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anipgarden · 1 year

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Adding To or Starting a Garden

AKA, the beginning of the Plants-Related section of this series.

This is my third post in a series I’ll be making on how to increase biodiversity on a budget! I’m not an expert--just an enthusiast--but I hope something you find here helps!

Got an area of lawn you’d like to convert to a wildlife haven? An area you can stick some hanging baskets in? Want to know how your garden of tomatoes and zucchinis is already putting in a lot of work? This is the section for you!

It would be dumb of me to not acknowledge that the act of gardening can come with a lot of costs. Buying seeds, buying plants, buying soil, raised bed materials, mulch, etc. … it can all get a bit daunting, let’s be honest! But there’s quite a few ways to get seeds and plants for free or extremely cheap, which I’ll be addressing in this section! The next section will be all about addressing the other Costs in gardening and how to mitigate or eliminate them entirely.

Also, do keep in mind; there’s no need to try and convert a whole area from lawn to garden or unused to garden at once. In fact, it could actually be extremely beneficial to do it a little at a time--maybe four or five square feet to start out.

Front Lawn (or Managing Principles)

If you live in a place where you’re required to have a grass turf lawn (HOA’s come to mind…), try replacing it with native grasses instead! You could even possibly use a low-growing ground cover plant like clover to a similar effect! Reseeding/replacing an entire lawn can be a big upfront cost, but even just letting the lawn be a little messy and tall helps. If the lawn gets patchy, leave the bare spots for a little while and something different will likely pop up! Pioneer species will fill the gaps and provide benefits to other plants around them, support animals, and more! If you want to take the guesswork out of it, you could always research what the pioneer species are in your area and plant the ones you like most.

Obtaining Seeds for Cheap or Free

The cheapest way to start a garden is by far via seeds. However, seeds can be a bit complicated to grow, and some sources make them… way overpriced. Fortunately there are ways to get seeds for little to no cost!

Some places sell seeds for as low as a dollar, 50 cents, or 25 cents! The packets may not have a lot of seeds, but it’s definitely a good start for a low budget! I’ve personally bought cheap seed packets at Walmart--the Ferry-Morse and Burpee brands are not what we’re looking for here. Typically the cheaper ones I’ve found are American Seed (which is owned by Green Garden Products, which also owns Ferry-Morse, Livingston Seed, McKenzie Seed, and Seeds of Change. Do with that information what you will), but they’re rarely stocked near the Ferry-Morse ones in the Formal Gardening Section. I’ve most often found them on end caps near the gardening section, so you may have to weave through a few aisles to find them, but once you do there’s an array of flower and vegetable seeds to select from! Alternatively, I’ve found seeds at Dollar Tree sold 2 or 4 for a dollar in Spring as part of their seasonal product; however, when they’re out of stock, they’re typically out of stock for the year. Try to check them out early in the year!

Otherwise, other seed companies like Urban Farmer or Botanical Interests will often have semi-frequent sales in spring and fall, when people are stocking up on seeds--joining their email lists can help you be the first to know when a good sale is going on!

Some foods from grocery stores will provide seeds that you can use in the garden as well. I’ve had the most luck with store-bought bagged beans, peppers, and tomatoes. Some people have had luck with watermelons, apples, citrus, squash, and more. Do keep in mind that you likely won’t get the same variety of fruit/vegetable as the one you bought--the resulting plant may look different and taste different.

Give it a shot! Pick some beans you like--if they don't grow well, at least you can eat the rest!

If you live in the US, food-producing live plants, bare roots, and seeds can often be purchased with SNAP benefits. But what does growing fruits, veggies, and herbs have to do with boosting biodiversity? While food crops aren’t typically native, they still provide valuable shelter for native insects. Some plants even have intricate relationships with native fauna--like the squash bee, a solitary bee which exclusively pollinates cucurbits like pumpkins, squash, and zucchini. And we get to benefit more directly as well! If you’re planting a diverse range of foods in your garden (as opposed to the swaths of single-plant farms that typically produce what’s sent to grocery stores), you’re supporting high levels of biodiversity by providing a variety of plants for creatures to live and hunt around.

Most of the time, when we think of boosting biodiversity with a garden, we think of a colorful flower garden teeming with pollinator species. However, if we’re striving to use native species, it can be a bit difficult to find some species in stores. I can say from experience that trying to find any wildflower seeds other than butterfly weed, purple coneflowers, and black-eyed-susans is… challenging, if you limit yourself to stores like Walmart, Home Depot, and Lowe’s. You might occasionally get lucky with an ACE Hardware or a local nursery, but even then sometimes it can be hard to track down who in your area is selling what--let alone if you live in an area where no one really is selling native plants or their seeds. Not to mention, even once you find a local or online store selling the seeds you want, they can sometimes cost a pretty penny. So what do you do?

If you have the option to, consider gathering native seeds yourself! Get good at identifying the native flora and fauna--or at least, a few target plants and their lookalikes--and get ready to go! Learn where they tend to grow, when they’ll be seeding, etc. Try to identify the plant before it goes to seed (for most plants, it's easiest to identify when flowering), then check back regularly to gather seeds. Typically, if I want to learn how to collect seed from a specific plant, I just search it on Google or YouTube--oftentimes, I'm lead to the GrowItBuildIt Youtube page, so it may be a helpful resource for you as well! Of course, make sure to leave plenty of seed behind so the wild population can repopulate, and seed can feed other creatures in the area. A good rule of thumb is to take no more than 1/3rd of what's available.

Buying seed in bulk is an option if you can afford the upfront cost. Try teaming up with a few friends to buy some bulk seeds and split them amongst yourselves--you’ll get tons of seed! Prairie Moon is a popular site that'll sell seeds by the pound if you can afford the price--though they're in the US, and I believe they focus on Midwest and East Coast natives.

If you want to cheat the system, don’t buy bulk sunflower seeds--buy bags of sunflower seeds being sold as birdseed. They’re typically all black oil sunflower seeds, but they’ll sprout, and they’re fairly cheap for the amount you get!

However, beware generic wildflower seed mixes! Many brands like to sell wildflower seed mixes in big box stores like Home Depot, Target, or even Dollar Tree, but they’ll often include flowers that aren’t native or possibly even invasive in your region! Before you make any purchases, double check to make sure the contained seeds won’t do more harm than good! A quality source of native seeds will provide English and Latin names for all seeds included, and will be native to the region or at least non-invasive.

See this? I don't trust this.

There’s a good handful of programs online that’ll send you free seeds if you’re planning to start a native habitat project! Poke around online and see what you can find; you might get lucky! The best time to start looking for these is fall and winter, I find--by early spring, many of them are either done or beginning to wind down... though some also start up in spring. Ultimately--just check regularly! You never know what you can find!

Other Ways to Get Plants

Don’t want to start from seed? That’s fair! You can try cuttings! Just be sure not to take too much of the plant while you do so. Make sure you’ve gotten a few leaf nodes on your cutting, and cut any flowers you may have gotten. Make sure to leave some blooms and foliage on the original plant for the creatures in the current habitat--you don’t want to destroy one habitat to make another in your garden. There’s tons of methods of rooting cuttings, many of which have different efficacy rates for different plants, but that’s a topic for another post.

If you find seedlings growing in a place where they won’t be able to sustain themselves long-term, or are in danger of being destroyed, consider relocating them! You may be able to gently dig up and transplant the seedling to your garden. Don’t do this if they’re in a place where they can easily survive--ideally, you’ll be taking plants from sidewalk cracks, heavily maintained public gardens, roadsides, etc. Do be careful while doing this--ensure your safety first!

You’re totally allowed to join gardening communities like clubs, facebook groups, and more before you’ve even put a trowel to the dirt. These are great places to learn information and advice! Many gardeners are more than happy to help out a new gardener, and will eagerly provide seeds, cuttings, or even baby plants! Talk to some people about your gardening journey and what you’re hoping to do, and you just might find some kindred spirits--or at least get more people interested in the topic!

Seed and plant giveaways and trades happen all the time in gardening clubs, as well as online! Just poke around and see what you can find! Some are explicitly trades, meaning you’re expected to send something in return, but once you get your feet on the ground with some plant knowledge you’ll be stellar! You may be able to explain you’re just starting out, and someone may send you seeds without expecting a trade, but I’d suggest trying giveaways first.

Poke around online and see if there’s a local chapter of your state’s native plant society. From there, you’ll likely be able to find a calendar of events--many of them will host plant sales in the spring, with a bunch of native plant seedlings ripe for the pickings if you can make it out and have some money to spare! Fair warning, though, you’ll want to get there early if you can. If they say they’re starting at 10, try to get there by 9:45. Year after year, there’s always record turnout, and they sell out of plants faster than ever. Just trust me on this. I’ve been let down; hopefully you won’t have to be.

Some libraries are beginning to host seed libraries! Check around and see if your library has one! Ideally, the system works best if you also have seeds to contribute in return, but if you’re just starting out I’m sure they won’t mind you taking some seeds! Just consider saving some seeds to contribute in the future and pay it forward. If your library doesn’t have a seed library? Consider asking if they’d be willing to start one! Community interest is a great way to get the ball rolling on projects like these, but they’ll only know the community is interested if the community tells them they’re interested!

Volunteer to Garden for/with Someone Else

Maybe someone in your area wants to garden, but is struggling to find the time/energy. Many elderly people who used to garden simply can’t anymore but still would like a garden. Other people may love to have a helping hand in their garden. You might even find a few people in your area interested in renting and sharing a community garden plot with others, so they don't have to handle it all on their own! They may be interested in increasing biodiversity right now, or may be willing to if it’s brought up to them. You might be just the kind of person someone needs! Since it won't be your garden, you’ll likely need a bit of permission and collaboration to get anything in particular going, but it’s worth a shot and a way to maybe even make friends!

Again, your mileage may vary with some of these. You may not know where there's a bunch of wildflowers growing in your area, or maybe your local library doesn't have a free seed library. That's okay! Do what you're able to, find what you can find, get what you can get! And there's never any shame with starting small--in fact, starting small can make the project easier to manage and expand when you're able!

That's the end of this post! My next post is gonna be about ways to start growing plants cheaply--low cost seed starting set ups, essentially. There's a lot of good options, many of which I've used myself even! Until then, I hope this advice is helpful! Feel free to reply with any questions, success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!

#biodiversity #solarpunk #gardening #outdoor gardening #growing from seed #ani rambles #out of queue #the biodiversity saga #i will be honest I have never flat out approached people to offer to help them garden #HOWEVER. People HAVE approached ME asking ME to help THEM with/plan THEIR garden #granted it was after I'd been gardening for a good few years. and its mostly family or family friends but yknow #people would be like 'oh wanna help me with my veggie garden?' even before I tried growing vegetables #i don't think the library near me has a seed library but you just wait until i. get the courage. to go to the library regularly.#i've seen people also make their own little seed library structures kinda like a little free library but like #i dont think my neighborhood is about that life.#if any of yall have those though it could be a great resource! also send pics because I love seeing them #not to say that this post should become a giant seed trade but if it did become that i would be the opposite of mad #if there's any typos blame my sister shes got the hotel room at like 60-something degrees and I am FREEZING #welp time to shut up now bye

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heich0e · 9 months

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THE WITCH'S SONG - part one knight!osamu/witch!reader tags: fem!reader, royalty!au, supernatural!au, witchcraft, enemies to lovers, mentions of violence/illness/death, persecution and oppression, tw blood, please read the tags on each chapter as updated and minors do not interact. crossposted to ao3 MASTERLIST

The night air is sweet.

It’s still early summer, where the days are warm and bright before giving way to cool evenings, and the smell spring unfurled with its budding leaves continues to linger long after the sun sets. The aroma is fresh and green, not yet turned to the heady fragrance of singed grass and warmed earth which will slowly seep in as the days grow longer and the sun ever-brighter overhead.

There’s something captivating about this time of year; not quite the lush, blooming spring, nor the scorching, unforgiving summer, but a deliriously pleasant in-between that keeps the best of both.

On a tall hill, overlooking the rocky coast and a quiet village in the distance, sits a small stone cottage. Ivy crawls along the rows of uneven bricks that give the home its shape, having long settled and slanted in the time since it was built, each vine curling in long stems around four-pane windows and up towards the thatched roof.

In front of the house sits a garden, full of every plant anyone could possibly desire to find in the given climate; vegetables, fruits and unusual herbs abound. The rich earth that surrounds the cottage is fertile and generous—with a careful hand to till and tend it, there’s little it can't sprout. The gardens are still not quite at their peak for the season, the plants low to the ground but flourishing as they patiently wait for a few more sun-filled days to truly blossom into their prime.

Along the western side of the property, nearest to the towering forest’s edge, sits a greenhouse connected to a shabby little shed that greatly resembles the cottage in its quaint, unassuming construction. It’s there, in the dead of this cool summer night, that you—the owner of the cottage—toil.

Your fingers hold a glass vial over a small open flame atop the work station with a set of silver pincers. Your keen, well-trained eyes watch attentively as the fire licks up along the edges of the glass, heating the contents within. A breeze, northeasterly with a faint taste of salt air that creeps in with the nearby waves, whisks through the room and a shiver accompanies it in turn.

A soft sigh slips through your parted lips and your eyes, previously fixed on the tincture held over the flame, lift towards the door.

You aren’t startled when you see him standing there, though you barely contain the sound of annoyance that threatens to leave you; the momentary glance is the only acknowledgement you make to his (notably unwelcome) appearance as his figure darkens your doorway. You return your gaze to the solution you’re in the midst of preparing—a careful balance of valerian, mugwort, and poppy heads for a woman in the nearby village who has been unable to sleep restfully since the untimely death of her husband.

