency now says there is no safe level of PFAS for humans...

It’s difficult to know how much fertilizer sludge is used nationwide, and E.P.A. data is incomplete. The fertilizer industry says more than 2 million dry tons were used on 4.6 million acres of farmland in 2018. And it estimates that farmers have obtained permits to use sewage sludge on nearly 70 million acres, or about a fifth of all U.S. agricultural land."

There's more, but I wanted to condense it at least a little bit. I am glad we're raising awareness, and I'm glad we're starting to regular the amount in our drinking water, and I hope that we'll find a way to actually deal with PFAS. I am so frustrated that people are exposed in the first place, and in nigh inescapable ways.

Also, to all those people who were like, oh, organic isn't at all healthier for consumers? Guess what the organic standards don't allow to be applied?

[chicuahtliteotl]

Notes as an indigenous farmer for other farmers, gardeners, looking to seek to perform land remediation, restorative agroforestry, etc.

First, look up historical weather and current weather zoning, climate change is real, the area may no longer be suitable for specific plants anymore.

Consider invasive plants, animals, worms(yes like bees there are invasive worms) , etc

Assess potential soil and water pollution sources then create a remediation plan depending on time and feasibility.

Work with the land, not against it, this is pretty simple, if you plan to create rain collecting channels for your small garden, then it's to slope where the land slopes for you.

Composting is great but you also need to understand microbial/fungal symbiosis and creating microbiomes that allow for effective compost break down.

You can buy cheap microbial solutions that are epa or environmental sound, back reference any microbial cultures with academic papers, if unsure how to do the research then it is fine with a variety as this simulates closely to nature.

Look into outdoor mushroom farming, this is pretty common in my community in our Chināmitl /mīlpan system, it's not as hard as most resources online will tell you, especially if you're sticking with native to your area mushrooms.

Avoid commercial strains for cultures especially if they're non native as this can lead to potential invasives.

Yes fungus /mushrooms can be invasive, please never put golden oyster outside.

You can also buy microremediating solutions for soil/water contamination.

Many universities offer resources to help find soil or water testing companies for accessible to no costs even, this is useful if you want to assess variety of conditions.

Additionally microbe /fungal based solutions are most used in our community as it helps reduced overall pests and diseases to our plants.

If you have tons of untreated wood ash (burn untreated wood, get wood ash) this is useful for variety of things, as this ties into controlled burning, true slash and burn, etc. Essentially nutrients are allowed to disperse back in the ground, be aware of heavy metal and other contamination considerations as always.

Indigenous seed banks do exist for non indigenous people, also look into seed conservation projects and seed banks that look to preserve seed lineages. While heirloom is nifty, it does only go so far back around an early colonial era.

[broncoburro]

MEUR TYPES: A PRIMER

Meur (or magic) is a natural force in Vestur. Since the invention of the Andimeur Synthesizer (a device that converts it into a form usable by man), Vestur’s aristocracy has continually found new uses for it. From homes heated by red meur to nutritionally dense food aided by green meur, the Tri-Kingdom has gained the distinction of most scientifically advanced country in the known world.

Children in Vestur sometimes play a clapping game that goes as such:

“Green’s for the beans on my supper plate, Blue’s for the clean water enjoyed while I ate, Red warms my toes when there’s snow on the ground, Yellow’s how a Southern fellow steers his ship around, And if he crashes it upon the shore The Architect alone will decide his score: Black, White, Black, White, Black, White, Black If the man is slack, it’s the work of Black If he avoids the light-- Then thank goodness, it’s White!”

Like all good children’s songs, it ends in giggles about dying a horrible death. But it effectively teaches every child in the Tri-Kingdom about what each of the six meur types, or colors are, and their most common use cases.

Green meur affects the botanical world. While plants cannot be summoned into existence through green meur alone, it can be used to grow plants in conditions that shouldn’t be able to foster them. It may also alter their growth trajectory or physical properties. Almost none the of the plants grown in the Northern Kingdom could survive the nutrient-poor, hard soil without green meur. Specializing in green meur may sound tame or perhaps boring at first (and green meur users are stereotyped as such), but bring domesticated thorny vine seeds onto the battlefield and a competent green meur user will be sending barbed tendrils through an enemy’s torso in seconds.

Blue meur pertains to water. The ability to command water’s flow has several use cases in itself: powering water wheels, irrigation for agriculture, maintenance of sewerways. But this meur type takes on new complexities when you consider water’s other states. Ice can be easily weaponized, and some innovative meur scientists have been doing research into engines powered by steam. Even more mysterious, it seems water’s omnipresence on earth has lent blue meur some properties related to the flow of time. There’s more to blue meur than is currently understood.

