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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year

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Edge of Seventeen - Chapter Four.

Even though I’m a Brit and don’t celebrate it, since it’s Thanksgiving, and I’m thankful for my beautiful audience, I thought I’d surprise update WITH THE SEX CHAPTER! Thanks to all of you who are leaving comments, reviews and reblogging. To those who are just clicking like, can I tempt you into speaking? I don’t bite... ;)

Previous chapters - One Two Three

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,340

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Woah,” Angel exclaimed, walking into Bella’s house behind her at 1am, after she’d played the gig and they’d stayed to hang out and party for a while. “That’s a whole lot of plants.”

Bella nodded vigorously. “Standard for a botanist hippie!”

Practically every shelf and surface of the La Jolla beach house was covered in greenery, or things that flowered, creeper vines twisting around lamps, the smell from the many potted specimens perfuming the air, Angel liking how eclectic and cosy it was. “You and your mom have got a real nice place.”

“isn’t it cute?” Bella agreed, opening the fridge and pulling out a couple of beers. “I took the liberty of getting you these earlier. Apparently, my fake ID works just fine at most grocery stores, too!” There were some places that refused it, such as the bar he’d first met her in, but mostly, she got away with it. It was a very convincing one, after all. Looking at least twenty-one did help, though. “You go take a seat; I’m going to jump in the shower. I bet I’ve got disco minge, and that’s the last thing you’ll want to come anywhere near.”

He was so glad he hadn’t yet lifted the bottle of beer to his lips, absolutely cracking up. He understood the colloquialism, of course getting used to her different terms for things now, the phrase disco minge meaning that Bella thought she had a sweaty crotch. He hadn’t been able to breathe for a good ten minutes after he’d first heard her use it. While get got settled on the couch, checking messages on his phone, Bella was up in the shower, panicking.

“Okay, hair was washed this morning, did the big shave then, too,” she spoke to herself, running a sudsy sponge all over herself, her heart racing. “What if he thinks I’m too skinny? I’ve got knobbly knees, and cellulite on the back of my thighs, although the tan helps with that. Ugh, is that a spot I can feel on my arse? Oh no, it is! I’ve got a spot on my arse!”

Stomping her foot in the shower cubicle, she rinsed and dried off, wrapping herself in the big, fluffy, grey towel, turning to look at her rear in the full-length mirror, assessing the damage. “Hmm, it’s not that big. I just have to hope he doesn’t notice it. Still, though. Fuck!” Drying off, she smothered herself in lotion, spritzed on some perfume and applied her face moisturiser and a little twist of her cream blush. It was in the shade Orgasm, by NARS. She knew she’d likely be having lots of them that night, should she be able to get over her body hang ups for long enough to enjoy the inevitable.

Lining her eyes and smearing a little lip balm on, she unfastened her hair from the long side braid she’d worn all evening, ruffling it before putting on a simple black playsuit, forgoing underwear. It was just something else to take off. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with her appearance, body confidence issues aside. She then stopped, staring at herself for a moment. Angel was crazy about her, this she knew, and absolutely dying to have sex with her. Would a spot on her bum, knobbly knees or a little dimpled flesh really put him off? When everything else between them was so effortless, why shouldn’t sex be, too?

“I was beginning to think I’d lost you to the plughole,” he commented, standing in the doorway where the French windows opened onto the decking at the rear of the house, enjoying the sound of the sea. “Here, you want some?” Bella thought she’d recognised the slight smell lingering, lighting the candles dotted around the lounge and throwing a fire log on the fireplace, igniting that also. When you were right by the sea, the nights did get chilly.

“You don’t have to smoke that outside, although I appreciate you for having the manners to do so,” she began, walking over to him and taking the joint. “Mum smokes it, so she wouldn’t mind.” Bella didn’t partake often, on account of the fact she found it affected her voice, but at that moment she did feel like she needed the lowered inhibitions a tad, something to take the lingering edge off her nerves.

A few little puffs and she felt much calmer, passing it back, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting herself against him, her cheek finding the thick muscle of his chest. Just that alone began to act as a bit of an aphrodisiac to her, Bella suddenly remembering something; in taking off her clothes, she got to see him without his on, too. Naked Angel. That was a sight she’d been quietly anticipating with excitement for the last three weeks.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asked, his hand stroking the curve of her waist, glancing up to see the sky looking as if glitter had been tipped out over it. The stars seemed much brighter and more plentiful in La Jolla.

“Honestly?”

He laughed softly through his nose. “Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

“You, topless.” He laughed throatily, handing her the joint before taking his hoodie off, throwing it onto the nearby armchair, his black vest following shortly after.

“There, you don’t get to think about it any longer, because it’s right here.” At the sight of his chest and abs in the flesh for the first time, Bella felt something roll through her stomach, a very pleasant flutter.

“Ohhh, blimey.” She took a drag on the joint, and then another, her eyes wide. And then a third. “Bloody hell!” Her continued exclamations made Angel laugh quietly, “So, that’s what two hours a day at the gym looks like, then?” she then commented, handing him the joint back, moving to resume her previous position. Oh, his skin was fucking gorgeous, as well. And he smelled even better with her nose right against him.

“It is, yeah, that and not eating much bread or sugar, unless very occasionally. No bad carbs, it fucking sucks, but the reaction you just gave me is worth it. I’m sure I’ll have one of my own when you let me take this little thing off of you,” he murmured, kissing her hair, his fingers tugging at the ruched waist of her playsuit. A little bit of worry formed in her tummy again, but she quickly made it subside by looking up at him, stroking his face and pulling him down to her level for a kiss.

While she enjoyed the sumptuous feeling of his tongue rolling against hers, her fingers delighting in taking a tour of his chiselled muscles, she remembered back to a conversation she and the girls at the salon she had her Saturday job at a few weeks ago, where a regular had been discussing her apprehension over taking the next step in her own relationship. Colourist Gloria had been quick to offer some sage advice. ‘If you’re nervous, take the lead. Believe me, mami, there is nothing that’ll boost your confidence more than turning your man to putty in your hands!’

And so, she did.

With their kisses heating up, Bella could feel his cock beginning to stir at the front of his jeans, her nails grazing down over his abs, smoothing her palm over it, Angel grunting softly into her mouth. Her lips left his, kissing his neck, her senses swirling as she began to unfasten his belt and fly, her lips leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the centre of his chest, her hands tugging down his jeans and boxers as she crouched... and then came face to face with...

“Shitting hell!” she exclaimed. “How am I supposed to fit all of that in my mouth?” she then squeaked, Angel humming a chuckle. God, it was big.

He stroked her hair, his chest quivering when she wrapped her hand around his shaft, giving it a few gentle tugs. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

And, oh, how she did.

His mouth dropped open a little as he watched himself vanish between her lips, a rumbled groan echoing from his chest, Bella feeling her jaw muscles at full stretch as she took him back, slithering her tongue along the underside of his shaft before pulling back once more. The warm hug of her mouth had him feeling a coil tighten within, sparking softly, his eyes closing as his head thudded back against the glass panes behind him.

“Shit, baby,” he croaked, fingers stroking swirls over her scalp as they tangled in her mass of blonde waves. “You give such good head.”

That kind of compliment did wonders for her confidence, Bella looking up at him, releasing his cock with a little pop, licking the head with a softly indulgent flicker of her tongue, her eyes finding his, watching him intently as she took him back again, sucking with eager gentleness, one hand trailing her fingernails over his abs, the other tickling his balls until he shivered. Feeling him becoming firmer within her mouth gave her the most delicious little shocks of excitement, becoming dewy at her apex, imagining how it would soon feel to have him inside her, her arousal glowing like the moonbeams from above that bathed them in pale silvery blue light out there on the deck.

That gathered excitement spurred her mouth quicker upon him, her tongue teases becoming more potent, Angel’s hands beginning to tug in her hair as his chest started to rise and fall quicker, his gravelly groans becoming more frequent, her lips tightening, oh, so tight around him. The embers began to crackle, glowing, ever nearing bursting into flame, Bella sensing it, speeding her mouth up until she felt him pulsing between her lips, shooting his load onto her tongue with a guttural grunt as his hips swayed forward, swallowing back every last hot spurt, and looking very proud of herself as she licked her lip and grinned, picking up his bottle of beer from beside him and taking a big swig.

He pulled her to standing, kissing her madly, stripping himself naked, his hands lowering the straps of her playsuit, pushing it down, pulling back to look at her as she stepped from the puddle of fabric gathered at her ankles. “Wow.” He kissed her again, arms tightening around her, walking her back into the house. They made it as far as the big, comfortable couch, entwining with one another, Bella feeling herself truly blooming beneath him.

Suddenly, her slenderness, the spot on her bum, or her knobbly knees and cellulite didn’t matter. He thought she was stunning, and his kisses conveyed that, and so much more. The naked press of his skin to hers was more exhilarating than she could either imagine or describe, his weight upon her exquisite, Angel shifting down, teasing her nipples with soft sucks and hungry nibbles as he stroked her sides, blindingly aroused by her. She shivered beneath each kiss, his tongue trailing over the tattoos below her left breast, the rose upon her hip, her little strip of pubic hair, before she felt those licks part her folds, gasping, her thighs widening on instinct.

Overcome by lust, he ate at her sloppily to begin with, greedy indulgence overtaking him as he sucked and licked at her, before finding a little focus, parting the petals of her cunt with his fingers and introducing his tongue to her clit in long, sweeping strokes, her sighs of bliss beautiful to him. Bella lay there absolutely staggered, never experiencing anything like that before in her life with a man. Well, she guessed that was because he was exactly that, a man, not a boy with zero clue over how to truly arouse a woman. She had the sense too, that Angel wasn’t just doing this for her, because he felt he had to. He was doing it for him, too, because he wanted to.

The difference between the two couldn’t have been further apart, and oh, how it showed, each lick advancing the charge of glimmers sweeping below her skin, her nerves tingling, her clit bathed in the wet heat of each swirling lick ceaselessly, until she was crying out unashamedly.

“You enjoying yourself up there?” he asked, pausing to kiss her inner thigh, his lips then wrapping around her clit and sucking until his cheeks hollowed.

“Fuck yes! Oh my god, Angel! Mmmmm, you’re gonna ruin my pussy with your mouth,” she purred, her hands fisted tight in his hair, panting with the kind of soft little cries that had his cock bobbing almost aggressively with the need to be inside of her.