“Good evenin’,” he says to you once he realizes that you will not be the first to speak. He punctuates the greeting with a light clearing of his throat.

“Is it?” you reply, removing the slender vial from the flame and swirling its contents. You closely examine the colour and viscosity of the liquid, returning it to the heat for a few moments more after some consideration.

“Sorry to show up unannounced,” the young man’s own tone is rather tight and clipped as he speaks the words–obviously equally unhappy with the turn of events that had led him to your cottage this evening, though resolute to maintain some level of decorum.

“And yet,”—you finally look up at him, meeting his gaze with a firm and unwavering stare that you have up until this point denied him—“here you are.”

Finally satisfied with the tincture, you set about pressing a stopper into the tube. You reach over and pluck up a burning taper from the candleholder resting nearby on your worktop, tipping it forward over the still blisteringly-hot glass to seal the cork. A rivulet of molten wax runs from the candlestick in a slow drizzle, and you carefully turn the thin vial to coat the border where glass and cork marry evenly. A piece of blue ribbon is then carefully wound around the warm wax before it has fully hardened, sealing the small vessel shut.

The man watches silently as you slip the vial into a velvet pouch, tying the strings together tightly to draw it closed, and then you tuck the pouch safely away in the pocket of your flowing skirt—out of sight from where your visitor stands in the doorway to the greenhouse. Your eyes scan over the bench for a moment before you extinguish the oil burner you’d been using, turning the small knob at the base until the flame shrinks down to nothingness.

“I wouldn’t’ve come if it weren’t important,” the young man’s tone has softened slightly into something closer to a mumble, weary from his journey and seemingly in grave need of something he could only seek from you. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, with grim shadows under his eyes and a pallor to his skin that doesn’t suit him.

“Now that I do believe,” you remark, almost drolly, picking up your oil lamp and crossing the room towards where he stands. He stiffens a little as you approach, as though bracing himself against a threat, but you merely slip soundlessly past him, stepping out into the dark night.

Behind you, the man sighs.

He follows.

The two of you cross the yard, a few paces separating you throughout the silent trek, with the lamp you hold in hand the only light to lead the way. You tread carefully through the well-tended garden, careful but familiar motions deciding where each foot falls, and you sense without turning that he’s following your path as you move towards the stone cottage on the other side of the property—ensuring his own steps follow your footprints precisely. There are candles burning inside your cottage up ahead, their warm glow visible through the windows, and smoke curls steadily from the chimney and into the brisk night air. The smoke is perfumed with herbs, and the scent only grows stronger the nearer you get to your home.

You wonder if he notices.

“That’s far enough.”

You pause in your stride as you reach the stout stone wall that circles your cottage in a knee-high ring, resting with your feet together at the place where a gate might be were there any need for it. Behind you, the man falters to his own stop, surprised by your sudden halt and your sharp words.

“I need yer help,” he sounds confused, and frustrated—impatience creeping into his tone again. There’s a sharpness to it, like he’s forced each word out from between clenched teeth. You don’t look back to verify your suspicion.

Another cold wind blows from the direction of the sea, and the budding leaves of the garden’s plants around you rustle as it passes, whispering amongst themselves as they spectate your exchange.

“I care very little for what you need, Miya Osamu,”—you glance at him over your shoulder, and see the way the distant light from your windows dances in his eyes—“and it will be a cold day in hell before I help a royal knight.”

The garden seems to still in the wake of your low-spoken words, the breeze dying out like the temporary peace ahead of a storm’s rage.

Before you, Osamu’s eyes have hardened. The lines of his sharp jaw set underneath his skin.

“Ya know me.”

“I know of you,” you correct him flatly. “Fortunately, our paths have never crossed.”

Until now.

Osamu’s nostrils flare, then he swallows.

“How?” he asks, his voice low and deceptively even.

“One of the king’s most trusted knights tearing through the outskirts of the kingdom in search of a healer is news powerful enough to reach even my ears, Miya.” Your lamplight dims slightly as you hold it aloft in your hand, the flame beneath the glass slowly shrinking. The oil is burning low. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you got desperate and I got unlucky.”

He flinches, his lashes fluttering slightly like he’s fighting back a more violent reaction. Like he’s accepting a blow he could easily return but chooses not to. The knight's gaze casts down to his feet as his fingers curl into fists at his sides.

“My brother's ill,” he says quietly, his voice heavy with an anxiety that rolls off of him in waves. “My twin.”

“Atsumu,” you specify, since he did not. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, and there’s a spark of something new behind it. Something more volatile. He looks angry that you’ve taken it upon yourself to speak his brother’s name.

“I know what you are,” he says slowly, wielding his next words like a blade and aiming to kill.

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side in a show of guilelessness.

“Yer a witch,” he continues, overlooking your feigned ignorance.

“There are no witches in this kingdom,” you reply. “The crown you’ve sworn your life to saw to that.”

“Our king h—“

“Your king,” you interrupt him. The unexpected interjection seems to shock him, and his shoulders square indignantly.

“Yer also a subject of this kingdom,” he counters, and your distaste is made perfectly evident in your responding sneer.

“I’m governed by no monarch, and certainly by no man.”

Osamu’s hands are still held in tightly-clenched fists at his side, the lines of his body as clear an indicator as any to his palpable anger. “You’d admit to treason before a knight?”

“You’ve already accused me of witchcraft,” you spit, your teeth gnashing together as you force the words out. “What’s another crime to be burned for?”

You know all too well the end that awaits a woman accused of such a crime.

It’s the fate your mother met before your very eyes, after all.

Seconds stretch between you in the garden—sticky, and uncomfortable, and polluted with the animosity you feel for each other. It takes root in distrust and blossoms into something ugly, like a weed.

Osamu takes a breath, letting his head hang forward. His shoulders slump.

“An old man two towns west from here told me a young woman in this cottage once cured his ailing wife in her final hours, and she lived a decade more. That she was brought back from the brink of death thanks to the woman’s care.” He looks up at you again, and his stare is insistent. Beseeching.

You know the man he speaks of, and his gentle, lovely wife. It was half a century ago now since you’d first met them, and you’ve heard the old man has gone a bit senile in his old age. You doubt he meant you any harm in his revelation, regardless of the trouble it’s come to cause.

“I’m nothing but a humble herbalist.” Your hand sweeps out in gesture to your garden, but the man before you is unmoved.

“Who’s been a young woman for fifty years.”

Even the distant sea seems to have stilled as the tension intensifies between you, the waves falling silent to make room for the hostility that spreads with every passing moment.

Osamu swallows. “They say witches have powerful healin’ abilities. That you can make potions that’ll revive a man half-dead.”

“It’s folklore,” you reply dismissively.

“It’s fact,” Osamu snaps. "I know it is."

“And what else do you claim to know of these so-called witches?” you deride, and you don’t miss the way his eyes seem to quickly trace you.

He squares his shoulders, then he meets your gaze. “They say ya maintain yer beauty and youth by devourin’ the hearts of good men.”

“Is that so?” you muse, though you seek no sincere elaboration. You look to your left, east towards the sea, and then sweep your gaze across the expanse of your garden to the right. You meet his dark eyes again after surveying your surroundings. “Well, I see no good men nearby, so I believe you should be safe.”

In the dim light, you swear you see something throb at the corner of his tense jaw.

“There’s not a healer in the royal court who’s been able to cure my brother,” Osamu’s voice breaks, taking a step towards you. “I’ve come here unarmed, and mean no harm to ya.”

Your upper lip curls at the lie and his proximity, baring your teeth.

No man has ever once approached a witch with pure intentions.

The seek only their beauty, their power, or their beating, bloody hearts.

Your mother’s screams ring suddenly through your ears, piercing and agonized. The memory makes gooseflesh raise along your skin. Makes the back of your tongue taste sour. You squeeze your eyes shut as though to quell it, but this only seems to trap the sound in the recesses on your brain. They grow louder, and harder to forget.

You see your mother on a wooden stage constructed in the town square before a crowd of horrified spectators, the gnarled boards underfoot already stained in scarlet.

The white linen shift they’d forced her to wear, and the way the thin material flowed away from her frame in the breeze.

The glittering hilt of the jewelled knife that carved out her heart, with the sigil of the king etched into its blade.

The crackling flames that consumed her as she wailed.

A witch can live without her heart, you see, so long as it’s kept close to her. Your mother wasn’t spared a second of the misery of being burned alive. She was granted no mercy in the final terrifying moments of her life.

You open your eyes and the dark sky above you seems to hang closer overhead, as though it’s more suffocatingly near than it was before. The garden around you suddenly feels colder.

Osamu’s eyes widen, like he feels it too.

Your dying lamp burns out.

“Leave this place,” you say to him, low and warning. Your voice rings clear in the unearthly still night. “And if you value your life, never come back here again.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #hq fic #hq writing #writing #tws

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uncharismatic-fauna · 1 year

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Open Your Home to the Common House Centipede

A common sight in homes throughout Europe, Asia, the Americas, and Australia the common house centipede (Scutigera coleoptrata) is a medium-sized species of centipede originally from the Mediterranean. In the wild, they prefer grasslands and deciduous forests where they can hide under rocks, logs, or leaf litter. These insects have also adapted well to urban development, and are frequently found in basements, bathrooms, and garages, as well as gardens and compost piles.

Like other centipedes, the common house centipede has less than 100 legs; in fact, they only have 15 pairs, with the front pair used only for holding prey or fending off threats. All those legs let the common house centipede move up to 0.4 meters per second (1.3 ft/s) over a variety of surfaces, including walls and ceilings. The actual body of S. coleoptrata is only 25 to 35 mm (1.0 to 1.4 in) long, but the antennae are often as long as the body which can give this insect a much larger appearance. However, they can be hard to spot, especially in their natural environments; their tan and dark brown coloration allows them to blend in seamlessly to surrounding vegetation.

Though they pose little threat to humans, house centipedes are predatory. Their primary food source is other arthropods, including cockroaches, silverfish, bed bugs, ticks, ants, and insect larvae. S. coleoptrata is a nocturnal hunter, and uses its long antennae to track scents and tactile information. Their compound eyes, unusual for centipede species, can distinguish daylight and ultraviolet light but is generally used as a secondary sensory organ. When they do find prey, house centipedes inject a venom which can be lethal in smaller organisms, but is largely harmless to larger animals. This makes them important pest controllers. In the wild, house centipedes are the common prey of rodents, amphibians, birds, and other insects.

The mating season for S. coleoptrata begins in the spring, when males and females release pheromones that they can use to find each other. Once located, the male spins a silk pad in which he places his sperm for the female to collect. She then lays fertilized eggs in warm, moist soil in clutches of 60-150. These eggs incubate for about a month, and the young emerge with only four pairs of legs. Over the next three years, juvenile house centipedes molt 7 times, each time gaining new pairs of legs. After they grow their last pair of legs, immature house centipedes molt an additional 3 times, at which time they become sexually mature. If they can avoid predation, individuals can live up to 7 years in the wild.

Conservation status: The common house centipede has not been evaluated by the IUCN, as it is relatively common both in the wild and in urban areas. Although they have been introduced to areas outside their native range, no detrimental environmental effects have been associated with their spread.

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Photos

Joseph Berger

David Paul

Conrad Altman via iNaturalist

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kisskiss-slashslash · 1 year

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Bubba’s S/O starting a vegetable garden

Unless you somehow also came from a family of cannibalistic butchers, you were probably used to a more varied diet than the one the Sawyers adhered to. While you obviously loved that crazy bunch, and your darling Bubba especially, you soon missed the taste of veggies, and salad, basically anything that isn't meat. But the truth is that after the Sawyers' job at the slaughterhouse was made obsolete, they simply couldn't afford anything like that. Hell, they couldn't even afford normal meat and had to resort to cannibalism! But for the sake of the whole family's health, you decided to do something about it. Furthermore, there wasn't a lot to do out here in the sticks, so in the time between you being done with your daily chores and Bubba being done with his, you often found yourself bored out of your mind. So during supper one night, you carefully brought up the idea of creating a small vegetable patch in the back yard of the house, and maybe planting some fruit trees, too. "What for?", Drayton asked. "My cookin' not good enough for ya?" You knew that you had to choose your next words with extreme care. "Not at all. I just... want to give you some more stuff to work and experiment with." And make sure this family doesn't die of scurvy, though you didn't say that out loud. "Besides, it gives me something productive to spend my free time on once the chores are done." The eldest brother chewed on his fork for a few moments, obviously in deep thought. Then he shrugged. "Aw hell. Why not. But!" He waved his index finger in front of your face. "No slacking off on chores just so you can play in the dirt! And you gotta buy the seeds yourself. You can come to the city with me tomorrow to get them." "Understood. Thanks, Drayton."

So the next day, you returned from your little trip to town with small packets of seeds for carrots, lettuce and tomatoes. Those seemed to be good choices for a start. A trial run of sorts; plus they were currently in-season. So once you finished your chores, you rummaged through the nearby shed, finding garden tools that probably hadn't seen any use in a generation or three, and got to work.

You completely forgot the time while you worked. You were busy prepping the soil, planting the seeds, and watering them, when a huge shadow fell over you. You turned and saw Bubba stand behind you. He was watching what you were doing with great interest. You stepped back and looked at your work. "What do you think? It doesn't look like much yet, but soon it will be all nice, big veggies for the whole family to enjoy!" You got downright giddy at the thought. Bubba put his arm around your shoulders and nuzzled your cheek affectionately. He didn’t quite get why you made such a fuss about plants (....yet) but if they made you happy then he loved them.