Red meur is pure energy in the form of heat. When wielded by man, It’s most commonly seen as fire. Heat is useful for everything from keeping a forge running to warming air in houses. Red meur is (sadly) not a free energy buffet though, and has some major downsides: it’s inherently tiring and energy-intensive on the user. In addition, fine control is difficult. Red meur users have something of a reputation for being none too bright, but many of said users would rebuff this with “easy to use, difficult to master”.

Yellow meur affects air. It’s mainly used to influence wind direction and speed, leading to some of the fastest trade ships in the known world. As a result, yellow meur is an eclectic choice for anyone to specialize in besides Southerners. The current use cases are narrow... but this might be more due to lack of interest in the field than anything else. Who knows, perhaps some sort of yellow meur related discovery is around the corner....?

Green, blue, red, and yellow are the standard meur colors. Upwards of 95% of Vestur's nobility have their specialty in these four. There are two less common meur types though, and they have a lot of mythologizing around them, as well as being less understood.

White meur is usually described by laymen as “the healing one”. Say that to any white practitioner and watch him start pulling his hair out in frustration and screeching through gritted teeth, “its so much deeper than that!”. Those who use white meur must, in addition to finishing standard meur education at Vestur Royal Military Academy, score well on the White College Aptitude Test and be accepted to the College of Divine Healing, where they’ll learn about the human body, pathology, and advanced white meur for an additional two years. Only then can one be certified as a white practitioner. Without knowing what you’re putting back into place and why, it’s horrendously easy to do more harm than good when mending the human body.

All this said, white meur can’t do miracle work. Wound closure or bone refusing is one thing – regrowing a whole arm or bringing someone back from the dead is strictly in the realm of fantasy.

Black meur inflicts death, plain and simple. It is unilaterally outlawed. Its only practical use is in combat, but black meur is considered a dishonorable way to inflict suffering. Any of the standard colors can just as easily be used to kill. Only one nobleman in all of Vestur is registered as a black meur user, and the designation was given as a soft way to say, “you are disallowed from wielding meur of any color”. Though... he really is quite talented at it, as circumstance will soon reveal.

And those are the meur colors! Every noble child in Vestur goes to VRMA and gets educated on the principles of wielding each, but as a graduated nobleman in the service of your community, a person may only specialize in one.

Any given two blue meur users likely have their in very different applications: one might maintain a city’s sewerways, and another might work to provide potable water in an area where there is none. There is a lot of variation and opportunity within any given color.

(The little emblems for the meur types, as with all of Forever Gold's more graphic design-y work, were done by LSDolphin!)

[milk5]

It's nearly impossible to determine the immaterial nature of the microgreens in your meal. Some call it spirit or soul, but I personally disagree with the usage of paranormal terminology in this context. It's surely an observable physical phenomenon, we just don't know how to observe it with modern technology. Each batch of microgreens, they have polar properties. Some are negative, while others are positive. If you eat one too many of the negative-wave sprouts, your body immediately shuts down. It's death, but not as we typically know it; all of your cells simultaneously fail, rather than the rapid cascading of bodily system failure that we're more familiar with. If you meet the threshold for positive-wave sprouts, your cells seem to become highly resistant, if not immune, to damage by any means. We're presently working with a 129 year old woman that has been eating home-grown cilantro microgreens nearly every day for the past fifty-or-so years. Gunshots, shrapnel, extreme temperatures, radiation exposure; they don't do anything to her. Her cells harden, and the high-velocity bullets or shards of metal flawlessly transfer kinetic energy through her body harmlessly. Her body temperature never reaches a critical, or even uncomfortable, level. The radiation does nothing to her whatsoever. We've tested many more typically-fatal circumstances, but none of them have affected her to even a minor extent. She doesn't feel pain anymore. The same cilantro microgreens seem to have a negligible impact on any other organism that consumes them.

More strangely, the polarity of a particular batch of microgreens appear to have no connection to species, nutrient exposure, soil terroir, or really anything that we can measure presently. Perhaps there's some sort of hidden variable that we will discover in the future.

For the concerned microgreen-lover, don't worry about it so much. Negative-wave greens appear to be "canceled out" by the consumption of positive-wave greens and vice versa; given our inherent insensitivity to the forces involved, it seems that most humans intuitively maintain (near) balance. It's extremely improbable that any given individual would reach either one of the critical points in their natural lifespan, but it's not an impossibility.

[rjzimmerman]

Something’s Poisoning America’s Land. Farmers Fear ‘Forever’ Chemicals. (New York Times)

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

For decades, farmers across America have been encouraged by the federal government to spread municipal sewage on millions of acres of farmland as fertilizer. It was rich in nutrients, and it helped keep the sludge out of landfills.

But a growing body of research shows that this black sludge, made from the sewage that flows from homes and factories, can contain heavy concentrations of chemicals thought to increase the risk of certain types of cancer and to cause birth defects and developmental delays in children.