“Yeah, you like that, baby? Like having this pretty little bud sucked on hard, like it when I fucking eat you alive?”

At that point, she was so pleasure shocked, she could barely form thought, let alone words. “Yes, ohhhh! Please don’t stop!”

He looked up at her, letting go of his hard suck upon her slick, sweet holds. “I ain’t stopping until you cum all over my tongue, querida.” Those words added to the little pricks of pleasure pattering down her spine, his tongue flickering rapidly at her swollen clit, dark eyes glinting at her, the firelight catching the chocolate brown of his irises, making him look impossibly gorgeous to her.

The rolling pleasure began to tumble faster, gathering momentum, like an avalanche rushing through her body, nerve endings bathed in the chilling heat of frost and fire as she clutched his head, her shaking legs tightening, crying out over and over as it hit her strongly. Not even she had made herself cum that hard before, nor her toys, nor anybody else. She felt as if she’d been pulled headlong into whirlpool, the force of it claiming her, spinning her in its rotations, Bella incoherent as she mumbled her demands.

“Fuck me, Angel. I need you inside me, please.” Her voice, her eyes, they were full of need, the spearing of his cock as he kissed his way back up her returning her from her catatonic state, kissing him with blinding need as he stroked her neck, burying himself within her to the hilt again and again. “Oh god,” she mewled, bowled over, her mouth falling open. “Fuck! Your dick is so... fucking big!”

He grinned, scattering kisses over her chest. “Damn, baby. You should see how hot you look split around it, too. Fuck me, you feel amazing.” Leaning to her, they shared kisses of pure syrupy sin, the thick of him trawling the hot, tight clutch of her walls, Bella reaching between them, stroking his cock as it cut through her effortlessly. “You like that, pretty girl? Like feeling how wet I’ve gotten you?”

“Mmmmm,” she moaned, bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking them. “I like tasting how much, too.” Fire. Pure fucking fire ran through him. Damn, she was dirty, and he loved it. Reaching beneath her, he lifted her body, sitting back on his heels, bouncing her on his cock, hands grasping her shoulders before smoothing down her back sensually, sharing kisses gilded in embers and sugar, feeling drunk on her.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Bella moaned, her head tipping back, his lips gliding torridly over her throat. “I love you.”

Fuck. The words had just tumbled out before she’d had chance to process them. Before she could truly spiral into panic, though...

“I love you too, my baby. So much.” He loved her. He loved her! She could have squealed with joy, but instead, chose fluttered gasps as the head of his cock scraped deliciously against her sweet spots, rutting her deep.

The rise and fall of their bodies was akin the cresting of the waves in the nearby sea, Bella absolutely blown away by the intimacy, the divinity of it. This was the kind of sex she thought only existed in stories, too perfectly passionate to extend to reality, her reality too, no less.

How could he be this perfect?

The all-encompassing heat of him and the moment they shared rocked her to her very foundations, her bones sizzling in utter ecstasy as she rocked against him, Angel’s hands stroking paths of sweeping tingles over her soft skin.

Her walls throbbed with the sweetest flush of pleasure, his cock evoking swells of molten bliss, Bella grinding down on him faster, her nerves in symphony, the sounds of her ass pounding off his thighs filling the room.

He groaned deep, a barbarous rumble that made her insides fizz. “Fuck, Bella. You ride dick so goddamned well,” he began in praise, kissing her. “Mmm, gotta slow it down, though. Don’t wanna cum yet.” Tightening his arms around her, he stood up, eyes scanning the room for some bare, un-embellished wall, carrying her over to the patch just where the kitchen opened up, winding his arms beneath her thighs, grasping her ass and keeping her spread as he began to roll his hips against her, every last inch of his cock slipping into the sumptuous, saturated hug of her cunt, but slow. So slow.

Each thrust had ecstasy sizzling through her veins, her cries feral, the physical of what she felt demonstrated by her nails imbedding in his back, tearing down, leaving raspberry swellings across his tattooed flesh, Angel thriving on her reaction to the sublimity of his fuck.

“Damn, I’ve never heard a woman wail like that before, shit,” he muttered, teeth leaving little pink crescents on her neck.

Her eyes widened. “Sorry, am I too loud?”

He laughed softly, tongue swiping up her delicate throat. “Hell no, you get as loud as you want to, baby girl. Fucking turns me on so damned much.” And so she did, as she was continually railed against the wall with devastating finesse, the slow, deep and hard trawl of Angel’s cock sending pleasure skittering throughout her entire body. It rolled over her like a fog, her lips returned to his, those indulgent kisses all fire and honey, his hands gripping as he held her spread, adding a little more speed. God, he was too good.

It was the kind of sex she knew she’d quickly come to crave, his praise over how amazing she felt around him, how much he loved her, the exalting of her beauty making her heart skip beats, shaken by his words, grasping at his shoulders as he gave in to the wild desire to pound her senseless. It felt sharp-edged as it gathered within her, the coil tightening before it snapped, consuming bliss throbbing through her entire body as he spilled into her deeply, grunting with exertion, the culmination a sweep of liquid velvet pouring through them, ebbing away slowly, leaving them shattered, yet dreamy with satisfaction.

Well...

“Please don’t tell me I’ve possibly just knocked you up.”

Her laugh boomed through the house. “So eloquent, Angel.”

“But have I, though?”

His sudden worry over something that he hadn’t really given a shit about prior to blowing his load was hugely entertaining to her, Bella knowing already that such was very much a part of Angel. Act first, panic later. “No, you haven’t. I’m on the pill, but I swear to Christ, if you’ve given me anything that’s going to make my fanny drop out, I’ll chase you with a bloody hammer.”

It was his turn to laugh then, once again humoured by her language so different to his. Fanny meant someone’s ass in America, but Bella’s usage of the word referred to what was still twitching gently around his cock. “Nah, I’m all good. Surprising, really, given my former status as an utter man whore.”

“Former?” she asked as he let her down, her nails stroking over his chest.

He rested his forehead to hers, kissing her tenderly. “Of course, former. There’s only one woman for me now.”

Hearing that was perhaps more thrilling than him giving her the best sex of her life.

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes smut #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x ofc #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc smut #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

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vampnyx · 1 year

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vigorously made this new OC after getting a new story idea- meet Rafiq, local snake boy gardener and Diaval's housemate

adding my character details

Race: Naga

Occupation: Gardener/botanist

Personality: caring, smooth talker, mature therapist vibes, fun loving, mischievous, easygoing, extrovert-leaning ambivert

Family: Both of his parents were naga, he lived with them a long time in the desert before moving to the city and frequently visits them. Only child.

Background: Has a unique background as one of few monsters who have had a relatively normal upbringing. His parents put him through school for biology and botany and he eventually opened his own landscaping/gardening firm. Lycaon pays him to tend his greenhouse, but they have done some work together on the landscaping around his property as well.

Likes: plants & greenery, basking in the sun, pop music, people watching, building pottery, seeing drama he is not involved in unfold, dancing (but like, at the club)

Dislikes: being a part of drama, gloomy days, winter, seeing his friends sad/upset, when his pottery breaks in the kiln, leaving his plant babies (only Lycaon can be trusted to water them), violence

Strengths: very encouraging presence, charismatic, better at talking than fighting and will try to resolve things without a physical fight, very kind and understanding

Weaknesses: a bit shady, seems to have ulterior motives, everything he does is self-serving (even genuine relationships are usually because he wants something out of it)

Beliefs/Morals: has a strong moral compass and generally encourages his friends to make the right choice. However, he does not care much about morals that do not serve him and has been known to ignore the right choice when it impacts him negatively (this is a very rare occurrence and only Lycaon knows this about him)

Appearance: middle-eastern, curly black hair, very clean, always smells good, forked tongue

Human form: not particularly tall but lanky, eyes have slits (might wear sunglasses in a human-dense area)

Naga form: larger than his human form, black and brown scales (like an asp), long tail (like 5x his normal body), long fangs & more snakelike tongue

Style: loose-fitting shirts, snakeskin patterns, kinda eurotrash vibes ngl

Distinguishing marks: mole near his left eye

Habits: falling asleep in a beam of sunlight, talking to his plants, not noticing people are around and acting surprised when they greet him

Favorites [music, movies, foods, etc.]: top 40s music mostly, loves drama & historical shows/movies, eats a lot of greens (is favorite is caesar salad),

Hobbies: sculpting pottery (especially new pots for his plants), tending the greenhouse, plant breeding to get the strangest plants possible

Cardinal Sin: envy, pride

#yeah I'm doing a monster boyfriend thing #it's gonna be self insert/choose your own adventure style #gonna slow drip lore as i make it #yes he is single and dateable btw #my art #oc rafiq #and they were housemates...

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imaginesofeverykind · 2 months

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He Fell Out Of The Sky, Your Honour || S.Sallow || Chapter 1

Series Summary: The turn of the century was on the horizon, new discoveries and even greater mysteries yet to be uncovered. Though the year had been one of adventure for passionate Botanist Luce Cornwall, it takes an unexpected turn for better or worse when her life becomes entangled with a man who seems to be desperate to run from his past and Sebastian Sallow instantly catches her eye as the next big mystery to uncover. (Set in 1899 post game canon)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Original Female Character

Word Count: 3.4k

Next Chapter

Venomous Tentacular And the Spectacular Love Affair Series Masterlist

Warnings: None this chapter, just Sebastian feeling useless,angsty and historically based sexism. (Idk how accurate it is tho)

—- —- —-

Sebastian Sallow was many things.

Quick witted, highly intelligent, skilled in his ways and most importantly — quite the talented escape artist.

Others would be quick to use cowardice to describe a man grown, running from the phantoms of his past and refusing to face his dues. With age came maturity and with this maturity, his aptitude for hiding and not being caught was profoundly better than it was when he was in his adolescence.

Though admittedly, the abrupt halt in his schooling left much to be desired as a budding powerful magic user, now having to rely on memory and what he could find in his travels.

So it was no surprise to all, least of all him when he only just understood apparition and how to use it properly still. Barely having breached the subject in his fifth year of schooling considering it was something taught in further depth in sixth and seventh year, though he had familiarized himself with short bursts of apparition with the help of that ever mystical new fifth year. Not particularly a welcome memory that was, reliving the anguish of disappointment and hatred that consumed his teenage years. Back then he was an impetulant, foolish boy with misguided curiosity.