A few months later, it was finally time for your first harvest! The tomatoes would still need a bit, but you had your first meatloaf with self-grown carrots and a simple salad as a side dish. You had expected some complaints about "rabbit food", and Chop Top and Nubbins indeed made some teasing remarks about it, but all four of the brothers gobbled up the fruits of your labor like they were starving nonetheless. Even Drayton, who hardly ever had anything nice to say to anyone, muttered a begrudging "Ya did good." in your general direction, which you put down as a victory.

#slasher x reader #Bubba Sawyer x reader #the sawyers strike me as the type who says that all veggies are just rabbit food

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tokidokitokyo · 8 months

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茨城県

Japanese Prefectures: Kantō - Ibaraki

都道府県 (とどうふけん) - Prefectures of Japan

Learning the kanji and a little bit about each of Japan’s 47 prefectures!

Kanji・漢字

茨　いばら、かや、くさぶき、シ、ジ　briar, thorn

城　しろ、き、ジョウ　castle

県　ケン　prefecture

関東　かんとう　Kanto, region consisting of Tokyo and surrounding prefectures

Prefectural Capital (県庁所在地) : Mito (水戸市)

Amidst sprawling fields of beautiful flowers, Ibaraki also hosts Tsukuba Science City, Japan's premier research center and the home of Japan's space agency and numerous museums. Ibaraki is known historically for being the home of the Mito branch of the Tokugawa clan during the Edo Period and has long been associated with notable events in Japanese history. The first Nuclear Energy Research Institute was founded here in 1956. You can see space exhibits, actual space craft, and simulations at Tsukuba Space Center.

Outside of the major cities there are many natural areas to explore in the Suigo-Tsukuba Quasi-national Park. Hitachi Seaside Park is famous in the spring for its carpets of blooming blue nemophila. Kairaku-en is one of the Three Great Gardens of Japan. Mt. Tsukuba is a famous night view spot with a view of the Kanto Plain, including Tokyo Tower and the Tokyo Sky Tree, with a ropeway for convenient access. Ibaraki is also a major producer of natto.

Recommended Tourist Spot・おすすめ観光スポット

Fukuroda Falls (Fukuroda no Taki) - 袋田の滝

Photo by Own work, CC BY 3.0, Link

One of the three most beautiful waterfalls in Japan, Fukuroda Falls is a 120-meter tall cascading waterfall in northwestern Ibaraki Prefecture in the remote hills of the town of Daigo. It is also on the registered list of the Top 100 Waterfalls of Japan (determined by the Ministry of Environment). These falls are also called the Yodo Falls (Yodo no Taki) because the water stream falls on four large rock faces. It is also said that the renowned monk Saigyo Hoshi greatly praised the falls by saying that you should view the different beauty of the falls in all four (yo) seasons.

They are particularly attractive in early November with the peak autumn foliage as well as peak water flow. There are several different views of the waterfall, and you cannot view it in its entirety all at the same time. Within the Fukuroda Waterfall complex there are neon tunnels and elevators to take you to different levels and viewing platforms. It is said that you will be successful in love if you find a heart in the waterfall. There are also numerous hot springs nearby.

Regional Cuisine - 郷土料理

Monkfish Hot Pot - あんこう鍋

Photo by yosshi / CC BY-SA 2.0

The monkfish (also referred to as angler fish, goosefish, depending on the source I found) is a prized delicacy of Ibaraki and is best eaten fresh. Because these fish are too soft and slimy to cut up on a chopping board, they are prepared using the traditional tsurushi-giri technique, which involves cutting up the fish while suspended from a hook. In Japan, almost all parts of the monkfish are eaten, including fins, skin, gills, liver, stomach, ovaries and flesh—referred to as the “seven tools of the monkfish” in Japanese. The steamed liver is called ankimo and is considered a delicacy that may be eaten alone, or added to the hotpot soup for extra flavor. Anko nabe (monkfish hot pot) is a seasonal favorite consisting of monkfish, vegetables, and flavored broth.

Ibaraki Dialect・Ibaraki-ben・茨城弁

りんごあっけ？　ringo akke?

Standard Japanese: りんごありますか？ (ringo arimasu ka?) English: Do you have any apples?

あしにあおなじみできちった　ashi ni aonajimi dekichitta

Standard Japanese: 足に青あざができちゃった (ashi ni aoaza ga dekichatta) English: I have a bruise on my leg

ごじゃっぺなやつだ　(gojyappe na yatsu da)

Standard Japanese: いい加減な人; やくにっ立たない人 (iikagen na hito; yaku ni tatanai hito) English: He's a good-for-nothing person

「行ってもいがっぺ？」　(itte mo igappe?) 「来たらいがっぺ」　(kitara igappe)

Standard Japanese: 「行ってもいいですか？」「来てもいいですよ」 ("itte mo ii desu ka?" "kite mo ii desu yo") English: "Is it alright if I come?" "Yes please come"

あれは犬だっぺ　(are wa inu dappe)

Standard Japanese: あれは犬です (are wa inu desu) English: That is a dog

いがい車だな　(igai kuruma da na)

Standard Japanese: 大きい車ですね (ookii kuruma desu ne) English: That's a big car, isn't it

杖がおっちょれる　(tsue ga occhoreru)

Standard Japanese: 杖が折れた (tsue ga oreta) English: The cane broke in half

カラスををおっとばす　(hato o ottobasu)

Standard Japanese: カラスを追い払う (hato o oiharau) English: Drive away the crows

その日、大事？　(sono hi, daiji?)

Standard Japanese: その日、大丈夫？ (sono hi, daijyoubu?) English: Is that day ok for you?

#japanese prefectures #日本語 #japanese #japanese language #japanese langblr #langblr #studyblr #都道府県 #茨城県 #ibaraki

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jinkieswouldyoulookatthis · 21 days

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Growing

Just a little piece of gen domestichesters fluff about Sam taking up gardening and Dean adopting another dog. Set in season 15 during that unknown period of time between episodes 19 & 20, or maybe it's canon divergent and episode 20 never happened (whichever makes you happiest).

No pairing, no ship, just fluff.

Words: 2746

Read it on AO3

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

“So I was looking into the history of the power plant.”

“Of course you were.” Dean deadpanned.

“And, turns out that it was never actually abandoned like we’d thought because it was never actually in use as a real power plant. As far as I can tell, it was built to cover up the mechanical equipment that runs the bunker and isn’t even hooked into the local grid.”

“Fascinating.” Dean said, with sarcasm so dry Sam completely missed it.

“That’s what I thought. So I came up to check it out, you know, see how the systems were set up, just in case something ever goes wrong… again. But what I found was,” Sam opened the double doors that creaked loudly in the cavernous space that they step into.

It was like a cathedral, vast and empty with a vaulted ceiling thirty feet high. It was saved from being gloomy, all that grey stone and dark ironwork rafters, by two of the walls which were striped with four sets of floor to ceiling windows and there were large skylights above. Most surprising to Dean was the fact that they were all, miraculously, unbroken. The rest of the space was mostly empty, with just a few bulky pieces of equipment that looked like they were part of the bunker’s various mechanical systems. That looked like all that had been there, at least that was all before Sam had gotten to the space. Now, there were two rows of what looked to Dean like black, plastic bathtubs standing near the south side of the room. And there were long fluorescent tube light fixtures suspended above them.

“That doesn’t look like mechanical equipment.”

Sam laughed. “It’s not. But the space was completely empty when I found it. But it had electricity and a sprinkler system and I think it’s actually heated. Or, at least, there’s ductwork that seems to come up from below.”

They had been wandering closer to the tubs as Sam talked. As they got up to them, Dean could see that they were each filled with rich, dark soil. There was also a network of PVC pipes that ran along over the top of the tubs, with red, shut off valves and nozzles every so often.

Dean sneezed. It had come up so suddenly he hadn’t even had time to cover his mouth, just turned to the side. The noise echoing back to him from every corner.

“I’ve swept up, but it’s still pretty dusty, I guess.”

Dean sniffled and asked, “Did you do all this?”

“Yeah. I’ve been working on it for the last couple months. The tubs are 150 gallon stock tanks that I got from the Tractor Supply over in Smith Center. But I scrounged most of the rest of the supplies. I set up the lights because, even with all the windows, I just don’t know if the plants will get enough sunlight. And I flushed the irrigation system throughly and tested it for lead, since, you know the building was built back in the 30’s. But everything is clear and yeah.” Sam looked at Dean. “What do you think?”

“You gonna be growing pot in here or something?”

Sam laughed again and shook his head. “I was thinking more, vegetables and herbs.”

“Oh.”

“Try not to sound so disappointed.”

“Well, I’m not going to lie, I’d be more excited about pot. But this is impressive, Sammy.” “You think?”

“Yeah. You put a lot of work into this. Why didn’t you ask for help?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I just started working on it and then it was just… something to do. Plus I didn’t want you trying to claim it and fill it up with cars or something.”

Dean looked into the tubs. “You plant anything yet?”

“No, I actually need to go pick up the plants and thought you might want to ride over with me? We can get lunch at Pete’s and then swing by the nursery?”

“Yeah, okay. Barbecue sounds great.”

They were almost out the door when Dean sneezed again. “Damn. I think you need to sweep again.”

Down in the garage, they both got into the Impala, doors squeaking and banging shut in unison. Dean had the key in the ignition and was just about to start her up when he stopped and looked at Sam.

“How many plants are you planning on getting?”

Sam narrowed his eyes, Dean could practically see him going through his mental list. They both turned and looked in the backseat at the same time.

“Uh…” Sam started.

“Why don’t we take the truck instead?”

“Yeah, probably a good idea.”

So they took the old pick-up truck. It was a 1946 Chevrolet 3100 in Morat Green. Sam thought the name sounded made up, but he knew better than to argue about classic vehicles with his brother.

It was an easy fifteen minute drive from Lebanon to Smith Center. By the time they got to Pete’s and parked, Sam had not only run through his list of plants he wanted to get, but had gone on a bit too long (in Dean’s opinion) about the merits of various varieties of tomato and lettuce. He’d also mentioned several herbs that Dean was about ninety percent certain weren’t used for cooking.

“Some of them are medicinal but the other have more…” Sam lowered his voice as the stepped into the restaurant, “esoteric uses.”

Dean gave him a look.

“We’ve depleted most of our supply of components. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there aren’t many suppliers of those things that are still willing to sell to us. So it would be a lot easier if I could just grow what we needed.”

“Okay, settle down. This is your project, you can get whatever plants you want.”

They changed the topic of conversation as they sat down, deciding without needing to discuss it, that they’d rather debate who would win in a fight between themselves and various comic book superheroes and villains. The lapsed mostly into silence when their food arrived, with only the occasional obscene groan from Dean around a mouthful of double bacon cheeseburger.

“Dude.”

“What? It’s good.” Dean asked still chewing.

“So is my salad, but you don’t hear me moaning like Meg Ryan.” “Yeah, ‘cause no one gets orgasmic over a salad, Sam.”

“Just, try not to get the cops called on us. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Fine, Mom.”

Shaking his head, Sam rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite stop the corners of his mouth from pulling up into a smile as they finished off their lunch.

It was a short drive across town to the greenhouse. To be fair, everything in Smith Center was a short drive, it wasn’t a big town. When they pulled into the parking lot there was a banner string up on one side of the entrance to the greenhouse. Several families with kids were gathered by it.

“Adopt-a-Pet?”

“Go, check it out, play with some puppies or something. I’ll just be a few minutes anyway.” Sam said as he wandered inside.

Dean made his way over and was having just as much fun watching the kids coo and squeal and beg their parents for a puppy or a kitten as he was looking at the baby animals.

There were older animals too, a bunch of cats and a few dogs. One of the dogs was laying down in its crate, and while its ears perked up at every loud sound, it wasn’t watching the chaos around it as much as the other dogs. Dean crouched down and peered at it through the bars of the crate. It was black and white with longish fur.

“Interested in adopting a pet?” a woman asked him when she was done handing a clipboard of paperwork to one of the families.

“I’ve already got a dog. I just thought I look while my brother’s getting stuff for his garden.”

“Well, each animal has a tag on their crate with information like breed, sex, age, and if they’re good with kids or other animals.”

Dean looked and saw the tag on the crate in front of him. “Otis, huh?”

The dog’s head perked up immediately.

“Guess that’s you.” Dean said. He read the tag and looked at the dog and then read the tag again.

It had taken Sam a lot longer than he’d anticipated in the greenhouse because they didn’t have a couple of the varieties that he’d really wanted, so he had to decide on what to get instead. But once he checked out, he had several packets of seeds tucked into his pocket and two long flats of young plants, and was feeling pretty good about his choices. Dean was nowhere to be seen when he carried the first group of plants out and slid them into the back of the truck, but when he came out with the rest of them, he could see Dean’s head through the back window of the truck. Plants safely stowed, he closed the tailgate and walked around to the passenger door.

A loud bark when he opened the door made him jump. Sitting on the bench seat next to his brother was a border collie.

“Dean?”

“Sam.”

“There’s a dog in the truck.”

“You always were observant.”

“Dean, why is there a dog in the truck?”

“His name is Otis. Otis, say hello to Sam.”

Otis chuffed.

“Okay.” Sam looked at the dog and then at his brother. “Did, did you adopt a dog?”

Dean just smiled at him and ruffled the fur on Otis’ head as he started the truck up. “Yes I did. Come on, let’s get him home and introduce him to Miracle.”

There was much barking and vigorous wagging of tails and lots of butt sniffing. After a few minutes, Dean declared the introduction a success and went to help Sam carry the plants up to the power plant.

“I can’t believe you got another dog.”

“Sam, he’s blind and had been at the shelter for over a year. I couldn’t leave him there. Plus, look how happy Miracle is. Now he won’t be completely alone when we have to go out. He’s got a buddy.”

“Yeah, no, I get that, I–I do. But, I just… I just think this is the sort of thing that we should have talked about first.”