Known as “forever chemicals” because of their longevity, these toxic contaminants are now being detected, sometimes at high levels, on farmland across the country, including in Texas, Maine, Michigan, New York and Tennessee. In some cases the chemicals are suspected of sickening or killing livestock and are turning up in produce. Farmers are beginning to fear for their own health.

The national scale of farmland contamination by these chemicals — which are used in everything from microwave popcorn bags and firefighting gear to nonstick pans and stain-resistant carpets — is only now starting to become apparent. There are now lawsuits against providers of the fertilizer, as well as against the Environmental Protection Agency, alleging that the agency failed to regulate the chemicals, known as PFAS.

In Michigan, among the first states to investigate the chemicals in sludge fertilizer, officials shut down one farm where tests found particularly high concentrations in the soil and in cattle that grazed on the land. This year, the state prohibited the property from ever again being used for agriculture. Michigan hasn’t conducted widespread testing at other farms, partly out of concern for the economic effects on its agriculture industry.

In 2022, Maine banned the use of sewage sludge on agricultural fields. It was the first state to do so and is the only state to systematically test farms for the chemicals. Investigators have found contamination on at least 68 of the more than 100 farms checked so far, with some 1,000 sites still to be tested.

In Texas, several ranchers blamed the chemicals for the deaths of cattle, horses and catfish on their properties after sewage sludge was used as fertilizer on neighboring farmland. Levels of one PFAS chemical in surface water exceeded 1,300 parts per trillion, they say in a lawsuit filed this year against Synagro, the company that supplied the fertilizer. While not directly comparable, the E.P.A.’s drinking-water standard for two PFAS chemicals is 4 parts per trillion.

[ancha-aus]

Gifted Drabble - NewAgeAu - Q&A

As I said! I totally wasn't scheming :3 @spotaus

But i had to wait until you uploaded your drabble about very sneaky Cross to make sure I got more references and a better idea about his character :D

So... here we are :3 Also yes the name of the drabble is a very bad joke but i thought of it and it was too funny.

*------------------------------------------*

Cross just sits there... He is such an idiot!

Getting caught?! As quickly as he did? that must be a record on how incapable he was.

It wasn't as if Cross had an excuse. Dream and Blue warned him! Warned him that the Knights were very skilled and watchful. That he had to leave as soon as he got the information and plans. Do not linger!

That had been the mission!

Instead he was a coward and just. Took too long. He spend too much time trying to form a plan instead of just acting. And then He tried to solve mysteries himself instead of just grabbing and leaving as soon as he could!

But he just... Cross groans.

He hadn't found anything fitting the brief. He hadn't been able to find anything that spoke about hurting people or raising taxes to hurt the poor or anything!

In matter of fact.

All he found was plans to improve the infra structure. To tax the nobels more and lower the taxes on people who earned less. He found information on how the king had contact with farmers to work on more structures and installations to help farmers recover from the change in weather and to fully utilise the land without exhausting it.

Projects on testing mixed crop planting and stricts rotation schedules to make sure the soil itself wasn't exhausted from nutrients or risks infections or fungi growing which would hurt the soil and specific crops.

There was even this whole program about apprentices!! something about orphans and children and teens on the straights and a way to offer them schooling and housing and even training with the people helping them! That the crown would pay these people for helping those who don't have family to count on!

It is still in draft clearly as it had been covered with sidenotes in this very elegant and curve handwriting. notes about how to pay for it. where to start it. which people to ask for posibilities. but also notes about how to check the children. how to make sure the children and teens weren't use or abused or even worse!

And... well... not too shortly after that one of the Knights just... Sat in the chair and spoke casually... Scared the shit out of him at the time.

How was that dude so quiet?! or so strong for that matter?

How could his magic had backfired so badly?

Cross sighs as he turns to his side. He is an IDIOT. How could he have gotten so reckless?

Drema and Blue would have already been happy with him getting anything back from the king's plans... maybe he just couldnt see the danger in them clearly? Hell if he knows what the state in the country is. He knows nothing about this place.

Maybe the things he saw was a bad thing? Maybe there was some... weird way to make them look bad?

Like.

Maybe there was already little nature? Sure Cross saw a lot of it on his way here but hell if he knows? maybe there is little in the cities or soemthing?

Maybe the nobels are already being taxed a lot? maybe this will make the nobels all poor? and euh.... Cross isn't sure how taxing the poor less could be bad but maybe there is some way?

the farming thing... Well... Cross isn't sure... maybe the farmers don't want him to micro manage or soemthing? maybe the king is being too controlling about it? that works...

The children are obvious. those are vulnerable kids and teens! Who are being used and exploited!! Well... he would have to ignore all the sidenotes about the kids wellbeing... and the notes about banning child labor...

