photo by @xlntwtch2 late summer 2023
"she said sometimes it succs when they're cute"
plant - succulents
sempervivum
from succulentalley.com ....
"there are about 40 kinds of succulent plants in this category...
...many are known as "live forever" and "hens and chicks" "
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What’s my blurry as heck profile picture? It’s a Viola sagittata in bloom in my once-garden. I rescued it from a development project and it propagated itself beautifully for a few years in my yard. It’s kind of rare in my place of origin but serves as the primary host plant for the sole breeding population of the Regal Fritillary butterfly (Speyeria idalia) left east of the Mississippi River. I moved and my garden no longer exists, but I spent years responsibly collecting local genotypes of native plants by mucking about in wetlands and winding deep into forested trails and observing, slowly waiting for the things I wanted to bring home to go to seed. It was a beautiful endeavor and a magical time in my life and I’ll probably never be able to do it again. My garden was gorgeous and full of energy and biodiversity and it’s the place my consciousness will go when I die if I’m lucky and all that.
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Plant Folklore: The Devil’s Plants from House Plant Hobbyist
* The folklore about why Onions and Garlic are associated with The Devil is interesting to me given that the consumption of Garlic, at least, was associated with Jewishness in the Middle Ages to such a point that the scent or presence of Garlic (either in one's home, or on one's person) was enough to convict one of being a Jew. Many of the positive associations listed following that are, ironically, many of the reasons Jews specifically used (or carried) Garlic for spiritual or magical reasons at that time. Jewitches has a lovely article outlining so much of this. In other words: ✨Historical Antisemitism Is Really Fun To Notice Once You Know About It!✨
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@brilcrist created this lovely art depicting a scene from my fic!
My Heart Will Be Your Home by dr_girlfriend
Excerpt:
That is … definitely a guy fighting with a bow and arrow. He’s tall and blond — could probably pass for Steve at a distance, but maybe even a touch taller and built a bit leaner — wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a fancy-looking recurve bow in his hand and a quiver strapped slantways across his back. He’s got his back to a giant maple tree, and is firing arrows in a blur of motion while ducking lasers from the bots. These ones look a little like the Daleks from that show Tony and Bruce love — vaguely conical and stumpy, with what seems to be a single laser on each.
“Why ain’t he gettin’ up in that tree?” Bucky wonders aloud, revving through the preserve. “It’s a better tactical position.” He’s starting to see scattered bots now, and he slaloms a course through them, swinging his metal arm and sending them flying as he zooms by.
“Not everyone has sniper training,” Sam suggests. “He’s probably just some archery hobbyist, or something. Probably doesn’t know the first damn thing about fighting.”
A bot has gotten close up on the guy’s flank, and he seems to realize just in time. He somersaults sideways, coming up with an arrow in his hand and jamming it directly into the bot’s side just as a shot from Redwing finishes it off.
“I don’t know about that,” Steve says dryly. “Seems to be doing pretty good to me. Either way, we’re almost on him; Bucky, I’ll take the right side, you take the left.”
“Copy.” There’s a line of bots advancing on the guy and Bucky pulls up with a sharp twist, planting his left foot and letting the rear of the bike skid sideways so that the back wheel takes out the bots like a row of dominoes.
Out of the corner of his eye Bucky sees Steve hurtle over the handlebars of his own motorcycle and yeet the whole damn thing at a cluster of bots. No finesse, that guy.
Bucky jumps off his bike, swinging at the bots closest to him. He’s just about dealt with that cluster and is only a few paces away from the archer when the guy’s eyes widen. He lunges toward Bucky, pushing him aside just as one of the bots on the ground fires.
The man yelps and staggers, pressing a hand to his side.
“What kind of idiot are you?” Bucky growls, pulling the man back and putting his own body between him and the bot. “Let me take the hits!”
A furrow appears between the man’s brows, his mouth gaping for a moment, and then he seems to shake it off, nocking another arrow and loosing it. It skims so close to Bucky’s face that it stirs his hair, and Bucky whirls to see another bot was sneaking up on him.
“Jesus, these things are everywhere,” Bucky complains, drawing his Glock and firing, taking out the laser of the one on the ground.
“There’s a weak spot in the armor plating on the left side,” the man yells.
Time seems to stop for a moment, Bucky’s heart stuttering and then kicking into overdrive. The air around him suddenly seems crystal clear — Bucky can see every individual leaf on every tree, can hear the sighing of the wind and the rustle of the leaves, the whirring of the bots and the heartbeat and panting breaths of the guy as he ducks another laser.
“Bucky, did he —” Steve starts over the comm.
“Not now, Stevie,” Bucky manages. He shakes off his shock and forcibly shoves the revelation to the back of his mind in order to focus on the task at hand. Time seems to lurch back into a normal speed and Bucky concentrates on blocking the man from the line of fire of the largest cluster of approaching bots.
“I’ll make an opening, you run for it,” he shouts.
“I’m not leaving,” the man shouts back. Jesus christ, another vigilante-wannabe. They’re coming out of the woodwork these days. Was this guy even in the park when all this started, or did he come looking for a fight?
“Watch your back,” Bucky instructs with a mental shrug, and then there’s no more time for words, the two of them fighting fiercely against the oncoming wave of bots.
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Ok I SWEAR I'm not trying to babygirlify VALENTINO of all people but I keep thinking of this
Do you guys remember in the Alastor comic where, it's never really explained why, but Alastor reached for a rose and it wilted before he touched it. We aren't really sure how, but all Sinners seem to have some sort of actual punishment or draw back to living "downstairs" because technically otherwise you're just, running around the same as being alive
And then you have this line from Loser Baby
So
Is Valentino's punishment in Hell that his eyes are too bad for him to create art? Or is it symbolic of something that happened when he was alive? Is it just a "ha ha funny moth" joke?
also. I think he might be into botany, or he likes the smell of flowers as a moth demon, because did you guys peep the environmental storytelling on the fact his room has a massive plant terrarium and even the porn studio of all places has vines? You're telling me this catty controlling bitch keeps plants in his workplace and his private room? There's no way it's not because he isn't a plant hobbyist or something
I wanna put this creep under a microscope and study him like an incurable disease 😩❤️
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She....
as much as I detest the price-gouging of professional hort wholesalers trying to keep this plant priced high despite being more readily available in the hobbyist market, it does bring a lot of people joy to see for sale in a greenhouse
followed immediately by horror at the price but
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