#and very mildew resistant!

[closetgardener]

So my Big Begonia has exactly one (1) pink leaf and I absolutely love it

#begonias #gardening #plants #plantblr #the Big Begonia #idk where the one leaf came from but im here for it #such a pretty plant #and very mildew resistant!

[whitedarkmoonflower]

GIRL! You should write a Sihtric ffc that takes place when they are trying to get Bebbanburg back and they take him and Finan and chain them. While they are chained, Sihtric notices a girl also being chained in a corner (the oc) and after the battle he rescues her…the rest up to you. If you do pls tag me 🤭😳

Here you goo girly! Copy and pasted <3

Bebbanburg

Authors note: It's my last fic this year. I hope you'll enjoy. I found it not so easy to write, but here it is. A big thank you to @the-irish-girl for helping me with the ideas and writing prompts. I appreciate it a lot!

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: a lot of Angst and a bit of Fluff. That's it .

Word Count: 4,8 K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius@hb8301@zillahvathek@alexagirlie@gemini-mama @verenahx@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf@willowbrookesblog

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Constantin's voice pierces the inner yard, “He's no man of mine,” he declares, putting a very fast end to their venture.

'Your Scottish accent sucks,' Sihtric grumbles, his teeth clenched, as his hands are forcibly bound behind his back. Like Finan before him, he's quickly disarmed. They are surrounded by too many warriors, the resistance is futile. Surrender appears to be their only reasonable choice for now. At least this might buy Uhtred more time and divert the guards' and Wihtgar's attention from him.

"At least I gave it a shot," Finan shrugs with his shoulders as they are hauled away. 

The air in the dungeon is musty and stale, the smell of mould and mildew mixing with filth and rot. It’s not under the ground, the cliff of Bebbanburg has made it far too difficult to dig deep. It stands as a separate building at the fortress's far end, with double wooden walls built on top of a stone base likely still left by the Romans. Its exposure to the sea winds and dampness is evident. There are no windows, its sparse lighting comes from flickering torches that cast long, ominous shadows across the walls and the metal bars of the cells.

“Torture them for answers,” Lord Wihtgar orders, his frame obstructing the entrance. The threatening tone in his voice suggests that he's more interested in retribution than actual information. He’s been fooled and humiliated before the Scottish king and wants revenge, eager to make them suffer. He approaches Finan, intent on delivering the first strike, as the astir voice of his commander distracts him. 

“My lord, soldiers approach from the south.”

“How many?”

“Many.”

“Lock them up and then head to the ramparts,” Wihtgar commands and storms out of the dungeon. The guards roughly shove Finan and Sihtric into separate cells. The heavy metal doors slam shut with a resounding clang, the sound of keys turning in the locks echoing in the room as the guards depart, leaving behind a haunting silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the torches.

"It could’ve been worse," Finan remarks with a half-hearted chuckle, making himself as comfortable as possible on a pile of straw in the corner of his cell. He glances over at Sihtric, in the cell across from him, worried about how he's handling things. Finan is well aware of his fearless friend's sole vulnerability. 

Sihtric clutches the metal bars of his cell, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. He takes deep, deliberate breaths in an effort to remain calm, but his anxiety is palpable. The walls seem to inch closer, the pervasive darkness reaching towards him like insidious fingers. Each breath he draws feels oppressively heavy, as if pressing down on him, dragging him towards the ground. Sihtric shuts his eyes tightly, trying to take another deep breath, fully aware that it’s his own mind playing tricks on him, yet unable to shake the feeling.

When he finally forces his eyes open again, the cell is pitch black; the torches have burned out. The space feels even more confined than before. He finds himself sitting on the hard floor, his arms wrapped around his knees, back pressed against the wall. The distant sound of water dripping is the only thing that pierces the silence. Time has become a blur—hours, days, weeks? He can't tell.

Touching his swollen lip, Sihtric winces at the pain but is relieved to find his teeth intact. He curls up tighter, shutting his eyes, longing for sleep to claim him, but it remains elusive.

The cold in the cell is piercing, cutting through his thin clothing and his stomach is growling with hunger. Sihtric shivers, his teeth chattering from the chill. His gaze falls to his legs, barely covered by a worn rug, down to his bare, skinny feet. They're blistered and dirty, stained with streaks of blood. His blood. 

He can still feel them—the blows from his father’s fists, the sharp sting of the dog whip in Kjartan's hands as he lashes out, his face flushed with anger, infuriated by Sihtric’s silence as he doesn’t cry out. He never does; he never gives Kjartan that satisfaction.

He can still hear them—his mother's desperate, pleading cries as she kneels before Kjartan, begging for mercy for her son, willing to do anything to end the brutal beating. 

A vicious blow sends Sihtric sprawling to the ground; he instinctively curls into a ball, protecting his head and face, bracing for the rest of the assault. He doesn't make a sound, and Kjartan, losing interest, tosses the whip aside and refills his mug with ale. Strong arms grip him like iron claws, hoisting him up and tossing him over a shoulder. Sihtric catches a glimpse of his mother weeping on the floor, managing a small smile for her before he's taken to the small, damp cell in Dunholm's basement. Again. It’s not the first time and not the last.

No, no, no—it's not real, it can't be, Sihtric reminds himself, taking a deep, steadying breath. He's not the small, scared slave boy anymore. He's a warrior, a grown man who has endured more battles than the years of his life. He has risen above everything his father, Kjartan, sought to deny him. Kjartan is gone. This is Bebbanburg, and his friends are counting on him. He can't let the ghosts of his past haunt him, not from beyond the grave. He can’t let his father win this battle.

Yet, here he is, seemingly back in that same cold, dark cell in Dunholm, wiping away tears with the frayed fabric of his sleeves. This hidden place being the only spot where he lets them flow freely.

"Hey, hey, Sihtric, listen to me," Finan's urgent voice pierces through the haze, jolting Sihtric back to the present. His eyes fly open. He finds himself still upright, clutching the iron bars, his head leaning against them, breaths coming fast and heavy. A sheen of cold sweat coats his forehead, and his entire body quivers. If not for his tight grip on the bars, his legs would have surely given way by now.

"There's something in your cell. Sihtric, are you hearing me? Check out the corner behind you. Something's moving," Finan's voice, though somewhat muffled, carries a distinct note of urgency that spurs Sihtric to slowly turn his head. In the far end of his cell, he catches sight of a peculiar, quivering shape. It isn't merely moving; it's shaking, accompanied by faint, muffled noises.

Forcing himself to release the iron bars, Sihtric turns for a better view. The torchlight is too dim to make out details, so he cautiously takes a few steps closer. His muscles tense, ready to react to any threat.

He halts, concentrating on the sounds emanating from the shape. It quickly becomes apparent that what's under the tattered blanket is a living, scared creature, its quiet, stifled sobs reaching his ears. With careful movements, Sihtric edges closer, extends his hand, and slowly pulls back the ragged blanket, unveiling the source of the quiet sobbing.

—---------------------------------------------

You're abruptly roused from sleep by the sound of voices. Straining your ears, you recognize the voice as Wihtgar's. It's been a while since the Lord of Bebbanburg visited the dungeons, not since your arrival. You quickly rise and hurry to the iron bars of your cell, moving as swiftly as the clanking chains around your ankles permit. The metal chafes against the bruises left by the shackles, but you barely notice the pain. Desperation to speak to him, to plead for your freedom, urges you forward. You've done nothing wrong; you've been falsely accused, and you need him to know that.

The voices grow louder, and you catch sight of two men being dragged in. They're strangers to you. Probably intruders. Pirates? Or even worse, Danes? Hastily, you retreat into the shadows of your cell, curling up on the small pile of straw that serves as your bed. Your fingers grip the ragged blanket given to you by a guard – a young lad with a pale face and kind eyes who'd seen you shivering, your teeth chattering in the cold night.

You watch as the men are hauled to the cells. The sound of keys turning in locks and the snapping shut of iron-barred doors send a shiver down your spine as you realise that one of the men has been locked in the same cell as you.

"Oh God, help me," you whisper under your breath, noticing the pagan pendant hanging from the neck of the stranger in your cell. Your fears are confirmed: you're locked in a cell with a Dane, the kind of ruthless, heartless warrior you've heard countless stories about. You are frozen, too afraid to move, aware that the slightest sound of your shackles might reveal your hiding place. You hold your breath and pull the blanket over your head, silently praying for the guards to return quickly, before that wild beast in the shape of a man discovers you, before he lays his hands on you. 

Blinded by the blanket, you're cut off from seeing what's happening in the cell, but your fear is too great to risk a glance. The silence is broken only by the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional shuffle from the other cell where the second man is locked up. You feel your legs begin to tingle, going numb from the tension and your cramped position. An involuntary shuffle causes the chains to clink softly, the sound reverberating through you like a fanfare.

"Oh no, please God, no," you silently plead, but it's too late. They've heard you. You bury your head between your knees, wrapping your arms around it, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You curse your trembling limbs as footsteps draw nearer. The stillness around you is palpable. Time seems to stretch on endlessly, each shallow breath feeling like an eternity. You wonder, anxiously, what he is waiting for. Your lungs spasm, your ability to breathe constricted, and a mix of whimpers and sobs escapes your lips as your shoulders shake uncontrollably.

The blanket is suddenly whisked away and a sharp yelp escapes your lips as you recoil. Your arms instinctively rise, shielding your head in a protective gesture.

Sihtric's eyes quickly take in the figure before him, immediately recognizing you as a girl. The hands covering your face are small and delicate, unlike those of a man or boy. He notices the shackles binding your ankles and his expression turns to one of surprise and rising anger, wondering who could be so cruel as to confine and possibly torture a woman.

"Hey, you don't have to be afraid of me," Sihtric says softly, carefully moving closer. "I won't hurt you," he reassures, tentatively reaching out his hand, as if to gently touch your shoulder.

From the corner of your eye, you see his hand approaching. In a reflexive movement, you spring to your feet, driven by fear, and scramble further into the corner, trying to press yourself into the rough wooden wall. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with those of the man beside you.

His presence is intimidating: tall, strong, with broad shoulders and chest, muscular arms visible under his sleeveless armour. His hair, braided on top, falls in wild curls to his shoulders. Even in the dim torchlight, you can see scars marking his forehead and cheek, and an unusual tattoo on his neck. Panic surges within you, and you wrap your arms around yourself protectively, covering as much of your exposed skin above the neckline of your dress as possible. Your trembling legs can no longer support your weight, and you sink back to the ground.

Sihtric observes you, his fingers raking through his hair. There's something about your tightly curled, trembling form, your wide, red, and swollen eyes filled with fear and disdain, that resonates with him. That feeling of being trapped and terrified, it’s all too known to him, it’s still there, it still lingers in his bones. He finds himself unable to look away. Cautiously, Sihtric crouches down, maintaining his distance, not wanting to frighten you further by moving too close. His gaze softens as he watches you, remaining still and quiet.

"I am Sihtric," he introduces himself gently, a softness in his voice. "I understand you're scared. But I promise, as long as we're in this cell, you're safe from me."