Cross groans. Why is it so hard to see the things he is doing as bad?! Dream told him that Nightmare is corrupted and the thing ruling now is evil and terrible and needs to be removed to save his twin!!

Then why are the plans good? Maybe he is faking it? But why? XGaster never bothered to fake anything... He was just rightfully the king and people should respect him.

Cross frowns as he turns on his side. Ignoring the guard standing well guard outside of his cell. He tugs on the magical blocker on his arm. Making him unable to use his magic to summon any weapon or try to take control over someone elses magic again.

Well... Not like he can try that with the guard guarding him again anyway. Seeing as it is Dust guarding him...

Cross tugs on it again and Dust speaks "Don't bother. Those things can't be removed by the wearer."

Cross freezes and looks over. He thought he had been sneaky enough. The one with the panther mask stares back.

Cross frowns as he turns back to the wall.

The Knight goes quiet again.

Cross tugs on the band one more time. Just to be spiteful. Before laying back and staring at the wall.

Fuck... He is going to die here? Isn't he?

Maybe they will just starve him...

Or maybe they will first torture him to figure out who he works for.

Cross is going to have to withstand it until he dies. He can't give up Dream and the fact he is planning a revolution.

He can't ruin another revolution that could save and help so many people.

He will have to be strong. Not give in. Not even an inch.

"I apologise I took so long Dust. Thank you for keeping watch."

Cross freezes at the new but familiar voice. Cross had heard the voice before. He had seen the owner walk around and had been getting information on him.

The king.

The fucking king.

Nightmare himself!

Why was the king here?!

Sure Cross had been spying and stealing information. But was that really such a big deal to get the king himself to interrogate him?!

Then again... Shed's tail had aparently been removed and used for cat toys...

He is so dead.

A click and the door to his cell slowly creaks open.

Cross's pulse is beating so fast.

Footsteps walking closer. before the door creaks closed. and is relocked.

He is so dead.

A few more steps and then silence for a moment as Cross tries to keep his panic at bay. He regrets staring at the wall.

"I know you are awake. Speaking will be a lot easier if we face each other."

Cross keeps laying there. What does he do?! He can't ignore him. Come on Cross. Be brave. You faced down scarier threats!

'But you had magic back then.' his mind whispers 'You had a way to defend yourself.'

Still. Cross sits up and turns around. Making sure he is glaring. He is not going to give in. "What is there to tell?" His voice holds the challange. He isn't afraid. He will not give in. He is not going to give this so-called king anything!

Nightmare tilts his skull slightly. intrigue clearly. Cross doesn't like the fact that he seems just so... unbothered by Cross. Cross is the enemy! He is sitting in the cell after Nightmare's forces found him snooping around, trying to steal information.

So why is this king staring at him with just intrigued! No rage? No disgust?!

Nightmare speaks again. Seemingly taking his time to think about his answers. trying to be actually truthful? or trying to think of an answer that Cross wants to hear? Wait... Is the king already in cross's head and mind? is Cross already being tricked?

Nightmare's voice breaks him out of his spiralled thinking "I think I disagree. there is a lot to talk about."

Cross tilts his skull upwards. stubborn energy in his soul "I won't tell you anything about who send me or why. No matter what!"

Nightmare looks slightly amused "I don't exactly care about who send you or why."

... what?

Nightmare continues, at his aparently obvious confusion, as he explains "I know there are people who wish to know what I am doing. I know people are scheming against me. It is nothing new. Even a spy as yourself is nothing new." he looks amused "The fact they even send you implies they know close to nothign about me, my land or my home. Or, that they don't care about you at all."

That.. that doesn't make any sense?!

Ngihtmare nods "I do apologise you swore your loyalty to those who know nothing of the target they send you to spy on. Otherwise they would have known that I am aware of what goes on in my castle and land." he smiles "they would have known that my Knights are everywhere and good at their jobs." he shoots Cross a look "They would know that i am aware of who is suposed to work where at which moment."

Cross feels his mind lock up as the information filters in... How... how hadn't Dream known this?

Ngihtmare waves a hand casually "You are a rather inexperienced spy. Not that it matters. As there is very little any type of skill could have done against me and those of mine. Either your employers know nothing of me which means they aren't much of a threat quite yet. Or they were willing to throw you away as some sort of test against me or you. Which just makes me unimpressed with them overall."

Cross just stares at the ground.

The Knight speaks softly "Way to ruin his worldview my king."

a moment of silence before "I apologise. I shouldn't have said those things. You did not deserve to hear those or have to worry about which case is true."

Cross snaps "Why am i not dead yet?!" He had heard about the terrible punishment this parasite of a king does. How he hurts people for jsut the hell of it... From Dream... form the guards working here... It makes no sense that Cross is still alive. Unless he wants to torture him of course...

A moment of silence.