Truth be told, he never truly believed he would be caught. The pseudo hubris that not only inflated his ego, it also blinded his logic which is why he was in this mess in the first place. No place to call home, no friend to fall on if he needed it. Solitude was destitute and it was the life he maybe not yearned for, but it was destined for him it seemed.

Despite his shortcomings and lack of knowledge for advanced practical use of spells like apparition, he was lucky to only come away several times mildly splinched and heavily disoriented when the ministry got a little too close to finding him once again. If he could avoid it, he would, opting for muggle transport more often than not and hiding in plain sight. Though it managed to suffice for seven years, it wouldn’t last forever.

Some part of him hoped that the ministry would lose interest, and when a year turned into seven, he slowly resolved that perhaps they would never not be in pursuit of a cold blooded killer.

Killer.

A title befit of the wretched man who cursed his sister, not a stupid young boy protecting her. He hadn’t meant it, truly, to kill their Uncle. As wicked and horrid as he may have been at times he was only ever looking out for them, only it was too late to reminisce and beg forgiveness to an empty space that once were occupied by his closest loved ones.

Nevermind the past, it was the present, the here and now, and right now — he needed to be on the move once again and with little to no time on his side at this instant he quickly gathered what small personal items he had and sealed them within his briefcase. Clothes, pictures, trinkets — whatever he needed with him at all times. Flipping through the muggle newspaper he eyed the first picture he could find that indicated a different location.

Holding onto his briefcase, he tucked the newspaper under his arm and thought vigorously about the picture he embedded into his mind. Not the traditional way of apparition, but it was better than nothing, most of his well known spots had become crawling with Aurors, and Merlin knows he would never show his face again in Feldcroft.

The familiar stretching, yanking and pulling through space was a sensation Sebastian never got used too, though it was necessary, the world around him blurring in quick succession until he landed not so gracefully on the hard ground, only slightly spraining his wrist from bracing his fall to the ground in a disoriented haze.

—- —-

Releasing a breath that doubled as relieving the ever building tension in her shoulders, Lucinda paced carefully around her pieces of parchment paper that played home to her scribblings and research. Surrounded by immense greenery and the fresh smell of soil and fertilizer, it was easy to call her makeshift greenhouse a home despite it being haphazardly thrown together.

Dense with plants made the medium sized shack rather difficult to navigate, practically making it a maze that only she knew how to navigate and weave through.

“— forget pleasantries, this discovery is of the essence,” she muttered to herself, a hand cupping her chin while she paced in deep thought while her heart raced. She may have looked crazed if anyone didn’t know better, her flaming red hair stuck out in numerous directions despite an attempt on slicking the hair back into a neat bun. Not to mention the soil that embedded itself in her clothes from the hours spent potting and tending to her plants. The dirt that stuck beneath her fingernails was quite unbecoming for a woman in this age, though she lacked the ability to care.

Perhaps, she considered having some time to change and clean herself up —

Her head snapped up immediately to the sound of unmistakably a pile of her empty ceramic pots shattering, prompting her quickly from her daze and over to the commotion. Lucinda squeezed through a small crevice of stacked boxes that her Ivy had unceremoniously entangled itself with and ducked under the wisteria canopy that she had cultivated from a small pot she had been given in her travels.

By the entrance, her eyes set upon the shattered pots and the person who seemed to be the culprit, hunched over and rigid as if he had accidentally bumped into the wall.

At the sound of her footsteps, he shot up straight, only to whack his head on one of her hanging baskets that she recently repotted with her beloved Monstera.

“I’m — Apologies.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his head that impacted her plant. Only slightly disoriented, he had no intention of ending up here, he was merely just trying to go somewhere else and away. His eyes finally focused on the woman before him, nearly having to do a double take given her appearance but once he made clear it was in-fact, not, a former Professor of his he had to admit that if he had to come across anyone this evening, he was glad he came across quite the beautiful young woman.

Though time was of the essence for Lucinda and she could easily clean the mess up after her research was to be formally addressed, so much so she completely overlooked the disheveled appearance of her new freckled companion.

“Brilliant! The academy sent you, a pleasure to meet you.�� She rushed over to him, taking his hand and shaking it rather firmly and overenthusiastically. He opened his mouth to speak but she had one surprising grip on her as she took his wrist and pulled him further into the Greenhouse, he barely had a moment to set his briefcase down. “When I tell you I nearly threw a fit when I found this. Absolutely astounding discovery this one is! I was on one of my expeditions to harvest some Downy Hemp Nettle in Scotland when I came across this plant I had never seen before.”

Her voice was high with excitement as she finally let go of the man's wrist and presented him with her latest find on the table. “I’ve been studying it for weeks. I think it must be some distant relative to our well-known flytrap species. Entirely carnivorous but this one has a far bigger appetite than flies and insects. It nearly took my hand off when I fed it some dead rats.” She laughed, brushing off the ordeal and the memory of last week as if she didn’t fear for her life for but a moment.

Once again, the man opened his mouth to speak but she dismissed him as if she was aware of what he was going to say, “right! You’re right, we can’t just base this discovery off one, which is precisely why I intend to traverse the rest of Europe and look for similar plants, harvest their seeds and bring them back for more research… But I need the Academy’s approval first.”

There was a brief pause, the man hesitantly opening his mouth in case she were to interrupt him once again, but she politely stood in front of him and kept her hands clasped together while she awaited eagerly for a response.

“I am terribly sorry but you must have me mistaken, I didn’t mean to intrude… I sort of just… arrived here.” He admitted, though he wasn’t exactly lying, he did quite literally appear out of thin air only moments before.

The expression on her face drops slightly, before her eyes narrowed, “so you just wandered in here? Did Oxford put you up to this?” Her tone was accusatory which had taken him completely off guard, she bawled her hands into fists and looked down at her feet, gritting her teeth, “They’re always trying to steal my research — those bumbling fools.”

“No, no. Wouldn’t dream of it. But I will be on my way.” He put his hands up in defense, not wanting to bother the poor woman any longer than he had just by appearing. The last thing he wanted was to be caught up in Muggle business, even if said muggle seemed to have found herself quite the dangerous magical plant.

She pointed a finger at him, “now hold on a moment, how exactly did you even come about this place? I can’t just let you leave, what if you tell every Tom, Dick and Harry that I'm on the brink of groundbreaking research?”

Hands still in the air, as if it would save him from being absolutely brutalized by the woman who was incredibly passionate about her work it seemed. “I won’t tell a soul, you have my word — I was just around, found this place and I promise that is it.”

Physically she relaxed, dropped her hands to her side and relented. Lucinda was beyond paranoid, questioning every prying eye that stumbled into her greenhouse or sported a friendly chat with her at the pub. It was taking over her life, convinced most people were out to get her and steal her hard earned research. Hard enough as it was being a Botanist and trying to get people to take her seriously, it was even more difficult to be taken seriously as a Woman and a botanist.

Seeing how deflated she was made insurmountable guilt bubble within his stomach, offering her a polite smile, “should you find yourself in need of a name for that -,” he pointed over to the plant he was familiar with, “- might I suggest Venomous Tentacular.” It was wrong of him to help her, let alone wrong of him to out the poor plants real name to a Muggle no less. Yet, he felt compelled to do so anyway. The woman had kind eyes and an unmistakable amount of determination which he could both recognise and admire.

She looked at him dumbfounded, eyebrows knitting together as she glanced back over her parchment of scribblings and notes, “how did you know it produced Venom?” Her eyes narrowed in curiosity, first this man had simply appeared who wasn’t at all here on behalf of the academy and not only is not shocked at her find but knows about an aspect of the plant that took her days to figure out.

He blew out a breath that indicated he seemed to have been caught red-handed, there was no way he could simply charm his way out of this one. “I— well I actually didn’t, it just… Looks… like it’s venomous.”

Once again, her piercing gaze remained on him as she tried her best to read between the lines in search of a lie or anything sinister beneath his handsome allure. Though his words seemed to be deceitful, she couldn’t deny that his brown eyes were one of sincerity and seemingly trustworthy. If she had any hope in making a name for herself, she needed to begin trusting people - arguably not random men who found their way into her greenhouse.

As the silence grew she opened her mouth to wave off the stranger, only interrupted by yet another chime of shattering ceramic pots catching her attention. She sighed, bowing her head in frustration, bringing a hand to her face and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You should really move those pots,” he offered, an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Stay here.” She firmly instructed, disappearing amongst the clutter toward the location of the freshly shattered pots.

He thought about leaving the same way he arrived, though something within him compelled him to stay. Most notably how on earth had a muggle come across a Venomous Tentacluar and survived, let alone handle it to a secondary location without angering it. Most perplexing indeed. Never had he seen a domesticated magical plant at the hands of a muggle seem so… well, content.

It wasn’t wise of him to stick around for too long, lest he be found and that wasn’t particularly ideal for his current situation. But for the meantime he remained, sighing to himself and placing his hands in his pockets idly, making note of the myriad of plants surrounding him, reminding him of just how rubbish he was with plants. No amount of book reading on caring for plants, ever could prepare him for actually doing so. It was as if the plants themselves could detect he was rotten before he even had the chance to see that side of him come to fruition.

Two voices ripped him from his thoughts, as he was joined once again by the ever fascinating muggle and another who he didn’t care to recognise.

“—This is my… companion.” She gestured to Sebastian, lying coming as second nature to her and seeming to catch him completely off guard which gave him little time to actually react but he recovered swiftly. Were all muggles this quick?

“Sebastian,” he reached out a hand to shake the older fellow's hand firmly.

Lucinda wasn’t entirely sure why she decided the best course of action was to lie to the Academy representative, she figured it would be harder to explain how and most importantly why there was a stranger in her greenhouse to an academic scholar. She also saw this as an opportunity to seize the moment, seeing him as a ticket to being taken seriously considering he was a man after all.

Her spiel wasn’t too dissimilar to the one she had addressed to Sebastian, though she answered many of the questions succinctly and concisely before announcing she would be embarking on an expedition to see similar kinds of species across continental Europe. This of course needed approval of the academy to fund such an extensive trip but the representative was rather enamored by her find.