“Hey, I didn’t hear you asking me about turn the upstairs into a conservatory, but I’m okay with it. I think it’s great that you’ve got a new hobby.” He sat the flat of seedlings down next to the planters and sneezed. “Shit. Man, are there cats up here or something?”

Sam looked around and shrugged.

Dean sneezed again.

“There is definitely something up here that’s not agreeing with you. Go on downstairs, I’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Dean sniffled. “I’m gonna go take the dogs for a walk before dinner. Don’t stay up here too late, There’s still, like, half a lasagna in the fridge and I think there’s even some salad left over from last night.”

He sneezed again before he got to the door.

Sam pulled the seed packets out of his pocket and flipped through them. There was yarrow, angelica, burdock, belladonna, chamomile, and catnip. He looked back at the door before glancing over to where there was a large cardboard box tucked between two pieces of equipment that Sam was about 80% certain were part of the air handling system. After a moment he started spreading the plants and seed packets around in the various tubs of dirt, plotting out what to grow where.

The next few weeks passed quickly. Miracle adopted Otis faster than Dean had, and it was rare to ever see one without the other. Sam took them out running in the mornings and Dean took them for rides into town or out to some field or another where they went on long meandering walks in the afternoons while Sam tended to his growing garden. He took careful notes and photos, and adjusted the timing of the lights and the sprinkler system. Dean, who still sneezed at least once every time he went up there, kept his visits short and mostly left Sam to his gardening. Meal times were when he was most likely to come up, looking to make sure that his brother was eating.

“Hey, Sammy. Lunchtime, come and get it! Wow! It’s looking lush up here. Got anything edible yet?”

“Uh yeah, there’s some lettuce over there but I just want to get this set… Shit!” He swore as the sprayer nozzle he’s been adjusting snapped off in his hand. Water started to gush out of the pipe even as he clamped his hands down tight over the opening. “Ah! Get the, uh, the thing... turn it off!”

Dean rushed over and followed Sam’s gaze to a red shut off valve a little ways down the line. “Yep! Hang on. Got it.” He cranked the valve down tight and the water pressure died.

Sam shook his hands, flinging drops of water into the planter. “Thanks.”

A tiny, high pitched, squeaky sort of noise came from between the tub where Sam was working and the one behind it.

“What…” Dean began as he leaned over to look between the tubs.

“Well, no point in trying to fix this on an empty stomach. Let’s go eat!” Sam said loudly as he wiped his hands on his jeans and then all but herded Dean towards the door.

“Wait, what was that?”

“It was just the pipes, you know how pipes are. What’s for lunch?”

“Stop pushing me!”

Sam stopped but stayed between Dean and his garden. There was another squeak.

“Sam?” Dean said, glaring at his brother. Before either of them could say anything else Dean’s attention was drawn to a tiny little ball of grey and black striped fluff that toddled out from around the tub that Sam had been working on.

“I knew it.”

Another tiny mewl came from the other end of the garden and Sam’s eyes went wide.

“Dude, how many kittens are in here?”

Sam deflated with a sigh, “Five.”

“Five?!”

“And the mom cat.”

“Were you seriously just going to keep pretending like you didn’t know what was making me sneeze?”

“No! No. I was just waiting until the kittens were old enough to find them homes.”

“But why not just tell me?”

“I didn’t want it to be a big deal, I figured you’re not up here much anyway and it’s a quiet, safe place for them and, well, they’re cute.”

“But I still don’t get why you were lying to me.”

“I didn’t really lie… yeah, okay, I lied. I’m sorry. I guess I was afraid that you’d want them gone.”

Dean looked offended. “I’m not a monster, Sam.”

“I know! But I also know how much you hate cats, so…”

“I don’t hate cats.”

“Yes, you do. You say it all the time.”

“I don’t actually mean it.”

Sam just looked at him, exasperated and at a loss. A squeaky mewl, louder and more demanding than before, sounded from their feet. The first kitten had reached Sam’s foot and was starting to climb up his pants leg.

Dean leaned down and carefully unhooked it’s claws from Sam’s jeans before standing up, holding it gently in his hands.

He looked at it.

It looked at him.

It cried loudly.

“Have you named them?”

“Pfft, no.”

“Cool, so I can name them.”

Sam sighed and looked closer at the kitten. “That one’s Doc.”

Dean scrunched up his nose and looked at him. “Like the dwarf?”

“No. It’s short for Burdock. It’s a plant.” He looked over to where the other kitten was sitting, still next to the tubs. “That one is Cam, short for Chamomile. And the others are Yarrow, Catnip or Nip, and Belladonna, like the plant, not the pornstar.” He added quickly at the hopeful arching of Dean’s eyebrow. “The mom is Angelica.”

“Uh huh. You big softy.” Dean smiled at him.

“Shut up.”

Dean chuckled as he handed the kitten, who had started to squirm, over to Sam. “They can stay, just, uh, up here, okay? Now, I’m going to go wash my hands and eat. Come on.”

Sam placed a quick kiss on Doc’s head before setting him gently down on the ground and following after his brother.

#dean winchester #sam winchester #spn fanfic #spn fan fiction #fluff

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thoughtsofedin · 3 months

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʏ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ

ᴀxᴇʟ/ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴏᴛᴛᴏ/ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴏꜱᴄᴀʀ/ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Set one year before the events of season 2.

They say he’s dying all for love, but that can never be: They say his heart is breaking, mother what is that to me?

In where the brothers find themselves obsessed with their hostess.

This deviates into four different stories. One for each brother and one with all three brothers.

Oscar carries the suitcase and so he stands in the middle, protected by his two older brothers. Otto's to his right, tired and angry. Axel didn't have time to change after their last mission, he smelled like sweat, like the damp earth he had been thrown into over and over again. There's a bit of blood in his hair, down the back of his neck. The skin beneath his left eye is bruised, the corner of his mouth is torn open.

They're all in horrible shape when Otto knocks on the light blue cottage door, leaving behind a stain that he doesn't care to wipe away. It could be blood or dirt or a mixture of the two. It’s not important. Inside, someone sets something down loudly and Axel notices a woman peek behind the curtain of a window to his right. She doesn't linger and stare, she doesn't gawk and try to hide, pulling the curtains around her and acting as if she hadn’t been seen.

Instead, as if she had been waiting for them, she gives him a light smile and makes her way to the door. They could hear her footsteps as she went. The door in front of them opens and she stands in front of the three brothers. She wears a thick knitted sweater and light blue jeans. An apron a shade darker than the door is wrapped around her.

Otto is impatient, fumbles through his pockets and pulls out the ripped newspaper they had found when they stepped out of the portal. The ad stated that she had a room available for weekly rent. Private bathroom, shared amenities. Meals Included. No pets. He holds it out to her and Oscar smiles. Smiling at people made them feel at ease. But he didn't have any issues disposing of a body if it came to that.

Oscar wonders, as she takes the ad, if perhaps there is something wrong with her. If perhaps she's commission, like them. She doesn't question the blood, the stench, the ominous way they stand there in front of her door ready for her to either run or scream or shut the door in their face. They'd kill her then. Toss her into the lake and take her home as their own until they no longer need it. His smile almost falters, Axel already reaching for his gun. But she opens her mouth, saves herself from almost dying right then and there.

“I only have one room available. The bed’s pretty big, but I don’t think it’s big enough to fit three… are you alright with an airbed?”

Oscar is in the shower, Otto took his first and sits on the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist, he has a flesh wound on his forearm he’s inspecting with a frown. The room is on the second floor, overlooking the garden in the backyard. The airbed is still in the box, placed in the corner of the room. Axel stands by the window, watching you. You’re crouched over, grabbing something from the earth. You had invited them for lunch when you brought over the bed.

Otto had agreed with a grunt, Oscar shooting him a glare. Axel was indifferent. It’d save him the trouble of cooking.

Axel watches as you wipe your hands on your apron, sitting up and stretching before standing and grabbing the basket full of vegetables. Axel turns away when you disappear back into the house.

Oscar leaves the bathroom then, hair wet and dripping against the collar of his shirt. Closing the curtain, Axel turns his attention to his brothers. They had yet to receive a proper mission from the higher ups. All they were given was a set of coordinates for the suitcase. He didn't know where in the timeline they were. He didn't care enough to ask.

"She seems stupid." Oscar says, dropping his towel on the floor. Otto, who had always hated any sort of mess, hisses and tells him to pick it up. Oscar ignores him.

"Stupid is good. Stupid won’t ask questions. Won't meddle." Axel says, picking up his brother's damp towel and setting it over the back of a wooden chair. Oscar was spoiled, it was too late to ask him to change.

Oscar sits on the windowsill, frowning. "Not yet."

"I'm going to shower." he says, slipping into the bathroom. It's bright, there are no curtains to draw close in here. The thick foliage outside tells him that no one will see him. He undresses, the water still cold when he steps in.

There's a knot on the back of his head, tender to the touch. Above that, near his ear he finds a wound, coagulated blood knotting his hair. He scrubs at it until the pain has him clenching his teeth and his eyesight doubles. The water runs red then pink then clear. He stands there for a little longer, muscles tensing from the cold.

When he steps out, dressed in only his slacks he finds Otto alone in the room. There’s a tray on top of the dresser and Axel inspects it. He finds a bowl of dark berries, garnished with a mint leaf. Besides it there’s half a loaf of bread, sliced and steaming with a tiny ramekin of butter. There are three cups of lemonade as well.

“The girl left it for us.” Otto says, patching a tear on his coat. “Oscar wasn’t happy about it.”

Axel picks up a glass and sniffs it before taking a small sip. He never really cared for sweetened drinks, so he sets it back and instead goes for the loaf of bread, sinking his teeth into a slice.

“Is that why he left?” he asks after swallowing; the next slice he grabs he slathers with butter.

“Says we should have killed her.” Otto sets down his coat, annoyance in his eyes as he looks at his brother.

“There’s no reason to.” Though it’s still not fully off the table. He tosses Otto the last of the bread.

"Äta. It's good."

Otto sinks his teeth into the bread. "Do you think she's commission?"

"No." People from the commission didn't settle down and buy homes they couldn't fully afford.

Satisfied, Otto goes back to his mending. Axel slips his boots on, then his shirt. He takes a single glass of lemonade and sets it on the table. Otto would drink it. Oscar was out there throwing a fit; he wasn't going to save him one.

Axel takes the tray and heads downstairs to talk to the girl.

He finds you in the kitchen, the scent of rosemary thick in the air. Something sizzles in a pan off to the side. The window in front of the sink is open, cool air wafting in. You're humming something he doesn't know. He sets the tray down roughly, startling you.

If he had known that you had been cutting something, perhaps he would have been a bit gentler. But what's done is done. The knife clatters to the ground as you turn around, blood weeping from your palm.

He doesn't say anything. Just watches as you grab a towel and wrap your hand in it. "Shoot, sorry." you apologize as if it was you that had startled him and he that had cut himself. It's amusing, in a way.

He takes a few steps towards you and whatever it seems you were about to say gets caught in your throat as he bends down in front of you and grabs the knife by the blade. He holds it out to you, so close that if he wanted to, he could have sunk the blade between your ribs.

It would have put an end to Oscar's tantrum.

He lets you grab the knife, unmoving. You place it in the sink, taking a step to the side. "Thanks, um...?"

He doesn't want to tell you his name. Not yet at least.

"My brother," he starts, holding his hand at Oscar's height. "Have you seen him?"

"Oh, uh." You seem to think for a second, your fingers tightening around your cut. "He stepped out. Didn't really seem to be in a good mood."

"He's never in a good mood." Axel says, holding his hand out. It wasn't exactly guilt that he felt, but you had cut your hand because of him. He could, at the very least, see if you needed stitches.

"Oh no," you say after a moment, having realized what he was silently asking for. "It's fine. It's not so bad."

Axel doesn't say anything, simply looks at the way the towel darkened with your blood. He's been stabbed plenty of times, among other things, he knows that small cuts don't bleed like that. He reaches for you, gently tears your hands away from the towel.

You startle under his touch, but let him peel your fingers away, taking the towel with you. "Good." he tells you and it’s almost a praise.

"I really think it’s fine," you say quietly, watching him. "It's just a scratch."

He hums, tracing the edges of your wound with his index finger, ignoring you.

"It's not too deep," he says after a moment. You wouldn't need stitches. "Where are your bandages?"

"In the bathroom, I can go get them." you try to pull your hand away, but he holds it in place.

"Sit. I will bandage it for you." there's no room for disagreement in his demand and you seem to be smart enough to understand, slipping your hand away and sitting in a chair across the island.

'Good,' he thought. He did not like to repeat himself.

He finds the bathroom easily enough, finds the first aid kit tucked inside the cabinet underneath the sink like you told him it'd be at. He takes the whole thing back into the kitchen.

You must have turned the stove off while he was gone, the sizzling settling down to a few unruly pops.

Setting the kit down, you open your hand. The bleeding had stopped, and you seemed to have washed the wound. It would make this easier. He stands across from you, slowly opening the kit and pulling out disinfectant, gauze, and antibiotic ointment.

He had done similar for his brothers, countless times. But this was the first time he had taken to bandaging up a random stranger.

"Ouch." you hiss when he sprays the disinfectant into your cut, almost pulling your hand away. He shoots you a look of annoyance, gripping your wrist.

"Don't move."

"Sorry," you apologize again. "It startled me."

He rips open the tiny sachet of ointment and squeezes it against the length of your cut before using his thumb to smear it directly into the wound. The gauze comes next, and he wraps it around your hand three times before tucking the end in place.

"Thank you." Your voice is soft as you take your hand back and inspect his work.

Axel doesn't respond, setting back the rest of the gauze and disinfectant and closing the red box.

