#woody plant combinations

[sevenlittledwarfs]

Contemporary Deck

Example of a mid-sized trendy backyard deck container garden design with no cover

[sinuousmag]

Contemporary Deck Example of a mid-sized trendy backyard deck container garden design with no cover

[yeli-renrong]

Before the development of modern scientific nomenclature, natural philosophers used logograms to represent the concepts of their trade. These logograms constituted a library of symbols that could be repurposed, as for example by Linnaeus, who used ♄ for woody plants, ♃ for herbaceous perennials, ♂ for biennials, and ☉︎ for annual plants, or extended by derivation, as with the alchemical symbols 🜆 for aqua regia and 🜅 for aqua fortis, straightforwardly derived by ligature from the logogram 🜄 aqua and the Latin letters R and F. (Here cf. the derivation of the Linear B ideogram 𐂓 from the syllabic characters 𐀏𐀡.) While in some cases these characters had clear derivations, in others they were functionally unanalyzable, as with the symbol for lead, ♄, originally a ligature of the first two characters in the Greek name of Saturn, Κρόνος.

(source)

They also had different meanings in different contexts: Linnaeus used ♂ (elsewhere meaning 'iron' or 'Mars') for both biennials (an arbitrary extension) and male plants, and ♀ (elsewhere meaning 'copper' or 'Venus') for female plants.

Some of these symbols are still used today: the symbols for 'male' and 'female' are widely understood, and new astronomical symbols have been created for Earth and the minor planets. However, in some German alchemical manuscripts, the practice of logographic writing combined with the practice (also found in many English manuscripts) of writing Latin in antiqua as vs. the usual blackletter combined to produce a triscriptal system, almost like Japanese:

In German, verbs loaned from Latin often take the infinitive suffix -ieren; note the words 'calcini𝔯𝔢𝔱' and 'ſepari𝔯𝔢𝔱', with Antiqua stems and blackletter endings.

[theveryworstthing]

time to learn a little bit about the Yells. i've been writing a few lore posts for a while and instead of continuing to let they grow and fretting over them, i think i'm just going to throw a few out there and try to finish up the rest this week.

The Yells

Despite their imposing size, strange behaviors, and mysterious keepers, the Signallusc (or The Yells as most rabbits call them) are considered just another part of the island landscape. These towering faux trees serve as the island version of radio towers, and make all radio communication above and below ground possible.

Though the 2 largest of the naturally formed Yells are still upright and active (and heavily protected so that their natural life cycle can be properly studied), these days rabbits prefer to cultivate the towers so that they don’t grow in problematic areas or do…other things.

Wild or free growth Yells make their homes in dead rotting wood as natural decomposers, and many live out their lives as simple slime molds (or as simple as any slime mold can be). Certain conditions must be met to trigger the drastic color change and vertical growth that make them viable for communication use, and so wild Yells are usually found growing in small clusters in or around the resources they need to sustain their new forms. Dead trees or stumps with roots still in the ground are prime hosts for these slime molds and they’re actually seen as beneficial since they stabilize potentially dangerous dead trees and kill diseases or especially destructive insects that might harm surrounding living trees. Once inside these dead trees the slime mold eats them from the inside out, taking the branches first, and then devouring the mass from the top down.

Compared to other slime molds they can handle direct sunlight quite well, but wild yells still tend to favor hosts in shady areas and from the way these trees are devoured they seem to try and keep some sort of shell around them for as long as possible. This wooden shell not only serves as food, but also gives the growing Yell a moist, dark, home until its outer membrane is thick and strong enough to handle being constantly exposed. When wild Yells “die”, it’s usually because they’ve run out of host tree long ago, and have stiffened into a rigid structure that eventually cracks (usually due to being struck by lightning) and crumbles, releasing clouds of spores. The remains of a Yell dissolve in the first rain after they fall and tend to leave the area around the strange lotus pod-ish pit in the ground where “roots” used to be spotless, but smelling very metallic with a hint of foulness. Almost like not so fresh blood.

Through the observations recorded by island botanists and the specific botanical sect known as the Antenna, rabbits (and hares, as they were the first to investigate and made great strides in understanding the process before they left the island en masse) have learned exactly what triggers Yell vertical growth and have used this knowledge to cultivate Yells quite successfully. A combination of owl feathers, metal ore (mainly bog iron), charcoal sticks and or ash (best if created by lightning strike, wood preferred but animal remains like burned out hawks are perfectly acceptable), and a little starter wood are fed to the slime mold, and after it’s broken everything down it begins its transformation. It is then introduced to a host plant sprout, a type of fast growing, woody, creeping vine in the Grasp family bred specifically for this purpose (wild cultivars work fine but they’re half as hardy and the bond has a greater chance of triggering very upsetting mutations. These are different from the upsetting mutations, which are fine and harmless). From then on the slime mold seems to guide the host plant’s growth, forming a shell from the vines that is constantly growing and shedding. This serves as both a home and an ample food source.

The botany world is torn on whether this forms a mutualistic symbiotic relationship or whether it’s straight up parasitism. And yes, plant nerd blood has been spilled over this argument. Not a ton of blood, it’s not like this is the great lichen wars, but still.

The Antenna

All yell care-taking is done by the Antenna sect. This is a mysterious group of witchy botanists and engineers who, like the previously referred to upsetting mutations, are harmless despite their entire vibe. Well. Harmless enough for botanists anyway.

Not a lot is known about them by the general public but they keep things working smoothly and show up quickly when something isn’t.

Members of this sect haven’t had a set “look” or uniform for about a generation and a half due to the ending of a lot of the the founding member’s bloodlines, but each Yell site has it’s own culture that attracts certain kinds of people. Despite their differences, there are a few things that make Antennae easier to pick out of a crowd if you know what to look for. The skin of their inner ears develop thin branching markings or wave-like ripples depending on how they interact with Yells. Some have obvious hare ancestry and sport roughly branching horns that grow quite long and shed every year (these shed horns are fed to the Yells). Newer members wear a lot of lightweight ear jewelry to help pick up important signals and behavioral quirks from the Yells, but the longer they stay in the Antenna the less tolerant they are of this. Things get…loud. Behind their eyes. Inside their teeth. Seasoned members usually can’t stand wearing any metal jewelry at all. The head botanist of one of the most remote Yells wears ear plugs almost 24/7 because of left behind shrapnel from an accident in his youth.

He is deaf.

He says he’s not really blocking anything out, just sorting it properly.

No one really knows what he means. It’s fine.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Sun

beautiful words with "sun" to help illuminate your poem/story

Sunback - having a low-cut back for tanning and coolness—used of an article of wearing apparel

Sunbaked - heated, parched, or compacted especially by excessive sunlight

Sunbath - an exposure to sunlight or a sunlamp

Sunberry - the edible fruit of the black nightshade; also called wonderberry

Sunbird - any of numerous small brilliantly colored oscine birds (family Nectariniidae) of the tropical Old World somewhat resembling hummingbirds

Sunblind - awning (i.e., a rooflike cover extending over or in front of a place as a shelter)

Sunblink - a glimmer of sunlight

Sunbow - an arch resembling a rainbow made by the sun shining through vapor or mist

Sunchoke - Jerusalem artichoke

Sundeck - the usually upper deck of a ship that is exposed to the most sun; a roof, deck, or terrace for sunning

Sunder - to become parted, disunited, or severed

Sundew - any of a genus (Drosera of the family Droseraceae, the sundew family) of bog-inhabiting insectivorous herbs having leaves covered with gland-tipped adhesive hairs

Sundial - an instrument to show the time of day by the shadow of a gnomon on a usually horizontal plate or on a cylindrical surface

Sundress - a dress with an abbreviated bodice usually exposing the shoulders, arms, and back

Sunfall - sunset

Sunfast - resistant to fading by sunlight

Sunfish - any of numerous North American freshwater bony fishes (family Centrarchidae, especially genus Lepomis) usually with a deep compressed body and metallic luster

Sunflower - any of a genus (Helianthus) of New World composite plants with large yellow-rayed flower heads bearing edible seeds that yield an edible oil

Sunglow - a brownish yellow or rosy flush often seen in the sky before sunrise or after sunset that is due to solar rays scattered or diffracted from particles in the lower and upper air

Sungrazer - any of a group of comets whose perihelions are very close to the sun and which are often destroyed by their close approach to it

Sunless - lacking sunshine; dark, cheerless

Sunpocket - solar trap (i.e., a garden or terrace so oriented as to take advantage of the sun while protected from cold winds)

Sunporch - a screened-in or glassed-in porch with a sunny exposure

Sunscald - an injury of woody plants (such as fruit or forest trees) characterized by localized death of the tissues and sometimes by cankers and caused when it occurs in the summer by the combined action of both the heat and light of the sun and in the winter by the combined action of sun and low temperature to produce freezing of bark and underlying tissues

Sunseeker - a person who travels to an area of warmth and sun especially in winter

Sunsquall - a large jellyfish

Sunstone - aventurine (i.e., a translucent quartz spangled throughout with scales of mica or other mineral)

Sunstruck - affected or touched by the sun

Sunup - sunrise

Sunwise - clockwise

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Word Lists

[schmergo]

If you think I was a kid who loved to read, you’d be right, but that doesn’t just mean I was reading, like, Newbery Award nominated prestigious children’s novels. Because in my experience, most kids who love to read are more gourmand than gourmet. I was also reading:

* Class rosters. I begged my teachers for these. I wanted to try to memorize everyone’s middle names.