You are surprised by the softness of his voice and by the fact that he speaks your tongue, but it does little to calm you. He is what he is – a heathen, a savage and you are completely at his mercy, as the fleeting hope that the guards might return soon fades.  It’s only now that the meaning of the words you overheard has sunken in - the fortress is under attack, and you've been abandoned to a fate that seems increasingly grim, forgotten by a world that seems to have no place for you.

With each movement deliberate and cautious, Sihtric settles himself on the floor near the wall. He leans back, drawing his knees to his chest, and places his hands on his knees visibly, a non-threatening gesture meant to reassure you.

He sits there for a while, quietly watching the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight. From the opposite cell, the sound of Finan's soft snoring indicates that he's making the most of this unexpected respite. Sihtric wants to convey to you that he is no threat. Understanding that words alone cannot convince you, he chooses to show it through his actions. So he just sits there patiently, giving you the space and time you need to realise that he means no harm.

You steal covert glances at the formidable Dane seated beside you. There's something compelling about him that repeatedly draws your gaze back to the stranger. He has remained still for some time, silent and not even looking your way. The air of strength and assurance he exudes is captivating, and his mere presence beside you has an unexpectedly soothing effect. Gradually, you feel the tension in your muscles easing and your sobs slowly subsiding.

Sihtric senses this subtle change in you, indicating that you're no longer overwhelmed by panic. He turns his head just enough to see you and clears his throat gently.

"Please, don't be afraid," Sihtric speaks in a soft, hushed tone. "I mean you no harm," he reassures once again.

Slowly, you lift your head, and your eyes unintentionally lock with his. The warm sincerity you see in them starkly contrasts with his intimidating appearance, and you reluctantly acknowledge that if he had intended to harm you, he wouldn't have waited this long. You break your gaze, only to let out a sharp shriek as you spot a rat sniffing near your feet. Startled by your cry, the rat quickly scurries away, disappearing through a small gap between the wall and the floor.

A smile slowly forms on Sihtric’s lips as he shifts his position slightly and stretches out his legs, his arms resting comfortably in his lap. He begins to speak, his voice calm and even. He tells about his childhood friend, a small, clever rat he had named Loki, after the trickster god.

"Loki was smart and fast. He'd come and go as he pleased, squeezing through the tiniest cracks in the walls. Each day, I'd save a bit of my sparse meal to share with him."

You find yourself captivated by his melodic voice, tinged with a slight accent. It almost feels as if he's speaking to himself, and only the occasional discreet glance in your direction reveals his awareness of your presence. As you listen, your breathing steadies, as you are drawn into Sihtric's story, finding solace in the sound of his voice. He recounts how Loki always found him, even in that dirty hole beneath his father’s fortress, and when he pauses, the last words hanging in the air, you unexpectedly find yourself asking, "What happened to him?" surprised to hear your own voice break the silence.

Sihtric's smile dims. "I don't know. When I finally left my father's place, I couldn’t take him with me. But I like to think that Loki kept having his little adventures in those dungeons, maybe even making friends with someone else who needed it. Like that little fellow you probably scared half to death just now."

You don't know whether Sihtric's story is real or invented, yet it stirs something within you that you believed was long extinguished. Is it gratitude? For a fleeting moment, the tale allows you to escape your grim reality, to forget the shackles chafing and bloodying your ankles, the hunger gnawing at your stomach, and even the bleak prospect of having no future.

"So tell me, why are you here?" Sihtric inquires, turning his gaze towards you.

You pause, your eyes lowering to your hands clasped in your lap. For reasons you can't quite explain, you feel a sense of safety in his presence.

"I'm accused of being a witch," you say quietly, your voice carrying a tremor of fear. "I'm waiting for my trial."

"They say I have unnatural powers, that I can summon spirits and cast curses," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not true. I've never harmed anyone. I just... I know herbs and remedies. People in the village would come to me when they were sick."

"People fear what they do not understand," you hear the Dane saying. "And in their fear, they can be cruel."

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. "I'm scared," you admit. "I know what happens to those accused of witchcraft. I've seen... I've seen the pyres."

Sihtric extends his hand slowly, offering a gesture of comfort. You're hesitant at first, but then, driven by an unexpected impulse, you place your hand in his. His grip is warm and reassuring, and you allow yourself to be drawn into a soothing embrace. It's been so long since you were held with such tenderness that you can't even recall the last time. Sihtric gently strokes your dishevelled hair, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat just beneath your ear.

Your moment of solace is abruptly interrupted by a surge of voices and the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. Four guards burst into the dungeon, heading straight for the cells. The doors swing open, and Sihtric, along with Finan, are abruptly pulled to their feet and dragged out. Amidst the chaos, Sihtric exchanges a quick, knowing glance with Finan and swiftly reaches into Finan's boot, retrieving a small, concealed sharp object.

With rapid precision, Sihtric attacks the guards. The ensuing scuffle is fierce but brief. Within moments, the guards are dead on the dungeon floor, and you stifle a scream, covering your mouth with both hands in shock.

Sihtric casts a quick, conflicted glance back at you in the cell, torn between the need to escape and the desire to help you. 

"Please, don't leave me here," you plead, rushing to the iron bars of your cell.

"Sihtric, we don't have time. She's chained and we don't have the tools to free her," Finan urges, grasping Sihtric's arm. But Sihtric resolutely shakes off his grasp and re-enters the cell.

"Lady, I will return for you. I promise," he whispers, his large hands gently resting on your upper arms.

"Please," you plead, your voice quivering as your fingers cling to his armour. "No, no, no, don't do this to me, please, no..." Your voice cracks, fading into a hoarse whisper, your eyes desperately seeking his.

"I will come back," Sihtric assures you again. His gaze doesn't waver as he cups your face in his hands, looking directly into your eyes. "I will."

He gently frees himself from your grip and turns to leave. Your world seems to crumble around you, despair engulfing you. You grasp the iron bars for support, but they provide little comfort, and you slowly sink to your knees, a desperate cry breaking out as you watch both men swiftly leaving the room, leaving you alone once more.

—---------------------------------------------------

The battle is over, the chaos engulfing the field before the fortress just moments before replaced by a haunting stillness. The ground is littered with fallen warriors, shattered weapons and broken shields, covered with dust and blood. Catching his breath, Sihtric lets his eyes wander around. He spots Finan nearby, bent over and breathing heavily, hands resting on his knees. Sihtric gives him a nod before continuing his search, but there's no sign of Uhtred.

"He's inside the fortress," Finan says, pointing towards Bebbanburg as he straightens up.

Sihtric turns, and a sharp scent of burning hits his nose. Bebbanburg is ablaze. The flames have taken hold of the fortress's roof, and a thick plume of smoke billows into the sky.

"Mighty Godfather, no," Sihtric mutters under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for Thor's hammer pendant on his chest. He hears Finan swearing and calling out to him, but he doesn't pause to listen. Driven by urgency, he breaks into a desperate sprint towards the fortress, pushing through the fatigue that weighs heavily on his muscles.

—-----------------------------------

The first warning is the smell. A sharp, acrid odour of burning reeds gradually fills the dungeon, accompanied by a thin veil of smoke.

"Is anybody there? Help!" you shout, tugging at your chains with increasing nervousness. But the only response is silence, a deep, unsettling quiet. Your heart races, pounding a frenetic rhythm of fear in your chest. You pull against the chains again, as if you hadn’t done it already hundreds of times since your first days here, even though you know it's futile. Still, driven by desperation, you persist. As smoke from the burning fortress above seeps into the cell, your efforts grow more frantic. You keep yanking at the iron shackles, the metal chafing against your ankles, turning raw and aching skin into bleeding wounds. But you don't stop. You can't.

Breathing becomes increasingly difficult as the air thickens with smoke, stinging your eyes and scratching at your throat. Your mind races, frantically replaying every moment you've spent within these walls, desperately searching for some overlooked detail, some key to escape that you might have missed. But there is nothing. The cell walls appear to be closing in, the shadows deepening and becoming more threatening as the flames above intensify.

Your hands, now raw and bleeding from your futile struggles, tremble as you keep tugging weakly at the chains, tears streaming down your cheeks, not just from the smoke but from the crushing helplessness. You are alone, there is nobody in this cursed world that cares for you, that will miss you and remember you. 

Your life doesn’t flash before your eyes, as you have heard it told so many times. It settles around you like a heavy cloak, woven with threads of regret, unfulfilled dreams, and the bitter sting of injustice. 

"Hey, Loki!" you find yourself smiling at the small rat near your feet. "Will you tell Sihtric that I waited for him? Tell him I believed him. Tell him I have no hard feelings. I just hope he's safe," you say, your voice breaking as you reach out to gently touch the little creature, but it is gone.

Suddenly, you hear the metallic clang of the cell door flying open. Strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pressing you close to a broad chest. "I'm here. You don't need Loki to deliver your messages. I promised I would return, and here I am," you hear Sihtric's familiar, soft voice whispering in your ear.

"You came back? For me?" you whisper, your voice trembling with sobs, barely able to believe what you're seeing. Overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, you lean into the sturdy embrace of the very man whom you had feared so profoundly. 

The sound of Sihtric's axe pounding against the stone foundation of the fastening is deafening. Despite his efforts, the Roman-built wall is solid and unyielding. He shifts his focus to cutting through the chains, but his axe has dulled from striking stone. With one final, forceful swing, the axe shaft snaps, leaving Sihtric holding a broken handle, the blade clattering to the ground. Undeterred, he grasps the chains with his bare hands, pulling at them with all his might.

"It's no use," you say, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please, listen to me," your voice grows louder, trying to break through to Sihtric, who seems oblivious to your words.

"Stop it!" you finally cry out, grasping his hands in yours. Sihtric's eyes meet yours, his face a canvas of pain and despair, his fingers still tightly gripping the chain.

"There's no more time. You need to go. You have to save yourself," you implore, cupping his face in your hands, ensuring he can't look away. "Do you understand? Leave! Save yourself!" your voice rises almost to a yell.

A heavy silence falls between the two of you, your eyes locked. Then you hear the dull sound of the chain hitting the ground as Sihtric finally releases it, his arms dropping limply to his sides.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I… I've failed you."

"No, you haven't. You kept your promise. You came back," you reply, your fingers gently caressing Sihtric's thick, curly hair. You wonder if the warmth and ragged breathing you feel against your skin are from him or from the encroaching fire above.

You lift your face towards Sihtric, the tears on your cheeks mixing with the dirt and soot. Gently, almost hesitantly, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft, filled with a sense of urgency. Sihtric shudders as he responds in kind, his lips crushing against yours so eagerly, so desperately. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you closer, and you feel his fingers trembling as they caress your back.

There's a raw honesty in this moment, the rest of the world – the smoke, the distant sounds of the burning fortress – all fade into the background. For those few seconds, it's just the two of you, sharing a moment of solace in a reality that seems increasingly bleak.

With a strength you didn't know you had, you manage to pull back, breaking the kiss. 

"You have to leave, Sihtric! You can't stay here with me," you plead, panic and despair evident in your voice.

Sihtric looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and sorrow. "I can't. I can’t leave you like this. Not alone, not chained," he says firmly.