"Did you come here to work the farm?" you suddenly ask as he was about to head back to the bathroom.

"The farm?" he repeats.

"Yeah. Adler is always hiring hands, but he can't keep them for long. I've been trying to wrack my head around why anyone would come this far north and it’s the only thing that makes sense."

You stand, pushing the chair back in and he gets out of your way. “There’s not much this town offers; Adler’s farm just happens to be the biggest one so it’s always looking for people.”

Axel pauses, watching as you discard the bloody towel in the trash before turning back to face him. “Not that it’s any of my business, of course. I’m just happy someone finally found the ad.”

“Aren’t you worried? Sharing your home with three strange men?” Axel takes a step towards you, but you don’t flinch or step away, just frown at him.

“A bit, you did show up at my house covered in bruised and bloodied. But isn’t slaughter work messy? As long as you don’t track blood or mud, or anything weird inside, I don’t see the reason to be wary.”

He’s almost tempted to laugh, to tell you that you were wrong, so very, very wrong. But he doesn’t, instead he takes a step back. “We’ll try our best to keep things clean.”

Its all he says, walking out of the kitchen.

“She is not as stupid as you thought.” Otto says to Oscar, who had returned just in time to find his brothers out in the garden. You were still in the kitchen, flitting between the stove and the table, setting plates and glasses for them. You had told them that lunch would be ready in the hour.

Otto had thought that it was odd that you had not questioned their disheveled state and had accepted them so fast, but when Axel came back and told him that you were under the impression that they were working as butchers in the local slaughterhouse, it all began to make sense.

You must have truly been desperate, to let them in without a single cautionary pause. But even if you seemed aloof and unintelligent, you were clearly watching them as much as they were watching you.

Oscar, who had managed to settle his anger, sat to the side, listening. “We do not have to stay here,” he says bitterly. “I checked- there’s a motel we can stay at. It’ll be more private.” He did not understand Otto’s obsession with only staying in homes shared by other people. Nor did he care to find out.

“No.” Axel says, squinting from the sun. “This is fine. Moving will raise questions.”

Oscar bites the side of his mouth, Axel was already in a bad mood, telling him that those questions would be easily avoided with premeditated murder would probably make him snap.

"The house is nice." Otto says, as if that was the most important factor. And maybe it was to him.

Oscar's anger flares but he keeps his composure.

"She's wary, but we don't have to worry about her delving into our business." Axel reassures them. Even with the sun in his eyes, he had been watching you through the window. You seemed preoccupied with whatever you were cooking. Not once had you looked back at them. He watches as you open the oven and pull something out.

“She is kind hearted.” Otto suddenly says, catching Axel’s eyes. “She does not see the very danger she is in.”

“Is she in any danger?” Axel asks, trying to gauge his brother’s thoughts.

“No,” Otto turns to look at you, the glare across the window making it hard. “Not yet.”

Out of all three of them, Otto was, by loose definition, the kindest of them all. He did not kill unless necessarily. Did not hurt unless he was forced to. He had been a cry baby as a child, and perhaps he still was. Axel wasn’t stupid, he knew that Otto longed for more than they did.

If they had all gone down a different path, where would Otto be right now? Where would he?

Oscar grunts, uncaring of the way his older brothers talk about you. He did not see the interest there, the gentleness his brothers seemed to carry in their hearts. You were a liability. You were bound to grow curious of them; you would put your nose where it did not belong and then Oscar would be able to show them that he had been correct all along. Maybe then they would start listening to him more.

As if summoned, you open the door to the backyard and step outside. The sun stuns you and you blink and frown, trying to get used to the brightness. Giving up, you bring your hand up to shield your vision from the sun.

“Lunch is ready, if you’re hungry.” She sounds hopeful that they’d join her, and that joy manages to irritate Oscar even more. She should just leave them alone. But he is hungry, and his anger wasn’t enough to turn down a warm meal. Not when the last time he ate a proper meal was becoming a blurry memory.

Otto is the first to stand, the corners of his mouth raising in an attempt at a smile.

Otto might be the kindest, but out of all three, he had always fit a scowl better. He was tall and imposing, the scar across his eye adding to his unapproachable looks. The smile comes out rather chagrin, but you smile back at him, nonetheless.

“Thank you.” Otto says gently, following you inside. Axel and Oscar linger outside, the oldest brother sighing and sending a silent warning to Oscar to behave. He’d hate to spend his afternoon cleaning after his mess. Oscar stands and leaves him there.

Inside, a table full of food awaits them. While you had rolled the blinds up, you kept the curtains drawn shut, sunlight filtering in through the cream-colored linen softly. On the table, there’s a basket of bread cut into squares, a roasted chicken sliced for ease. There are potatoes, covered in rosemary and butter. Around that, many other dishes of various sizes are filled with greens or vegetables and sauces. Otto finds that most of it, he can’t identify. Not that it mattered, his mouth watered at it all.

The bread from earlier had only reminded him how hungry he had truly been.

He watches your tongue swipe along the length of your bottom lip as you wring your hands together. “I’m looking at it now, and I definitely got overexcited.” She mumbles, Otto almost not hearing her. “I haven’t cooked for anyone in a long time, I hope it’s not too much.”

Axel is the one to answer you, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. “It’s not often we have someone that wants to cook us such a feast.”

You smile, a warmth spreading across your face. “Then I’m glad I made so much.” You move to sit next to Axel, Otto taking the one on your left.

“Is she eating with us?” Oscar asks his brothers instead of you, pulling out his own chair. He did not want her there. Sitting across from him.

“Oh,” you say, your smile faltering. “Is that weird? I can just-”

Otto cuts you off, shooting a glare at him. “Yes. She is feeding us. Why should she not eat with us?”

“No, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind eating somewhere else.” You try to plead, inching away.

“Sit.” Otto and Axel say at the same time, Otto pulling your chair for you. “Oscar did not mean anything by it.” Otto continues, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair.

You look unsure, but Axel nods his head towards the chair before picking up the bottle of wine and inspecting it. “We will not eat without you, isn’t that correct?”

Otto hums in agreement.

After a single beat of silence, you take your seat, fingers brushing against Otto’s knuckles as he tries to move out of the way. His skin is warm, calloused, and you catch the indent of a scar between his index and middle finger.

He pushes you in and takes his seat. Oscar tries not to look at you, reaching for the potatoes.

“I wasn’t sure what you would like,” you say softly, watching as Axel plucks her wine glass from its place and fills it halfway. He fills all of theirs.

“We are not picky,” he says, grabbing the bowl of potatoes from his brother and putting some on his plate before handing them to you. “Though I think you’re going to spoil them, I’ve never made anything as elaborate as this.”

Oscar scoffs, spearing a piece of chicken.

“You like to cook?” you ask, sitting up in your seat.

“Yes,” Otto answers for him. “He’s always taken to the kitchen.”

“I had a good teacher.” Is all Axel says, taking a long sip of his wine. He did not like talking about his mother. None of them did.

“I did not take you for a cook.” you say with a smile.

“Looks are rather deceiving, aren’t they?”

You laugh, licking your lips. “So, where did you all come from?”

Otto wonders, as he chews on a bite of meat, if perhaps for you, meals were eaten in conversation.

“We’re from Sweden.” He answers anyway, not missing the way Oscar looks at him, as if he had just told you that they were assassins who traveled through time.

Your eyes seem to brighten at that. “Oh um...Det trevligt att träffa dig." You say quietly, stumbling over the accent.

Otto is startled, unsure if he heard correctly. “Pratar du Svenska?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No. Not really. That’s all I know. I had a feeling you were Swedish.”

“Is it that obvious?” Axel asks, watching you bring a bite of food to your mouth.

“Mm.” she covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers, swallowing. “If you know what to look for.”

"Vilken intressant händelseutveckling, tycker du inte det? Hon pratar svenska...lite" Otto tells his brothers, watching as you frown, trying to decipher what he’s said. You look between all brothers, Oscar finding her bewilderment amusing.

"Prata inte på svenska framför henne, Otto. Titta så förvirrad hon ser ut." Axel replies, the corners of his lips curling towards a smile, replying in Swedish even after telling his brother to stop.

“I feel like you’re talking about me.” You interject, setting your fork down.

"They are." Oscar says nonchalantly, reaching for more meat.

"It took us by surprise. We don't really meet many people who speak it." Axel clarifies, finishing his wine.

"What did you say?" you ask. But instead of an answer, Axel simply shakes his head, his smile never leaving his face. He would not tell you. Part of him liked the way you seemed to squirm in your seat. Unsure of what to say, who to look at.

“Where did you learn?” Otto asks instead, pulling your attention back to him.

“I want to go to Sweden one day. Figured I should learn the language first, so I picked up a language book from the library. I don’t think I ever returned it.”

"But all you can say is 'Nice to meet you'? It doesn't seem like you're really interested in it." Oscar pushes his plate away, finished.

"It's not that. I haven't given up on it...It's not exactly the easiest language to teach yourself..." you pause, frowning at the youngest brother. “It’s just been a slow process.”

"What if I were to teach you some more?" Otto offers before he can stop himself. The thought of teaching you, of having more to offer the world than just his mercenary skills… he could not help himself.

The offer manages to surprise both Oscar and Axel, though Axel does a better job of hiding his emotions. Oscar slams his hands on the table, pushing his chair back.

"Du slösar bort din tid på den dumma tjejen! Vi kommer inte att vara här länge!" he says bitterly, shooting you a glare.

"Tillräckligt." Axel says with a warning.

Throwing his napkin onto his plate, Oscar turns and heads upstairs, the anger palpable in the air.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask, the tension making you wring your fingers again.

“No… Oscar’s a bit overprotective.” Otto doesn’t do anything to hide the annoyance in his voice, wiping his mouth.

You don’t say anything, your eyes glued to the stairs even after Oscar’s disappeared into their shared room.

"Don't worry about him. He's always been a spoiled brat." Axel is calm as he refills his glass before offering her some more. Oscar was right, not about storming out like a scolded child, but about how they weren't going to be here for long. It wasn't good for Otto to try to form a bridge between himself and you. Not when it could be as soon as tomorrow that the Commission sends them their mission. They'd take care of it and move on. They never stayed in one place for too long. Trying to plant roots would only come back to haunt them in the end.

He finishes his wine in one swallow. “Otto, do you mind helping her clean up? I should go check on Oscar.”

You turn to look at him, blinking a few times. “No, it’s okay, I don’t need the help.”

“It’s alright.” Otto says, already gathering dishes towards him.

Axel stands, smiling at you. “Lunch was lovely. Thank you.” With that, he stands and makes his way upstairs.

Otto watches after him, a silence falling between you and him.

You sip at the wine, looking over everything left on the table.

“So,” you say after the silence grows to be unbearable. “Are you the oldest?”

“Hmm? Oh no, Axel is.”

“Axel.” You repeat. “Maybe I should have asked for your names earlier.” Setting the glass down you stand up, grabbing your plate and walking over to the garbage can. Otto follows you.

“We have not asked for your name either, so don’t feel bad.”

Realizing, you tell him your name, scraping the food off of the plate and setting it in the sink before holding your hand out for his.

“Oscar, Otto and Axel… söta namn.”

“Cute?” He asks, tilting his head in confusion.

Feeling your cheeks grow warm, you freeze. “Did I say cute? I meant to say nice. I think they’re really interesting names.”

Otto chuckles, grabbing the rest of the plates from the table and hands them to you. “Your Swedish is really horrible.”

“Oh god, this is really embarrassing. Can we act like I didn’t just say that?” you take the plates, your face hot.

Laughing, Otto shakes his head. “You think we have cute names. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He’s teasing you and for some reason it just feels normal. Right now, in this moment, Otto didn’t feel like a stranger in his own skin, nothing more but a man who only knew how to kill and harm.

He did not know you, but in this tiny little moment, he felt like he was no longer missing anything.

You groan, shaking your head. “Please? I might die of embarrassment.”

He only smiles in return, corking the bottle of wine and placing it in the fridge. “If it helps,” Otto says softly, making you turn your head to look at him. “I also think your name is cute.”

For a moment, you look startled but then you huff and turn around, laughing. “You’re making fun of me!”

Otto doesn’t tell you that he meant it. Instead, he asks you what to do next.

You show him where the dirty linen goes, and he helps you put the leftovers into containers that line the fridge. It felt rather…domestic. As if this was where he belonged. After wiping the table and taking out the garbage, Otto stands beside you, drying the dishes as you hand them to him.

“Do you think Oscar is feeling better?” you suddenly ask.

He felt guilty that for a second, he wondered who Oscar was. “He’s…” he pauses, trying to figure out how to best explain it. “Oscar sometimes forgets that the world is a lot bigger than us.”

You nod, handing him a cup. “I’m sorry again, if I did anything to upset him. I probably should have just let you eat alone instead of forcing myself into the group.”

Setting the cup down, Otto shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I know but I just feel like it… like I said, it’s been so long since I’ve had any company at all that I kind of forgot that while yes, you guys are company, you are also renting out a room. I’ll give you your space from now on.”

“Why is it that you’re out here all alone?”

“It’s a long story.” you say, and Otto doesn’t push for more. “Anyways, thank you for helping me.” Your smile returns, as you rinse off the sink.

“Ingen orsak.” He replies, drying his hands.

“Is that my first Swedish lesson?”

He chuckles. “Ja. It can be.”

“I’m guessing that means you’re welcome?”

“It’s more like ‘no problem’.” He clarifies.

“Ingen orsak.” You repeat slowly, rolling the words over your tongue. “I’ll have to go write that down before I forget.”

Pushing his hair from his face Otto finds himself smiling at you. At the way you seemed so excited over something so simple.