Ngihtmare speaks a bit softer but still sure and confident "You meant no harm. You were here for a few days and no one was attacked. Neither myself, my knights, my servants or my people in the city. I do not see why i would punish you with death if you did not do a crime earning such a thing."

Cross glares up "And if i had hurt someone?" So he was just doing this own test?! this is just a test. That Cross can deal with. Cross can deal with someone trying to trick and test him!

The king chuckles and shakes his skull "It is very bold of you to assume you would have been able to hurt anyone. Just because we aren't obvious you were not walking around unnoticed or unwatched. If you had made a single move to hurt someone you would have been stopped and caught right away. I must admit however if you had tried that this conversation would be going very differently."

Cross frowns, wait... "If i moved to hurt someone? Anyone?"

Nightmare nods "Of course. The people who work for me are people who's safety i take very seriously. They are willing to work for me. in trade for their servitude i make sure they have what they need and want and more importantly. That they are safe to live their lifes." He sounds so certain and the answer is instantly.

He didn't even need to think about it.

Cross's mind is swimming as he tries to focus. This makes no sense... Why is he implying that he only punishes those who deserve it? That isn't waht others said. This... this is weird. This is the weirdest interrogation he has ever been part of. But he manages to find his voice again "What do you then even want to know?" It isn't like he knows anything.

Nightmare watches him "I am curious about the Lost Kingdom."

Cross flinches as he looks away. "It isn't called lost..." it isn't lost... it isn't! His... his brother- Nine is trying so hard to fix the mess Cross left behind. the mess Cross helped cause. It may be broken and a bit of a mess but it isn't lost. Lost implies there is nothing that can be saved from it.

A soft hum before he speaks again "I apologise. It is a name i took over from others." a moment of silence "I supose I am just curious what made the most loyal of knights of that land leave the country he was working on protecting."

Cross freezes. huh?

Nightmare waits for a moment but when Cross doens't answer he continues "It doesn't make sense to me. Your every move and motivation was from trying to protect the country you served. Yet here you are. Instead of there."

Cross looks to the side. He... he had tried to protect but he failed everyone. He always failed... He made the most terrible mistake of mistakes... How could he stay? they didn't want him to stay. He didn't deserve to stay after that.

Cross looks to the side and speaks "No one wanted the loyal dog of the tyrant to stay. so i left." there.

a moment of silence. "Seems a bit of a harsh name for someone who was loyal to the country."

Cross glares "I wasn't! I just did what the old tyrant wanted!" Like an idiot who can't think for himself. He just did whatever his father told him. Too blind and too stupid to see that XGaster was hurting others.

Nightmare continues to look at him "And you believed in him to make the right choices for the country. That is the job of a king. Make sure that what is done is done to improve the land. improve the country. improve life for the people. It is not your fault that XGaster didn't honour his rule. That he did not do what he was suposed to. What he was sworn into."

Cross can't hear this. Not form sometone who is suposed to be eveil but seems to know so much. Who seems to know what it means to be king yet who isn't suposed to care. Why is this thing who is possessing an innocent acting as it he cares? How would this thing know what makes a good king?!

Cross asks him as much. "Why do you care!?" it is more of a snap than a question.

Is it... Is it Nightmare? Influencing the thing brainwashing him and controlling him? Fighting back?

Dream would be happy to hear that.

Nightmare still thinks about the question. He looks ahead of himself with a tiny frown. Seemingly thinking.

Cross however can't help that notice how blue the cyan eye is. Clearly unnatural. Toxic even... Yet calm. There is no rage hidden that Dream warned him about. No edge of insanity or madness. Just calm and insightful thoughts. Control over his mind? but that makes no sense if he is brainwashed...

The body is not at all what Cross even expected to once see. Ngihtmare had this imposing presence. The fact his form was covered with a goop that had melted over one of his sockets didn't help. The way those tentacles on his back moved and idled. Seemingly without a single thought- wait... didn't octopusses have like... brains in each tentacle. Did that mean that Nightmare had five brains working and thinking for him?

Still... The corruption is so clearly... strange. Dream had told him that the powers given by the ritual was suposed to make a king and warrior of light. Of good. This form is proof that Nightmare wasn't suposed to gain this power. It is dark and moving and changing... But Cross can't help but think it doesn't look that bad, that the name corruption doesn't quite fit. It doesn't radiate any harm in anyway. Not like that time in the hall... Is... Nightmare able to control the presence it gives off? Why wouldn't he use it now? The slight magic he can still feel is potent and strong and unlike anything Cross ever felt before... But it isn't like other poisonous magics Cross had learned about. That he had trained to recognise. It is strange...

Cross decides to focus on the clothes he is wearing. It is clearly high quality stuff. not to forget the golden accents and actual bands around the tentacles. the clips with apple motifs. the detailing of branches like swirls in the same cyan colour as that eye, just less obvious because the fabric is slightly see through.