Before you can protest further, he gently scoops you into his strong arms and lowers both of you to the ground. Your backs rest against the wall of the cell, his arms encircling you protectively.

"Please, Sihtric, you have to go! Save yourself!" you cry, your hands weakly beating against his chest, your pleas muffled against the fabric of his armour.

But Sihtric only tightens his hold, pulling you closer into his embrace. "I won't leave you," he murmurs, his voice resolute yet tinged with sadness. "We're in this together now."

Your struggles gradually subside as the realisation sinks in that he won't be swayed and you cease your futile attempts to show him away. Nestling against his strong body you let your tears flow freely.

“I don’t want this, Sihtric. It’s madness. Why are you doing this?” you mutter through your sobs, but Sihtric’s grip around you gets only tighter.

—--------------------------------------------

As your energy fades and your consciousness begins to slip away, the distant sounds of the dungeon seem to grow louder and more urgent. In your dwindling awareness, you hear the hurried footsteps of multiple people and the muffled clamour of loud voices.

Amidst this chaos, a distinctive sound cuts through the haze - the pounding of a hammer, resonating through the dungeon.

Suddenly, you feel multiple arms reaching for you, lifting you from Sihtric's embrace. You're too weak to resist or understand fully what's happening, but you sense movement as you're carried away from the cell.

You're vaguely aware of being brought into the open air. The cool, fresh breeze on your face contrasts sharply with the stifling, smoky air of the dungeon.

As consciousness slips from your grasp, the last thing you become aware of is the sensation of being laid down gently, with a flurry of urgent voices surrounding you. The chaos around you becomes distant, fading into a blur. Yet, amidst this disorientation, there's a distinct, grounding sensation - a hand clasping yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

In that brief, fleeting moment, you recognize the touch. It's Sihtric. Despite the confusion and the murmur of voices around you, his presence is unmistakable. The strength and warmth of his grip offer a sense of safety and comfort, a silent promise that you're not alone.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #arnas fedaravicius #arnas fedaravičius #sihtric fic

[shitty-check-please-aus]

Continuing the mission of Make Cold Times Bearable For Me:

-I've started to experiment with layering different shirts underneath certain dresses to make them more feasible for later in the season. I'm aiming for somewhere between "cute pinafore" and "ren faire fit" but I'm kinda landing closer to "dirndl" for some of them

-I found some merino wool shirts on REI in my size AND on sale for like $20, so I ordered a couple to try and have some more layering pieces

-I ordered some cute green trousers on depop, which won't get here until tomorrow so we'll see if I made a huge miscalculation by getting a petite length. I'm thinking that maybe trousers will feel more "put together" than leggings

-I do think I'm going to look into making or buying a very warm underskirt/petticoat, because there are a few dresses that could be warmed up, but I think they need something more than just leggings and a warm undershirt. You need to remember, my immune system is slowly murdering my thyroid, my metabolism doesn't keep me warm enough with a normal amount of layering

-I got overly annoyed at LL Bean for making a cotton "fisherman's sweater", because the point of a fisherman's sweater is that the type of wool used still has a lot of lanolin in it, which makes it water and mildew resistant; additionally, wool generally stays warm when wet, while cotton doesn't. Like yes the cable knits used have a lot of symbolism and the designs are distinctive, but the symbolism isn't the thing that makes it a good, useful sweater

-I may be salty because the cotton sweaters I got last year or maybe the year before don't keep me very warm

#sidenote I then started looking at those sweaters on a site based in dublin and I didn't realize the euro and the us dollar were this close

[thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite]

Just for Tinky’s knowledge, Theodore’s brother is named Peter, but please don’t try to track either of them down until you all are safely settled in the Waylon Place. Speaking of, the Waylon Place is locked (so you might need to break a window or the lock), and the inside of it…isn’t exactly structurally sound, so be very careful. If you fall you’ll probably die. If that happens, I don’t think you’ll ever get back to your regular form

Fuuuck. They were right.

The sun setting behind the old Waylon place didn't make it look any less run down.

Nibbly, you have sharp teeth, right? Want to try biting off the lock?

Blinky blocked his brother from eagerly moving forward.

I doubt those teeth of his translated well in human form. We need to try something else.

Before they could think of anything, a few rocks slammed into the window and effectively broke it. They whipped around.

...They said we could break a window.

...Thank...you, Pokotho.

The inside is chock-full of dust and the woody sting of mildew. Making a face, Blinky leads them in further, painfully aware of the creaking floorboards.

D'you think the house still has the furniture?

I don't know, when was the last time we checked on it?

When the Waylons lived here.

...Hey, maybe when they got chased out, they left some things behind.

Nibblenephim, practically vibrating with excitement, dashed forward to climb the likely rickety steps. Blinky, once again, reached out to hold him back.

I'm sure they left decent furniture down in the lobby, too. Let's look down here.

Walking around to find anything, Bliklotep pulled a dirty sheet off a partially covered couch. Immediately, Tinky deposited Wiggog on it with a grunt.

You're heavy, you know that?

He barely had to put effort into dodging a kick. Wiggly curled his legs closer together.

Shutt'up. I'm tired.

Blinky couldn't resist squinting with a twist of his lips.

Tired? You didn't even walk!

Don't care...legs hurt...

...We need to get you some walking aids, huh?

They didn't get an answer as Wiggly started breathing evenly and slowly. Tinky hummed in what might have been annoyance.

...Well, he took to the idea of sleep real quick.

#the lords in black #ask blog #Bliklotep #Wiggog Y'wrath #Pokotho #(I'm trying not to make this sound like a structure similar to a fanfiction lmao help//OOC) #Blog Event: Hatchetfield Citizens #rp blog #team starkid

[pokemoncaretips]

Safe pruning for grass types.

Like any living organism, both plants and plant based pokemon can get ill. Leaf rot, blight, mildew, all of these and more can affect your pokemon. The best and safest way to head off illnesses at the pass is to prune damaged leaves and twigs before they can act as entry points for bacteria and fungi. Though serious illnesses are best seen by a medical professional, I can offer some preventative measures to help. For all of these categories, you should be seeking medical advice as well.

(Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional.)

Petals. Petals are often susceptible to frostbite. Though a potion quickly after a battle helps with ice type attack wounds, weather happens and many a grass type has been caught out in a sudden cold snap long enough for damage to take hold. Excessive moisture or heat can also caught rot on petals.

Signs to watch for: Blackened and withered ends. Browning and wilt along the edges of the petal. A slimy texture and sheen forming. Discolouration in general.

Prevention: Thankfully, petals tend to be more for decoration and rarely have nerve endings. (The bulbasaur line has. Petal damage should be seen by a professional in their case.) Removing the petal entirely can prevent some illnesses, though it may give the pokemon a lopsided appearance until it grows back. Holding your pokemon securely, grasp the petal firmly near the base and give a firm, sharp tug. Too little force may break the petal off near the base and provide a new entry point for rot. Too much force can hurt your pokemon. Once the affected petals are removed, apply a potion and give your pokemon plenty of sun.

If the petals continue to wither, there may be underlying health issues. Consult a professional.

Leaves. Leaves work somewhat differently on pokemon than they do on plants, with some pokemon like leafeon able to regrow damaged leaf tissue. The main rule is that the veins on the leaf tend to contain nerve endings, while the leaf tissue itself doesn't. This means for small localized damage, its possible to keep the main leaf and just remove the problem area, which is vital for pokemon such as chikorita who only have the one leaf available.

Signs to watch for: Withering. Discoloured spots. Fuzzy looking patches. Browning or blackening. Yellowing. A dry, crumbly texture, or a damp, slimy one.

Prevention: A very sharp knife like a box cutter or exacto knife is your friend here, allowing for precise trimming. This knife should be sterilized carefully first. If the pokemon is small enough, hold it firmly to your body, or find someone to help. Larger pokemon may need to be temporarily paralyzed. Avoiding veins if possible, trim away the damaged portion. If the vein is damaged or rotted, it may have already died and thus lack nerve endings. "The fingernail check" is most often used by grass type trainers. Press a fingernail carefully into the vein. If the pokemon flinches, the vein is still salvageable. If it offers no reaction, that leaf vein is dead and must be trimmed as well.

If the entire leaf is withered, it will have to go. A truly dead one can be tugged off easily. Apply a gentle tug. If it breaks off with no resistance, it was dead. If it is heavily damaged but still attached at the base, it will need to be pruned. This is uncomfortable for the pokemon but essential for its health. Talk softly and soothingly. Though few pokemon can understand people, they do understand emotions. Using a sharp, sterilized pair of secateurs, quickly trim the leaf as close to the body as is safe. I recommend showing your pokemon the leaf afterwards to observe. Dead or diseased foliage can be uncomfortable, and removing it will often give instant relief after the short sting. Seeing the painful part removed will go a long way to calming them down.

As photosynthesis is often their main source of nutrition, a sun lamp or slightly richer mulch should be provided to make up for the lost leaves until they grow back.

Symptoms like yellowing or blighted leaves could indicate deeper issues. Save the leaves and take them to a pokecentre for advice. Some are caused by disease. Others can be caused by a deficiency or heavy pest load.

Twig and branches. A fully withered branch can often be a bad sign. And as these are bigger parts, tending to them can be complicated.

Signs to watch for: Cankers and galls. Dead branches. Blackening or withering of buds.

Prevention: The torterra is one of the few pokemon where treating damaged branches is painless and relatively easy if you know what you're doing. Though the tree is vital for its health, it isn't connected to any nerves, and can thus be safely pruned. Otherwise, unless its a small twig that can be quickly pruned, its safer to get a medical professional in to check.

When trimming branches, try not to cut flush to the body of the tree. This can damage the branch collar, leaving the tree open to pathogens.

If using a pruning saw, make a cut on the underside of the branch first to prevent bark tearing.

Damage to branches is a serious sign of ill health. This needs to be checked out immediately. Take pictures before you prune the affected branch, and take them and the branch with you to the pokecentre.

Roots. Roots should not be touched by someone without specialized training. Take your pokemon to a specialist immediately.