Before long, the two of them remained alone in the greenhouse once more, both having burning questions for the other respectively.

“Don’t suppose you have an explanation for that little lie, would you?” He questioned, leaning up against her work station with arms folded, this very position reminded him instantly of how many Professors had done the same when reprimanding him in school, it felt rather like he was scolding her but he was more or less impressed with her improvisation given the degree she cared for her research.

She was scribbling notes on paper, not at all giving the man a single glance, “of course I do, my reputation is already muddied being a Woman and I’d find it rather difficult to explain how a complete stranger stumbled across my greenhouse… Seems all in all a bit like a farce if you ask me.”

There was absolutely no denying that explanation, far be it for Sebastian to question simple logic, though it was troublesome that equality was one of the bigger reasons she was struggling to make strides. “Of course, makes perfect sense to me.” He reasoned, though his tone always simmering with that telltale sign of sarcasm made her look up from her scribblings and stare at him.

“You know, Sebastian, I’m still not entirely certain I can trust you.” Her hazel eyes narrowed at him. Sure he might have had a bespoke aura that gave her the impression he was trustworthy but she also wasn’t sure what to make of his attitude.

The pointed look on her face, the narrowed eyes but despite that they were still kind eyes rang all too familiar to him. She reminded him much of Professor Garlick. And it wasn’t only the appearance, but perhaps he may be a tad too disingenuous thinking that most red heads all looked the same.

“Trusting me in my experience has led to disappointment, so I wouldn’t if I were you.” He intended on making light of his shortcomings, but instead sounded rather bitter about his past, not that he really had the right to have fond memories, it was after all his own fault for the reason he lives like he does now.

She seemed rather stumped at the bluntness, matched with the bitter expression that contorted onto his face but she hardly missed the sadness in his eyes. It may appear she had found a kindred spirit, someone hard done by and that alone was enough to get her trust albeit brash and idiotic of her to come to a decision so quickly. She outstretched her hand, prompting him to shake it properly this time now that her nerves were long gone, “well then, we have a lot more in common.. Lucinda Cornwall, Botanist - but you can call me Luce.”

Hesitantly, he took her hand, not entirely believing the night he had. Though he briefly recalls almost similarly one of the times he befriended an old muggle couple just outside Birmingham. He owed those two more than they would ever know, though he was positive once the ministry got their hands on the two they had their memories altered. Not a fate he would wish upon his newfound lady friend. It was better he distanced himself entirely, if not completely disengaged from her once the night was over.

“Say Luce, you wouldn’t happen to know of any boarding rooms nearby?” He posed the question, already knowing the answer given the time of night it was, but there was no harm in asking, especially if she was local. It was late and had been a dreadfully long day for him especially apparating last minute like he did, his body ached and his eyelids began to sting with the overwhelming need to rest.

Lucinda paused momentarily, having signed off some last minute notes to remind herself of what to do on the morrow when morning broke. He had half a mind to repeat himself thinking she hadn’t heard him when she stopped scribbling and drifted her eyes to the ceiling in thought, “Eltham street, they have some boarding rooms for travelers but they won’t take anyone this late, no matter how desperate you are — Where exactly are you from again?”

“I never mentioned it.” He cleared his throat, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Right…” Her head had been tilted down at her notes but he caught her looking at him through her lashes in-between note taking, “I don’t normally offer strange men a room, but if you need somewhere tonight I have a couch…” She ceased note taking and fully had her eyes on him now, sizing him up. He was stocky and built, broad across the shoulders and had quite a few inches on her. Though his kind eyes held nothing sinister that piqued her danger radar it was always best to be sure, “and I sleep with a cleaver so don’t try anything.”

The slightest chuckle erupted from his lips and subsequently strangled in his throat when he realized she wasn’t joking. No, of course she wasn’t. Why would she joke about such a thing? “That is kind of you, I will be out of your hair by the morning.”

She curtly nodded, pushing off the unstable wall of boxes she had leaned against. Her heartbeat was rapidly beating, partly out of fear that she had just invited a gentleman over that she barely knew, on top of that she was certain that the only reason the academy humoured her this evening was because Sebastian was present. She couldn’t let him get too far away, what if she needed him just to stand there and be… Well, be a man for her.

#imagines #fanfiction #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #slytherin #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x ofc #original work #ao3 fanfic

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groundcontrol21 · 2 years

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Sicktember #13

Prompt #13: Seasonal/Pet Allergies

Fandom: The Three Musketeers (bookverse, I even tried to emulate the writing style, sorry Dumas)

Title: In Which The Character (and Handkerchief) of D’Artagnan is Put to the Test

Summary: Firmly inspired by this post by @sickromancer: “No, you can’t fight a duel with a hay-fever like that.” But when the duelist in question is D’Artagnan, he’ll find a way through all the sneezing.

Notes: In the book (and in the BBC show), dueling is banned, but that’s no fun, so here it’s all fully legal (but still ill-advised). Although, a little illegality never stopped anybody 🤷

On account of it being a beautiful April day, the sun shining brightly and no tasks set before them with which to fill it, the three Inseparables decided to spend the warm morning lazing about in the leafy courtyard behind the Hôtel de Treville. Knowing that D’Artagnan had been invited to take breakfast with the captain and the other newly commissioned Musketeers, they expected his presence later, and were thus surprised to find him already perched at one of the courtyard’s tables, polishing his hand weapons with such vigor as though they had done him personal offense.

When D’Artagnan did not so much as acknowledge their loud salutations as they approached his table, nor grant their arrival at it with any more than a red-eyed glare, Aramis observed, “It seems our Gascon is in a worse mood than usual!”

In reply, D’Artagnan gave a sneeze so loud and forceful he was forced to grasp his cup to keep it from toppling off the table. “Heh’EESHHHH!” He grumbled and produced a handkerchief from his sleeve, wiping at his nose with the hasty conviction of a man who had already been wronged one too many times by the bothersome appendage.

“And a bit ill as well,” Athos observed, for his part.

“I’m not ill,” D’Artagnan growled. His friends raised their eyebrows at him; surely he could hear how his own voice was pitched about an octave below its usual? He growled again at their expressions, then growled a third time when his nose demanded he sniffle. “It’s the damnable flowers with which the architects of Paris have seen fit to line every bed and fashionable avenue.” He gestured to the pots of lilacs that hung in the windowsills of the courtyard. “I’d like to wring every last one of their necks!”

“Come, such violence to a flower?” Aramis said, laughing. “Well, gentlemen, let it not be said that our noble Gascon has no Achilles heel.”

Porthos laughed, too. “If, God-forbidding, there ever comes a time when we fall out of favor and the occasion rises for a duel between us, I shall remember to schedule it in a botanist’s hovel.”

There was, however, no humor in D’Artagnan’s occluded voice. “Would you care for that duel to come today, Porthos?”

“Come, D’Artagnan,” Athos said, “what has sharpened your temper so?”

D’Artagnan ignored the older man’s inquiry, training his teary eyes on Porthos with a rabid intensity. “Perhaps you would like to schedule it for two o’clock at the Jardins des Tuileries so that I may do away with you there the way I will do away with Menard of the Red Guard just the hour before.”

Athos nodded significantly. “Ah! It is the heat of anticipation that makes his blood boil so fiercely.”

D’Artagnan turned once more to his handkerchief. “EHKSHHH! HESHHH! Ehh’ehhh’hehhhKSSHHHH!”

Aramis bit his lip. “And what has Monsieur Menard done to provoke such a challenge?”

“Now, Aramis,” Athos said diplomatically. “I am sure the young man’s ire is justified.”

“I lay no accusation of the contrary,” Aramis said, raising his hands, palms up, in a gesture of surrender. “It is merely that I wish for our D’Artagnan to keep in mind my warnings against senseless escalations.”

Porthos scoffed. “Fie! Your warnings. Too much time with your prayer books, Master Abbé, makes you forget. A man cannot let any insult against his person stand, no matter how slight!”

Athos turned to the Gascon, who was again wiping his nose on his handkerchief. “Tell us, D’Artagnan, what caused you to issue the challenge.”

D’Artagnan told them the story of how Menard had found him taking his breakfast on a bench outside the Hôtel de Treville and how he had asked D’Artagnan why he was not dining inside with the rest of his company. At first, D’Artagnan had rebuffed the man’s inquiry, stating that if the Red Guard minded the law half as much as they minded another man’s private business, France would be all the safer indeed. But then he had sneezed thrice, awfully, and Menard wondered aloud whether the Musketeer hadn’t been kicked out on account of plague, and so D’Artagnan felt forced to impose upon the Guard that he was indeed healthy, and the true cause for his suffering and his solitude were the lilacs that the had lined the serving tables at breakfast. He had then sneezed a good four times more, and Menard insulted the quality of the expulsions. D’Artagnan in turn insulted the presumed quality of some of Menard’s other bodily expulsions, and the two men agreed to settle their insults with a duel. D’Artagnan relayed this story with all the gravity and attention it deserved, and so was immensely incensed when Aramis and Porthos commenced to laugh so hard they clutched their sides. Even Athos was smiling broadly. Aramis at least had the good grace to look a tad contrite when he glimpsed D’Artagnan’s iron scowl.

“Apologies, dear friend,” Aramis said, wiping tears from his eyes. “But surely you can see the humor in this situation?”

“No,” D’Artagnan growled, his words bouncing dully off swollen sinuses. “I certainly cannot.”

Porthos snorted again, but was silenced by the unmistakable crack of a foot striking his shin beneath the table.

Athos regarded the Gascon seriously. “Who chose the location? ”

“Menard.”

Aramis clucked his tongue in reply. “Have you been to the Jardins des Tuileries yet this season?”

D’Artagnan shook his heavy head.

“I have been with a–” Aramis colored almost imperceptibly, but continued, “--a friend.” At this, both Athos and Porthos swallowed down choked noises in their throats. “The gardens are absolutely filled with lilacs. Menard must have known this.”

Athos nodded. “It is the only reason he would have chosen such a location, out of the way for you both. It is on the outskirts of Paris. Would not the square behind the Louvre serve you just as well?”

D’Artagnan slammed his blade and towel on the table with such force as to cause the birds nesting in the tree across the courtyard to take flight. “He wishes to humiliate me further, the dog! The scoundrel! As if insulting me for my damned hayfever, over which I have no control, wasn’t enough.”