“I should probably go check on my brothers.” The reluctance in his voice goes unnoticed by you.

“Oh.” Otto wonders if he’s imagining the way you seemed to deflate slightly. “Yeah of course. I’m sorry for keeping you.”

He wants to tell you that he would rather stay down here with you for a bit longer, but he doesn’t, a flash of hot guilt making him keep his mouth shut. He has to remind himself that this wasn’t permanent. That while it was nice, none of this was meant for him.

You tell him that dinner will be ready at 7 and he heads up to the room.

When Oscar comes back downstairs, he has a swollen lip. It’s slight, not really noticeable unless someone was looking for it. But he could feel it when he swiped his tongue against it. Axel had been mad at him, at his outburst at the dining table. But he hadn’t hit him until Oscar threw the first punch, calling him a traitor.

He was mad that his brothers seemed so interested in you. How many had they killed already? Why were they so against adding one more body to that list? You didn’t know them. You talked too much, input yourself where you didn’t belong.

They’ve only been here for half a day and already you were worming your way where you didn’t belong. When Axel had slapped him across the face, Oscar had thought about finding you and slitting your throat. He almost had, but Axel had noticed and told him that killing you wouldn’t solve anything.

‘You want to kill her because she was kind to you?’ he had said with a scoff, pulling a dagger from his boot and offering it to him. ‘Then go ahead and do it. See how that will do nothing to fix whatever anger you are so insistent on carrying inside of you.’

He almost took the knife. But stopped and slapped it away. Part of him knew that he was being irrational. That his brothers weren’t stupid. That the conversations didn’t mean anything. Humans were social creatures by default. Of course, it did not help that you were physically attractive. That you looked at them with interest instead of judgement. For heaven’s sake, even if you had butchered every single word, you had spoken to them in their own language, greeting them in your home as if you were old friends.

Part of him knew that you weren’t going to steal his brothers away from him. But that part was miniscule in comparison to the worry that he carried inside of him that told him that maybe, just maybe, it had been a mistake coming here after all.

He wanted the commission to send them their mission already so they could move on. He wanted you to fade into the back of his mind until you were forgotten.

It scared him how easy it would be for you to destroy what they had. It wasn’t anger that he carried in his heart, but fear. Fear that one day he would lose his brothers just like he lost his mother, and he would be all alone.

Downstairs he finds himself alone, the setting sun casting shadows across the house. He had heard you leave, the rumbling of your car as you drove off making him sigh in relief. Otto had found a room where you kept some books and had made himself comfortable in it, flipping through vintage books that caught his attention.

Axel had kicked him out of the room, telling him that he had given him a migraine and he wanted to sleep it off. Oscar gladly left.

But down here, in the silence and darkness, there was nothing to do. He could go back upstairs and join Otto, but his brother was still upset with him, so it was best if he didn’t.

He finds himself heading back outside, past the tiny patio they had sat at and into the garden. He was careful not to step on anything, mother had always gotten mad at him when he had destroyed her crops, accident or not.

He almost keeps going into the forest that seems to line the back of your house but stops when he hears a meow from behind him. He turns to find a fat Russian blue digging her paws into the carrots. The cat looks up at him and rolls over itself, stretching her paws towards him and meows again, inviting him over.

Oscar complies, carefully making his way over and bending down. He holds his hand out and the cat leans over and presses its forehead onto it. Automatically, everything that had been bothering him is pushed aside as he smiles and coos at the cat, scratching it between the ears.

He’s always had a soft spot for animals. Gently, he picks it up and presses it against his chest. “Are you here to keep me company?” he asks it gently, taking its meow as a yes.

“Come then.” he makes his way back to the patio, wondering if his brothers would let him sneak a cat inside. Not that he cared if you kicked them out because of it.

Taking a seat, Oscar runs his hand alongside the back of the cat, letting it stretch and get comfortable on his lap.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, rubbing its tail. It’s kind of funny how he waits for an answer.

“No?” he presses, smile growing. “Did you steal enough from the garden that your belly is full? Is that why you’re so fat?” he pokes it on the stomach.

The cat meows, swatting his hand away as if it didn’t like him talking about its weight. Carefully, Oscar squeezes its paw, shaking it. The cat kicks him and he lets go.

He must have been really distracted, the sound of the door opening startling him and the cat, who froze with his finger in its mouth.

He should have known that it was you.

When you push open the door and step outside, his smile falters and he almost let’s go of the cat.

“Oh,” you say, startled. “I didn’t think anyone was out here.”

He doesn’t say anything, glancing down at the takeout box in your hands. You look down at it as well.

“Oh. I got a bit busy, so I didn’t have enough time to make dinner and offering leftovers seemed a little rude, so I picked up some takeout.” You rambled, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “I wasn’t sure if you guys liked Chinese food, so I got you pizza instead. You like pizza, right?”

Oscar doesn’t answer you. It was so obvious that you were uncomfortable being near him and that irritated him. Sure, he liked that he made you want to run as far away from him as possible but at the same time, why was it that out of all the three of them, he had to be the unapproachable one?

On his lap the cat meows, almost slipping from his arms as it stretches. He’s quick to shift it around. Right now, he did not want to be alone with you.

“Oh shoot,” you say once you notice the cat. “She got out again.”

“Is she your cat?” Oscar asks.

“No. She belongs to a neighbor. Though she’s always running away and destroying my garden. Isn’t that right, Maple?”

The cat meows at her name, her tail shooting straight up and Oscar starts to let go of her, but you shake your head.

“Please don’t. I’m really allergic to cats.”

It makes sense why you keep your distance, and Oscar almost sighs, relieved that it wasn’t him that you were worried about.

Maple yawns, her tail swaying side to side and Oscar scratches at her chin, stealing her attention from you.

“She really likes you,” you say softly, closing the door behind you. You linger at the door for a second before taking a deep breath and making your way towards the seat next to his, a small round table separating you two. “Have you always been this good with animals?”

Oscar sighs, letting Maple get comfortable in his lap once more. He didn’t feel like making small talk with you. But he forces himself to anyways. “I guess.”

You set your food on the table and Maple perks up, sniffing the air. “Did you have pets growing up?”

“No, we didn’t have the space. Though our village was full of strays.” He pauses, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. You seemed so interested in what he had to say that he almost felt embarrassed. “I would always go feed them scraps after dinner… It drove mother mad.” He finds himself smiling lightly, remembering the way his mother would scold him only to give in and let him keep doing it. “They used to follow me home some nights and then I’d sneak them inside.”

He could almost remember how he’d keep them under his bed, in a cardboard box that he had cut holes out of and lined with old clothes that no longer fit him. But it only ever lasted so long, the cats would start whining for food and then Axel or Otto would find them and set them free.

You laugh softly at his story, bringing one leg up on the chair. “My sister used to do the same thing with anything she could get her hands on. Though one time she was so scared that she would get caught that she put a garden mouse in my bed. Imagine my horror when I wake up in the middle of a bed to find it crawling all over me.” You shiver as if the memory still haunts you. “I think I refused to sleep in our room for like a month.”

Oscar can’t help the tiny smile that curls his lips as he listens to your story.

You glance over at him and raise your brows. “Are you smiling at my childhood trauma?” you tease. “I’m glad you find it so amusing.”

“Are you and your sister close?” he asks, changing the topic.

Your smile falls and you lean back in your chair. “We were.” You mumble quietly.

“Did something happen?” he presses, wondering why you looked as if you had suddenly been kicked in the ribs.

“She…” you inhale loudly, looking up at the sky for a second. “She passed away last year. Traffic accident.”

A silence falls between them, and even Maple keeps her mouth shut, looking up at him as if she was telling him ‘Nice going idiot.’

“I-” he starts but you cut him off, shaking your head. You didn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s alright. Life’s unfair sometimes.” There’s a bitterness to your voice that softens into sadness by the time you’re finished talking.

He doesn’t know what to say, though he understands completely. He still carried the pain of losing his mother with him. He scratches Maple between the eyes.

If he were to lose his brothers, would he be able to get up every morning, like you seemed to do?

“I’m sorry, by the way.” You whisper into the silence, pulling him from his thoughts. “I didn’t mean to upset you earlier.”

He’s suddenly reminded of his outburst, of Axel slapping him across the face. He runs his tongue over the bump on his lip, sighing.

“For a long time it’s just been my brothers and I ever since…” he trails off, frowning. He didn’t know why he was telling you all this, but now that he’s started there’s no way to stop. “Seeing them talk to you…” he grows frustrated at the lack of words that could explain what he was feeling.

Maple, sensing his frustration, jumps from his lap and stretches before curling herself around his boots. He misses her already.

“I get it,” you say. “At least I think I do. Otto said something earlier, that sometimes you forget that the world is a lot bigger than just the three of you… But that’s not it, is it? It’s not that you forget, its just that for you, your brothers are your world.”

“You act like you know what you’re saying.” He says bitterly, looking away from you.

You laugh lightly, and his frustration rises and falls into the pit of his stomach. “It’s okay, you don’t have to agree with me.”

“I don’t.” he lies and it’s so obvious that he’s lying that he feels a warmth crawl up his throat.

“Just know that I get it. For a long time, it was just my sister and I against the world. Our parents…” you shrug, and Oscar is almost tempted to tell you to keep going, to tell him more. And it’s like you hear his thoughts because you do.

You, unlike him, have the words that he doesn’t.

“They weren’t good parents. My mom left when I was young, and my dad was an alcoholic who couldn’t keep a job long enough to put dinner on the table. I hated him. I still do, some days. For everything he put my sister through. For not being a father when we needed him most, but life’s a little unfair like that isn’t it?” you shrug, resting your chin on your knee and looking at the ground in front of you. “I had my sister though. She made the pain bearable. She made me realize that while the world was cruel, it didn’t mean that everyone was.”

“Sorry,” you say suddenly, laughing. “That’s such a mood kill. Just, I get it, okay? I know what you’re worried about, and I can assure you, its not going to happen.”

He wonders if you’re truly aware of what it was that he was afraid of. Did you know that it was you that he was worried about? That you’d show them, show him, that the world outside had enough space for them all?

He’s the youngest, the one they took care of… If someone else were to come into their lives, would he even be important to them anymore? Would they no longer care about him? Could he live a life where it wasn’t just Oscar, Otto and Axel against the world?

Did they see what it was that you were doing to them? Oscar felt as if someone had turned a stagnant hourglass over and he was running out of time, the ground before him holding him in place as his brothers moved forward.

It might not be you that caused the foundation to break and his world as he knew it to change, but by leaving you alive did they realize how much of a catalyst you could be? The commission had taken them in when they had nothing, but would you be the one to lift the veil over their eyes and show them that they could be so much more? That they deserved so much more than just endless death and running?

Why did it seem that he was the only one who saw just how much of a threat you posed?

It was irrational of course, but isn’t fear odd like that?

Oscar looks over at you, what little light filtered from the stars above shining on you and yet making it hard to see clearly. Your eyes were still on the ground, your food forgotten between them. You don’t seem to notice that he’s staring, and he wonders if perhaps you too have lost yourself in your thoughts.

He watches in silence as you lift your head to look up at the sky and he stops himself from following suit, from wondering what the stars looked like in your eyes.

You turn to look at him suddenly, smiling gently and something vile comes to his mind in that moment;

Would his brothers forgive him if he found someone more important than them?

#tua the swedes #the swedes x reader #the swedes #the swedes/reader #the swedes x y/n #the swedes axel x reader #axel x reader #the swedes oscar x reader #oscar x reader #the swedes x otto #otto x reader #the umbrella academy

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magickkate · 3 months

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Hey witches! As nature awakens from its winter slumber and the days begin to lengthen, we come to Ostara, the spring equinox, a time of balance, renewal, and fertility.

Ostara, also known as the Spring Equinox or Eostre, is a pagan holiday celebrated around March 20th in the Northern Hemisphere (September 20th in the Southern Hemisphere). It marks the arrival of spring and the balance between light and darkness as day and night are of equal length.

The holiday is named after the Germanic goddess Ostara, who represents fertility, renewal, and the dawn. Many customs and symbols associated with Ostara are rooted in ancient pagan traditions and folklore. Some key aspects of Ostara celebrations include:

Celebrating the Equinox: Ostara marks the arrival of spring and the rebirth of life in the natural world. It's a time to celebrate the earth's renewal, the return of longer days, and the promise of new beginnings. Here are some ways to honor Ostara and celebrate the beauty and bounty of the season:

🌱 Planting Seeds:

Get your hands dirty and plant seeds in your garden or indoor pots to symbolize growth, abundance, and new life.

🥚 Decorating Eggs:

Embrace the ancient tradition of decorating eggs, a symbol of fertility and rebirth. Paint, dye, or decorate eggs with symbols and colors that represent the themes of spring and renewal.

🌸 Nature Walks:

Take a walk in nature and immerse yourself in the sights, sounds, and scents of spring. Notice the blooming flowers, budding trees, and chirping birds as you connect with the energy of the season.

🕯️ Rituals and Ceremonies:

Hold a ritual or ceremony to honor the equinox and invoke blessings for balance, harmony, and renewal in your life. Light candles, burn incense, and offer prayers or invocations to the goddess Ostara and the spirits of spring.

🍃 Feasting and Sharing:

Gather with loved ones for a festive meal or potluck to celebrate the abundance of the season. Cook and share dishes made with seasonal ingredients such as fresh greens, herbs, and spring vegetables.