* Similarly, old yearbooks. I liked judging whether people’s names matched their faces and making up different names for them if they did. I also loved reading baby name books and making lists of names I liked.

.* The personals section of the newspaper. I liked picturing the people as they described themselves and imagining which combination of people on the page might like each other.

* The ingredients of food packages. Not even for any real informational reason, I just really liked certain fantasy-sounding words like thiamine and riboflavin.

* An old World Book Encyclopedia from the 1970s. I would sneak out of bed to read it because the bookshelf was near my bedroom door and I could crawl to it without making the floor creak. My favorite entries were the ones about Hawaii and tigers. I kinda developed a ritual of rereading the Hawaii article when I had read a scary book before bed and needed to calm my brain down.

* My dad’s Dave Barry and Woody Allen humor books and also transcripts of all of the Monty Python’s Flying Circus episodes. This is probably why my sense of humor has been so weird from such a young age.

* The part of the church hymnal with ceremonies for baptisms, weddings, and funerals. I liked to imagine them.

* Wine catalogs at friends’ houses. The descriptions of the wines seemed so poetic and abstract. I also liked when they said “fruit on the nose” because I pictured a dog balancing a whole piece of fruit on its nose.

* My parents’ parenting books. I liked to see if I was exhibiting developmentally appropriate behavior. I am not 100% sure if doing that is, in fact, developmentally appropriate behavior.

* Those little brochures advertising various roadside attractions and tourist activities at rest shops. I would grab as many as possible when we stopped to use the bathroom on a road trip. Also, travel guides in general.

* I checked out the entire “unexplained” section of the library over the course of third grade. (Dewey decimal 001.9.) Ask little me about Project Blue Book, I guess.

* I LOVED party planning books, especially ones with highly specific themed parties that seemed impractical to put on in real life like a whole chess-themed party culminating in a game of human chess, complete with lemon chess pie for dessert.

* Seed packets. I find the writing style of these very endearing. It always sounds so affectionate toward the plants.

* My grandma’s Reader’s Digest magazines, which felt like Russian roulette because they sometimes published disturbing articles that gave me nightmares. (Reader’s Indigestion?) I especially vividly remember a feature on adopted kids who need to wear Ilizarov apparatuses to straighten their limbs because they became malformed due to severe neglect at orphanages.

* For some reason, I loved reading restaurant menus and imagining what kind of food different fictional characters would order from there.

* And last but certainly not least, because I think this is a relatable one: the AMERICAN GIRL CATALOG! No, I never had an American Girl doll, but getting the catalog was a source of much excitement.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A plate of leafy greens topped with two blue chicory flowers; second photo is a close-up on a flower. End ID]

هندبة بالزيت / Hinda b al-zayt (Palestinian wild greens with olive oil)

“هندبة” (“hindba”), “هِنْدِبَاء” (“hindibāʔ”), or هِنْدَب (“hindab”) is an Arabic word referring to chicory, wild endive, or dandelion greens.

Two Palestinian dishes are commonly made using hindba. One isهندبة بزيت (hinda b zayt), hindba with [olive] oil, which combines blanched greens with browned onion, lemon juice, and (of course) olive oil. Lebanese hindba is similar, consisting of greens prepared in the same way, but topped with sliced, caramelised onions. The other preparation of hindba is with a dressing made with tahina (tahini), lemon juice, chili, and sometimes garlic or yoghurt.

This recipe is for hindba with onion and olive oil. The dish is simple to make but has a lot going on, flavor-wise. Slow frying renders the onions tender, sweet, and jammy, balancing out the slight bitterness of the greens. The rich, peppery, fruity taste of good olive oil rounds out the earthiness of chicory, while lemon juice provides brightness and lift.

Several food aid organizations have been forced to discontinue operations in Gaza. Some of those still on the ground are:

Palestinian Red Crescent Society

World Central Kitchen

Anera

Ingredients:

2 bunches (130g) chicory or dandelion leaves

1 large yellow onion, chopped

Juice of 1 lemon

Olive oil

Salt, to taste

Instructions:

1. Boil chicory in salted water for 5-7 minutes, until tender, then drain. If using dandelion greens, boil for 10 minutes. (The boiling water is potable, but probably too bitter to be palatable.)

2. Heat olive oil in a large skillet on medium-low. Add onion and a pinch of salt and fry until softened and golden brown, 10-15 minutes.

3. Squeeze the water out of the greens and chop into about 1/2" (1cm) pieces. Add to the pan and fry until wilted.

4. Taste and adjust salt. Add lemon juice to taste.

Serve hot or cold, topped with good olive oil. Eat hindba by scooping it up with khubbiz al-kmaj (pita).

Identifying chicory:

Common chicory (Cichorium intybus) is also in the Astaraceae family. Stems are grooved and slightly hairy; woody and branched; multiple flowers usually grow along one stalk. Leaves are smooth or irregularly toothed, pointed at the tip, and may have different appearances at different parts of the plant. The leaf midribs are green or reddish. The leaves you want are the larger ones growing in a bunch towards the base of the stem.

This plant has some leaves with larger teeth.

Smaller, lanceolate leaves grow in alternate sides along the stem.

Flowers are light blue to lavender and finely toothed; there are two rows of darker bracts in the center of each flower.

In the fall, the leaves often remain while the flowers and stalks have died, leaving a brown, branching, skeletal structure behind.

Identifying dandelion:

See hinda b al-tahina.

[xfandom-fairyx]

marching band au

bakugo fic

here goes nothing..

—————————————————

My car slowed as I turned the corner onto the road that held the dorm house I would be staying in for the next 4 years of my life. The sun was already going down, not quite setting, but the sky was already turning pinkish orange, rays of golden light peeking through the trees that were scattered amongst the houses I passed by. I took a deep breath, trying not to gape at the building at the end of the cul de sac, as I pulled up the cement driveway— where no other cars were parked. I sighed thankfully. Being the first person here meant I got first dibs on the bedrooms, the thought alone sending a wave of excitement through me. The house was gorgeous, and freaking huge. (How many roommates was I supposed to have, again?..)

Double checking I had the correct address from the email in my phone, I pulled my keys from the ignition, fumbling to find the key to the front door. The heat outside was suffocating compared to the cool AC from my car, making me want to quicken my pace a bit to get inside. Deciding to grab the rest of my luggage after a quick look around and picking my room, I grabbed my backpack and purse before heading up the stairs to the front door. The entrance was framed by a beautiful wrap around porch, a few chairs, benches, and a porch swing adorning the wooden planks on each side of the door. Gently swinging the painted blue door open, I took my first steps inside my new (temporary) home, my chest tight with emotion.

The foyer was a bright space, a few meters wide, but felt cozy. Along the wall to the left was a deep blue, cubby-like bench with coat hooks, cabinets and a shoe rack, while the right wall had an oak table with a beautiful crystal decorative bowl, a fake potted plant and a circular mirror. Placed on the table beside the bowl was a slip of paper that had a list of utilities with passwords, app suggestions, and numbers for the local emergency services since we lived off campus. I quickly snapped a picture of and saved it to my favorites album, a subtle reminder to download the security app for the house, and a separate app for the security cameras. I moved to the left again and placed my keys on the cubby hook on the far right, kicking my slides off to set them on the shelf below my keys, my fingers gently grazing the navy stained wood. I was in no real rush as I stepped to the end of the foyer, taking it all in.

“Holy shit.. wow..” was all I could muster in my awe. The house smelled like oak wood and vanilla— the sweet woody combination fit just right in my head and sent me reeling to see the rest of the place I would call home. The bottom floor had a completely open floor plan where I could see everything from almost every angle across the house. To my right, a deep sectional sofa fit for 10 sat in a semi U shape, a chaise piece attached to run parallel with the longest side of the sofa, the whole thing facing a wall with a 75” flat screen, and a decent sized electric fireplace below it. Sat in the corner about 10 feet away from the sofa was a sleek, black grand piano, surrounded by a corner bookshelf that was full of sheet music, vinyl records, CD’s and memorabilia. My eyes flickered to the other side of the space to a grand kitchen, granite countertops, a huge island with a second barn sink, beautifully crafted cabinets, stainless steel appliances (which were huge, by the way! An 8 range stove?? A fridge big enough to hold food for a football team?! Christ!), and a walk-in pantry to top it off? I was in absolute heaven, daydreaming of the cooking and baking I would have so much fun doing in this kitchen.

I made my way to the left, because behind the formal dining table that sat 6 feet from the giant island in the kitchen, was a wide staircase leading upstairs to a loft area, where I assumed the bedrooms were also. There were a few more doors that I would get to later, assuming one was another bathroom or bedroom, and at least one of them led to the garage.