It makes for one intimidating image. One that the king carries with confidence and familiarity.

Nightmare speaks "I care because i wish to understand. We learn by understanding others. Even if i don't agree with someone doesn't mean i don't have to understand them. In matter of fact. the only way to truly disagree and be against something is to understand or at least know about the concept. When it is about why people do certain actions it is important to learn their motives and reasons. to understand why they did what they did before casting out judgement."

Cross can't deal with him... how is this suposed evil tyrant so understanding?

He is nothing like XGaster.

Nothing at all.

Cross can see that so clearly and so easily. This is someone who knows what he is talking about and who doesn't just say what you want to hear. Cross thought he knew what he was going into. He thought he would meet a man simular to XGaster.

Someone who manipulates. Someone who lies. Someone who turns every answer into a small insult. Someone who tells you how to think and why you are an idiot for not thinkinf like that from the start. Someone who believes himself to be perfect and not capable of fault.

Cross believed his father to be rightful in being this way and thinking that way for so long. It wasn't until after the revolution Cross finally noticed the cracks in the facade.

Cross thought... he figured he would be able to see through whatever mask Ngihtmare is wearing. Metaphorical of course. But he can't... he is failing. He can't figure this out.

Is... is cross being an idiot again? is Nightmare lying to him and is Cross still just unable to see it?

Or is there no mask to see through? no mask to spot the cracks in?

What does he do?

Nightmare waits and remains quiet until Cross actually focusses on him. When he does Nightmare speaks again "I wish to know what happened there. In your home."

His home...

"It isn't my home..." not anymore...

Nightmare nods and speaks again "Then what happened to the country that you used to serve and protect. What caused the downfall?"

Cross looks to the side "A revolution obviously..."

Ngihtmare nods and waits.

Cross glares "I was an idiot and could not pick a side. I couldn't fight my brother who lead the revolution but i could also not betray my lord. I ended up trying to help both yet messed everything up." he glares at the king "I made everything worse." all because he just couldn't pick.

Ngihtmare tilts his skull "Rather extreme. Thinking just one person can make or break a revolution."

Cross blinks.

Nightmare nods calmly "I am not saying that you couldn't have made it go better. That is always an option. However. A revolution... a rebellion. It is the same thing, and it is messy. it is dangerous. One person can not make things go perfect. that is impossible."

Dust coughs lightly into his hand. The king shoots him a look but nothing else happens.

The king turns back to him "You are not responsible for everything that happened. could you have helped? Yes. But... the choice that you made also enabled you to do the few things you could. the little bits you did to help your brother. If you had picked to defend the old tyrant. You would have had to hurt others."

Cross glares down "I know i should have helped."

Ngihtmare shakes his skull "That isn't what i am saying. the point i am trying to make is. You never know what you would have done in the other two situations. You could have joined your brother. but then you would have had to fight the very people you trained and fought beside before. The same people who know you through and through. who know how you fight and move." and he looks at him. "You helping them. either side of the conflict. would have meant you would have been at a different position at any given point. The things that happened wouldn't and couldn't have happened because your actions in this... neutral choice also had consequences and effect. It meant that XGaster stationed you as a guard. if you hadn't been available he would maybe have used two others to gain the same protection you gave him. You didn't stop the revolution when they got to you. instead there would have been two guards guarding the door." And nightmare give shim a moment to let that information sink in.

Cross stops... he... hadn't thought about... all he could think about is how he could have made things different. Thinking about how his skills could have helped specific moments... he hadn't considered that... him helping them from the start would have chanced everything...

and the moment where he could have helped... may never have even happened.

Cross shakes his skull "Things would have been better if i had picked a side."

The king considers it "Maybe it would have. Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe by not picking a side you were able to do enough damage control for both sides that enabled it to even be successful. Maybe not picking a side made it last longer. You can not know which choice would ahve been better as you never saw the options."

Cross isn't sure what is even going on anymore. He had believed... He had been sure that him not making a choice just made everythign worse. Everyone agreed. Everyone must have agreed or else they wouldn't have made sure to remind him about his mistake each moment they could...

right?

Nightmare nods before getting up. Cross only now notices that Nightmare had been using his own tentacles as a chair "But I think I have pushed you too far already with my questions. You need rest and time to process and calm down. Food will be brought to you later." he turns towards the cell door and exits.

The king nods to the guard and starts to walk away.

Wait...

Wait!

Cross jumps up and rushes to the bars "Wait!"

The king stops and turns back to him "yes?" and he waits.

Cross pants "You said... Way before... at the start... There had been others like me. other spies. Where are they now?" Dream said others had been send before right? Or maybe even other forces. That Nightmare killed them?