Here are some ideas for recipes for Ostara:

Hot Cross Buns (Cross Quarter Buns): These tasty pastries are often enjoyed during the pre-Easter season of Lent. The decorative cross on top represents a Christian symbol, but you can infuse your own Pagan beliefs into it. Consider associating the four quarters of the cross with elements, directions, moon phases, seasons, Tarot suits, or fire festivals. To make your own, start with your favorite muffin or roll recipe and create an X on top using raisins, currants, or scored dough. Mint Chutney: Mint chutney is a versatile condiment that pairs well with various dishes. Keep in mind that the term “chutney” covers a wide range of culinary options. Roasted Lamb: For many ancestors, lamb was a symbol of spring and rebirth. Roasted lamb can be a delicious centerpiece for your Ostara feast. Dairy Products: Dairy is associated with fertility and new life. Include cheese, milk, cream, butter, and other dairy items in your Ostara meals. Eggs: Eggs symbolize new beginnings and potential. Hard-boiled eggs, deviled eggs, or egg salad are great choices. Spring Greens and Fresh Herbs: Celebrate the awakening of nature by incorporating fresh greens like spinach, kale, and spring onions. Use herbs like parsley, chives, and dill to add flavor and vibrancy to your dishes. Seasonal Crops: Asparagus and fiddlehead ferns are early spring crops that align perfectly with Ostara. Check in your area what is available! Marshmallow Peeps: While not traditional in ancient practices, these colorful marshmallow treats have become an iconic part of modern Ostara celebrations

Embrace the Magic of Ostara: Whether you're planting seeds, decorating eggs, or simply basking in the beauty of nature, Ostara offers a magical opportunity to connect with the energy of spring and celebrate the renewal and rebirth of life. So gather your friends, set your intentions, and let the magic of Ostara guide you on your journey into the light! 🌼🌿

Spring is a time of rebirth and growth. Consider working magic related to these themes.

Explore magical aspects of:

Serpents: Symbolism and folklore. Eggs: Associated with new life. Spring Flowers: Use blooming flowers in your magical workings. Daffodils: Early bloomers with magical purposes. Rabbits: Beyond the Easter Bunny. Magical Gardening: Growing plants as a magical act.

Remember, Ostara is a time to celebrate the return of light, growth, and the promise of warmer days ahead. 🌸🌼🌞

Learn more: learnreligions.com Sabbats: A Witch's Approach to Living the Old Ways by Edain McCoy(amazon.com) Llewellyn’s Sabbat Essentials BOX SET (amazon.com) witchcraftedlife.com magickalspot.com teaandrosemary.com

#queue the magick #witchcraft #witchblr #reference #witch #magickkate #kitchen witch #sigils #green witch #witchy #sabbats #ostara #wheel of the year

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fogsrollingin · 6 months

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Time for some more Good Omens fic recs! These are the most recent fics I've read and loved. For all of them, nav to https://fogsrollingin.neocities.org/recs/goodomens 😈🪽 Cheers and happy readings! 📚🥂

Ocean of Secrets (illustrated) by magicbubblepipe. Explicit, 16k words, Aziracrow. Summary: When Crowley uncovers a plot to sink a so-called unsinkable ship, he decides to take credit for it and collect a commendation from the safety of his London flat. That is, until he spots a certain flaxen haired angel with a weakness for expensive creature comforts boarding the ship. He's forced to take action, lest his beloved be horribly discorporated. TL;DR Crowley and Aziraphale were on the Titanic. https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713294 The Titanic one - this one really stayed with me. It was such a lovely read, and I loved the epic horrifying proportions and backdrop of the Titanic. The author described the disaster very well.

Slow Show by mia_ugly. Explicit, 95k, Aziracrow. Summary: In which temptations are accomplished, grand romantic gestures are made, and two ineffable co-stars only take four seasons of an award-winning television program to realize they’re on their own side (at last, at last.) https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395261 Okay as someone who generally dislikes celebrity AUs, but I love drug addict redemption stories, I gave this one a shot (with over 12k kudos, it wasn't a hardship). Very well-written (you just know it's gonna be good when the author starts with a Richard Siken quote). Some terrific heart-wrenching angst that I adored. I appreciated the way the author mixed scenes from Good Omens into the fake TV show they were in. It worked really well for extra visualization.

A.Z. Fell Cooking (aka vlogger au) Series by MostWeakHamlets. Rated General Audiences, 35k words, Aziracrow. Summary: Aziraphale has a cooking show on the internet. It started out with three viewers, but now he's known as the happy grandfather that blew up overnight. Crowley occasionally makes cameos, has dedicated his garden to giving Aziraphale fresh herbs and vegetables, and struggles with living after the apocalypse. ___ “Taste this, my dear,” Aziraphale said. He held a spoonful of jam to Crowley’s lips with his free hand cautiously under it, ready to catch any dripping. Crowley leaned forward to wrap his lips around the spoon. Most likely his shyness came from the small tender moments Aziraphale was not afraid of showing the world. It had been the topic of many long conversations after Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in St. James Park, causing Crowley to freeze and break out in a cold sweat. Being discreet had always been their top priority. For 6,000 years, someone would have surely seen them if they embraced in the middle of London. But now, Aziraphale had assured Crowley, things were different. They no longer needed to hide, but Aziraphale would go as slow as Crowley needed him to. It was almost funny how their roles had switched after the apocalypse. https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610359 Oh man I loved the first chapter of the second fic installment where it's written like we're voyeurs watching the heart-wrenching reality of Aziraphale caring for Crowley, who's super sickly and frail in the winter (is usually back to normal in the spring and summer). The amount of love and trust that goes into the relationship depicted in this fic is sooooooo This is mainly a South Downs curtain fic btw. It sounds like a social media AU thing, but the YouTube vlogging aspect is a side quest / cool awesome vehicle to give us some fantastic hurt/comfort

Honey, You’ll Survive by HotCrossPigeon. Teen+, 12k words, Aziracrow. Summary: Crowley only popped into the bookshop to say goodbye. He might not have been thinking straight, due to that bloody great big hole where his stomach used to be. Aziraphale, quite rightly, refuses to let the demon pop his clogs in his bookshop of all places, thank you very much. https://archiveofourown.org/works/20790638 Aziraphale saving a fatally hurt Crowley and being super straightforward about wanting cuddles was the best thing in the world. Crowley was written really well in this fic - doing his best to be snarky and sarcastic, anything but sincere and vulnerable (but he gets there. Oooo how I love that 🥰🥰🥰)

Untouched by Etaleah. Teen+, 3k words, Aziracrow. Summary: A demon's life is a lonely one. What Crowley wants is so simple, yet he can never have it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/20505689 Touch starvation. When Aziraphale finally hugs h Crowley and basically breaks him 😭 literally the best

Someone Reaching Back For Me by lorenzhellmangloucester. Teen+, 1k words, Aziracrow. Summary: Aziraphale tries to soothe, tries to rock him, completely unsure if he’s helping or not; he’s never seen Crowley lose control in quite this way. Sometimes Crowley lashes out in anger or hurt, and he’s seen him vulnerable before, but nothing like this. Nothing this fragmented, nothing this… shattered. It’s like watching Crowley break, this shivering, terrified creature clinging to him like he might disappear, and oh. Oh, Aziraphale thinks, feeling very small and fragile himself all of a sudden. In the immediate wake of the almost-apocalypse, Aziraphale realizes he's not the only one who was afraid of being left alone. https://archiveofourown.org/works/19241956 I really adored this - I love the concept of Crowley going snakey when he's upset & panicking, and especially that Aziraphale would just wrap him up in hugs and cuddles no matter how monstrous he's looking 🥰🥰🥰 I *love* it so much.

side effects by darcylindbergh. Explicit, 7k words, Aziracrow. You don’t have to do this, you know, Crowley said, somewhere around Aziraphale’s stomach. His hand was rough around the hem of Aziraphale’s jumper, tugging a little, like he was trying to convince himself to let go. I’m fine on my own. I know. Aziraphale touched carefully—he was learning how to touch, like this—searching out the place right above Crowley’s left eyebrow where the migraine lived, pressing on it. You don’t have to be, though. You can just consider me a side effect. https://archiveofourown.org/works/35166532 This was super emotional and so well written. The amount of hurt/comfort and nonsexual intimacy was amazing. There was a bit of sexual intimacy but it was... it was lovely. Definitely going to reread this one.

Recompense by Flywolf33. Mature, 21k words, Aziracrow. Summary: At first, he didn’t realize anything was wrong. They’d had a row, which wasn’t entirely unusual, and Crowley had stormed off with a few harsh words he didn’t mean flung over his shoulder. Aziraphale had flung a few of his own untruths, though he always knew they hurt the demon far more than either of them would admit. To his everlasting shame, Aziraphale didn’t start looking for another two years. By that time, the trail had gone cold and he couldn’t sense Crowley’s aura anywhere. In which Hell gets hold of Crowley and Aziraphale has to try to put Humpty Dumpty back together again - if Crowley will let him. This has nothing to do with my other GO stuff at all. This has been bouncing around in my head and I finally got it on paper. https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471934 Aziraphale barging into hell 50 years later to rescue Crowley. The slow burn of recovery and angst (the scene where Aziraphale says he'll let Crowley go forever if that's what he wants and needs to feel better and recover) and love. The device-pulsifiers family supporting them was so brilliant too. Fantastic fic.

#good omens fic recs #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #good omens #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #my fic recs #moonlight readings #fanfiction recommendations #fic recs

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leah-halliwell92 · 7 months

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Shadowed Soul

Summary: Being in love is a wonderful thing...except when the heart's desire happens to be Papa.

Chapter 1: Primo

You have been Papa's gardening assistant for well over four years, and his understudy for a year. You started out merely following his direction, not knowing what you were getting into when it came to gardening. The more you did it, the more you found you enjoyed it. The seeds you would sew into the earth bear the fruit of her labor, taking with them all the energy and time she poured into them. This included her heart and what it carried...

You looked across your pink tulips to where Primo sat on a bench under a tree a book in hand his cane leaning against the trunk. You longed to sit at his side, hold his hand, and even share in a conversation. Well, you already did that last part. However, you longed for the sort of conversations that were deeper and more suited for couples than those held between friends. You longed to feel his hand on yours and the warmth of his gaze and smile on your person. You felt your heart skip a beat at the mere thought and shook your head back to task. It wouldn't do any good for you to make even more of a fool of yourself in his presence than you already were. The blood-red petals in your sink proved that well enough...

You watered your flowers tenderly, grinning pleased at seeing that your red tulips had begun to sprout. These would be perfect, you knew so.

You felt that familiar itch in the back of your throat as you watered each flower and vegetable bed. The strong urge to cough as if something was working its way up and out. And yet you didn't want to do that, not while he was there. Going to his beloved rose bed, you took extra care while watering them, these are his pride and joy after all. You nodded in satisfaction once the chore was finished and went to leave when a haunting tune reached your ears. You recognized the song, a haunting tune about love lost and never found again. Not unrequited yet never to last. The itching turned into a burning sensation as you felt long wiry tendrils crawling their way up.

You knew he's had a great love once, you knew he knew of your feelings for him though you didn't believe he knew how deeply those feelings went.

"Sorella are you alright?" You heard him ask, concern written all over his face.

You forced a grin onto your face and nodded.

"Yes of course Papa," you replied, keeping your voice light, "Allergy season is working its own dark magic on me is all."

"Sit little one," he commanded gently, his concern for you filling you with something warm, "You have been under the sun for too long and gone as equally long without drinking water."

He took the watering can from you and held your hand as he pulled you onto his side his other going to your waist.

You fought the urge to lean against him, to breathe his herb and earth scent in and just...pretend that this was more. You felt the chill of the stone bench through the skirt of your habit and breathed a sigh relishing in the last faint tendrils of his hands on you. The feeling would have to buy you time to hold off on the urge to cough out a lung until you got to your room. If not, then you did not think you would survive the blunt rejection he would try to set you down gently with. You sensed more than saw Special not too far away keeping an eye on things and risked a small cough. You were beyond grateful for the ghoul's presence, having become close friends through the years. It was this alone that convinced you he would keep your secret for as long as possible.

You let her head fall back, your eyes taking in the leaves as they danced in the breeze. You closed your eyes letting the calmness of the gardens take hold. You had come to understand just what Primo saw in gardening before you experienced such peace yourself, you thank the Dark Lord for having let you live long enough to experience it. The firey need to cough came back, this time you couldn't keep them at bay.

Special saw each cough shake your frame, your pale hands tainted red as petals, leaves, stems and blood worked themselves out of you. He hissed sympathetically, your pain not one he could have ever stomached despite what he is. You'd become like a sister to him and the thought that you were dying unsettled him more than he'd ever admit. He heard the shattering of glass and looked up to find his master making his way as quickly as he could to your side.

"Sorella!?" He gasped in alarm, having heard your coughing fit from his place in the little kitchenette.

Primo had never ran to another as quickly as he had at that moment, not since the death of his Elizabeth, and the sight that greeted him was one he'd never in a millennia thought he'd witness.

You were hunched over, your hands over your mouth as you shook with each powerful cough. Your hands were painted red in petals and blood as they poured out of your mouth. He recognized these symptoms...hanahaki. A pang of despaired sadness swept through him as he realized you have been fighting this for quite some time. Somewhere in the abbey was your love unaware that you were dying! This gave him pause as he went to your aid, you love someone! All you have to do is go to them and you would be well again.

He quickly took a seat at your side, his arms going around you steadying you while literally chocked on the very things you had learned to grow.

Coming to, you noticed you were warm. You looked up to find the concerned gaze of you Papa looking at you with sadness on his aged face.

"Papa?" You questioned, your voice hoarse as the sting of the thorns registered with you.

"Does this person know of your affections?" He asked plainly, fighting the panic that was building as he felt you lean against his frame.

"No," you softly breathed, "He knows I care, but not how much I love him."

"Is that who your tulips are for Sorella?" He gently prodded.