The loft area sat mostly above the kitchen, dining room and above the piano, leaving a full view of the living room area, and the ability to see at least half of the kitchen and dining room from the side opposite the stairs, and the hardwood floors throughout the entirety of the main and second floors. The loft itself had a study area with a few desks lined against the wall; all 4 of them fit at least two chairs, a work lamp on each surface, and a table in the corner that had a computer with a printer, which I quickly assumed was going to be strictly for homework.

As I made my way down the hallway to our bedrooms, I opened each door to peek inside and see which room I would like most. There were 2 spare bathrooms and 8 bedrooms total on this floor, with the two at the very end of the hallway having their doors 45° angled into the hallway. I opened the bedroom to the right first, and immediately fell in love with the wide space, huge windows, walk-in closet, and a third door that I could only guess was my own bathroom. Giddiness flooded my system as I opened the door and saw I was right. I set my bag on the queen sized bed in the space I couldn’t wait to decorate, and decided I should go get the rest of my stuff and start unpacking. It was dusk now, which meant I didn’t have much more time to get my stuff before night fell over the house, so I slipped downstairs and back into my sandals, flicking the porch light on.

The first load I needed to bring upstairs was my bedding, and if I had enough hands, I could grab my laundry bag. I still didn’t have a clue where the laundry room was, but I figured I would figure that out later. Getting back upstairs and to the end of the hallway had my lungs and legs burning, and I groaned out loud at the several other trips down and back up those stairs I would have to make tonight.

“Ugghhh, fuck!” I groaned, pulling my shirt away from my body rapidly, trying to fan myself. By the 5th trip to my car, I was sticky from sweat, out of breath, red in the face and regretting life, but it was my last load to carry before I could stay inside and relish the cool air of the central cooling system. My last suitcase of clothes and a medium sized box that had my favorite dog’s ashes amongst other sentimental items were in my arms as a big black truck came down the road and to a stop in the driveway next to my Camry. I looked away, trying to juggle the box and suitcase around so I could shut the door of my car, the box slipping from my grasp. Just as I was about to drop that super important box, a second pair of hands reached out to help.

“Woah! Careful! Do you need some help?” A voice asked. My panicked eyes met kind vermillion, that gentle tenor voice belonging to a boy with long red hair that was tied back, a touch of black at his roots. His smile was just as sweet as it lit up his face.

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly, “some help would be great!” He grinned wider, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.

“Lead the way, pretty lady,” he charmed. As if my cheeks weren’t red enough from the exertion, more heat crept up my neck and bloomed in my face. I huffed out a giggle, making my way around the car, leading the redhead up the steps and through the house to my room. I opened the door for him to come in and set the box on my bed, and he let out a low whistle.

“Nice space, can’t wait to see what you do with it,” he commented, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, you gonna get your shit out of my car or what? Stop flirting, you just met her,” a voice came from behind him. I peeked around the redhead’s shoulders to catch a glimpse at what looked like Adonis himself. A tall, sculpted blonde with gorgeous ruby eyes was scowling in our direction, his gaze narrowing as he saw me.

Shaking the scrutiny from his gaze off my shoulders, I turned my attention back to the redhead in front of me, trying not to let my gaze wander to his bare arms that were shown off from his cut off t-shirt.

“I’m y/n, by the way. Thank you for helping me with my stuff,” I grinned, holding my hand out for a handshake. He grinned back widely, but instead of shaking my hand, he held his arms out and pulled me into a hug, shocking me at first, but I absolutely hugged back. He felt so warm and his chest was cushioned, (not to mention he smelled amazing! Like marine moss, citrus and driftwood..)

“Name’s Eijiro, but you can call me Kiri, if you want,” he said over my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze before letting go, turning to head back downstairs. As I stepped into the hallway to follow him, two more boys came sauntering into view, one with sunny blonde hair and a black streak in it, the other with raven black hair. They were laughing and giggling at the top of the stairs, trying to trip each other to get to their rooms first, but stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw me. Eijiro chuckled and went around them to get back downstairs. The blonde one dropped all his bags, holding up hand to point a finger at me before shouting,

“GIRL! THERE’S A GIRL IN THE HOUSE!” Like I was some kind of 1600’s witch. The raven-haired boy cracked up, and I could hear Eijiro cackling from downstairs. The ash blonde was coming out of his room from behind me, coming to a halt a few inches from where I stood. I could feel his body heat radiating off of him, the smell of warm honey and sea salt floating to my nostrils.

“Yeah, Sparkplug, she’s a fucking girl. Stop ogling and get back to getting your shit out of my truck.” He said gruffly, grumbling out, “fucking idiot” as he passed us all on his way back downstairs.

Snapping out of my trance, I looked between the new boys in front of me, offering a small smile.

“Anyone up for some pizza and we can do introductions when it gets here?” I suggested, making them grin widely.

I got a, “for sure, man,” from the ravenette, and a, “heelll yeah, brother,” from the new blonde to cement my decision, and I grabbed my phone to open up the Domino’s app.

. • ° * ° • . … . • ° * ° • .

A/N: first part might be a bit awkward, I haven’t written in a while. (Help me out with tags?) Next part is in the works, hopefully as I get back into it, I’ll be more comfortable and it’ll get better. I can come back and edit later if I feel like it’s missing something. Hope you enjoy 🤍

[consult-sherlockholmes]

Hello, Mr. Holmes! How are you?

So, long story short, I ended up with an optical microscope in my room more or less 4 months ago, with 200 previously made slides (secured in a proper box), and lots of new ones too, for me to prepare myself. I love microbiology (it's one of my hyperfixations, curse my neurodivergency) and now I love it even more (my mother has had to drag me away from the microscope - I named it Wesley - in the middle of the night multiple times now).

After much conversation, I finally convinced my mom to buy me the proper equipment to prepare the slides!

So, I'm sending this ask to you, as I know you also have a microscope and that you use it a lot: what kind of equipment do you recommend me buying (gloves, scalpel blades, tints, etc), while still remembering that all of the stuff needs to stay in my room (properly taken cared of by me, of course)?

For example, I'm unsure if different dyes are used for different smears and specimens due to it's affinity (I've noticed that on 'organic matter' slides, images are usually tinted purple or pink, while on plant-based slides, images are usually tinted green and blue, with a few red structures.) Considering that I don't have access to a mortuary, I will mostly make plant slides. There must be a difference in the dyes then, right?

Sorry for the long text! Hope this isn't too much of a bother.

- a 17-year-old :)

Congratulations on your new light microscope. I do hope you get the best out of it. I am overjoyed that someone else appreciates the art of microscopy and microbiology.

However, you need to be careful to not strain your eyes. It is recommended to take breaks every 15 minutes to close your eyes or focus on something in the distance to reaccommodate your eyes. And get up every 40 minutes, stretch and correct your posture. And it is recommended to not use a microscope more than 5 hours per day. John has to chase me away from my microscope sometimes to take a break when I sit there for hours, my posture like a Caridea.

Concerning equipment, you will obviously need a scalpel or other sharp blade to make very thin slices of your specimen, as thin as possible. And forceps to move your samples (best just get a whole dissection kit it has everything). Obviously slides and coverslips, pipettes for the stains or water, maybe some tubes. A pen to label your slides. In many staining procedures ethanol or acetone is also used. A waste jar to safely dispose of any chemicals, but be careful what you mix. A rack for staining and containers. I would recommend nitrile gloves, some people are sensitive to latex.

The dyes you use depend on the specimen. For example in histological slides of tissues hematoxylin and eosin are most commonly used (short HE-stain). That's what you most likely saw on your slides, it's blue, purple and pink. Hematoxylin is a basic compound extracted and oxidised from the logwood tree (Haematoxylum campechianum), and it stains acidic compounds in the cells (or basophilic because they have an affinity for basic substances). For example nucleic acids like DNA or RNA get stained by hematoxylin because they are basophillic. And where are lots of nucleic acids? In the nucleus and ribosomes, that is why they appear blue to purple in the staining because they bind hematoxylin. Eosin is an acidic compound, and stains basic or acidophilic compounds red or pinkish, like proteins, collagen, cytoplasm, extracellular matrix.

(Ductus epididymidis with HE-stain)

(Tongue HE-stain, pointer marking a ganglion; that is my picture)

Of course there are more specific stains for specific tissues like Golgi's silver staining for neurons.

For plants toluidine blue is often used, high affinity for acidic tissues, and can stain blue to green to purple. It is often combined with safranin, a basic azine, which is probably the red stain you saw. It stains polysaccharides and lignin, woody parts of the plant. Safranin and astrablue is also often combined, astrablue stains non-lignified parts of the plant.

(Ulex europaeus stem; not my pictures I don't have any samples currently, source Atlas of plant and animal histology)

Safranin is also used in bacteriology, in the famous Gram staining. In Gram staining you use crystal violet (blue/purple), Lugol's iodine solution, then wash it with ethanol and add safranin (red) as a counter stain. Bacteria is gram-positive if the crystal violet stays in their thick murein cell wall, can't be washed out with the ethanol and the bacteria stays blue. Gram-negative appear red because of the counterstain.