Nightmare tilts his skull "My knights or I myself spoke to them. Much like I am doing wiht you. Those who meant no harm and held no wish to hurt those here... They were offered a change of scenery. They mentioned they couldn't and didn't want to return a failure to their old leaders. There is always room and a need for people willing to work and help."

Cross frowns "And those who did wish to return home?"

Nightmare looks unbothered "After making sure they were no threat they were released at the border. With a warning to not return. Once is an happening after all, one people can learn from. However if it turns out they lied or wished to return to do harm after all they were punished for their crimes."

Cross looks down as his mind spins "Oh..."

Nightmare waits for a moment longer before nodding "Rest up. I will come back either tomorrow or the day after to continue our conversation." he turns and leaves.

Cross slowly lets go of the bars and goes back to the bed in the cell... He can't help but notice that it is actually rather comfortable here.

Sure there are bars and he is locked in and unable to use magic...

But there is fresh air. Some natural sunlight comes in through the barred windows. It isn't cold or wet. There are warm blankets and soft places to sit...

Even if it is a jailcell. It is comfortable at least.

Cross rolls back up on the bed and thinks.

His mind going over the past conversation and thinking about what he learned. For it having been suposed to be a way for the king to learn about Cross it was just Cross learning about Nightmare.

What had the king even wanted to learn? All Cross told him was how he thought about things and experienced it. Not even how the revolution happened or what events took place.

If Nightmare had wished to know those it would make sense. Then it would gain Nightmare insight to how the revolution managed to be successfull and what to defend against.

And yet...

and yet...

He didn't. All Nightmare wished to know was what Cross did.

It doesn't make sense.

None of it does.

It doesn't take long but eventually a maid comes along. a human and she bows in respect to the Knight before turning towards Cross with a smile "Hello there. I brought you some food. It are roasted potatoes and a salad." she puts it on the little opening to push it into his cell "Once you are done please place it back in this same area. Makes us able to clean it up which will leave your area a bit cleaner!" she smiles happily before nodding once she sees Cross paying her attention.

After that she turns away, bows to the Knight again,before leaving.

Cross makes his way to the food slowly but the Knight standing guard doesn't make a single move to take or mess with it.

Cross grabs his food and takes a seat on his bed again. He eats it slowly and feels his hand shake once he realises it is actually good.

It is taste and warm and filled with nutrients.

Why are they treating him so nicely?

Cross just... doesn't get it...

Maybe he can ask the next time Nightmare comes to him to talk?

Maybe he can get some answers after all...

*------------------------*

In case you guys don't get the title name. It is a joke. Because Cross is being interrogated but it is more a mutual Q&A...

I will leave now.

[gardeningloverfamily]

How to Improve Soil Quality Naturally

Improving soil quality is crucial for healthy plant growth and sustainable gardening. Here are some natural methods to enhance your soil:

Add Organic Matter: Incorporate compost, well-rotted manure, or leaf mold to increase nutrient content and improve soil structure.

Practice Crop Rotation: Rotate crops annually to prevent nutrient depletion and reduce pest and disease build-up.

Use Cover Crops: Plant cover crops, like clover or rye, during the off-season to protect and enrich the soil.

Mulch: Apply a layer of organic mulch (like straw or wood chips) to retain moisture, suppress weeds, and gradually enrich the soil as it decomposes.

Encourage Earthworms: Earthworms naturally aerate the soil and improve nutrient cycling. You can attract them by adding organic matter and reducing chemical use.

Test Soil pH: Use a soil test kit to determine pH levels and amend accordingly with lime to raise pH or sulfur to lower it, ensuring optimal nutrient availability.

By implementing these practices, you can foster a thriving ecosystem in your garden, leading to healthier plants and better yields.

[snomonomicon]

Snom fact #74:

In the wild, a snom’s diet seemingly consists entirely of snow. The widely accepted theory until roughly five years ago was that snow was simply used to form ice spikes, and actual nutrients were acquired from various cold-resistant lichen, however this research, conducted by the Aether Foundation, was later found to be inaccurate, as the test snoms eating the provided lichen was found to be a stress response to the lab environment. Similar research by the foundation has also been disproved by the round of peer review conducted by various organizations (notably in the one non-controversial action of team plasma), including but not limited to: increase in the aggression level of Gyarados in response to certain types of architecture, everstones causing a power increase of the move frustration, and the commonly believed factoid of Lurantis’ post-reproductive cannibalism. The foundation has since declared bankruptcy. Several other theories have since been made, such as that snoms are a type of elemental lifeform and thus do not require food, or that they can survive off the watts that naturally occur in the Galar region, but all were disproven. While some of Dr. Magnolia’s theories are promising, recent studies show that while the watt concentration in permafrosted areas is high, little of it reaches the top layer of snow that snoms tend to prefer. The same studies, however, also reveal a high level of dynamax energy-charged particles that, from area to are, is proportional to the population of microscopic ice-type microorganisms in the area. This tells us that the local microbes have adapted to consume dynamax energy, and due to the high energy content, are sufficient sustenance for snoms (given a snom’s low metabolism due to low body temperature.) this also explains why wild snoms are found in no other regions

works cited:

exploration of non-biological sentience in ice, rock, and steel-type pokemon. (Dr. Magnolia)

soil and water chemistry of surrounding regions in relation to local microbiome (Dr. Sonia)

comparative energy density of regional energy signatures (Dr. Turo)

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader

Word Count: 897

Summary: I'm exposing myself so hard in this drabble, when i say i would give marc spector babies i really mean it not meant to be part of The Dress universe, but certainly can be read as such.