#pokemon irl #pokemon care #grass types

[spotsupstuff]

Is Spore very lonely?

lord in heaven amen tma -draws cross over chest- Yeah capital Y required

she is Incredibly fucked up from isolation- so this poor woman starts off as a medical professional. you know. a person who's supposed to help people no matter what, save their lives? so she was bound to be Extremely close with her citizens. she cured them, nursed the kids from the egg stage all the way to adulthood- ALL of that

and then one day they leave her. because the fungi become dangerous to them, but just how is she supposed to deal with that either way? yes, she agreed that her facilities have to be evacuated because medical professional and their health was her number one priority, but it still *hurt*

at least she still had her communication arrays

then came the Polar War and she got to be with people again, even if only with her overseers. she treated soldiers, guided other medical personal on-site, gave the final word on when someone had to be killed either because they weren't curable with current supplies or, horrifyingly enough, when the medical tents were too full and there was no other choice

but with the Polar War also came the horror that was the prisoner situation within the Eo group. almost all Frost's Promise soldiers were taken to the Mildew Perimeter, into the old abandoned villages, to be experimented on in the name of the war effort. it was happening Right under her nose and it was almost as torturous for her as it was for the poor prisoners. so one day she made a deal with Eo rebellion groups to help a portion of the Frost's Promise army to sneak into her facilities and free the prisoners and just take them home and keep them safe from all these horrors

the War ended. the Eo group won, but the Aeolus Council was still furious about the escape of the prisoners from the Mildew Perimeter. so they put in the effort to find out what happened. they figure it was Spore's fault, Orion (Spore's closest friend) gets angry at her too because he was there on the front lines doing his damnest to keep the Eo armies safe and get as many prisoners as possible (since wars/battles in RW are more about capture than killing because of the respawn system). but he didn't know about the experiments and was too angry with her to listen to her trying to explain herself. as far as HE knows, she caused the war to stretch on for longer than it had to

the Aeolus Council decides on punishment. they cut off her communication systems, enter her systems and disable all her overseers. she's blind, she's deaf and she's so damnably alone. nobody at all tries to contact her. nobody really cared outside of Ori and Ori is too angry

her punishment lifts years later and she's broken beyond reason. she can't speak right anymore, the mushrooms got into her life important systems (she let them. they are friends. they tell her nice, comforting things in her head while they eat away at her consciousness. that's okay, that at least means they'll never leave). she broke her Individuality apart JUST so she can find companionship within her own Hivemind

Orion tries to apologize, having figured out that he was in the wrong, what really happened in the Mildew Perimeter during the Polar War. she's too scared and hurt to listen to him- but she needs *someone*

Sordid Expiation gets into contact with her first. and she genuinely wants to help! so she extends her olive branch, accepts this lost elder of the Eo group as her close friend, as someone to look after. but of course, Expiation is already a good friend with Gem. naturally, Spore is reintroduced to the local Witch Lady. she's too desparate to say no, too broken to resist manipulation

and so Spore gets fucked over by her crippling loneliness Twice. with the shrooms and with the manipulative bitch that is Gem. she is lonely enough that she chooses to die twice

#spot says stuff #rw #oc tag #// war // #die twice because of the shrooms that eventually get her and cuz Mission Self-preservation promised her cure against the shrooms in- #-her systems but because of Gem she didnt try to participate one bit until Notos came by to correct and force the friend group into- #-participating. and then it fails either way and the comms eventually fall along with Euros and Spore dies alone with the shrooms- #-taking basically whole control of her. n one can imagine how slowly that happens. Spore is depressing as hell man

[thedansemacabres]

The Wine Industry for Dionysians: French-American Grapes

THE WINE WORLD is almost as paradoxical and complex as Dionysus himself—the industry is a constant pull of old and new, tradition against modernity, and the complexity of art and science. In the centre of this is the debate of French-American vitis hybrids, as products of science for the modern wine industry. These hybrids are a new shoot in the wine industry, as they not only possess the disease tolerance indigenous American grapes do—but also the ability to stand the brunt of frozen winters and climates inhospitable to Vitis Vinifera. Since I am almost halfway done with my degree of Viticulture and Enology, I thought I should begin to share my knowledge of the art and science with other devotees.

As Dionysians, his realm of vines and enology is ours to explore. The wine industry is always adapting and growing—developing new trends and new styles of wine. From this comes new trendy grapes and wines that may or may not last on consumer’s palettes. That is why the wine industry often is afraid to branch out—new may outcompete the old and wine-making is a risky business. 

HISTORICAL SUMMARY 

French-American hybrids are called French-American as they are usually produced in France or from French cultivars with American grape species. Many hybrids were simply named with numbers, however many now have common names that are usually French. Every year new hybrids are developed with the hopes of a grape worth gold.

In the mid 1800s, due to colonial trade with Europe, settlers brought along pests endemic to North America such as phylloxera (Daktulosphaira vitifoliae) and powdery mildew (Uncinula necator) to Europe. This devastated Europe’s wine industry as Vitis Vinifera had no resistance to the imported pests. In an attempt to save the wine industry, viticulturists began to cross North American grapes with European vines. The first hybrids of these programs created by breeders like Seibel, Couderc, Kuhlmann and Bertille Seyve were widely planted across Europe, however wine quality was considered disappointing when compared with the traditional European cultivars. Modern French-American hybrids that possess some sense of recognition these days have a flavour profile similar to V. Vinifera.

Ever since, hybrids continue to be developed and breed to produce higher quality wine grapes with the desirable traits of American and European grapes.

ABOUT FRENCH-AMERICAN HYBRIDS

In my venture to become a viticulturist, in my heart has grown a passion for these hybrid vines. My current place of residence is within the high, cold mountains that have a special peculiarity to allow grapes to grow. The harsher weathers are shielded by the even grander peaks of the greater mountains and warm-winds trail through the craigs. Yet, vitis vinifera—the European grape—still struggles to grow due to foreign climates. As one example, since my town’s last freeze, the appeal of cold-hardy French-American grapes has grown. 

For those who are unfamiliar, grapevines are under the species Vitis; possessing two subgenera, Euvitis and Muscadinia. Euvitis subgenus are the bunch grapes and Muscadinia are the muscadine loose cluster grapes. The majority of Vitis species are from North America, with others being naturalised to Europe (V. Vinifera, the most commonly used species for wine, originating within West Asia) and Eastern-Central Asia (V. Amurensis). 

Some red wine French-American hybrid grapes include:

Baco Noir, a hybrid of Folle blanche and V. Riparia., is known for low tannin content contrasted with deep pigments and good acid balance. Wine flavour is described as “Rhone-style” or “Beaujolais-style”.

Chambourcin, a hybrid with no known parentage and considered the ‘king’ of the hybrid grapes. Produces a dark fuschia red wine with strong aromatics that may be made dry or with residual sugars from fermentation. Chambourcin is a very versatile grape, as it can produce rosé, Beaujolais, or other styles, and medium-to-full-bodied, fairly complex wines, or ports.

Chancellor, a hybrid made from Seibel 5163 and Seibel 880. Chancellor is mostly used to produce a varietal wine with notes of plum and cedar, or used in red blends.

Chelois, a cross between Seibel 5163 and Seibel 5593 with mixed American grape ancestry. While it is likely best for blends, the wine possesses medium-bodied, fruity wines with notes of berry, leather, and earthy aromas.

Concord, thought to be an accidental hybrid between V. Labrusca and V. Vinifera. A common and well-beloved base to grape juice, jellies, or other ‘grape’ flavour products. Many kosher wines are made with Concord grapes, though little-used elsewhere due to most of the market considering the “foxy” flavour of American grapes to be undesirable. 

De Chaunac, a hybrid of V. labrusca, V. lincecumii, V. riparia, V. rupestris, and V. vinifera. The berries are loose and blue-black. Produces an intensely coloured wine, though the croppage continues to decrease over the years.

Frontenac, a loose-berried cross between Landot 4511 and V. riparia 89. Known for its cold hardiness, this hybrid can be made into ports, blends, and reds. As a wine, it is known for its deep-colour adorned with cherry, blackberry, black currant, and plum notes.

Marechal Foch, known for its intense deep purple hue, a light- to medium mouthfeel, and dark berry fruit flavours, Marechal Foch exhibits some Burgundian characteristics. Some tasters find that the similarities to Burgundy’s Pinot Noir develop with age.

Norton, also called Cynthiana, is an American hybrid from Virginia of V. aestivalis with small clusters of blue-black berries. The wine made from Norton grapes is very versatile, including spicy, fruity (ranging from “foxy” V. labrusca to raspberry character), black pepper, tobacco, and chocolate flavours/aromas. Wines have intense colour density and can be used in varietal wines, including port style, but is also blended with other red wines.

Some common white wine French-American hybrid grapes include:

Caguya White, a hybrid of Seyval and Schuyler with greenish-yellow berries. Cayuga White wine is versatile, as it can be made into semi-sweet wines emphasising the fruity aromas as well as dry, less fruity wine with some ageing in oak. When fruit is harvested early, it can ferment into a lovely sparkling wine with good acidity, good structure, and pleasant aromas. The wine is reminiscent of many German Vitis Vinifera grapes. 

Chardonel, a large-clustered grape hybrid of Seyval and Chardonnay. Chardonel is typically produced as a varietal wine and is finished dry to semidry. Chardonel displays characteristics of its parents, king of the whites Chardonnay and Seyval, yet may also possess a high alcohol content. Chardonel also has the potential for fine-quality, dry still wines produced with barrel fermentation and/or barrel ageing. Chardonel is also used as a base for sparkling wines. The wines made from Chardonel have the fruit aroma characteristics of both parents, making it appealing to more European wine tastes. 

Delaware, a hybrid grape that was found in the United States within a New Jersey garden and then propagated in Delaware, Ohio. The grapes of this hybrid are used as a prized sparkling or dessert wine. 

Diamond, thought to be a cross between Concord and Iona, a V. labrusca and V. vinifera hybrid. Diamond suffers a small yet prized market similar to Concord or Niagara, but it can be made into dry table wines and sparkling blends.

Niagara, essentially the white wine version of Concord. The wines produced from Niagara possess a strong American “foxy” flavour and are usually finished semi-sweet, but can also be made into dessert wines such as cream and dry sherry. Similar to Concord, it may also be used for a white non-alcoholic grape juice. 

Seyval Blanc, or known as simply Seyval, is an adaptable variety that can be finished fresh and dry, barrel-fermented with malolactic fermentation, sur lie aged (aged the spent yeast cells), or made into sparkling wines. Wine from Seyval Blanc has appealing aromas of grass, hay, and melon, though the body tends to be thin. Others describe the wine as clean and fresh, similar to Sauvignon Blanc. 

Traminette, a lovely cross of Joannes Seyve 23-416 and the German white grape Gewürztraminer. Generally, hold strong spice and floral aromas, a full structure, and long aftertaste. The wine can be made dry or sweet but is usually finished with some residual sweetness. Varietal descriptions include floral, spicy, perfume, and lavender, with some similarity to Gewürztraminer.

Vidal Blanc, a loose-clustered vine with greenish-white fruit along with pronounced, noticeable dark lenticels at fruit maturity. Vidal Blanc is a cross between Ugni blanc and Seibel 4986 and is typically grown as a varietal wine. Akin to Chardonnay, Vidal blanc is versatile and may be used to make a variety of wine styles, from off-dry Germanic-style wines similar to Rieslings, sparkling wine base wines, dry barrel-fermented table wines, and complex Burgundy-style wines. Varietal taste descriptors for vidal blanc include melon, pineapple, lead pencil (I have no clue what this means), pears, and figs. Vidal Blanc has also been used to create late-harvest-style wines and ice wines.

Vignoles, born from a cross between Siebel 6905 and Pinot de Corton. Vignoles is frequently harvested for dessert wines, especially when picked late and overripe in the growing season. The wines from ripe fruit have tropical fruit, citrus-like, and pineapple flavours. Vignoles may produce many different styles of wine, including dry, barrel-fermented, sur lie aged wine, and sparkling base wines. 