(Staphyloccocus aureus (violet, gram positive) & Escherichia coli (red, gram negative); not my picture, source Wikipedia)

However, I am not sure whether you have access to any of those substances, if they are too expensive for you or if they are too hazardous if used in your own room for a prolongued time. Of course those substances need to be stored properly, and your own room is probably not a good place, especially for ethanol or acetone. The fumes. I would recommend to ask your biology or chemistry teacher whether they can recommend anything further and where to buy said solutions in your area, and if they can't they are idiots. There are also many useful resources and tutorials on Youtube.

Another fascinating experiment for your microscope, that you can perform without buying any chemicals, is a hay infusion. You put hay into a container filled with water, and let it sit undisturbed for a week in a sunny area but not in direct harsh sunlight. During that time the microorganisms in the hay are reproducing in the solution, feeding on the polysaccharides of the hay. Protozoans also flourish in the hay infusion and eat the bacteria. It might get cloudy and a bit foul smelling (best not do it in your own room if you don't want to sleep next to a rotting smell). When you put a drop of the solution onto a slide and look at it in the microscope, you should see a variety of microorganisms like bacteria (like Bacillus subtilis), amoeba, ciliates, heliozoa, algae et cetera. At different depths of the liquid you should find different kinds of organisms, because of differing oxygen content. However, pathogens can also occur in the hay infusion so handle it carefully and work sterile, wash your hands properly.

And even if you don't work at a morgue you can still get tissue samples to experiment on, after all meat is sold in supermarkets, basically the same as a human body. And at the butchers they even sell organs like chicken hearts, pig kidney, liver, blood et cetera. Or observe your own hair under the microscope.

Which kind of samples and slides were included in your starter kit? Be careful to not leave them lying around in the sunlight, or the stain might fade. Always store them in the proper box.

[ratinayellowbandana]

Not sure if you're still taking imodna prompts but if so, I'd love it if you wrote something for 4. "I just don't want to scare you off" from the November drabble prompt list.

Alternatively, something from the Red colour prompt would be great too! (either 1. or 4.?)

this prompt has been in my inbox for. um. too long. decided to use it to finish an old ficlet and join in on imodnovember (prompt: mud) for a day :)

if you have a prompt you want filled, lmk! can't guarantee I'll do it but I'm really trying to get back into writing. some lists if you need inspiration 1 2