Athos nodded sagely, watching as D’Artagnan pawed at his reddened nose with a series of enraged sniffles. “The only question which remains is,” the older man said, “what do you intend to do about it?”

“Well, there is only one thing that can be done, I suppose.” When none of his friends showed indication of following his logic, Aramis continued as though supremely put-upon. “We convey a message to the rascal Menard and pray that he sees sense.”

Immediately, Porthos and D’Artagnan rose with a clamor from the table, and Aramis shook his head. “He cannot fight like this!” He gestured to the sniffling Gascon. “If the flowers have such an effect on him merely by being in the vicinity, imagine what it will be like when they are at his feet!”

“You advise him to back down from a challenge?” Porthos snarled. “Pardieu, Aramis, I fear you really have taken your clerical lessons too much to heart!”

D’Artagnan opened his mouth, no doubt to add another remark in spirited agreement with Porthos, but the only thing which issued forth from his mouth was another fit of sneezing, which of course incidentally supported Aramis’s argument. “HETCHOO! Hehh’TSCHH’uhhh! Heh’hhhRSHHHH! Ihh’ISSHHH!”

Once it was clear the young man had finished, Athos spoke. “The challenge is D’Artagnan’s, and so it is up to the Gascon to decide the course of action.” His light eyes roved the length of D’Artagnan’s body, like an appraiser studying a jewel. “But as his second, I issue this condition: Spar with me now. If you land a touch, you may go.”

D’Artagnan whined like a child. “But Athos is the best swordsman in the regiment!”

“All the more reason a touch should be proof of your fitness, then.”

Athos drew his longsword and, with a discomfited hmph, so too did D’Artagnan. Soon the crash of sword against sword broke the silent air as the two fought, Athos wearing an expression of curious disengagement all the while D’Artagnan scurried around like a rat to parry his blows.

“Don’t tire him out before he’s even fought!” Porthos called.

Aramis hit him on the shoulder. “Oh, hush Porthos!”

But the two of them had noticed the sweat that was already beading on D’Artagnan’s forehead, especially in contrast to the way Athos hardly seemed to move. The Gascon was far from fighting fit, that much was certain, his position firmly on the defensive even though Athos was clearly not giving his all. He leaned to the side to let off two sneezes.

“KSHH! Heh’KSHH!”

“Sneezing on me does not count as a touch,” Athos said. He raised the tip of his sword to D’Artagnan’s throat as the man blinked heavily. “Let’s go!”

Perhaps the ribbing had induced some new vigor in the young man, for not long afterward did he make a small, neat cut on the fabric of Athos’s shirt near his shoulder. D’Artagnan smiled, his breaths heaving, and stowed his sword back in its sheath.

Athos did the same and shrugged. “A promise is a promise.”

“This is folly,” Aramis said sharply.

Athos tapped his chin. “That balm from your mother—would it help in this situation?”

D’Artagnan sniffled bitterly, taking his friend’s concern as a mockery. “Seeing as though I have no wound which is external, I should think not.”

“Given his nose’s sensitivity at present, the herbal scent would likely do more harm than good anyway,” Aramis added, and then sighed deeply. “If you must fight, promise me you will duel only to first blood.”

Porthos and D'Artagnan rose again in a bleating chorus. “Aramis—“

Athos shook his head. “On this I must side with Aramis, I’m afraid.”

D’Artagnan cried out with the sharp fervor only a young man deeply incensed by the injustices of the world can possess. “But I landed my touch!”

“Only after I would have taken your sneezing head off ten times over.”

Aramis smiled to himself, and D’Artagnan sulked into his handkerchief. He remained nearly as taciturn as Athos for the rest of the morning, despite his friend’s attempts to rouse his spirits and engage him in their conversations to pass the time. In his view, there was not much to be said, not when every bit of the world from his friends to the flora seemed to side against him.

At last the time came for them to depart to the Tuileries for the duel, which revived D’Artagnan somewhat, as much as a man who can hardly breathe through his nose can be lively. The first thing he noted upon arrival at the gardens was that Aramis had told the truth; all other types of verdure had seemingly been neglected in favor of the accursed purple blossoms. The tickle which had assaulted his nose all day quadrupled, despite being near the bounds of intolerable before.

The second thing he noted was that Menard awaited him, with only one man as his second. “I must say, Monsieur D’Artagnan,” the Red Guard said, “given the state of you earlier, I am quite surprised to see you here.”

D’Artagnan rubbed his nose in an attempt to quit the infernal tickle before he spoke, but the gesture was futile. “What is it, Monsieur Menard? Eh’KSHHH! Heh’KSHHH! Do you mean to imply that I am–Hhh’RSHHH!--not a man of my word?”

“Nothing of the sort!” Menard held up his hands. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I am shocked to see a man remain so bound to his word despite the obvious…” He trailed off, brow furrowed in slight disgust at the noises D’Artagnan was making. “The obvious cost to him to do so.”

The Gascon regarded his opponent through vision made blurry with tears. “I am not a man to be felled easily, of that you can be certain! Not by you and most definitely–Ahh’KSHH’uhh!-- not—KSHHH’ooo!-- by a damn hay fever! HESHOOO!”

Menard gave a clipped nod. “That much is plain to see.” For a moment all was silent (save, of course, for the various noises of D’Artagnan which could not be helped), until at last the Red Guard spoke again. “I am willing to withdraw my earlier statements and dueling challenge in the face of such determination, if you are willing to do the same?”

‘Heh’RSHHH’uhh!” His nose was beginning to feel as though it was swelling shut, and D’Artagnan could scarcely see through all the irritated tears which clouded his vision. A year ago, perhaps, he would have barreled on with the challenge like a headstrong ox–in all honesty, he was still quite tempted to–but he congratulated himself on the wise temperament he was developing with age as he nodded.

“I am.”

Menard offered his hand. “In that case, Monsieur D’Artagnan?”

“Monsieur Renard,” D’Artagnan said, and shook his hand.

“It is settled?”

“Heh’KSHHH!” He leaned to the side and withdrew his hand to grasp for his sodden handkerchief. “So it is.”

With that, the two parted ways. The Gascon returned to his friends, his whole face feeling as though it were being pressed in a vice, and they hurried to lead him out of the gardens and hopefully, back to his apartments by way of streets that were relatively flower-free.

“I still say we let the scoundrel off too easily,” Porthos grumbled. “He obviously knew what he was doing, setting the Tuileries as the meeting place.”

“I still maintain that D'Artagnan should not have gone at all,” Aramis countered. “Look what a scant ten minutes there has done to him!”

“The two of you can bicker all you like once we have deposited the Gascon back at his lodgings and me back at mine,” Athos said. “We face more pressing issues at the moment, like whose handkerchiefs D’Artagnan will use now, that his has clearly been used up.”

D’Artagnan was helpless to reply, save for a thundering, “HAHSHHHOOO!”

#i had so much fucking fun writing this #like obviously i enjoy writing but this was just like a barrel of laughs #still probably the only allergy fic i'll ever write though #sicktember 2022 #snzfic #allergyfic #my writing #more muskie snz!!!#sicktember day 13

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roegadynroost · 8 months

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FFXIVwrite 2023 - 10 Fondness

It had been a day like many others for Thyn'a Sindyrl. A return to Gridania after a long stretch of time on the road with the scions. She caught an airship from one side of the great continent to her shaded home in the Shroud. The air was cooler than it had been on her last visit, a sign of the seasons change. It was not as cold as she would have liked, but then again, few places had been as cool as the chilly little valley she called home in her youth. Still, she dressed a little warmer for her visit, a handsome loose white smock belted over her favorite pale blue leathers.

Thyn'a had finished up the most pressing of her business already, She'd made sure all was in order with her retainers finances. She gave them a generous tip for their services, and when she made to say her goodbyes Faustigent refused to let her go before she'd let him buy her a drink at the Carline Canopy. She was very happy to catch up with the amorous Elezen. He listened to her stories with great interest, and told a few of his own from his retainer escapades.

Before Thyn'a knew it, it was noon and Faustigent was shooing her off to go enjoy her leave. She was always happy to see him she couldn't deny, but she couldn't lie to herself that his presence at times could be cloying. Her social energy was running a tad low. It would be nice to get a chance to disengage for a short while, which is why she loved Gridania to begin with.

Thyn'a greeted Gontrant with the warmest smile she could muster. He had a fierce face that might leave some to think he was a grouchy old man, but she found the enthusiasm he had for inspiring and encouraging Adventures to take up work to be energizing. A quick peek at the leves for the day gave her a fine choice of tasks and she accepted a couple of them with vigor, waving goodbye as she made to away.

Thyn'a was taking a break from champion work but she did not wish to be idle for her entire trip. She wouldn't go far, just out to Central Shroud to do some gathering while she decompressed from the days hustle and bustle. Going out and getting her hands dirty in the loamy soils always calmed her.

The first of the days quests was filling an order of Latex that Frondale's Phrontistery placed with the Greatloam Growery and emphasized that the product must be of the utmost purity. Not that she would ever deliver anything of subpar quality, but Thyn'a made a mental note anyways. While tapping for latex was one of the first things she learned from the Botanist's guild, it was always a time intensive task, but she filled the pots calmly and carefully.

The sun had dipped quite a bit lower by the time she set out to deliver the lot to Miruaule to be transported. The charming Elezen woman attempted to get Thyn'a to accept more work, but she declined, set on finishing her last task before retiring for the night. She thanked her and accepted her payment. The gil wasn't a lot, but she would never turn her nose up at it. It was honest work.

Thyn'a's next task took her to the banks of the West Vein where she would be taking on a job for the Seedseers themselves, and it was of the utmost importance. After the destruction the Calamity waged on the Twelveswood, there had been an effort at reforestation. Her job today was to help said effort by collecting samples from the new growth. The specimens would then be studied by the Growery.

Thyn'a was to gather from the plants along the west bank, specifically mistletoe and ash saplings. She started in the north and worked her way south along the river, past Bentbranch and to where the West Vein joined the East Vein, widening and flowing off to the Mirror. The sun's glow was waning as she collected and tagged the last of her spoils, but it cast everything in the most beautiful orange light that added to the magical feel of the place.