ENDING THOUGHTS

The modern wine world is dominated by almost the same 12 cultivars, which I find to not only be limiting but also horrid: thousands of cultivars and wine-making styles are under the threat of being out competed by the likes of the classic Chardonnay and Merlot. As a devotee of loud-roaring Dionysus, I find myself wishing to explore more of his realm—which means discovering new wines and strange grapes, all paradoxical just as he is. If you can drink, I would recommend adventuring off into the likes of rare cultivars and hybrids—after all, we tend to discover more when life is a bit unfamiliar. 

Bibliography

Goldammer, T. (2015). The Grape Grower’s Handbook: A Guide to Viticulture for Wine Production.

Wine Grape Production Guide for Eastern North America. (2008). Natural Resource Agriculture and Engineering Service (Nraes).

Further Reading:

Wilson, J. (2018). Godforsaken Grapes: A Slightly Tipsy Journey through the World of Strange, Obscure, and Underappreciated Wine. Abrams.

#dragonis.txt #vīnum #dionysus deity #dionysus devotee #dionysos deity #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #hellenism #paganism #pagan #hellenic paganism #witchblr

[wellthebardsdead]

And now, what my dragonborns smell like, just because~

———

Marigold: Honey, chamomile, lotus & orange blossom. He smells like a warm sleepy cup of floral tea and can be just as sweet or scalding depending on how much he likes you~ fittingly to his name he likes the more floral scents and finds them relaxing, though he doesn’t mind earthier scents too like fresh pine. Kaidan likes it from a distance but up close he normally has a sneezing fit, he quickly gets used to it.

———

Henwen: tundra cotton, blue mountain flower and very powdery fine soap, something akin to English fern or talc powder. He loves the comfy smelling scents but lavender is too overpowering for him, it kicks up terrible hay fever. He’s just a soft boi and wants to smell soft too. Kaidan loves it too but it rocks him to sleep too easily laying beside him when he wants to stay up reading to him.

———

Naria: sea salt, sage & jasmin. As a maormer he’s incapable of actually sweating or producing any unpleasant smells so he has no real need for perfumes or fragrance but he enjoys using them regardless. He prefers earthy and milder smells but keeps the scent of the sea with him no matter how far in land he goes. A hug from him will probably leave you feeling very sleepy like you’ve spent a long day at the beach, it certainly does for Kaidan & Cary.

———

Flynt: Lemon grass and sandalwood. He was a soldier for a long time and got pretty used to the smell of gross sweaty armour, then following his loss of eye sight and ability to speak he was left homeless and begging on the streets and dealt with all the unpleasant smells there. So when Taliesin enters his life and spends hours helping him pick out soaps and fragrances he found himself drawn to the sweet and woodsy. He thinks it matches Taliesins honey and vanilla milk scent nicely.

———

Bass: sandalwood, burning hot metal & rosemary. He’s an old dwemer used to working with his hands, so long as he’s clean at the start and end of the day and he doesn’t stink during he’s content. He’s frequently welding or building something and has that pleasant electric scent lingering around him, but also keeps a sandalwood stick burning and a sprig of Rosemary in his scarf to remind him of his wife.

———

Evalien: sweet musk or cotton candy. She’s from our world and likes the familiarity the scents have. And they’re overpowering enough she doesn’t have to smell the rest of team dragonborn when they’re 3 days between inns and the nearest bath. No she will not sleep with Kaidan unless he has one.

———

Sylas: Mint & lemon grass. at first he was content smelling like moss, mildew and the lingering stench of death from living in abandoned crypts and staining his white hair black with soot or charcoal so he could keep a low profile. Then he met Taliesin. And while the grumpy elf resisted his makeover he had to admit he loved the clean, sweet and fresh scents his new lifestyle allowed him… plus Taliesin won’t let him touch him if he hasn’t freshened up.

———

Shamat: Sweet musk & sandalwood. He likes the sweet and warm mix the scent brings him, it feels oddly very familiar to him but he can never place it, at least until he’s kidnapped by nerevar. The first thing he does when he buys his first house burn them as incense. It makes him feel like he’s home. Kaidan does think it’s a little overpowering but he loves seeing how happy it makes him so he copes.

———

Aurorwren: orange blossom & nirnroot. He’s a fan of the sweet citrus scents but also the fresh grassy fragrances the nirnroot oil leaves on his feathers. But given he doesn’t produce an odour he prefers to go without sometimes. Kaidan often says he smells like a chicken to tease him when he does.

———

Poppy: Pure opium. He’ll give you fair warning that he’s going to release a cloud of gas from the pressure locks on his automated parts so you can get out of the way. His blood was replaced with the extract. How’s he still alive? Simple he’s not. Remove the dynamo core and he drops dead. Why opium? Because when he was first rebuilt he kept screaming in pain despite the fact he shouldn’t feel anything. He’s a walking bio hazard but despite that the group always manage to find themselves within range of a valve release knockout at least once.

#marigold dragonborn #Altmer dragonborn #sylas dragonborn #henwen dragonborn #falmer dragonborn #Naria dragonborn #maormer dragonborn #bass dragonborn #poppy dragonborn #Evalien dragonborn #dwemer dragonborn #flynt dragonborn #bosmer dragonborn #Shamat dragonborn #dunmer dragonborn #Aurorwren dragonborn #Ayleid dragonborn #skyrim taliesin #Kaidan skyrim #skyrim

[facewithoutheart]

Shuffle Tag! The ADHD Version where I tell you when and why I’d skip a song…

rules: put your music on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that come up, then tag ten other people

Thanks for the tags @sillyunicorn, @cutestkilla, @prettygoododds, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, & @iamamythologicalcreature

I’m cheating btw and I’ve put my songs on shuffle but I’m only counting the ones I wouldn’t immediately skip:

1. Bottom by Tool (I’d try this one out but likely would skip fairy quickly; I keep trying to like Tool’s full discography but basically I love Lateralus the album and the song Sober)

1a. Dream of You by Jazz Emu (I liked one of their silly songs on TikTok and impulse added the whole album but I just don’t enjoy it and am too lazy to search and delete.)

2. Queen Bitch by David Bowie (another song I’d try to get through but I’m sorry Bowie fans I just struggle and would probably skip eventually)

3. Mona Lisa by The Lonely Island (would listen to it in its entirety, singing along like the lyrics aren’t “Mona Lisa you’re an overrated piece of shit”; I am obsessed with this movie and this song and now it’s in my head)

4. Your Boyfriend Sucks by The Atari (I would listen up until the part where they talk instead of sing because that part annoys me both in sound and content but I wouldn’t be able to resist listening to at least part of this song for the high school nostalgia)

5. The Ghost Inside by Broken Bell (50/50 chance of me listening up until the chorus and skipping bc I don’t really know this song or making it through the whole thing; it’s peppy so I might finish it)

6. Oh Klahoma by Jack Stauber (would probably play this in most of its entirety, especially right now because this gives me such Fall vibes and I am hurting for cooler weather)

6a. Passenger Seat by Death Cab for Cutie (instant skip; sorry ‘bout ya Transatlanticism but I like very few of your songs)

7. Schism by Tool (100% would listen to this song in its entirety, scream the lyrics, probably close my eyes while singing, “Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion,” which I know by heart y’all, no faltering, I know the pieces fit because I watched them fall away, mildewed and smoldering, okay I swear I’ll stop. Remember when I said I liked Lateralus??)

7a. Red and Black from the Original London Les Mis Soundtrack (sorry Broadway I listen to, like, three songs from this soundtrack and I’d nope out of this song asap)

8. No Such Thing by John Mayer (ok I know he’s a total dick but this song is a banger and I’ll scream the lyrics while thinking of my friend from high school sharing this song before a swim meet, all of us listening in on her burnt CD that she played on a portable player, because a) it’s a sweet memory and b) she’s since passed and I love that this is one of the ways I get to honor her)

9. Monuments and Melodies by Incubus (shit this is one of the few Incubus songs I don’t know very well; I’d probably listen curiously for a few minutes then skip onward hoping my shuffle will take pity on me and play another song later that I’m more likely to know)

10. Love Is Colder Than Death (EP Version) by The Virgins (would play for half the song before getting annoyed it’s different than the album version)

Tagging five peeps @skeedelvee (look I failed the three-skip game!) @tea-brigade (give me your songs I know they’re good) @palimpsessed (hi I miss you) @stardustasincocaine (are these unhinged? Please please) & new friend @best--dress (hi show me your songs?)

#shuffle game #tag game #no one needed this level of detail but I don’t care #enjoy my adhd brain thoughts #this was a fun way to escape from my soul-stealing day

[jadespeedster17]

Research Purposes

Summary: Cub has been working with HEP for a while now. Trying to help find what this Spore Infestation actually is. As Head of the department, it’s his job to ensure everything is in order and record his findings. Working mostly with those infected in the hopes of finding a cure and how best to combat it. Yet, the more he finds, the more he wonders if ‘in the name of science’ means the death of those he cares about.

Warnings: Body Horror, Mind Control, Unethical Practices, Mentions of Assault.

Notes: Takes place in @all54321 universe of Father Spore Spy AU. Asked them if I could write this and got the okay :D

-

“Recording 10,” Cub spoke as the recorder whirled on in the background. “Given that computers were wiped last time I’ve decided to use an old school method again to keeping records. Best solution I have up until now.” 

Placing down his clip board Cub hummed, “Studies today will mostly consist of blood samples taken from the Infected. Infected individuals don’t seem to require food as a normal human, but do need at least small amounts of shaded sunlight and water. Indicating my theory might be correct, and all Infected are more plant like than before.”

Scribbling down something Cub looked at the board of post-it notes and pinned up papers. “HEP has been asking for more results as of lately, which has required me to take up more of a personal approach. Lucky enough, most ways to ensure not to be infected is through non-skin to skin contact. Very few Infected beings release a cloud of spores, and at best it’s minimum exposure.” 

He huffed looking back at the clip board again. Today he was to work with 3 individuals of different types. “each infected individual seems to embody at least a form of Fungal Types. The most common seem to be Molds, Mushrooms, and Mildews.” a tap of the pen, “however we have started to seem forms of Smuts as well, which are proving to be resistant to frosts and colds.”

“Today I’m working with 3 people to gain what samples I can from the without harm. Two female and one male, all of the Mushroom category. Low level infection rate, only through skin to skin contact. But they have been more than cooperative with me more than others. I do not think I’ll need more than gloves and a lab coat.”

Walking back over tot he recorder Cub looked at it, “I plan to record findings once I get the samples I need. Today is mostly finding out what makes these beings what they are, as though sentient, they are far for human. End of Recording.” he click the tape off again. 

Shaking his head, Cub gather up the things he needed and headed out to the containment area outside in ‘greenhouse’ looking things. The lab itself was much more fortified than the last one that was taken over my Father Spore with the help of Grian. That left a icky feeling, Cub has been susceptive of Grian for some time to be infected, having worked around them as often as he did he noticed the subtle signs, but had opted to think it was nothing. A regret and mistake he’ll have to live with he supposed.