very quick and unedited. little bit of angst little bit of hurt/comfort. ~1.1k

~~~

Laudna wished she could say the fight was over before it began. That they vastly outnumbered their opponents, and the Ruby Vanguard waved the proverbial white flag well before any combat could arise. That the combined forces of the Ashari, Vasselheim, and Whitestone had been enough to make their enemy flee.

Laudna wished she could say she held her own. That she had fought valiantly and fired an eldritch blast at any robed soldier who looked at her with a hint of a sneer. That she and her companions felled hundreds with ease.

Laudna wished she could say this was an easy victory.

She doesn’t know where she is. Somewhere on the outskirts of the real fighting, she thinks, given the shouting in the distance. She doesn’t know where her friends are. They had been split up almost immediately, each swept along in a different current. She can’t see any of them.

How long has it been since she last saw someone she knew? The sun hangs low in the sky, bathing the battlefield in a swath of ruddy orange that casts the armor of the fallen in flame. Little fires scatter across the desert plain like gems strewn between what sparse wind-swept plant life had made its home here.

Imogen had been the last one she saw, her lavender hair billowing around her shoulders as she cast a lighting bolt and carved a hole in the advancing battalion. Ozone crackled and tinged the air with a metallic odor that lingered in Laudna’s nose. Imogen vanished soon after.

An Ashari blade had clung to Laudna’s side in her stead, a lithe half-elf with whom Laudna conspired to wipe out a group of Ruby Vanguard members attempting to enter the fray. The half-elf fell some time later, Laudna snarling over the body, shoulders extending into branches as she clawed at man who killed her companion.

The battle is ongoing, bloody, with heavy casualties on both sides, and Laudna is spent. Her chest heaves, two wicked gashes across her ribs that haven’t stopped oozing dark blood. Her shoulder hangs loose in its socket, the flesh around the joint purpling, and she has yet to pop it back in. She limps to the nearest cover, a sunswept rocky outcropping, and hunches in its shade. A patch of seared skin on her calf stings as it hits the sand.

She takes stock of her injuries, uncorking a healing potion and grimacing at the flavor. Nearby, a man shouts as he parries a blow. The familiar hum of magic singes the air.

Laudna.

Her name burns through her mind, hot and desperate. Afraid. Imogen’s voice, clear.

Near the tower. I’m–

Her message cuts off.

Laudna is running, pounding through the desert, a beast, hunting. Tree trunk limbs make heavy contact with the sand as she swats away an arrow let loose from somewhere to her right. Another hits its mark in the woody shell of her back, and she howls. She lets a fireball loose in the general direction and keeps going. 

The tower is across the field. How had Imogen gotten so far away?

How had Laudna let her?

Her path is clear, friend and foe alike parting for the monstrous tree creature galloping across the sand on all fours. The warmth of the healing potion spurs her on, soreness fading into a mere afterthought. She really ought to thank Orym for insisting she take some of the spares. If she sees him again.

She’s getting closer. The tower looms three hundred feet away. Two hundred.

Where are you? She sends.

She receives no reply.

A throng assembles at the foot of the tower, a shifting sphere of electricity at its center. Imogen is nowhere to be seen. Smoke curls off the sand and wafts into the air. Patches of shrubbery are little more than crisped tinder and ash. Figures lie prone in a sixty-foot radius around the sphere. The ground glistens, the dying sunlight shining off a section of smooth sand ten feet in any direction below the mass. Glass, Laudna realizes. The smell of burnt meat tastes charred on Laudna’s tongue.

A flash of blinding light leaves her blinking spots from her vision, and she skids to a stop at the lip of the small crater, searching frantically.

There, at the center, is Imogen on her knees. 

Imogen? Laudna shouts silently.

Don’t come any closer, Imogen growls.

A small battalion of Whitestone soldiers keeps the tide of enemies at bay long enough for Laudna to prowl over the rim and blatantly ignore Imogen’s plea. The earth grows warm beneath her wooded knuckles as she inches closer.

Imogen’s dress is torn and bloodied, sleeves tattered and shredded. Her skirts are all but gone, wispy tendrils in strips around her thighs. Her arms glow red, tracing veins up her shoulder, disappearing into her collar. Trails of mud and blood streak her cheeks and run down her side, staining fabric an alarming crimson hue. Her vest is drenched in it.

“You’re bleeding,” Laudna says, voice raspy and warped with dread. She allows her form to collapse a few feet away from Imogen. Bones grind and click together, shifting beneath parchment skin. Laudna’s wounds stretch and burn.

“‘S not all mine.”

“What were you thinking?” Laudna says shrilly.

“Didn’t want to scare you off,” Imogen replies wryly, and Laudna startles.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Was hopin’ you wouldn’t have to.”

And, suddenly, Laudna is confronted with a far worse reality: one where the blasted crater did not have an Imogen at the center.

“Fuck you,” she spits.

Imogen blinks, taken aback.

“That was reckless.”

“Do we have to do this here?”

“You turned yourself into a weapon. You could have been killed.”

“I had it under control.”

“Did you?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“It was spectacular, naturally, but–”

“I’m not seein’ the issue here.”

“You scared me.”

Imogen’s face softens.

Laudna backpedals, “And I know, I know, it’s selfish to be fretting over one person when so many have died, and you are very capable after all, and I trust you a great deal, of course, I do.”

“I’m sorry for scarin’ you,” Imogen says, squeezing Laudna’s hand, “but can we pick this up later?”

The sounds of the battlefield shift back into Laudna’s field of perception. Suddenly, the clash of weapons and the hum of magic is inescapable. The Whitestone battalion has been pushed back to the lip of Imogen’s crater. Laudna fishes a lesser healing potion from a pouch at her waist and thrusts it into Imogen’s hand before she can protest.

Imogen gives her a crooked grin, “Let’s give ‘em hell.”

[littlemourningstarr]

Fragrant

Sekh is off doing Society things in the Underdark, and Astarion gets bit riled up when just the scent of him on an old shirt.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, scent kink, masturbation, multiple orgasms, anal fingering, strap-ons, sex toys

Astarion reached across the empty bed, hand grasping at the sheet, the cool spot where Sekh’s body normally would have been. His husband was gone below, off with some of the Society in the near Underdark, setting up some experiments. Something about wanting to know if a hybrid he had managed to breed could grow in the natural Underdark, and not just his workshop.

Astarion could have gone- but it had seemed like more of a hassle on his drow than anything- even if Sekh would never say that, or probably even view the situation as such himself. But he would be buried in his work, and Astarion’s presence would be distracting. In oh so many ways.

The vampire pushed himself up, wild curls falling over his shoulders. If he concentrated he could just hear the city outside, the loud ruckus of midday. Yenna had to be out, he was sure. She spent more time in the city then back home, these days. A part of growing up-

It was a difficult realization for him, and for Sekh. But they dealt with it silently. Mostly.

He rolled onto his hip, before shoving the blanket off his bare legs, pulling himself from the bed. He stretched, his muscles pulling deliciously, as he padded, barefoot to the bedroom door. He opened it, leaned against the doorframe, and called quite loudly, “Yenna!”

No response. Definitely already gone.

He sighed, turning back to face his bedroom, leaning his bare back against the doorframe. He folded his arms, wondering if he should just crawl back into bed and sleep the daylight away. He couldn’t leave the house as it was- without someone to cart him around in bat form, he’d still burn. He should have just not bothered dropping off to sleep near sunrise- he should have spent the night with Rolan. That would have been enjoyable. And pestering his favorite wizard was one of the most enjoyable pastimes he had discovered.

Yet he hadn’t spent a single night since Sekh had left with the tiefling. Years into this, and he still wanted Sekh there, between them. He’d had his solitary nights with Rolan, but it was always better with Sekh. Even if they never dissolved into a panting, carnal mess- everything was better with his drow present. What was worse was that he found he didn’t want to leave the house, because it was full of little reminders of his husband. His books, notes scattered about, the plants thriving and overtaking the living spaces.

Even the clothes the drow had left haphazardly, on the floor, by his side of the bed. Astarion rolled his eyes at the little mess, moving away from the door frame and bending down, picking up one of Sekh’s black shirts. The material was rather thin, well worn and soft between Astarion’s fingers.

Without a thought he pulled it against his chest- it didn’t house even a memory of the drow’s body heat, but just knowing it was his was comforting. Astarion sighed, felt his pulse thump quickly in his veins as he swore he got a hint of Sekh’s scent. Slowly he lifted the shirt, pressed his mouth and nose into it, inhaling deeply.

Ash, something earthy, a muted woody scent. Specific things Astarion couldn’t place or name, but knew in combination meant Sekh. He groaned, before he pulled the shirt from his face, crawling back into bed with it. He curled up on his side with it, face pressed into it, content to drown himself in the comforting scent.

He lay there silently, unsure when one of his hands had moved from the bed to his stomach, fingertips tracing little patterns just above his groin. The touch was soothing, something Sekh would have done, when he was testing the water, determining if Astarion wanted him- which he almost always did- or if the vampire was content to just be held.

Astarion slid his hand lower, found he was hard, and oh, when had that happened? He couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t exactly care as he rubbed himself through his underwear, felt the head of his cock weeping precum, leaving a wet spot in the colorful fabric already. He bit his lip, tips of his fangs pushing into and nearly breaking the plump skin, before he grasped the waistband of his underwear and dragged them down, squirmed until everything was bunched awkwardly beneath the swell of his ass, at the juncture of his thighs.

He took himself in hand, slowly stroked up along his shaft, pausing to tease his head with his thumb. He felt a shiver run up his spine- and gods, he didn’t think he’d been that aroused-

But he hadn’t found relief since before Sekh left, had he? Hadn’t brought himself off in days, not since he had last buried himself inside Sekh and pinned the drow beneath him, felt him bucking up against him, when he should have already been at the Underdark entrance, but oh what was one little romp around the bed before he left?

Astarion smiled to himself, shifting, piling Sekh’s shirt on the drow’s pillow. He dug his knees into the mattress, leaned into it, one shoulder supporting him as he nuzzled into the shirt, his other serving as something for him to desperately fuck as his hips canted. It was almost rhythmless, but it didn’t matter.

Astarion bit at the fabric, got it balled in his mouth, let it soak up his saliva. For a single moment he was taken away, to a night years and years ago, when he’d only had Sekh once. When he’d stolen his discarded underwear and pressed it desperately to his tongue, tasting the ghost of his cunt, gnoll blood, and finding orgasm as if he was rutting for the very first time.

He choked, stomach going tight, precum dripping down into the bed. He fucked his fist harder, thighs trembling, his spine tingling as if lightning were racing along it, dancing between his vertebrae. He whimpered Sekh’s name, nothing but a muffled noise into the shirt, before he bucked into his fist and found release, a heavy wave of cum soiling the sheets below him.

Astarion pulled his head away from the shirt, managing to turn and rest his cheek on it, panting lightly. He released his cock, before he collapsed properly onto his side, staring off into the bedroom with glossy eyes.

Once, he would have been embarrassed that he could be worked up like a fucking youth behind a tavern by just a scent- but now? It filled him with a sort of sordid pride, knowing he could so freely desire Sekh.