Warnings: sexually explicit material, smut, so 18+ only please, conception, unprotected sex, breeding kink, Marc and the reader are actively trying for a baby, swearing

Marc liked the expression ‘making love’. He truly felt it was like that, with you at least. With every sigh of his name, every flutter of your fingers over his chest and his arms, he’d fall in love with you more and more. He’d make new love for you. Love you hadn’t had from him before. He let this love blossom in his heart like flowers, as he moved inside of you and cradled your head between his hands. They grew and bloomed, when you sighed breathily that you loved him, they matured in the heat of your gaze, vibrant and colourful. Marc grew these flowers inside himself, let the roots of their bushes grow and reach down, using his body for nutrients.  

Because his heart, you already had, his soul, lungs and body were all yours. You had won them over from him, bit-by-bit, with the utmost patience. But the only thing he would never run out of, was never finite, was the love he’d make for you. The soil was always ripe, always sown with seeds. Marc knew he would never run out of flowers to hand over to you. 

Which is why, when the gynaecologist gave the go-ahead, when the genetics and fertility tests came back with flying colours, and Marc and Steven had sat down with you both, and asked you once again if you wanted this. And once you said you did, they ditched the condoms and tried to make love to you as much as your busy schedule allowed. 

He’s seated deep inside you right now, his back on the headboard, your hips pressing down straight into his, your eyes alternating between hooded and closed, as you move above him like the tide of the ocean. It’s gentle and delicate. Marc told you to use him, to do what you want with him and not mind him, that your pleasure is his pleasure and it’s been held true until now. You make his head dizzy, his thoughts fogged and cloudy, something he used to previously view as a weakness, and would often push you away before things got too out of his control because of it.  

But now he likes it. The way his will isn’t his will anymore when he’s with you like this. The way every part of him belongs to you, and the way you arrange his and your bodies in ways that make his heart stutter, turns his brain into a malfunctioning mush. 

He says that he loves you, and instead of responding, you bring his fingers to your mouth and get the pads wet, and guide him to your core. Marc circles you to your release and he follows moments later. Your apartment is filled with the sound of his grunts and your moans, the staticky sound of fabric moving, your bed frame protesting half-heartedly at your movements above him. 

And then it’s quiet. 

There’s the sound of your sighs, the sound of the skin of the palms of your hands running against the skin of his shoulders, the fridge turns on and makes a low humming sound. 

He feels his release trickling out of you and he’s suddenly grateful for the towel you’d had the common sense to lay down underneath him before it all started. You catch his eyes and give him a breathless smile, one that his sex-adled mind can only half-return. Your hands curl into his hair and you bring his lips onto yours. Marc moves like it’s easier than breathing for him, to give you the things you want. There’s not a drop of hesitation in his body, in the love that he holds for you in his chest. 

You take his breath away, as you lazily kiss him and meander your hips above his until he whines out in sensitivity and you smile against him. You stop your movements and drop a quick kiss to his lips, too sweet and loving for what he just did to you, what you just did to him. 

One of Marc’s favourite things to do now, after he’s made love to you and before he gets up, dresses you and himself and cleans up, is to take your hand and press it on top of your lower abdomen, his hand on top of yours. He likes to ask you, in an uncertain tone, “Is our baby in there yet?” 

The heat rises to your face every time, and you grow shy, hiding in his neck. Now, you whisper that you hope so, that maybe this time it stuck. You tell him that you love him, and his baby, if they're in there now. Your fingers trail to the place where his neck connects to his back and you start to trace hazy shapes on his sweaty skin. 

There’s nowhere Marc wants to be than here, right here, in this very moment. He wants to stop all the clocks, pull the Earth out of the Sun’s orbit, just so he can live with you, in the pause between this second and the next. Forever. 

The bubble bursts, the world keeps spinning and the minute hands of the clocks all move forward together in a collective heartbeat, when you pull away from him and smile. You whisper in a siren-like voice, “You fucked me good, Spector.” 

He hopes that this time is the time it works.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! Masterlist here, tags are open.

Everything tags: @whats-belay

Moonknight tags: @alicetweven