Cub looked at the paper again, three beings who had all been infected early and been captured before they could be fully turned. Now fully changed into ‘Sporelings’ they were connected to what was known as the ‘Hivemind’. From his guesses, it was a connection of which all the Infected being shared. Much like actual shrooms, fascinating. 

Lily McLaren, she was the youngest at only age 16, and had a thin frame. Hers was a mushroom known as the Blue Ink Cap. Parents wanted nothing to do with her now that she was infected unless it was a cure, and had signed over rights to her to the facility. Cub hated to read that, made his stomach curl in knots.

Amber Davis, she was a college student, age 24, and had been studying to be a mechanic. Bigger set woman, who had hurt the last scientist who tried to cut off a part of her skin (fired), whose shrooms were that of the Moral and Fake Moral. One edible, one very poisonous. She had the most strangest changes to her skin and mouth. Cub was hoping to get skin samples from her. 

And finally Mark Clair, his were the most deadly, the Destroying Angel, large white shrooms that were very much not edible. He was also a thin twig boy, big into philosophy and had a retail job before this. Age was 25, and had weird morphs along his hands and eyes. 

Cub decided to try with Mark first, given he was the closet one and said to be the calmest of the three. Preferring to talk your ear off over doing anything. Most found him very annoying, and dislike the large death white shrooms on his shoulders and back.  Opening the area with his keycard, Cub clicked in his time he went in. Safety precautions, to limit exposure and see how long each person was in and out for. The rooms were basic enough, a bed, desk, and place to use the bathroom. Mayor Mumbo wanted at least to make the infected not feel like prisoners. Books on Philosophy were open on the desk and some notes taken here and there. 

Turning to look over, Cub met the dark brown eyes of the infected, the brown glowed in a pool of blackness, bioluminescent almost. Mark smiled brightly, messy, curly brown hair pulled back into a small pony tail. “Hello Cub!” he said cheerfully with a grin. “Wondered when you’d be back, the last guy was not much of a talker at all.” the infected boy said.

Cub gave a pleasant smile, research did find that infect beings liked to be talked to and treated as human beings. “suppose not everyone is looking to ask themselves about the ten second theory.”

Mark cackled laughter at that, rocking where he sat, “that last guy near had a meltdown when I explained it to him.” he grinned widely. Eyes peering at the scientist setting down the bag, “So what we doing today?”

“Just some blood samples again, and hoping to take clipped tables of your shrooms that are falling off.” Cub only ever took the ones on infected beings that were ‘over mature’.  Mark and other infected explained when a shroom reached it’s full maturity it became uncomfortable on their skin. And had to be ‘picked’. To allow new ones to grow. 

Beaming widely Mark let his feet dangle over the edge of the bed, “Sure thing, a few on my back are rather itchy and trying to pull off, but I can’t reach them.” he said holding out his arm for Cub to stick the needle in.  The infected watched Cub work, disinfecting the arms area and carefully taking out the purple blood from him. A week ago Mark’s was a deep red color, and now the infection had fully taken root. 

Sliding out the needle, Cub watched the wound heal rather quickly and not even let out a drop of the purple blood. Another thing they found, Infected Ones were able to heal at a rather fast rate, though still could feel pain. 

“Come close to finding anything?” Mark asked him, the glowing eyes looking at him as he messed with the frills on the tips of his fingers. Mushrooms had gills normally on the bottom of their caps. Mark has some on his fingers and under his chin. Sometimes, when startled, he let out a cloud of spores from his fingers and neck. 

Cub shook his head, “Not much that we don’t already know, you’re siblings have been quiet stubborn about info.” he comments on the off hand.

Mark snickers a bit, “Father Spore and Mother Spore don’t really like snitches.” he said cheerfully, almost in a sing song tone. 

Scar and Grian... Grian they found out much later was Mother Spore. At least Cub won the bet of Scar having ‘asked Grian out’. Even if the circumstances was strange and no one thought it funny... Mumbo at least gave him the 20 bucks he owed. 

“Snitches get stiches.” Cub muttered, remembering Scar used that phrase alot.

“exactly!” Mark chirped, “At least you get it unlike the others.”

Oh he sure did, Scar would often say that to him when teasing him with something he knew and Cub didn’t. It was a game of sorts between the two of them, on who could find out the others ‘secret’. Which was why when a Infected said that to him in the same tone Scar used, it made Cub wondered for a moment if Scar was... well if Scar was playing a ‘game’ with him. 

Far fetched really, Scar was known now as Father Spore. And though findings suggested that willing transformation meant you weren’t mindless. That didn’t mean that the guy that was once Cub’s friend was the ‘Father Spore’ they knew now. 

Shaking off the thought, Cub took out the 3 shrooms that were loose on Mark’s back. Being sure to be careful when touching these deadly shrooms with gloves. And so not to tug or yank on any that weren’t ready to be ‘picked’.  Mark however hummed happily when they were taken off, possibly happy the ‘itch’ was gone on his back. “Hope you do find what you’re looking for Cub.” the guy told him happily.

The smile felt real and genuine from the creature, as Cub bid his goodbye and left Mark’s room. He was in for 18 minuets, no spores were released and Mark was mostly calm. Putting everything in a bag and sending it to the labs for later. 

Next area was Amber’s, aggressive to any who came at her too fast and once force fed one of her shrooms to her attacker. Mans was still in the hospital as the effects of the shrooms growing on people were ten times stronger. Lucky to be alive that idiot was, and he was fired for his actions. 

Cub opened the door, and walked in, “Amber? it’s Dr. Cub.” he said announcing he was there in the dim room. Amber was watching a video on a DVD player of How Thing Work, and looked over at him. 

“Hello Cub.” she said in a calm tone, though she was eyeing him warily and his bag.

Setting it down Cub smiled, “Just here for some skin samples and saliva, nothing painful I promise.” he reassured her getting the things out carefully for her to see. 

He did watch her shoulders relax and she took a moment before nodding. “Alright, but... don’t tug on anything.” Amber near growled, her red hair almost seemed to glow with her anger. Dark green eyes glowing also as she watcher him come over to her at a steady pace, making sure she could see everything he had. 

Cub smiled at her, “The skin sample might hurt a bit, but I promise you’ll be fine.” he reassured her, exposure to her was to be limited. When angry she could let out a spore cloud to confuse people.  Her skin was like that of the fake moral, having reddish patches and winkles and divots in her skin. her tongue was also a deep purple color with gills inside her mouth to expel spores through saliva. 

“Open up.” Cub said holding up the cotton swab, she did so letting him taking some from under her tongue and cheeks. Making a face after as she moved her tongue around not liking the dry feeling.

He got the tool ready needed, “ready?” he asked her as she nodded gripping the chair as he took a sample needed. Normally after stiches were needed, but she healed also at a fast rate as the hole closed.

Amber made a face, “I hate that.” she muttered, “I hate the pain of this.” she rubs the area where he took the top later of skin off.

“I’m sorry Amber,” Cub told her softly, with a sympathetic tone. He knew these tests and people coming for more could get tedious. Some weren’t as kind as him about it.

Shaking her head, Amber sighed, “You’re kinder to me than others Cub, Father Spore says you’re one of the rare few to be nice to us.” she admits thumbing her arm lightly with a frown. 

That caught Cub’s attention, “He does?” he asked her confused, Amber only nodded saying nothing more. No use in trying, once they clamed up they wouldn’t talk for anything. Apparently Father Spore wouldn’t let them talk. 

Sighing, Cub smiled again, “Well that’s all, I’ll leave you to it Amber.” he said, finding Infected beings liked to be called by their names still.

This did etch a smile from her as she watched him go before going back to her movie. Amber wasn’t a bad person, she, like others, was just scared. For good reason, Cub had been finding out and reprimanding those who had been doing more... unethical practices. These beings were still capable of feeling pain adn emotions, and treating them like mindless beasts was a sure way to end up near dead. Which a few had been.

Sometimes, Father Spore would take control of their bodies directly. Something that only recently found out. When Lily, his newest charge, had lashed out at a man who tried to see if she could still experience uh... certain desires. Her eyes had turned a green color, and Father Spore had used her body to rip the man apart. 

He didn’t survive long, not that Cub cared for the scumbag. Lily since then had been jumpy and didn’t trust any male workers besides him. Only female staff could really get her to open up. She was the one who Father Spore talked with the most when people were in the room.  Lily said he comforted her when they were there. He was fatherly to her, or so she says, and is much nicer than her actual dad. 

Cub clocked into the room and walked in to see Lily on the bed, she had already been told he’d be coming. She was playing a game it seemed on a DS that was from her house.  Lily looked over at the door and tensed for a moment, before slowly relaxing. “Hi...” she said shyly, eyes looking far away for a moment before she untensed again. “Cub right?” she asked in a timid tone.

“Yeah,’ Cub said casually with a kind smile, “Just a check up today, you told the last female worker that some of your shrooms were ready to be picked?” he asked her.

A nod as Lily looked upset, “She didn’t trust me enough to do it herself... and well... said she’d get you to do so but...” she messed with her long black hair running her clawed fingers through it.

Cub nodded, “I know, I promise, I won’t touch you anywhere that isn’t your shrooms.” he promised her, which did seem to help reassure her. 

Lily’s blue eyes looked at him and she nodded slowly allowing him closer. “Father says you’re a kind man, and knows you won’t hurt me but... it’s still scary.” she admits looking at her hands. “Understandable that it is, what you went through isn’t okay.” Cub said firmly, and he stood by that. Happy the bastard that made her like this was dead.

A small smile was seen, “He said you’d say that, Father talks about you open to me.” Lily said allowing him to get off the larger blue shrooms that were already starting to wilt. Those had to be very uncomfortable on her skin, from what was explained it’s like something biting you over and over and you can’t scratch it.  Lily had gotten the ones on front but had a hard time with the ones on her back side.

“Does he?’ Cub asked curiously as he was careful and slow making sure not to startle or scare her.

“Uh-huh.” Lily said messing with her nails, “He likes to tell me stories about you two and the things you did. His favorite is when you tried to cook for them both.”

Cub snorted laughter at that, he remembered that one, nearly burnt down Scar’s kitchen, and Jellie ate the good bacon. Jellie had been staying with him since Scar vanished, and missed him dearly. Sitting by the window and seemed ot be waiting for him. 

Laughing lightly Cub shook his head, “It wasn’t that bad,” he commented to her, “Just some smoke was all.” he said finished up the last of the dead shrooms.

“Not that bad?” Cub froze at the voice overlaying Lily’s own. “Cubby it was bad, you burnt and ruined my good pan.” Scar said with a look at him, the blue eyes on the girl now a deep green. The smile on her face was Scar’s own, was Father Spore.

Shifting a bit, Cub schooled his shock, “Father Spore.” he said shortly. Remaining calm, Lily often could be controlled by Father Spore since that time. He didn’t do it though to talk with people before, mostly to protect her from other people. 

“Oh come on now Cub, it’s just an old friend.” Father Spore said with a bright smile, the green eyes gleaming. “No need to be formal with me friend, just wanted to talk to you.”

Making a face Cub walked away, “I’m not here to listen to you try and convince me to join you.” his tone was clipped and to the point.