Carefully, he rolled from his side to his back, staring up at the ceiling, still feeling a churning need in his belly. He gave himself all of a single breath to consider what to do before he was shoving his underwear properly down his legs, losing them in the bed, before he was twisting to his side, reaching for the table next to his bedside. He grabbed a rather pretty bottle, all colorful glass and raised jewels, popping it open and pouring a generous amount of oil into his fingers. He left the bottle open on the table, settling back into his pillows, a content little smile on his face as his eyes fell shut and he reached between his legs, fingers pressing against his hole.

Slipping the first finger in was easy- his first orgasm had left him relaxed enough that his body accepted it willingly. He thrust it slowly, before dragging it up along his upper walls, trembling as he slid along his sweet spot. He pushed a second finger in quickly, arching at the subtle stretch, heels digging into the bed.

With his free hand he grabbed Sekh’s shirt off his pillow, quite literally dropping it over his face, covering him in darkness. He inhaled deeply, could pretend his fingers were Sekh’s, his drow settled between his milky thighs, thrusting into him lazily, knowing exactly how to twist his fingers to make Astarion shudder, how to curl them to make him gasp.

Astarion paused his thrusting to rub his fingerpads against that spot in him, seeing flashes of white behind his eyelids. Fuck, it was making him feel as if his entire body was humming, but it wasn’t quite enough.

Frustrated, Astarion huffed, pulled the shirt off his face and sucked in an unneeded breath. He pulled his fingers from his body, pushing himself up, glancing across the room- eyes falling on a trunk, settled by their shared armoire.

Astarion nearly tumbled from the bed in a rush to get to it. He unlatched it, hefted up the lid and reached in, grasping at the straps to Sekh’s harness. He lifted it, his husband’s false cock still secured in it, and felt his heart fluttering wildly.

He left the chest opened as he rushed back to the bed, hopping up onto it, giddy, as he grabbed his own pillow. He worked the straps open, fingers shaking as he buckled the harness onto the pillow. Once it was secure he grabbed Sekh’s shirt, tugged it over his head, taking a moment to let his eyes flutter shut as he was engulfed in his scent. The sheer mix of arousal and comfort he got from it was enough to break his mind.

He reached for the bottle on his bedside table, dumping so much oil into his hand it slid between his fingers, along the lines of his wrist. He wrapped his slicked up hand around the false cock, stroking it, biting his lip as he imagined it was Sekh laying on the bed, letting Astarion touch him as if he could feel that- all the while is cunt fucking weeping between his dusky thighs.

Astarion was trembling down to his toes when he arched up on his knees, properly straddling the pillow. He grasped the base of the cock, holding it steady as he eased himself down onto it- a little cry leaving his lips as his body stretched to accommodate its girth. Fuck the thing was thick. But his body knew the shape, welcomed it so eagerly that the discomfort registered for barely a moment, before it was replaced with a shaking excitement.

Astairon lifted himself up on his knees, riding the toy slowly. He reached down, his well oiled hand finding his cock and grasping it. He was only half hard, but he teased himself regardless, focusing more on properly fucking himself on the false cock beneath him.

Within moments he was panting, his body so pleased at being properly filled. He swallowed thickly, teased the tips of his nails at his slit, causing a wave of precum to rush out, drip down his hardening cock. One of his fangs poked out against his lip as he worried it, dragging his slick fingertips down his cock, pausing to reach beneath, cup his balls and squeeze them gently.

His hips bucked, driving the toy deeper into him. He gasped, head tipping back slightly, hair falling about him in a silver-white haze. He grasped his cock properly then, stroking quickly, thighs beginning to burn from his movements. It didn’t matter, that spark was alive in him, aching and writhing in his fucking gut, begging for more, just a little more, just more, more, more-

Astarion grasped at the shirt he was wearing, pulled it up over his belly, vaguely aware he didn’t want to ruin it. He grasped the edge of it in his teeth, before the same hand delved into his hair, tangled his curls around his fingers and tugged. He groaned through his teeth, felt a prickle of tears beginning at the corners of his eyes.

It was all so much- the scent, the tingling pain in his scalp, the aching euphoria inside him, the perfect needy pressure in his belly- he came crying out loudly into the shirt, teeth nearly tearing into it from the sheer force he was biting with. Cum splashed up along his belly, even dotted the hollow of his ribs as he stroked himself desperately, even as the orgasm began to subside.

The moment he knew his cock had nothing left to give, Astarion let go, pitched himself forward so he was on his hands and knees. He twisted the sheet in his hands as he continued to drive himself back against the toy, the shirt falling from his lips, leaving his mouth free. He went slack jawed, cheeks flushing as if he had just fed, eyes seeming to be leagues and leagues away- his mind pleasantly blank except for the rush of bliss throughout his veins.

His entire body was on fire. He wasn’t even sure his second orgasm had truly ended- he had dropped and driven himself so hard, so desperately back onto the false cock that he swore he was in the midst of a never ending crest. His body clenched around the toy, begging for it to go deeper still, until Astarion was taking the entire length, his ass pressing to the pillow, feeling the cool metal ring that encircled the base of the toy, keeping it in place on the harness.

He wondered what sort of sordid sight he had to bed. He wondered how Sekh would devour him with just his eyes, were he to suddenly walk into their bedroom. Would he pause at the doorway and watch Astarion desperately fuck himself? Would he stay silent, nothing but the beating of his heart, his elevated breaths?

Would he taunt Astarion for being so desperate? For being so fucking wanton that two orgasms weren’t enough and he was desperately trying to find a third?

Or would he gather him in his arms, guide him on how best to ride the cock? Would those hands grip his hips until Astarion would bruise, were he mortal? Would Sekh whisper sweet nothings into his ear, tease his painfully sensitive cock, tell Astarion that he loved him oh so very much-

Astarion whimpered, clawing at the bed, tips of his nails poking into the fabric. He was losing his rhythm completely, pushing himself back onto the cock over and over again. His whole body ached, his belly twisting up painfully, yet he craved more, more, more. 

When he came again, his body going so tight around the false cock he swore he would be torn asunder, he was screaming Sekh’s name desperately, tears rolling down his cheeks as he pitched forward into the pillows. He trembled, clutching at them, the bed, anything within reach, as his hole fluttered around the toy, his ass trying to milk it dry.

Panting, he lay like that, let the orgasm roll up through his whole body, then back to his belly, then out again, in weakening waves, until he was exhausted, his body pleasantly worn and weathered. He’d made a mess of himself and the sheets, he knew- but in that moment, he simply couldn’t care.

All he really cared about was how quickly Sekh could come home to him, so he could relive all of this, with his pretty little drow taking the leading role.

[cleolinda]

Patchouli in perfumery, feat. Snake Oil (Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab)

In the course of writing up Coco Mademoiselle (which I'll post after this), I realized that I need to stop and discuss patchouli first, because: wtf is going on there, seriously. Sylvaine Delacourte explains,

Patchouli has a woody, earthy, humid, dark smell and evokes a colour between brown and black.

(I find this to be true; I always picture a very dark, dark brown when I smell it, even if nothing else in the fragrance makes me think of a color.)

A camphor note molecule is identified in it, it also has almost a dusty scent. Patchouli can be reminiscent of a cork or an overripe apple, some find it smells like mushrooms, cellars and mould. Many perfumers have told me that they can detect a hint of cocoa in good quality patchouli.

On the other hand, as the Perfume Society describes it, in "So you think you hate… patchouli?":

Amazingly, from those fragile-looking leaves comes a sweet, spicy, smoky, cedar-y scent so powerful it has to be handled with care: patchouli is the most powerful of any plant-derived essence.

May the odds be ever in my favor.

But, the Perfume Society continues,

perfumers wouldn’t be without patchouli, for the richness that it gives to fragrances – and not just those heady Ambrées: patchouli makes its way into many chypre and powdery fragrances, swirling exotically alongside lavender, sandalwood, labdanum and bergamot, clove, clary sage, as well as vetiver. (It’s a little like vetiver, if you close your eyes.) Used alongside rose, it extends and ‘fixes’ rose’s sweetness.

Back to Sylvaine Delacourte: "Patchouli is the most important raw material in perfumery," a statement that really surprised me, but this is the former Artistic Director of Guerlain talking here. She concurs that it "combines beautifully" with woody notes like cedar, sandalwood, and vetiver, adding,

It brings depth and sensuality and is considered by some to be an aphrodisiac, especially when combined with sweet oriental [often called "ambrée" now] notes such as incense, vanilla and cistus. Patchouli can be refreshed by citrus fruits such as bergamot. It is often associated with rose, sometimes with jasmine, a little less with ylang-ylang. Patchouli is also a perfect match for gourmand notes.

Sure enough, Thierry Mugler's Angel (1992) famously combines patchouli and cotton candy (and several fruits) (and caramel) (and chocolate). That's a fragrance I also have on deck to write about; it was a game-changer, no exaggeration, at the time. I had also thought that Angel was considered the first "fruitchouli" (nsfw photo), as such, but apparently that may be... Coco Mademoiselle.

Delacourte also mentions that patchouli is "sensual and charismatic, often replacing mosses in chypre constructions and is essential in oriental compositions." And here comes Coco Mademoiselle again: it's considered a "neo chypre." If you go back to the Mitsouko post I did, you'll see that a classic chypre involves bergamot, oakmoss, and labdanum. As Basenotes user purplebird7 neatly explains, "This creates a sweet/sour/earthy/wet/dry combination of notes that makes chypres so complex. [...] New chypres use vetiver instead for the sour/dry component. They also use patchouli for the earthiness, and substitute other citruses for bergamot, the way Coco Mademoiselle uses orange, and [Chanel's] Chance uses citron."

Now, I haven't told you how the word "patchouli" comes from Tamil (patchai ellai, green leaf), or how Tutankhamun had gallons of patchouli oil in his tomb, and how it was worth its weight in gold, literally, to European traders. Or, for that matter, how it came to France via the paisley shawls, layered with insect-repelling patchouli leaves, that were so loved by Empress Eugénie. I didn't mention that patchouli is still very much associated with the "dirty hippies" of the 1960s, who (it's said; I wasn't there) used it to mask either weed or body odor. And I didn't mention any of this because I wanted to focus on how patchouli is used today—and because the hippie thing is extremely cliché. But maybe that's exactly what I should touch on, because:

I don't like patchouli. I do, in fact, Think I Hate Patchouli. Or I did, rather, before I started working on this post. And it's because of the "dirty" smell. Something that's like a combination of fermented basement lichen and the stoner guy I knew in college who took 40 minute showers but never washed his clothes? But since patchouli's in the base of just about everything these days—I decided that I'm going to have to get past that. Rather than use a moralistic term like "dirty," I've started calling the persistent aura that smells like "mushrooms, cellars and mold" The Funk.

And I've noticed that aged patchouli is a lot smoother; The Funk gets less rambunctious with time, and this may be why aged bottles of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's Snake Oil are so prized. For years, I wasn't even sure what was in it; the original description only mentioned "Indonesian oils sugared with vanilla." But once you find out that 80% of the world's patchouli comes from Indonesia—yeah, you can tell it's the primary note of Snake Oil. BPAL actually sells it pre-aged now, and with a more detailed description:

Snake Oil has shed its skin, and is back — now with vintage patchouli and dark, rich, aged vanilla absolute. Snake Oil is our signature scent, our first perfume: deep, rich, earthy notes swirled with vegetal musks, sugared vanilla bean, and dark spices.

A few nights ago, I pulled out a vial I'd gotten several years back. I remember that Snake Oil was really heady when it was fresh: a vortex of incense, spicy vanilla, and The Funk. This time, it was pure patchouli, albeit a mellow and dignified one; on a second try, I realized I needed to swish the molasses-thick oil back and forth until it was at least somewhat blended again. I then got a unified patchouli-vanilla and what I swear was a very strong ylang-ylang and sandalwood (both of which are cultivated in Indonesia, among other places). It's a good combination; the light, golden sandalwood-ylang note was the only thing I liked about Chanel's No. 5 Eau Première. I know it sounds weird (or immature, even) to say "I like Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab more than Chanel," but Snake Oil picked something to do and did it well, and that something was not giving me a headache or smelling like a diaper.

(But notice that I say I like it more rather than it is better. Skin chemistry is a wild—but incredibly important—card here. Ultimately, there might be a critical consensus on something, but you can only experience what your nose can sense, and what duet the skin of the wearer, yours or someone else's nearby, can produce.)

Come to think of it, Chanel's Jacques Polge may have removed the patchouli from the original No. 5; I didn't see it in the notes for the 1986 formulation still used today. I wonder now if that patchouli served as a bridge between elements that's no longer there, and that's why the extra pared-down No. 5 Eau Première seemed disjointed to me. On the other hand, there are people who think the new No. 5 Eau Première is a masterwork unto itself, and there are people who hate the dizzying baby powder/Play-Doh turn Snake Oil can take. So it goes. I actually think I might prefer fresh Snake Oil, heady as it is, but the aged notes may be more mellow and perhaps more wearable over all (also tenacious as fuck). I may try a new vial of the pre-aged Snake Oil soon and see how the difference splits.

So, aged patchouli: Good! Manageable! Let's try another! I had left a rollerball of Pacifica's Himalayan Patchouli Berry in a drawer for a couple of years; when I first used it (I was trying to broaden my palate!), The Funk was too much. (Side note: This is a weird perfume, in that Pacifica will tell you upfront that it's grapefruit and patchouli, and you can tell it's grapefruit if you mentally squint at it, but it really does smell like some kind of berry. What kind of berry? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) Here in 2023, the fragrance has mellowed out, and it's a lot easier to wear. Also, it proves Sylvaine Delacourte's point about citrus working well with patchouli, whether it's cosplaying as someberry or not.

I also had a fresh Nemat patchouli on hand. This was interesting because it had a little too much Funk for me, but it was also the first time I'd been able to smell a vetiver-like note in a patchouli. And by this time, I'd worn both Coco Mademoiselle and Snake Oil twice; my nose was tolerating patchouli better overall. After a year or so, this could smooth out into something really nice.

So: you can render patchouli more crowd-pleasing with the slow ingredient of time. What if you just used science? The Perfumer's Apprentice sells a natural patchouli oil that's undergone fractional distillation, which "produces a more elegant smell with less earthy tones, similar to the flower itself." On the other hand, Firmenich straight-up uses white biotechnology (today I learned!) to synthesize its Clearwood aromachemical:

Beaming with light, it offers the creamy warmth of amber and a dark woody character reminiscent of patchouli. [...] At higher dosages it can be used as a new building block. Rich in patchoulol, CLEARWOOD® can elegantly complement a patchouli essential oil.

I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing some kind of defunked patchouli, be it fractionally distilled or wholly synthetic, is what's in Coco Mademoiselle, which has a very elegant patchouli base. I mean, it also busts out harsh and peppery at first, but there is no actual Funk, oddly enough. But we'll get to that in the next post, now that you have the background.

Coco Mademoiselle (Chanel, 2001) and Coco Mademoiselle L'Eau Privée (2020)

Perfume discussion masterpost

[cyanobotcodes]

In The Works

Temperature Sensitive Plants Status: needs updating for 1.5, plus still hunting some pernicious bugs

Plants can die of heat. Different plants have different preferred growing temperatures. Many temperate-and-colder plants will die off overwinter and regrow in spring. Not all crops are suited to all biomes.

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Fired Pottery Status: needs updating for 1.5, needs graphics for kilns

Merges various clay- and pottery-based mods under a single system for sculpting and firing clay, based on Processor Framework. Designed for smooth, comprehensive compatibility across a variety of mods.

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Expanded Woodworking patches Status: needs updating for 1.5

A couple of extra woods, plus patches for a whole load of wooden things to use woody stuff. Probably going to hand the patches to Expanded Woodworking itself, but may end up publishing an add-on for anything they don't feel like they want in the main mod.

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Dry Leaves patches Status: needs updating for 1.5

Compatibility patch for Dry Leaves, Vanilla Brewing Expanded, and Jecs Tobacco (which is required for Dry Leaves). Combines the two tobaccos into one and adds a recipe for drying tea leaves.

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Soft Warm Beds patches Status: needs updating for 1.5

A few tweaks, mostly compatibility patching for a number of neolithic beds, condensing them into a coherent progression/range of options.

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Textile rebalance Status: needs updating for 1.5

I use quite a lot of mods that add new textiles and leather, and I've written a bunch of patches to bring their balance into line with each other

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Overcomplicated leather Status: needs updating for 1.5

Consolidates leather into a handful of categories (light, medium, heavy, fur, soft fur, light scale, heavy scale). Production chain based on tanning. Rawhide clothing for tribals. Wool can be cut from the skins of woolly animals, providing they had any when killed.

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Earthworks frankenpatch Status: needs updating for 1.5

Consolidation of a bunch of mods regarding earth, soil, rock, etc, with the aim of providing a unified system that works with all of them. Primary mods include Expanded Materials Stones and Mortars, Fertile Fields, Primitive Core/Primitive Workbenches.

[dougdimmadodo]

Fast Fauna Facts #13 - Brazil Nut Tree (Bertholletia excelsa)

Family: Lecythis Family (Lecythidaceae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Vulnerable

Among the tallest members of many rainforest tree communities across much of northern South America and southernmost Central America, Brazil Nut Trees may grow to be upwards of 48 meters (158ft) tall and can live for over 1,000 years. Brazil nuts themselves are the tree’s seeds (technically meaning that they aren’t nuts at all, as in botany a true nut is described as a hard, dry fruit containing a single seed, like acorns or chestnuts,) and develop inside enormous woody fruits following pollination. The fruits of Brazil Nut Trees are too hard for most animals to eat, so they rely heavily on specialised herbivores such as Hyacinth Macaws (which break the fruit using their large powerful beaks) and agoutis (long-legged forest-dwelling rodents capable of gnawing through fallen fruits) to distribute their seeds. Brazil Nut Trees only produce seeds once pollinated and are chiefly pollinated by large bee species that exclusively inhabit dense forests, and because of this there is currently no known way of efficiently farming Brazil nuts; all commercially available Brazil nuts are collected from fallen fruits within their native forests, and this combined with the destruction of adult trees through deforestation and the slow rate at which they repopulate (with young trees only beginning to produce fruits at around 70 years old and each fruit taking over a year to mature) means that the species is now threatened.

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Image Source: Here

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[starstruckunknown-princess]

Redolence & Spice - Frankie Morales x OFC

Summary: Frankie's wife catches a whiff of Frankie's new beard balm and it distracts her all day.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Unnamed OFC (no description, photo for aesthetics only)

Warnings: domestic!Frankie, Canon Events happened but aren't mentioned, OFC has a vadge otherwise is a blank slate, cunnilingus, flirting, smut, descriptions of scents

Word Count: 1328

A/N: This may or may not be based on actual events that happened when my hubs switched beard balms...Anyway, yes I am still alive! It's been a while since I've posted, been going through some stuff career/life wise but I'm regaining muse and motivation.

Comments/Likes/Reblogs are always appreciated and would totally help the motivation factor. I hope you enjoy my first foray into TF territory!

XOXO, Meghan

The morning started out as usual, with her grumbling when Frankie’s alarm went off and him planting an affectionate kiss on her shoulder as he headed into the shower. After a few more minutes cursing the fact that she had to get out of their warm, comfy bed, she meandered into the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. 

It was her day off, so she whipped up some eggs and was working on the bacon, sipping her coffee when her freshly-laundered husband joined her in the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her cheek, warming her from the inside out. 

“Morning, querida,” he said, nuzzling her neck. That was when she noticed something…different about the way he smelled. With a deep inhale, she pulled his scent into her lungs. He smelled like his shampoo and clean clothes, but there was something deeper to it. New. Sensual. Spicy. Woody.

“Are you sniffing me?” he asked, stepping back so she could turn to face him.

“Yeah,” she said, “Come here.” She flicked the burner off and leaned toward him, but he leaned back out of her reach. She leaned again and he stepped away, so she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him toward her. He obliged and muttered something about ‘can’t get enough of me,’ under his breath.

“You smell different.” 

“Bad different?” he asked. 

“No, I like it. What is it?”

She hadn’t noticed any bottles of cologne in the bathroom and Frankie hadn’t changed shampoos or body wash since before they had met. In fact, Frankie was a very low-maintenance man when it came to toiletries — his showers were quick, efficient, utilitarian. She always figured that was a lingering remnant of his Army days.

He ran a hand over the scruff along his jawline, “You mentioned some beard burn along your inner thighs, so I got some stuff to soften it up.” 

Now that he’d pointed it out, she could see a faint sheen along the hairs. A large grin broke on her face. The beard burn hadn’t been bad at all, but she noticed the red marks in the shower and only brought them up to tease him about his enthusiasm for going down on her.

“How thoughtful of you,” she demurred. 

He winked at her and went to pour himself coffee in his beat-up travel mug, “What will I think of next, hmm?”

Moving toward him, she pulled his face toward hers and ran her nose along his jaw, taking in the delicious scent of the beard balm. The woody spiciness mixed with his natural warm Frankie smell made for a heady combination, and she planted her lips onto his in a searing kiss. He put his hands on her waist and like a cat she pressed herself against the broad expanse of his body, whining when he pushed her away.

“Much as I’d love to continue, I’m gonna be late for work,” he said, apology lacing his words. She pouted and he chuckled, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You keep thinkin’ what you’re thinkin’ though. I’ll see you tonight.” 

With another stolen kiss and whiff of his new scent, she let him go. She got back to making breakfast for herself to the sound of his old truck starting. 