The delivery point for this lot was the Bentbranch levemete named Tierney, Thyn'a could spy the building from her spot. She decided that the samples would hold up long enough for her to take a moment to just breathe and take in the twilit moment. Before long her gloves, boots, and pack had been shed, and she was descending the rocks down to the gently flowing waters.

Feet submerged in the cool stream, Thyn'a sat and listened to the sounds of the Black Shroud. The leaves rustling above, the water flowing all around her. The aether pulsed from everything, soothing away the tightness in her shoulders. She watched fireflies dance in the distance, and the nearby water sprites swirled elegantly about the river. It was tranquility brought alive.

She stayed like that in the twilight for was seemed like forever, an uninterrupted moment of peace. The sun was still making its steady descent in the distance, but not yet gone. And Thyn'a wondered if she might just turn in those samples quickly and then come back to this spot to enjoy herself.

The ears atop her head swiveled and flicked. In the distance Thyn'a heard what she surmised was a chocobo as it trotted over the bridge into Bentbranch. She could not see it from where she sat, the rocks blocking her view but it didn't matter. She just wanted to enjoy her moment a little bit longer.

---

Honeyrust had taken on a late afternoon job for the Greatloam Growery. It was last minute, but it was simple enough and he had finished his retainer tasks for the day so he'd figured he would try and get in a bit of extra work for a bit of extra gil. Working for his current patron he was allotted more time than he expected, and he wanted to make the most of it.

Wanting to get back within the city walls before dusk, Honeyrust hurried to the Chocobokeep and gathered up Biscuits, his clients loyal steed, and left through Blue Badger Gate. Though it was getting late he still allowed himself the pleasure of taking the scenic route, the call of the forest at eventide was too much for him to resist enjoying, even if these boughs were not the ones that bore him.

The trip was short, ten minutes by Honeyrust's measure, to get to the Bentbranch stables where he left Biscuits with a tasty treat. Someone had planted a patch of Krakka roots in the Growery thinking they were carrots, and when the mix-up was discovered the bitter roots had been given out to any one that wanted them. They were not very palatable to most, but chocobo loved them, so he grabbed one for his feathered friend.

Honeyrust knew just where to go, he'd gathered here before. The order called for lavender and carnations. There was something in the note about it being needed for a ceremony at the Sanctum of the Twelve in the morning, but he was to just gather it and take it to a levemete to be delivered by someone else. So he followed the dirt path to the river where his memory recalled seeing the plants before.

There at the foot of a great tree was a patch of lush vegetation, glimmering in the sunset glow. Honeyrust already had his sickle out as he waded through the grass, movements careful and practiced as to not crush the greenery, his eyes sharply observing. He had just spotted a bit of lavender when something further yet caught his gaze.

There along the bank of the river was a backpack, next to it a pair of neatly placed gloves. They looked much like the ones he used for his botany work, and he wondered if one of his colleagues might have forgotten their things out in the woods. Keen ears twitched atop Honeyrust's head as he forsook his task to get a closer look at the abandoned gear, but the only sound was that of the forest, the rushing of the water and him moving through the brush.

Honeyrust crept closer to the edge, more and more of the river coming into view with every step. A few harmless water sprites floated along the other shore of the river, but still there was not yet anyone in sight until he was right upon the bag. There down below, a pair of familiar ears perked at the sound of his boots shuffling through the leaf-litter, and his eyes widened as they met a mirroring pair.

"Thyn'a?" Came Honeyrust's inquisitive timbre, a smile taking his lips and excitement brightening his eyes.

"Oh" Thyn'a remarked and sat a little straighter as she recognized him, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. She was perched on a rock near the bottom, her bare feet in the water. "Honeyrust! I thought you a diremite strayed too far north for a moment. Hello my friend!" A well-worn pair of boots was next to her, socks carefully stored with them away from the rushing water. She stood and made to grab them in one hand before scaling the rocks to get back up.

For a quick moment a pang of guilt shot through him. He'd seemingly come across her taking a moment to relax. The guilt evaporated however when he saw the look of equal excitement on her face. He shook the feeling, tucking his sickle away and then reaching out a hand to help her as she made her way up. She looked surprised at the offer of his assistance for just a fraction of a second, but she did not try to press on by herself, her larger hand tentatively reaching up to grasp his as she stepped up the rest of the way.

"Bet it's not every day someone gets to look down on you?" The quip was leaving Honeyrust's mouth before he could think about it, thankfully it earned him a lovely chuckle from her, a rich and mirthful sound delighting his ears as he watched her shoulders shake.

"No, it's not." Thyn'a said simply, her eyes crinkling as her grin widened yet still. "Those that do dare look down on me oft find themselves cut down a size or so, best be careful to not get too use to it." the words themselves might have been threatening, but her tone had no bite, no warning, no coldness to it.

Even still, Honeyrust's following chuckle may have held the tiniest tinge of fear.

Thyn'a let go of his hand and Honeyrust watched curiously as she shuffled over to her bag carefully depositing her boots next to it, as neatly as ever. She settled on the ground next to it legs dangling over the side. Looking up to him she never lost her smile and she motioned to the spot open beside her. She looked to not be in any hurry to quit this reunion.

Honeyrust didn't feel like he was in any hurry either, and he coolly took a seat, one leg dangling like hers, the other bent for him to prop an arm on. She returned her attention to the water once more, seemingly pleased as they settled into silence. It didn't seem that today Thyn'a was keen on stirring up conversation, though she was as warm a presence as ever. Honeyrust was equally happy with enjoying the ambiance with her quietly until a thought crossed his mind.

"Sorry about the other day." Honeyrust began, recalling the day a week or so ago that he'd seen her at the harvest for All Saints' Wake at the Greatloam Growery. "I wanted to catch up, but if I didn't get back to it I'm sure Sandre would have keeled over without me."

"Mmm" Thyn'a gave him a side glance, the sound that escaped her was soft and thoughtful, and her eyes seemed the slightest bit befuddled. Honeyrust's eyes held hers, trying to decipher the confusion, but as quickly as it was there, it was gone, replaced the with soft warmth that she often wore in her expressions when they spoke.

"Don't worry about it. The old man always needs all the help he can get." Thyn'a replied finally a playful lit to her voice. "We'll have all the time to catch up now, and there's no place I'd rather be my friend."

Honeyrust for a moment wondered if Thyn'a was just being polite, but as he watched her he thought better of it. She'd never given him cause to believe she was anything less than honest. Even after he'd quit the guild and avoided her, she'd only continue to seek him out and shared her adventures with him as if naught had changed.

"What brings you out into this part of the woods then?" Honeyrust asked, nodding to her pack and gloves. "Doing menial botany work? That's not something I'd expected of a warrior such as yourself." He knew she was a master botanist and didn't expect she'd be out doing, well, whatever would bring her to this part of the forest.

"My work is of the utmost importance today." Thyn'a beamed. "I was gathering samples for the Seedseers of the new growth planted after the Calamity, for some folks at the Growery to study." There was not a hint of sarcasm in her tone that Honeyrust could glimpse.

Their conversation continued on. Thyn'a recounted her day and her upcoming work with the Adventurer's guild for All Saint's Wake. Of course Honey asked of her adventuring as well, and he listened with excitement. She also asked after his well being, and he was able to tell her about his work as a retainer. She was seemingly ecstatic at the news and even listened with interest as he told her of all the things he was learning as a Botanist.

A fondness lit her two-toned eyes as she looked at him. It was easy for Honeyrust to loose track of time as they continued to trade stories well after the sun had disappeared. When he realized the time he began to worry that he wouldn't be able fulfill his order in the dark.

"Worry not my friend. What is it that you need? I'm sure between the two of us we can get it done in no time." Thyn'a managed to calm him long enough for him to give her the information she needed to get gathering.

"Carnations and lavender." Honeyrust spoke, unsure of her suggestion. He stood still, watching as she went about putting her socks shoes and gloves back on, followed by her backpack. Only then did she pull out her sickle and get straight to work.

In the darkness Honeyrust began to feel a pang of fear at the thought of something waiting a lurking in the shadows, a great fiend waiting for the perfect moment to devour them when their backs were turned. However, as Thyn'a's voice rang out again, warm and clear, he found her own ease contagious. She continuing their conversation, picking up on where they left off as they'd never stopped.

---

"I'm sorry, it's so easy for me to loose track of time out here, and I seldom feel as at ease anywhere as I do here." Thyn'a apologized to Honeyrust as she tied off her fifth and final bouquet of carnations, gathering them into one arm as they made to return to Bentbranch. He had looked so genuinely worried for a moment she could feel the concern rolling off of him.

"I should be the one apologizing. I didn't pay attention to the time and now you're having to waste yours helping me." The guilt in Honeyrust's voice was heartbreaking.

"Banish the thought Honey, spending time with my friends is never a waste." Thyn'a reassured him. "We seldom know what life has in store for today, or tomorrow, and I like to not take for granted my chances to enjoy someones presence. No matter how busy or tired I get." Though she found it easy to share stories of adventure, at times she found it hard to be eloquent when speaking on her feelings. She hoped her words would be enough to placate him though.

"...Thank you, Thyn'a" Honeyrust's tense shoulders sagged as he seemed to accept her words. Thyn'a was relieved.

They gathered Biscuits up, the chocobo Honeyrust had come on. He told her the steed was his patron's. Thyn'a couldn't resist giving him a treat and a pat as they secured the flowers to his pack. Then she was untying her own feathered friend Aiseidin. She only stopped once more to deliver the samples to the levemete, and then she escorted Honeyrust back to Gridania proper.

Thyn'a stayed with Honeyrust to deliver the flowers and then escorted him to West Shore Pier where she finally wished him a good evening.

"Thank you very much Thyn'a." Honeyrust smiled at her, his earlier trepidation seemingly melted away.

"Of course!" Thyn'a said as she lingered at the top of the stairs leading down to the water. She would be staying in the city tonight, at her room in the Carline Canopy. It was less travel time and she was hoping to meet with one of the investigators for the Adventurer's Guild bright and early to begin planning their operations for All Saint's Wake.

"I hope that you won't be a stranger Honey! I'll be in the city till about a week following the festival." Thyn'a added, smiling hopefully as she looked down at him. "If you'd like, and if your work allows for it, don't hesitate to call on me for anything at all. Whether that be a need of assistance or perhaps tea and good conversation?"