A huffing whine followed that statement, “Cub, why do you keep insisting to not join?” Father Spore asked him, “My Sporeling adore you, you’re like a favorite uncle to them. They love to chat about you, and want you to join so you can be their uncle.” 

A cold chill at the words, the idea of turning could be scary of a thought. But Cub held back the urge to shiver, “I’m just not interested in becoming a shroom.” he told Father Spore.

“Well, not everyone becomes a shroom, you know that.” his voice teased lightly, “it’s not so bad, makes me wonder what mutation you’ll show!” excitement that was so much like Scar made Cub’s heart hurt.  Father Spore continued, “Grian misses you, he misses Mumbo as well, all his friends. Just wants you guys to know how much he cares.”

A glare at that, “Cares? Scar you killed people in the lab that didn’t want to be turned. They are now mindless as it wasn’t willing and...” he was afraid he’d end up like that. Theory it was, there was still a chance he could lose himself. Dread pooling in his stomach.

The green eyes soften, “Oh Cubby, you’d be so much more than that to me, to Grian. You’re our friend, who cared about me after I lost, who made sure I wasn’t alone for long to my thoughts. Who also took in Jellie, which I thank you for that, I haven’t had time to pick her up as you live so close in town.” the voice was light again, talking about his cat always made Scar smile. 

“How is Jellie doing?” Father Spore asks happily, green eyes gleaming again, trying to get off sad topics.

Shifting again, Cub sighed, “She misses you, sits by the window watching for you.” he tells the other, as the spore creature hums sadly to that.

“I’ll be sure to give her extra love when she’s returned.” Father Spore said firmly, “Jellie deserves nothing less.” the tone was firm on that as a fact. Which did made Cub want to smile at how painfully familiar it was.

Looking away Cub shook his head, he couldn’t let himself feel that though. Scar wasn’t Scar, he was Father Spore. That man who turned people against their will, who has blood on his hands from those he’s killed. The one who was seeking to turn this island into a mushroom and spore infected ‘home’. 

Sighing sadly himself, Father Spore watched him go. “Cubby, please just consider my offer. Joining the Mycelium is a good thing. I’d never lead you astray Cub, we are partners after all was fellow Vex.” he teased lightly.

Cub gripped the keycard in his hand, Vex was what he and Scar called each other when they were kids together. Pranksters who liked to mess with people. Cub felt tears, he missed his friend, “If you really want me, why not tell me anything to convince me? I’m a man science Father Spore, tell me the facts.” he said looking back at Lily’s green eyes.

The smile grew as Father Spore snickered, “Snitches get Stiches, Cubby~!” he said in a sing song voice, one that Scar would use when the game was on. 

Scowling, Cub left the room to Father Spore and Lily’s humming. 

Leaning up against the wall, Cub looked up at the sunny sky and felt some tears fall down. He missed his friend dearly, he missed Scar’s laugh, the others teasing remarks, he missed their plots to mess with people, and Scar’s clear crush on Grian as he talked about the man all night. He missed his friends so much. 

Cub was determined to find a cure, to find any shred of evidence he could on if this was a threat or not. Part of him wanted to take Scar’s word for it. To believe what he offered, that his friend and partner wouldn’t lie to him. But, Scar also was known to have a silver tongue, known to only give half truths. Father Spore was a creature of the mycelium, and thus had Scar’s tendencies to half truth things. 

It hurt to think that Scar would lie to him, infected by fungus like thing. Cub scowled again and brushed away the tears as he sat on the ground to compose himself. 

His resistance was thinning, he knew that much, the ache for his friends grew, and the more cruelty he watched here, the more he wondered if Scar was nicer. Lily believed so, as did Amber and Mark. All promised him that Father Spore was a kind father to his Sporelings, that Mother Spore was protective of them. 

Cub took a breath in and out slowly, Snitches get Stiches. If Scar wanted him to find out, Cub would find out. And pry out the mans secrets to find the truth one way or another. 

#tw mind control #tw body horror #tw mentions of assault #father spore au #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #cubfan135 #convex #platonic love #they are partners nothing more #tw unethical practices

[iamthepulta]

It's suddenly very important that I estimate the price tags and availability of every possible fabric commonly available to normal middle-class Londoners in the Neath vs Albion. We are going to rank these based on cost and likelihood of availability.

10/10 availability means it's easy to produce, distribute, and useful. 10/10 price means it's expensive.

-=-

LINEN: Antibacterial, breathable, durable, dries quickly. However, has a lengthy drying, curing process along with separating it from the flax fiber. Linen grows in wet, windy climates and needs water for processing.

Could probably be grown in the Neath with appropriate lighting installed(?) Likely has a high cost to export to the skies (if trade route exists). Could maybe be grown in the Reach?? Would require space and appropriate conditions.

Rating: 5/10 . Price: 4/10

.

COTTON: Increasing prevalence due to the cheapness for nasty colonial reasons. However, requires extensive space and water to grow, along with a hot, humid climate. The textile itself is slow to dry and prone to mildew.

Requires a hot climate and plenty of water. I vote only the surface could produce it, and then, only Skies inhabitants would wear it because it's incompatible with the Neath.

Rating: 2/10 . Price: 10/10 after all the taxes.

.

WOOL: Normal textile. Renewable, breathable, odor resistant. Available: Wherever sheep, goats, rabbits, alpacas, etc. can be bred.

Goats will eat anything man. Some wool animals do not necessarily require light, and can be bred over time for low light levels. Friendship work pets! Would thrive alright in the Reach and they're already on Shepherd's Isles if I remember right. I assume wool would be cheap after extensive cultivation.

Rating: 10/10 . Price: 2/10

.

MUSHROOMS: I'm just researching this. Apparently it's a new, sustainable fabric people are exploring; mushroom textiles/mycelium is bacteria-resistant and breathable. However, I think the mycelium is literally grown to fit your body...? It seems like the company's selling point is the decrease in time from not sewing the object. (If I'm reading the website correctly.) This seems stupid honestly. You can already make plywood from mushrooms with some processing since the stems have cellulose similar to wood. Just treat it like you do bamboo textiles/rayon. I could be reading the articles wrong.

Mushroom fabric could be available both in the Neath and the Skies. Processing necessary unless you're doing it the stupid way, which you know what, I bet some rich fucker does want a one-piece mushroom suit grown to their body.

Rating: 4/10 . Price: 5/10 ... (One-piece: Rating: 1/10 . Price: 8/10)

.

(Leather under the cut. Not a huge fan but realized it would also be available and was important at the time. Plus, I stumbled onto the development of chromium tanning in the 1850s so if anyone is interested there's a brief write-up on that. However, don't read otherwise. Wool is hands-down the best textile resource available. Leather is a 2/10 . 2/10.)

LEATHER: Leather requires processing since you have to remove water molecules from the collagen (proteins) of the skin. Only removing the water from the skin makes it dry and stiff, but if you soak the skin in tannin to replace the water molecules instead of just removing them, you can prevent the stiffening.

Tanning usually took 1-2 months until 1858 when chromium salts were found to also replace collagen. Chromium tanning only takes one or two days, but causes massive environmental and physical damage due to chromium being a respiratory tract irritant and carcinogenic. Vegetable tannins are frequently used now, but chromium tanning still makes up a majority of the industry due to it being so cheap.

The benefits of leather are primarily the longevity and repairability. It's not breathable, it's not... pretty much anything except tough, and it takes a lot of effort to produce. The only thing going for it in the Fallen London universe would be the potential use of a resource going to waste.

However, given this is Fallen London in industrial 1860s England and nobody cares about anything + the assumptions made about wool up above, I bet leather could be used for shoes and tools/items rather than wearable garments. It might not be as prolific as wool simply because it's not as suitable for the environment, but it would technically be a resource going to waste if they couldn't use it. Could also be more useful in Skies.

Rating: 2/10 . Price: 2/10

#leather tw #Honestly wool is so obviously perfect for the Reach and Neath I should have noticed that before. Lost opportunities. #I think Shepherd's Isles should have been a hint too lol #fallen london #fl #fl core #textiles #I apologize if anyone is squeamish about leather. I tried to do my best to make it accessible so nobody had to read the processing. #whalers did have leather boots #but mostly linen and wool for everything else which makes sense and supports the idea that leather is shit for the neath

[wholelottabotany]

Food Growing Friday: Raised Bed Basics!

    Raised beds are a very simple, manageable, and accessible way for people to establish their own gardens. It is not as daunting as it may seem, and it can be as DIY as you want. To start, all you need to focus on is the Frame, the Fill, and the Flood.

    Frame: To start, you need a solid wood or metal frame. If you’re building your beds yourself, a great long-term wood choice is Cedar, which is naturally rot-resistant and not a bank-breaker compared to other woods. If you’re choosing metal instead, especially in wetter climates, you’ll wanna go with Galvanized Steel to avoid leeching and rust. Water Troughs are a great choice for this. You can customize the height of your bed to fit your accessibility and price needs, lower beds are more cost-effective, but higher beds are easier to maintain for people with disabilities and difficulty bending down.

You can also purchase easy-install raised bed kits from your local garden or hardware center, and not even worry about all this.    

Fill: Your soil mix can make or break your gardening experience. You have to make sure that you’re not sacrificing cost for quality, and vice versa. To do so, it’s good to mix about 50/50 with cheaper topsoil, and organic compost. The compost you can source from a bag, or you can make it yourself if you have the resources. Also keep an eye out for local compost bins that you may be able to source from. Topsoil also can come from a bag, or any construction and landscaping projects in your area. Never be afraid to find resources in the community around you!    

Especially with taller beds, it’s also smart to start with a layer of mulch, logs, or branches. Anything organic that can break down, but that takes up plenty of space in order to slow weed growth and lessen the burden of soil on your wallet.

Flood: Water! Water! Water! A garden can grow nowhere without it's beloved moisture. Different beds will have different watering requirements, depending on how well the soil drains, and how much the plants need. But for now, the set up. I have personally found the best way to irrigate a small bed is by drip watering, because it avoids issues like powdery mildew and water spots caused by overhead watering. You can either purchase grids to go across the entire bed, or you can get flexible irrigation tubing and directly target your plants.

#food growing friday #garden #gardenblr #food garden #veggies #agricultural science #earth science #botanical science #gardening #grow your own food #horticultural science #permaculture #plant biology #plant science #raised bed #garden tips #garden help #self sustaining

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

27 for the Wrapped prompts :D

@ghost-town-story

Thanks for sending this in, @ghost-town-story! Hope you're cool with a couple of my favorite things: necromancers and costume parties.

#27 - "Ad Mortem Festinamus" by Sarband for the Spotify Wrapped Prompts

Words: 903

Summary: Every ten years, the Unseen Hand (well, it's mostly Mergus doing the work) throw a masquerade party on the night of the winter solstice. Each faction, aquilae, hellhounds, and ouroboroi, compete to make the biggest splash when entering the ballroom. Isaac and Renato watch the last of these arrive.

Content Advisory: Undead spookiness? General theme of decay/death. Emotions being influenced by magic/little bit of Isaac wanting to jump Renato and make out towards the very end. Alcohol mention in the last line.