The scent of him lingered, even after she’d taken her own shower. She found the beard balm in his basket of toiletries while she was applying her skin care. It was a black glass jar with a twist-off lid. The label, also black, said ‘Black Oud Beard Balm’ in a minimalist font. The brand logo was etched onto the lid, but wasn’t one she recognized. She opened the jar and sniffed it, almost immediately regretting the decision. 

Fuck, it smelled so good. So seductive and earthy and intriguing, leathery and woody and so sensual she could practically feel Frankie’s hands running all over her. The thought sent shivers down her spine and she closed the jar, putting it back where she’d found it before she got too turned on to go about her day. 

The scent, however, seemed to have branded itself into her nostrils, distracting her while she ran errands and took care of some day-off chores. Every inhale, there it was. The intoxicating scent and the promise it carried — a softer beard, more time with his face between her legs doing what he did best. 

By early afternoon, enough was enough. She went upstairs, grabbed her clit stimulator from the nightstand, and laid down on the bed. It wasn’t ideal, but it would at least tide her over until Frankie got home.

An hour later, she was hornier than when she’d started and the toy was in the bathroom sink, having run out of battery. 

She glared at the jar, choosing to blame her dissatisfaction on it rather than on her own forgetfulness when it came to charging their sex toys. 

All that was left to do was finish up the chores and wait. She returned to the living room and focused on folding the rest of the laundry while she caught up on episodes of her hate-watch reality dating show.

Still, the edges of the scent haunted her. 

Frankie couldn’t get home fast enough. 

No sooner had he stepped through the door and put down his things than she was on him, kissing his face and neck and guiding him blindly through the house toward their bedroom. The way his weight landed on top of her on their bed. The way he smelled — that fucking beard balm plus a hard day’s work and his irresistible Frankieness — had utterly ruined her panties.

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” he asked as he rose onto his knees to yank his shirt off, noting the dark spot on her panties. He hooked a finger under them and pulled them down her legs, a smile rising on his lips. “So wet already, I haven’t even touched you yet.” 

“I know,” she replied, “Been thinking about you all day. Need you.” 

“I’m right here, darlin’,” he said, lowering his face and teasing her folds with light licks and kisses that made her keen. He always started out by teasing her like this, his hands holding her legs open and stroking along her thighs. 

“Please, Frankie,” she moaned, “Been smelling you all day, I need you. Please!” 

His head popped up and he looked at her, an eyebrow raising as he asked, “Smelling me?” 

She nodded, “That new beard stuff. The smell lingered around me all day. Left me kinda horny.” 

“I can see that,” he smirked, his dimple appearing as he dipped a finger into her folds.

She moaned at the contact, “Would you eat me out already?” 

“Your wish is my command, amor,” he purred, knowing how much the Spanish terms of endearment turned her on, before dragging his tongue through her sex. 

She loved this. Frankie always ate her out like it was his goddamn job, so much so that she thought he enjoyed it more than she did. Each stroke of his tongue made her legs tremble, even more so when he latched himself to her clit and teased her opening with his fingers, slowly sliding two fingers into her and finding the spot within her that made her see stars. 

He expertly played with her, leading her toward the edge and back a few times before all but shoving her over it. She came with an ear-splitting, shuddering cry that left her hoarse. During the aftershocks, he kept flicking her clit with his tongue — drawing out her pleasure for as long as possible, sending fireworks through her veins until she whimpered and pushed his face away from her.

Frankie kissed the skin of her inner thigh, looking up at her with eyes full of love and a smug smirk on his cum-soaked lips. 

“So,” he said, “keep the new beard stuff?”

Exhaustedly, she replied, “Oh yeah.”

[heavensentofficial]

Hello Lettie,

I've seen you a couple of times at the Hospital. I have heard that you have taken on the role as Temple Leader in Jordan's absence. I hope you aren't overworking yourself on your duties. If you ever feel unwell, please feel free to stop by the Hospital.

On a slightly less professional note, I have visited the Temple Gardens and they are quite lovely. I wonder if I can try to grow some of the plants from there, and if you have any tips on how to take care of them.

Sincerely, @hanshospitality

Hans, right? Hello! c:

Yes, I am quite a frequent patient of Doctor Harper's... We still haven't gotten to the bottom of what is actually wrong with me, but I'm there enough for your name to ring a bell! Um... If I'm to be completely honest, I have been overwhelmed, even with the efforts to limit physical exertion. Jordan's duties paired with my own is quite a lot. However, I generally already know how to deal with my flareups I think and I keep medical supplies in my room - so unless something is severe or out of the ordinary, I probably won't need to burden the good doctor. I hear you are quite understaffed there, after all...

Although I can't help but wonder... Is this you asking, or did he request you do so? ... I suppose it doesn't matter! In any case, I'm thankful for the concern. I'll try to be sure I take care of myself. It would be problematic if I got especially ill at the same time as Jordan, after all.

As for the gardens, hearing you say that made me smile c: I haven't been able to be as hands on as I'd like with the efforts to get them in order (Though I rarely am, really.) I've been trying a combination of rewarding people for helping and telling them about the plants, their symbolism in scripture and what we use them for, in an effort to get everyone to feel more, ah... Attached to the garden I guess? If they better understand the work and care more about it, maybe they'll be more inclined to uh... Do it! I sure hope so. I'd be happy to talk more about some of the plants we have here under the cut! We did have to order these online, though. I don't think most of them are available here very easily. I'll throw in some extra information about how I use them too, just for fun. Even if you happen know a lot of it, maybe other people will find it helpful or entertaining?

Firstly, Lavender ^^

Our main concern currently has been trying to get the lavender we already have under control - it gets so wild and woody when it's left to its own devices, but it's really best to trim lavender in late summer. We just uprooted some of the problematic ones (I could probably give you some to propagate if you would like?) and made sure to cover it in a protective fleece from the frost. I think they sell plastic ones? But I can make fleece winter-covers easily.

Lavender really likes sunny spots and fast draining spoil. When you first plant it, it'll be thirsty and want to be watered plenty - but once it's established you really don't want to unless it's been drought-y (Unless it's in a container I suppose?)

They make a great companion for cabbages and tomatoes. They like similar conditions and repel bugs that would want to eat your food without anything having to be harmed c: At the same time, bees and butterflies love it! You can even put the seeds into a bird feeder. ^^

Oftentimes, we use lavender in purification and healing ceremonies. (It's useful enough to keep on my person most of the time when I'm working! Sprigs of it, lavender-oil, anything really.)

Also it's delicious in tea and soothing for your muscles when you put it in a bath - and inhaling the resulting steam often alleviates my headaches. Applying lavender oil or salve to bandages helps wounds close faster, too! ^^ Accidents happen ahaha...

Uhh... Then there's roses, we have quite a few of those. When I first saw mentions of someone called Briar, I must admit, I thought Jordan was upset about tearing their robes on all the briar bushes. They were so wild before...

This time of year is a fantastic time to plant bare-root roses! As for roses you already have though, they'll be just starting to come out of dormancy right around now, so it's a good time to prune them, so they're nice and prepared for the coming year ^^ When you cut roses, try to make sure you're cutting just a little above a bud at an angle, to encourage new growth.

Roses like similar spots to lavender, but they'll want to be watered more often. Moist, but not wet. Try not to water the leaves, naturally... Roses will also appreciate being fertilised regularly.

Roses don't like much competition and it's important to make sure they have plenty of space to get some air, but with that in mind, alliums, geraniums and marigolds will protect your roses from pests. At the temple, we've been using garlic and onions. (Any opportunity to grow more of our own food is welcome. Some level of self sufficiency is sort of part of the whole... Monastic Lifestyle thing...)

If you want roses that will attract pollinators, go for a single or semi-double bloom so that bees can have easy access. This year, we planted Lady of the Lake roses, which are a pale pink/off white sort of colour with a citrusy scent to them (I'm excited to try eating them ^^) Maybe if we grow enough of these, the lady I sometimes see at the lake will give me a sword? (Kidding~)

In scripture, red roses are symbolic of blood and sacrifice and white of purity. (I'm curious about those two-tone red and white roses... I always have liked them a lot. Maybe I can try growing them, one day, even if only in a pot in my room...) Roses in general also have connotations with the afterlife. I also know Jordan has a rose-based concoction they sometimes use for purification ^^

As for myself, I sometimes use rose water for my skin - and similar to lavender, to make wounds heal faster - and also as a wound wash. (Very helpful to have on hand, especially if an initiate gets hurt while doing their duties! Never good.) I also try to stay stocked up on rosehips. The tea's useful to have while recovering from illnesses and for certain kinds of pain. c:

I think Cyclamen are a pretty common sight in churchyards, but I think that's for good reason

For starters, it's always nice to have flowers that are actually in bloom in the winter! I think these might be the main one you've seen as of late, aside from the rosehips? I also planted some around the general area of the cemetery recently, though that was before I was left in charge. I can't say for sure how much the dead care about having flowers near their bodies, but I don't know that they don't... Maybe I could plant some near the lake, too... Around this time of year, when they're in full bloom, watering them correctly is important, since the roots are so susceptible to rot. You sort of want to wait until the leaves look like they're beginning to droop and the earth feels dry. If it's very rainy, I like to give them some shelter.

Cyclamen like partial shade. We have them mostly near the outskirts of the garden, where the canopy from the forest will sort of protect them from the elements. They're happiest in well-draining, rich, acidic soil, so giving the soil a little snack is sure to be appreciated. c:

They pair well with most woodland plants, really! Snowdrops, primroses and ferns come to mind. Ours are hanging out with primroses. (Lonely plants are kind of sad...)

Like I mentioned with the cemetery thing, cyclamen are super commonly used as memorial flowers! We use them a lot as altar decorations for funerals and certain holy days. They're also used in certain types of incense! (Not all of it. Just some!) They look like they have little bowing heads, so I think they bring kind of a sense of piety to mind for some people? I think they are adorable.

I think there's a way to prepare them that helps with sinus issues, but I don't really bother to. In the past, people ate them to ease menstrual pains and some other stuff, but even if they work, they do also cause a spot of convulsing, vomiting and dying, so... Whether it's worth it, you be the judge! You're the medical practitioner. I just like reading and experimenting. ^^;

It was roughly around this point when I remembered that I'm meant to be responding to somebody's message (and that most of this was completely unasked for ahaha... Oh well...) I think I got a little overexcited at the chance to talk about a thing I'm interested in, my apologies.

Thank you again for reaching out to me ^^ Even if I don't feel great for a bit, I'm likely to be fine ultimately.