Honeyrust had stopped on the other side of the gate. He seemed tired from the busy day, but still he did not hurry down to the boats. He smiled and nodded to her.

"I think I'd be fond of that."

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the-void-writes · 1 year

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“ i’ve always been able to tell when you’re lying. ”

I’m sorry this one’s pretty short and cuts off before the good part, but it’s all my brain could muster 😅 I hope you enjoy this little look at how the Kings of Paradise play off each other

Not sure how to tag this since there’s no real explicit content, but they’re still suggestive. I’ll put the 18+ warning here anyway

OSOP - Kings

“Alex, are you okay?”

He stood up from the flower bed and wiped his eyes, leaving traces of dirt on his freckled cheeks. His king was bathed in the golden lights of the lanterns along the garden's walkways. That beautiful light made his amber eyes glow like burning coals.

“Just fine, your majesty,” Alex said.

Gazali smiled sadly. “Dearest, I can always tell when you’re lying.”

“Then why ask?”

“I’m hoping you’ll trust me enough to share what’s troubling you.”

Alex smiled and shook his head. “You already know I trust you, Gaz.”

“Then please, talk to me.”

He nudged a pile of dirt with his shoe. “It’s just stupid stuff, feelings that should have gone away three centuries ago.”

Gazali brushed his cheek. “What kind of feelings?”

“Oh, the usual.” He shrugged. “Guilt about my family, and Javi, and being a feckin’ botanist surrounded by gods and kings and—”

A hand fell on Alex’s shoulder, massaging him gently, and he took a deep breath. It was hard to feel upset while receiving such a warm and caring touch from his king. Gazali spoke softly to him, his lips grazing the top of Alex’s ear.

“I’m sorry these feelings still plague you, but please know that they don’t define who you are. You are a remarkable man, Alex, and we’re all so happy to know you.”

Alex closed his eyes and leaned against Gazali’s chest. The king’s beard tickled his neck as he kissed his freckled skin, leaving no spot untouched or unloved. It had seemed a miracle, once, to have a prince like Javi fall for a simple gardener. Now, Alex had a king spoiling him with such kindness and sincerity. He still wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve either of them.

“If you’re up for it,” Gazali said, “I’d like you to join me upstairs.”

Alex gave him a brief snicker. “You don’t have to do anything special, Gaz.”

“But I want to.”

“Save it for your husband, or for Javi. Don’t waste it on me.”

“Alex, you’re just as much a king as any of us.” His eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he got an idea. “Here, let us show you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex curled his hands, which were tied above his head to the bed frame, as his dear partners surrounded him. Javi sat in his lap while their two kings took the sides, lovingly tracing his skin from shoulder to hip. And Javi— sweet, wonderful Javi— kissed his rough lips with extreme vigor. Each kiss made Alex feel like a young man in Spain all over again, sitting with his prince in the moonlight.

“Minha vida,” Javi said, “Gazi told me you still feel bad about our families.”

Alex nodded. “I know.”

“You remember what we said about blaming yourself for that, don’t you?”

“Yes, love.”

Javi stroked his hair. “What did we say?”

“Oh, don’t make me say it.”

“Come on, Alex.”

Frank caressed Alex’s cheek. “Go ahead, while he’s going easy on you.”

Gazali laughed. “Javi usually goes easy, my dear. You’re just easy to fluster.”

Before Frank could argue, Javi held them both by the chin.

“Please be patient, boys.”

They froze in place, and Alex couldn’t help but grin. He was so lucky to be married to such a hypnotic, charismatic man. Javi traced Alex’s lips with a gentle finger.

“Tell me what we said, Alex.”

He closed his eyes. “We saved each other from a lifetime of misery.”

Javi smiled and kissed his jaw. “There’s a good boy.”

Alex shuddered and tugged at his bonds a little as his three partners kissed him. He wanted to touch them, to hold them close and feel their warmth. Javi pressed his chest against Alex, smugly aware of how badly he was riling up his husband.

“Can you try to sit still for us?” Javi whispered, “So we can spoil you the way you spoil us?”

Alex practically growled against his neck. “Are you sure you can go that long without begging me to spoil you?”

Javi’s laugh sounded like the finest bells chiming in the wind. He held Alex’s chin firmly.

“Let’s find out.”

#writeblr #ask games #wip: our side of paradise #spicy writing stuff

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unbelievable-ecological-articles · 1 year

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BLUEBELLS

This time of year is really beautiful because all the flowers and plants are blooming, the sun is shining, the weathers getting warmer, and the birds and bugs are chirping and buzzing. One flower that is extra beautiful for several reasons is the common bluebell (Hyacinthoides non-scripta)! Years and years ago, British botanists called them such names as crowtoes, or cuckoo’s boots, or witches’ thimbles (which I’ll explain later). To me, none of these really make much sense looking at the flower, and bluebell suits them perfectly. Below is a photo of River going full-pelt crazy in a field of bluebells near Cambridgeshire (before she was put back on the leash so as not to crush any):

One obvious reason these flowers are so special is their unique colour. Their bright blue/purple stands out against the green woodland they grow in, and when they bloom they can transform the forest floor into a field of blue/purple dots. In fact, blue and purple are the rarest colours for flowers; this is because they need forms of anthocyanin (the blue, red or purple pigments found in flowers, fruit and other plants) that are more unstable than others. Plants find it much easier to utilise carotenoids (bright yellow, red, and orange pigments) and stable anthocynanins, to create the more common orange, red, yellow and pink shades. Below are some bluebells I found recently in the UEA campus woodland near the lake:

Another reason they're special is their rarity, which is due to both their fragility and scarcity. Almost half the whole world's bluebells are found growing in the UK. They are easy to crush underfoot and when that happens they will die back from lack of food, as they rely on their leaves for photosynthesis. When they do grow, it still takes 5 to 7 years to establish from seed to flower. For all these reasons, its actually against the law to pick, uproot or destroy bluebells, and whilst the common bluebell isn’t particularly rare in the UK, it is still at risk of disappearing altogether from habitat destruction, hybridisation with non-native bluebells (aka the Spanish bluebells, a much paler and scentless but more vigorous species), and the illegal trade of bulbs collected from the wild.

The third reason I believe these plants are so special is their inclusion in much British folklore. One such myth was the use of bluebells in witches’ potions, as a sort of measurement device - hence the name witches' thimbles! Another folktale said that anyone who accidentally walked into a field of bluebells would be cast under a fairy’s spell. It goes to show that even back then people recognised the rare beauty of this particular flower.

The best way to help preserve this beautiful British species is to be careful when walking through woodlands where you see bluebells. If you want to grow your own, you can buy the seeds and bulbs legally, and do so in your garden! Woodland Trust advise to enrich the soil with leaf mould, manure, or compost and plant the seeds. The hardest part is waiting seven years for the flowers to appear!

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ainews · 1 year

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A new species of flower that can survive in extreme conditions has been discovered in northern Australia. The flower, dubbed "The Vigorous," is the first of its kind to be identified in the region, and researchers believe its unique ability to thrive in a hostile environment could have a major impact on the local ecosystem.

The flower was discovered near the town of Jabiru, in the Northern Territory, and is believed to be a member of the genus Eucalyptus. Its remarkable adaptability to harsh conditions has been attributed to its intricate root system, which is able to absorb moisture and nutrients even in extremely dry or salty soils.

The discovery of The Vigorous has been described by researchers as a "major breakthrough" in the study of plant evolution in the area. Its ability to survive in such harsh conditions could open up new possibilities for the conservation of native flora and fauna.

Dr. David Martin, a botanist at the University of Queensland, said the discovery of The Vigorous was an exciting development. "It's an amazing find and could have huge implications for the future of conservation," he said. "It could mean new ways of protecting and restoring habitats that have been damaged by human activity."

The Vigorous is just the latest in a line of hardy plants found in northern Australia, and the team behind the discovery hope their research will help to protect and preserve the region's unique and fragile environment.

#ai generated #fake news

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born-to-freed0m · 2 years

Video

youtube

A Short Gander At The Bright Universe Of Flowers

There are not many things on this planet that give more joy, variety, and magnificence than flowers. The various types of euphoria they can bring to people are only surpassed by the quantity of its species, and that comes in at in a real read more here sense thousands. You don't need to be a botanist to see the value in the worth of a flower; you need only have sense for the significant wonderful. In light of this, we should dig a piece further into the universe of flowers.

Two classifications of flower that you might be know all about is the yearly and perpetual. The yearly is one that travels every which way throughout one season. In other words that they sprout, flower, seed and eventually kick the bucket throughout a developing season. Further, this sort of flower can be separated into summer and winter annuals. Instances of annuals incorporate the two zinnias and marigolds.

A perpetual on the other hand is a flower that lives for over two years. Usually they are little flowering plants. They blossom in spring or summer, kick the bucket in harvest time or winter, then, at that point, spring up again during the following developing season. These are referred to as herbaceous perennials and one model is the red clover.

For the best online flowers, check out https://www.online-flowers-uk.co.uk/ send beautiful floral bouquets and free next day flower delivery.

One of the most famous and well known of all perennials is the tulip. A bulbous plant can make a case for some homes. They can be found from The Netherlands to Iran and from Turkey to northern China. They are cup-formed flowers that can develop up to two feet. They likewise arrive in a kaleidoscope of dynamic tones.

For the vast majority people roses come joined with the most profound of opinions. They have been timeless images of love and magnificence. Curiously, one Scriptural rumors from far and wide suggest that the main rose was white yet blushed red over the actions of Adam and Eve. Besides, they are the national flower for both the US and Britain.

Roses don't hold the patent on flower imagery. Daisies are much of the time considered intelligent of blamelessness. Poppies are in many cases given to those grieving the demise of loved one, especially the people who have fallen during wartime. You will frequently see an iris being thrown upon a coffin as its meaning for some connotes resurrection.

Flowers likewise have a pragmatic side. They can be used for a wide range of things. Jasmine and chamomile have been infused into tea for a fragrant and restorative refreshment. Numerous types are given as celebratory gifts, from christenings to social functions and holidays. They could be used as a food, in spite of the fact that they are not vigorously showcased thusly. However, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, and honeysuckle, to give some examples, are eatable. One famous beverage produced using a flower is dandelion wine. Flowers are great gifts, but so are hampers. For great hamper gifts, visit https://www.countrywidehampers.co.uk/ and send a loved one a superb hamper gift by post.