The groan of wood and metal hinges drew everyone’s attention to the ballroom doors. Conversation dwindled into a hush. Isaac slid a step closer to Renato, enough for their sleeves to brush. When fingers, covered by black leather gloves, sought out and curled around his, he didn’t resist. Despite the intended insult behind its design, gratitude washed over Isaac for his assigned mask.

Through the enormous open doors entered a grim reaper shrouded in white robes. It grinned at the assembled guests from the depths of its hood as it slowly strode deeper into the room. The end of its long scythe clacked against the marble floor with every other step. A large hourglass sat cradled like an infant in the crook of its other arm. Behind the reaper trailed a procession of the ouroboroi. None wore masks, but they’d all dressed up, so to speak, for the occasion. Some wore tunics or gowns in bright greens, yellows, or muted blues with long, flowing sleeves. Medieval, probably, though the style could’ve been Renaissance—if pressed, Isaac wouldn’t have been able to define either, not clearly. As they got closer, he spotted the marks of wear, of decay on their costumes. Moth-chewed holes, patchy fur lining sleeves and necklines, dark stains from mildew or worse.

Corzette, in the front row of the group, had forgone her scorpion tail of human skulls for the evening, probably so she didn’t have to cut a hole in the back of her tattered brocade dress. The ouroboros next to her sported the elaborately embroidered white and gold vestments and towering, pointed hat of a…bishop, if Isaac’s memory of chess pieces served. A sinkhole yawned open in his middle when he recognized Quinn’s tall form next in line, continuing the clergy theme with a humble brown friar’s robe. Eir long red hair was tied back in a loose tail, green eyes dulled in undeath. Motley was in attendance as well, of course. It lived up to its name in tights and a tunic stitched together from random pieces, just like its skin. The bells on the ends of its jester hat gave a soft jingle each time it moved.

The procession of necromancers halted once they’d reached the middle of the ballroom. They broke rank to form three concentric, shrinking circles around the shrouded figure of Death. Isaac jumped as a sudden shriek of strings and clash of tambourines came from the orchestra arranged on the mezzanine. Renato stroked reassuring little circles into his palm. Some type of pipe trilled, sketching a few notes of cheery melody before falling silent again. When a drum counted out a rhythm, the figures in their tarnished finery linked hands. Strings, tambourines, and pipes united behind the percussion, and as one the ouroboroi started to dance.

Outer and innermost circles pranced widdershins while the middle ring moved counter to them. Slow at first. They stopped to kick at regular intervals, right foot in first, then the left. Broke the circle to clap over their heads. Twirled even as each layer kept revolving. As the music picked up speed so did the dancers, never missing a step. Their dry, cracked lips pulled back from their teeth to match the grin of the still figure of Death in their midst. Faster, faster, faster the undead dancers whirled, like the gears of a doomsday clock, hair and garments flying, footfalls competing with the drums. It wasn’t the semblance of life that flashed and gleamed in their cloudy eyes, not a mockery or inversion. It was a power beyond it, something fierce and defiant and unflinching that drove them, that kept them in perfect sync despite their frenzied pace.

Motley was the first to throw its head back and let loose a yipping coyote howl. The hellhounds in the room immediately gave themselves away by joining in. Other ouroboroi added a chorus of cackling shrieks. Isaac shivered as something welled in his own chest. He looked over at Renato to find dilated eyes, only a thin ring of blue-green iris remaining, already fixed on him through the feline mask. The nascent something coalesced into a need to be shoved against the nearest wall and kissed, to be taken, to have sharp teeth sink into his bared throat—anything to bleed the mounting pressure off. Isaac clutched at Renato’s shoulders as his knees quivered under the strain. Behind the painted lips of the mask his own opened to say please and leave it up for interpretation.

A gloved hand cupped his cheek. Gently but firmly, it turned him to face the dance again just in time to see its end. The reaper, the calm at the center of the storm, raised its scythe high and slammed the haft back to the floor with an ear-splitting crack. Like puppets with their strings cut, the ouroboroi collapsed in a tangle, limbs akimbo, stares glassy. The music halted mid-note, leaving the audience to realize they were the ones panting and gasping for breath. Breath that immediately turned to reverberating cheers, hoots, and whistles.

“Well. Looks like Hawthorne wins bragging rights this year.” Renato’s pupils had shrunk almost, though not quite, out of predator mode.

Light-headed, Isaac returned his hands to where they belonged and admitted—if only grudgingly—that Mergus may not have been wrong to give him a clown’s mask. “Is there somewhere to get a drink at this party?”

#dysthanasia #writeblr #snippet #urban fantasy #Ceph is also part of the festivities #but they're in charge of the bar #the fifth member of the Unseen Hand: Tristan Knox #has been dead since Kinslayer got to him of course #everyone's kind of relieved he's not there tbh #not the sort of person you'd want to party with as it turns out

[vaibhav07]

Outdoor Rugs & Their Importance

Do you want to brighten up your outdoor patio or deck? Purchase an Outdoor Rug! They are available in an infinite variety of colours and patterns and will add class and style to your backyard or deck. An "indoor outdoor rug" is the best way to transform your backyard, and they are also very affordable.

An outdoor patio rug provides foot comfort as well as protection from deck splinters and patio concrete. Indoor/outdoor rugs, as they are commonly known, can be used both inside and outside. This is due to the use of more durable natural or synthetic fibres and weaves. Many are stain resistant and can be easily washed, many with just a hose! Many people use them in children's play areas, bedrooms, or any other location where your children live, play, or eat. Others will use them indoors in basements because they are resistant to mould, mildew, and other moisture.

Choosing the right outdoor rug

First, consider the appropriate rug size for your space. Outdoor rugs in the 8x10 size are very popular. Although a small rug will make an impression, a larger rug will be more practical in a seating or dining area.

But which design should you go with? How do you give your outdoor space a unique personality and style? There are countless designs and colours to choose from.

First, consider the surrounding colours, as well as the elements and overall style of your home. Consider how your area rug will impact the space in terms of contrasts and colour harmony, taking into account the colour of your existing floor and walls.

We believe that a rug should be the first piece of decor in any room because it has the most impact due to its large canvas. It can also bring the pieces together into a unified style. However, after you've chosen the other pieces, you can add an area rug. So, either start with a great-looking outdoor rug, or incorporate one after you've chosen outdoor furniture and "accessories" like potted plants, cushions, a string or more of white lights, table lanterns, or other decorative items.

Then look for a design that creates an exciting, liveable, and cosy appearance. Begin by looking for outdoor rug ideas on the internet. Scroll through popular Pinterest or Google Images pins, for example. Start at a great e-commerce store like LushAmbience.com and search for "Indoor/Outdoor Rugs" using the "Style" menu or filters. Better yet, go to one of your area's larger rug stores with a good selection, such as Lush Ambience. They provide a better selection and service than big-box stores or online retailers. They can also make changes to your rug and custom-cut a pad for it. Furthermore, there's nothing like seeing and feeling the rugs in person if you find one you like while browsing for ideas.

Outdoor Rug Fabric

Outdoor patio rugs are available in a variety of fabrics to withstand the elements, including rain, morning dew, and sunlight. Many are synthetic, while others are "grass" carpets, with many of those being outdoor braided carpets like jute rugs. Nonetheless, each will have varying weather resistance and mould and mildew resistance. Synthetics handle moisture better, whereas grass mats can develop mildew if not pre-treated.

The Benefits of Outdoor Rugs

How lovely would it be to spend more time outdoors in comfort and luxury as the days grow longer? Imagine hosting friends in your new outside space on a lovely night!

If you are fortunate enough to live close to us in South Carolina, USA, where we can actually utilise our outdoor space year-round, consider yourself very blessed. Whichever kind of outdoor space you have, it can be improved with a vibrant outdoor rug at a great price.

#outdoor rugs #home decor #carpets and rugs #furniture #interiors #plastic

[plantanarchy]

Garden things today. My variegated Gartenmeister Fuchsia is a pretty cool plant. Would grow it and the regular version again and wish I could use it in shade combos at work. I also love using just plain seed impatiens in combos and I'm guessing that fell out of style because of the impatiens downy mildew issues in the past... but there are tons of resistant varieties now. Blue Lobelia is coming into bloom in the garden. And the rose of Sharon I was too soft to remove behind my shed is doing... rose of Sharon stuff. The very first goldenrods are starting to bloom.

#also my neighbors have the most truly massive joe pye in their back junk pile #i saw it from a distance from my porch and was like. joe? #garden content

[elegantshowersuk]

The Benefits Of Installing Shower Enclosures With Shower Trays

Installing a shower enclosure with shower tray is a great way to upgrade your bathroom. Not only do they provide a modern, sleek look, but they also offer a variety of benefits. From providing extra safety to helping you save money, installing a shower enclosure with a shower tray will improve the look and feel of your bathroom. In this article, we’ll discuss the advantages of shower enclosures with shower trays and why they are an excellent choice for your bathroom. Table of Contents: I. Introduction II. Benefits of Shower Enclosures With Shower Trays A. Safety B. Aesthetics C. Cost-effectiveness D. Easy to Clean E. Variety of Options III. Conclusion

II. Benefits of Shower Enclosures With Shower Trays One of the major benefits of installing a shower enclosure with a shower tray is the improved safety it offers. Shower trays provide a flat, non-slip surface which makes it safer to enter and exit the shower. This is especially important for elderly or disabled people who may have difficulty with balance. Additionally, it can also provide a safe surface to put shower items such as soaps and shampoos.

Aesthetics is another benefit of installing a shower enclosure with shower tray. It provides a modern, sleek look that can instantly transform the look and feel of your bathroom. Shower trays come in a variety of materials and styles, so you can choose a look that best suits your personal style and the rest of your bathroom’s décor.

Another benefit of shower enclosures with shower trays is their cost-effectiveness. A shower tray is usually significantly cheaper than a full-size shower enclosure, making them an ideal option for those on a budget. Additionally, they can be installed quickly and easily, which can save you time and money on installation costs. Shower enclosures with shower trays are also very easy to clean and maintain. The non-porous surface of a shower tray is resistant to mold and mildew and can be quickly wiped down with a damp cloth. This makes it easy to keep your shower looking clean and fresh.

Finally, there is a wide variety of options when it comes to shower enclosures with shower trays. Whether you’re looking for a traditional style or a more modern look, there are plenty of options available to choose from. You can also choose from a variety of materials, such as acrylic, glass, or ceramic, to find the perfect look for your bathroom.

III. Conclusion In conclusion, installing a shower enclosure with a shower tray is a great way to upgrade your bathroom. Not only do they provide improved safety, but they also offer a variety of aesthetic and cost-effective benefits. From providing a modern, sleek look to being easy to clean and maintain, installing a shower enclosure with shower tray is an excellent choice for your bathroom.

Tags:Shower Enclosures With Shower Trays, Shower Enclosure With Shower Tray

#Shower Enclosures With Shower Trays #bathroom #homedecor #home #interiordesign #bathroomdecor #bathroomdesign #interior #home & lifestyle #bathroomremodel #design