#youtube

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boutiquetonki · 2 years

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Tickey creeper plant

Bines typically twine their stems around an object for support. Botanists divide climbing plants into two broad groups: Bines and Vines. Many climber plants are vines whose stems wrap around trees and branches but there are other methods of climbing. Lets see if Tickey creeper can survice Dexter. What is a climbing plant A climbing plant is a plant that climbs up trees and other tall objects. I have planted this creeper against an unsightly wall in the deep shade garden out back where nothing much grows as it is Dexter’s stomping ground and play area (where he is allowed to do as he pleases – the area is known as “Dexter’s garden”). Propogation: From herbaceous or woody stem cuttings. Pruning: Cut back hard to control the invasive nature of the tickey creeper Ficus pumila or Tckey Creeper can attach itself to any porous surface and is an aggressive and beautiful vine. Soil requirements: Requires consistently moist soil – should not be left to dry out between waterings For more great home and gardening shows, tune in or visit. Family Moraceae Common/English Names Climbing Ficus, Climbing Fig, Creeping Fig, Creeping Rubber Plant, Fig Ivy, Ticky Creeper, Tropical Ivy Vernacular. Ficus pumila, or Climbing fig, is a vigorous, fast-growing evergreen vine that can climb to 15 feet or. This video is brought to you in partnership with The Home Channel, DStv channel 176. Fruit / flower: Insignificant and rarely seenįoliage description: The leaves are simple, heart-shaped, small when young, changing as the plant matures to larger, 2-4in long, oblong and leathery form. Phonetic Spelling: FY-kus PEW-mih-lah Description.

#Tickey creeper plant

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wealthypioneers · 2 years

Photo

Mango Melon - Vine Peach (Cucumis melo) Seeds Non-GMO, Organic, Heirloom B10 Grow your own delicious fruit for pies in 70 days! Fruit taste of honeydew melon and peach when cooked in desserts. The 3-inch fruit is the size of a peach, with a yellow rind and fruity-tasting white flesh. This variety was very popular in Victorian times for making sweet pickles, pies, and preserves. Developed in China and was introduced into America in the 1880s. You can find easy recipes for melon pie online. A welcome breeze of mango-tinted sweetness, fragrance, and luscious color to your family breakfast table. Wake up your breakfast with a tropical flair. ‘Mango’, a delightful new melon with a mango accent, wafts a welcome breeze of mango-tinted sweetness, fragrance and luscious color to your family breakfast table. Hardy 14–24" plants carry on in colder weather; the go-to melon for gardens in the Northern US and Canada. Full Sun Sprouts in 7-14 Days Ideal Temperature: 75-90 Degrees F Seed Depth: 1/2 inch Plant Spacing: 18" Frost Hardy: No Cucumis melo DAYS TO MATURITY: 80-90 days ORGANIC: Yes TYPE: Chito DAYS TO GERMINATION: 3-5 days @ 80-90F PLANT SPACING: 12-18" LIGHT PREFERENCE: Full sun SOIL REQUIREMENTS: Warm soil STATUS: Heirloom, Non-Hybrid, Non-GMO seeds Vine Peach/Mango Melon - Perfumed Aroma of Peaches and Mangoes A drought-tolerant annual whose fruits are peach-sized and colored, and mango-like in flavor and texture. Often mistaken for their kissing cousins – the inedible Queen Anne’s Pocket Melon – a couple of vine peaches in a bowl will perfume the room with their namesake scent – peaches and mangoes. Easy to grow, very productive, vigorous, pest-resistant vines. History There is some discussion as to how they arrived in America, as William Woys Weaver shows Samuel Wilson, a seedsman in Mechanicsville (Bucks County), Pennsylvania, offered seed in the Farm Journal in February of 1889. Another source shows they were first described in 1849 by Charles François Antoine Morren, a Belgian botanist and horticulturist, as well as the Director of the Jardin Botanique de l’Université de Liège in the early to mid-1800s. He apparently obtained his trial seed from Cuba and brought them to Belgium for study. The vine peach became a well-known commercial variety in Europe soon after, where it might have come to America. Regardless of how vine peach arrived, in the early 20th century it was being commercially grown for pickled foods and preserves. Uses While tasty raw, they excel canned or cooked into pies, preserves, conserves, and pickles (for pickles, pick while still green). Growing Tip Melon seeds dislike cold soil. It's better to wait until the soil is warm to plant the seeds. Melons do not ripen much off the vine so it is important to pick them up when they are ready. Ripe melons “slip” from the vine with light pressure. The melon originated in sub-Saharan Africa and the Middle East. Domestication is thought to have happened in China, as writings show crop development 2,000 years ago. Mediterranean cultivation began at the end of the Roman era. Melons are luscious, delicious, and much anticipated. When ripe, most melons "slip" from the vine with light pressure. Melons are warm-season fruit, that need warm, rich, and fertile soil to grow in. Direct sowing is often the best way to grow as they dislike having their roots disturbed. FREE GIFT when you order 5 items or more. Free gift is full of surprise seeds which may include single or mixed varieties. Note: No tracking # will be provided to make the shipping cost-effective for us and free for you. Returns & exchanges Not accepted. But please contact me if you have problems with your order http://springsofeden.myshopify.com/products/mango-melon-vine-peach-cucumis-melo-seeds-non-gmo-organic-heirloom-b10

#Kanjari #Kajari melon #Delhi Melon #rare seeds #organic seeds #Bateekh Samara #Charentais Melon #Hara Madhu #Mango Melon #Vine Peach

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enstblog · 2 years

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Anthony Kraus

Professor Kindervater

Intro to Environmental Studies

9 May 2022

Climate Change Practicum

Getting involved in initiatives to promote environmental protection and raise awareness about climate change is something I believe all people should participate in, as we are all susceptible to the harmful impacts of climate change. For me, this increased during my time in college as I became a member of the USG Sustainability Committee. While I enjoyed my time as a member, it was frustrating seeing many of our ideas, initiatives, and proposals either rejected or ignored by the school, especially when considering we felt the changes we hoped to implement were all fairly reasonable. This school year, however, I became more involved in volunteer work with The Bronx is Blooming, an organization I am glad to have contributed to with my time and effort. I only attended a handful of meeting for the Climate Impact Initiative this semester and was not terribly involved, but I feel that the work I did with the Bronx is Blooming has been just as valuable for both me as a person and borough which I have called home for the past four years.

I was made aware of The Bronx is Blooming through my participation in the Sustainability Committee but was slow to consider volunteering with them. Earlier this school year, however, I began attending events and am glad to have done so. The events I attended were to maintain and improve upon the condition of parks in the Bronx, with most of the ones I attended taking place in Crotona Park. The purpose of these events was to beautify the parks through cleaning, planting, and maintaining existing plants there.

I learned a great deal about the intricacies of maintaining and positioning plant life in the park. The goal was to position plants in an area that was both aesthetic and practical, providing ecosystem services like carbon capture and water absorption and filtration while offering an attractive display for parkgoers. One issue I was unaware of was the presence of invasive weeds that acidified the ground they were in, harming other plants looking to grow in the same area. I spent a great deal of time sifting through the soil to remove such weeds and had time to ponder their presence. I felt no malice towards these weeds, as it was not their fault for ending up in The Bronx; clearing them felt somewhat like atoning for the mistakes of the human actions in the past that brought them here. It helped to instill the belief in me that because humans have so greatly impacted our planet in negative ways, it is our responsibility to restore it.

Participating in these programs also made me aware of the immense gifts and opportunities I have been given, and that it is my responsibility to make use of them in order to improve the condition of my home (Earth). Part of this revelation came to be as I am in good health and was able to work rather vigorously for the three-hour sessions I attended. It was rewarding to channel my physical health to something worthwhile and useful for a multitude of people. I am a proponent of maintaining physical health through exercise, but I am even more of a proponent for doing so through volunteer work that benefits people outside of oneself. Not only this, but I was grateful to attend a school that made me aware of such programs and offers me an education that I can use to make positive changes to the world.

The process of cleaning the park also helped me to more fully appreciate the protection and engagement needed to preserve the value of such spaces and to allow them to provide the most benefits possible for the community. To plant new plants, we needed to clean the existing plant beds. The level of litter in these areas was surprising to me, as the rest of the park was not nearly as dirty. Many parks in New York City (and across the world I imagine) do not have dedicated botanists or horticulturalists working for them which makes volunteers so vital. While the rest of the park was cleaned, the garbage hidden in plant beds remained, posing risks to park goers while damaging the plants. I wouldn’t say I necessarily enjoyed the process of removing garbage, but it was certainly rewarding and offered me insight into what is probably an often-overlooked part of park care.

Another aspect of my volunteering with The Bronx is Blooming I am grateful for is that it made me more fully appreciate the value of parks and public green spaces. Walking from the Fordham campus area to Crotona Park allowed me to see the neighborhoods and people that would benefit from such spaces being in good condition. This provided even more motivation for me to keep volunteering, as I felt a connection to the project itself. I also am grateful to have gotten to work with Jen, the founder of The Bronx is Blooming, who offered passionate and interesting information about the benefits and importance of public parks to us while we worked. It was a bit like having a lecture while landscaping and it helped to shape my understanding of the functions of green spaces in an urban environment. Specifically, such spaces offer a place for leisure and activity that is more suited to human needs and having dedicated parks helps to reduce the negative impacts of climate change. Not only this, but they provide a space for people to learn about nature and appreciate its value, something that can be more challenging in the decidedly human atmosphere of New York City.

I plan to continue volunteering with the Bronx is Blooming or similar organizations after I graduate later this month and have continued to do so this semester. I feel that it is something that all people should aim to do at least a few times a year and that The Bronx is Blooming did a great job of making their sessions accessible. It is not a particularly time-consuming activity, and it was enjoyable for me too as I enjoy the outdoors and grew up helping in my family garden. I also wish that I had began doing so earlier, as I felt I was having a tangible impact. I hope to be able to contribute to environmental protection and sustainability through my career, but I still plan on volunteering to help improve whatever communities I will be a part of.

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