"Yes," you admit, a small defeated chuckle leaving your lips, "But I doubt he'll notice them much after I'm gone."

Primo shook his head in outrage, how could you say such a thing? Your tulips are the glory of the garden! They outdid his own roses a feat his more than proud to admit to any that would spare him an ear on how you had become a great master gardener.

"Why not tell him?" He asked, his hand going to your wrist where your pulse point lay.

"It wouldn't matter in the end," you replied, "I'll be dead either way, this way at least affords me the pain of rejection on top of the physical."

Primo closed his eyes tightly at this admission, you love this man so deeply that you would risk even more by not telling him.

"Are you sure this man, whoever he maybe, would reject you so thoroughly?" He asked curiously, he needed to know. He also found he needed to know whom this man was and give him a piece of his mind.

"He has had a great love already," you quietly confessed feeling tired as the burning feeling began anew, "He had a great love, we have spoken about it at great length and I know for a fact that there is no room for a another in his heart."

A severe cough shook your body in his embrace, this time a rosebud came out bathed in your blood.

Primo's blood ran cold in his veins, he knew this kind. Recognized it even while bathed in red...it is the same kind that he himself planted and catered to.

"(Y/N)–"

"Don't," you laughed breathily, "Just...let me have this."

Primo felt your pulse and breathing start to slow, your frame grow heavier in his arms as your life left your body before his very eyes. He'd known of your love, your affection, and care. But never had he imagined for you to have fallen for him so deeply as to contract Hanahaki.

"Stay awake little one," he said, voice sounding older than it usually did, "You need to stay awake...please."

You opened your eyes and weakly shifted your gaze to look at him one last time.

"It's ok," you said, voice soft as you lovingly stared at him, "It's not your fault. Sometimes we can't help whom we fall in love with."

Primo felt his heartbreak at that statement, you'd known for years thanks to him that there was no room for love in his heart. At least that is what he'd always told himself. He never allowed there to be a chance to really move on and now that you were here there would be no chance.

You smiled at him lovingly one last time before letting your head fall onto his chest.

'Finally,' you thought, breathing in your last breath, 'Peace.'

Primo knew you were gone the moment your head fell on his chest. Silent tears fell unbidden from his eyes as he held you tightly to him in the hopes that you would wake if only long enough for him to devote himself, prostrate himself at your feet if only so you could live.

"She loved you," he heard Special say as the ghoul approached them, "She made me swear not to tell you. She planted those tulips knowing you'd never see their meaning at face value, always saying that this was her way of proclaiming her affections for you."

Primo stared down at your body and with a trembling hand held you cheek as his own sobs took hold and thorned stems surrounded his own heart.

///////////

Let me know what you think! Like, reblog, comment...do all them lovely things.

/////////

Tag list: @sentientgolfball

#ghost band #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus i x reader #primo x reader #unrequited love #hanahaki disease #yes i made myself cry with writing it

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 4 months

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Optimism dries up in Amazon as Lula drifts from climate priorities

Brazil’s president inspired hope a year ago but approval of a new highway shows he remains a concrete-and-oil state builder

What a difference a year makes in the Brazilian Amazon. At the start of 2023, I wrote about the green shoots of the rainy season and feelings of hope inspired by the new president, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, who promised to strengthen Indigenous rights and aim for zero deforestation. Twelve months on, both the vegetation and political optimism are drying up.

The most severe drought in living memory has finally been broken, but the rains are late and weak compared with previous years. The Xingu River is far lower than normal for January. The pulse of forest growth is also fainter – the new vegetation does not push out as far into the road as it did last January. The neighbouring cattle pasture is faring even worse. The forage grasses, known as capim, were so severely burned that they have not grown back, leaving the hillsides brown and the cows emaciated. Several of the poor, skeletal beasts have escaped their fields and wandered towards our community in search of food. Local people say more than a dozen cows have died of starvation at this one ranch, and countless others elsewhere.

Less obvious, but in many ways more worrying, is the dearth of leafcutter ants. These large-mandibled insects are usually everywhere, slicing and carrying vegetation in columns to create fungal gardens in their nests, which spread out over dozens of metres in Gaudi-esque towers and mounds. Entomologists say these ants have the second most-complex societies on Earth, after humans, and they are the dominant herbivores in the South American tropics, trimming about a sixth of all the leaves produced in the forest. This stimulates new plant growth and enriches the soil. Not for nothing have these ants been described as ecosystem engineers.

Each day, I pass three big nests of leafcutters on my daily walk with the dogs. Just over a year ago, I ventured too close during the annual revoada, when the winged females set out on their nuptial flights followed by clouds of males. It is a sensitive time for the insects and the soldier ants were in fiercely protective mode. I was driven away with my foot bloodied and me howling with pain. Despite this, I have never ceased to admire these tiny, powerful creatures so I was dismayed to discover that all four nests are apparently lifeless. The mounds appear deflated, there is no newly excavated soil at the entrances, and not a single leafcutter ant to be seen. This is bizarre as a healthy colony can have 3.5 million members and they never previously stopped working. Entomologists tell me they may have relocated or been wiped out by the prolonged dry season. It is an alarming reminder that the weakening of forest resilience takes many forms and the impact of the drought remains incalculable.

Human-caused global heating and deforestation are parching the forest – and not just over the last year. Scientists have found the Amazonian dry season is getting hotter, drier and longer. Fifty years ago, it lasted four months. Now, it is five. This is causing a die-back of trees and other species that are being pushed beyond their survival thresholds. An ecosystem-wide collapse that would turn the Amazon into a savanna draws ever closer.

Lula knows this. In a speech at Cop28 in Dubai last November he told the world he was shocked that the region’s rivers, which are the greatest freshwater source in the world, are at their lowest level for more than 120 years. He said this was a global climate problem and called on other countries to make a greater effort. “Even if we do not cut down any more trees, the Amazon could reach its point of no return if other countries do not do their part.”

But his own government’s efforts to protect the forest and its people have been mixed. A first-year report card for Lula would show progress compared with the low benchmark set by the previous far-right administration of Jair Bolsonaro, but also failed promises, political weakness and worrying signs of regression.

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #environmentalism #environmental justice #mod nise da silveira #image description in alt

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writing-a-to-b · 1 year

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Title: Spring Word Count: 2,939 Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader A/N: This work is written in collaboration between @specialagentmonkey & @bangaveragewhitewine

Hello! This is technically the last season, however we have already written some ~interludes~ in between the main seasons fics. We will start sharing these soon while we work on another exciting part of Reader and Joel’s story!

Thank you for reading our little fics, any comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! Follow and turn on notifications if you would like to hear when we post, or sign up to our taglist to be kept up to date with what we post!

We do not give permission for our work to be posted on other sites.

Seasons Of Us masterlist

Contains: hints to animal birth, domesticated Joel Miller

—

Spring brought light to Jackson, bright sunshine that melted the snow and warmed the bones of the busy little town as it emerged from the harsh nip of Wyoming’s winter. Beneath the thick snow, green grass sprouted for the animals to graze on and new life began in the greenhouses and the barnyard.

As the mornings brightened earlier and the evenings stretched, new tasks and duties were shared around and rotated, with more townspeople getting their hands dirty in the gardens planting bulbs and vegetables, and helping out with the ever-growing population of four-legged Jacksonites.

Joel and Tommy were both roped in to put up new fences and gates, patch the chicken coop and start on a much needed extension to the barn. Then repairs could begin on the houses, surrounding walls and fences after the harsh winters’ damage.

The farm in Jackson was a bustle of energy and the new life that was being born brought more work. Ellie had all but moved into the barn since the change in the season; it had gotten to the point a few nights where she hadn’t returned by nightfall and you had to send Joel out to go and bring her back home for supper, a shower and some sleep.

You could vividly remember one instance where you had knocked on Ellie’s bedroom door before twisting the handle, only to find it locked. It wasn’t uncommon, she liked her privacy sometimes to sit and think through some stuff, or simply just listen to her Walkman. But this time was different.

“Ellie?” You called through the door after knocking, your eyebrows pulling together when you heard a series of muffled curses and dull thuds coming from the other side of the door, “Ellie, everything okay?”

“Yeah! Just-just a second!”

“I just came for your dirty-” The door swung open abruptly, “-laundry.” Ellie’s eyes were bright and her cheeks pink.

“Oh right, shit, sorry I forgot to drop it down,” she muttered and scrambled back into the room to fetch it.

That’s when you heard it. It was faint, almost barely there, but years of training your ears to listen out for even the most minute of sounds had paid off. “Ellie what was that?” you asked, pushing open the door wider before stepping over the threshold.

Ellie backed up a few steps, standing in front of the closet before picking up her laundry, “What was what?”

“That.”

You raised an eyebrow when it happened again, “Ellie?”

“It’s nothin’. Squeaky floorboard..?”

Chirp!

“Ellie so help me-” You dumped the laundry that was already in your hands onto the floor and marched over to where she was standing, “Is that what I think it is?”

“No.” She barely mumbled, her eyes looking at her sock covered feet.

You placed your hands on your hips and huffed, “Ellie if I were to open your closet, I wouldn’t find any livestock in there, would I?”

She scoffed, trying to play it off, “Please…”

“Scoot,” you ordered. “Ellie, move out of the way please.”

With a deep sigh, she shifted out of the way of the doors to the closet and slumped against the wall, “It’s not what you think.”“And what do I think it is?” you asked and tugged the door open to find a small cardboard box that was housing not one, but two new born chicks, “Christ, Ellie, what the hell?”

Ellie shrugged, throwing up her arms. “I just wanted to help them grow and.. y’know maybe keep one… Or two.”

“So you just took them?” You lifted out the box, carefully settling the chirping box onto the bed.

“Well if I had asked they would have said no.” Ellie crossed her arms.

“Ellie.”

“And I know you and Joel would say no too.”

“That’s right because they aren’t pets, Ellie. They’re part of the farm, part of what helps Jackson work,” you explained softly. Realising that Ellie really did mean well and look after them, you softened. “Tell you what, Joel can take you and the chicks back to the farm. You’ll tell them what you did, straighten all of this out and maybe, maybe you can take care of these two some more at the farm. As long as your school work doesn’t fall behind… We might get a few eggs out of these ladies when they’re bigger.”

Ellie’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, “Really?! You really think they’ll let me?”

“I think so, yeah. But you can’t go stealing nothin’ else, alright? I don’t wanna find a goat or a pig in here next time I come for your laundry.”

The Tipsy Bison was quiet in the late afternoon, only a few people were sitting around at various tables, enjoying their day off from the town-duties. That was the case for Joel and Tommy. When their days off aligned they would sit in the bar, catching up on events that had been happening whether it was to do with family or work. Sometimes they would even sit and talk about the old days, who they thought might have won the college football season the year of the outbreak or old music they used to listen to and would try and remember the lyrics.

“I think we’re makin’ some real progress with the farm now. It’s been a tough few years but everything seems to be comin’ together,” Tommy said after taking a drink, raising his glass in a small celebration, “The changes we made to the barn helped, gave us room to store the gear and tools away from the animals.”

Joel nodded and scratched the beard on his cheek gently, leaning back in his chair with a sigh, “There’s still a lot to do with the outer fence in the field, the winter wasn’t so kind on the wood. We don’t want the sheep out there escapin’ and drawin’ anyone or anything bad here.”

“You’n your god damn sheep.” Tommy huffed a laugh and shook his head at his brother.

Joel narrowed his eyes at Tommy, lifting the glass to his lips he took a sip before speaking, “I told you, they’re quiet and they do as they're told - most of the time anyway.”

“I’ll remind Maria to put you down on farm work for the next few weeks then.” The younger Miller smirked, “I’m sure Mr Jenson’ll be happy to have the Sheep Whisperers help.”

“Shut up,” Joel grumbled, but couldn’t help the small smile when Tommy laughed, head thrown back. “Long as I don’t get stuck with that stupid goat that hates my fuckin’ guts…”

The moment between the brothers was broken when you came crashing through the bar’s doors, your wide eyes searching the area frantically until they landed on Joel.

“What’s wrong?” Joel was up and out of his seat, the sound of it dragging on the floor echoed loud enough to attract the attention of the patrons near-by.

You came rushing forward, leaving the door swinging open in the spring breeze, you looked between Joel and Tommy, “You both gotta come quick-”

“-raiders?!” Tommy asked after knocking back the rest of his drink. He winced slightly at the burn.

You shook your head quickly, holding up both hands, “No-no it’s the sheep - one of the sheep. She’s stuck, we’ve been trying for hours, she just can’t push anymore.”

It was then that both Joel and Tommy took in your appearance, you were covered in mud on your legs and boots, speckles of it on your face too while your hands and bare arms were smudged with gunk and dried blood.

“Please, you’re the only two I could think of.”

“Well, where the hell is Jenson?” Tommy asked. Joel had already knocked back the last of his drink and grabbed his jacket.

“Maria took him out with the group to check out that homestead they found up north.” You told him before gesturing to the door, “Come on.”

The three of you ran towards the farm straight to the barn. There was a crowd that had gathered outside, most people offering to do anything that would help, others just to simply watch the events unfold.

“Joel!” Ellie cried as she ran to open the stable door on the barn for them to enter, “She’s really bad, she’s breathing but she hasn’t moved much in like the last ten minutes.”

“She’s gonna be exhausted,” Joel murmured, taking in the sheep laid on the hay-covered ground. He started taking off his jacket, handing it off to you then began unbuttoning his flannel shirt, leaving him in just a way off-white tshirt. The next thing to come off was his watch, which he tucked carefully in your hand. He knew you would keep it safe. “Alright, Ellie, get me some rags or a towel I can wipe my hands on.”

“She gonna be alright?” Tommy asked, peering in through the doorway. Being a farmhand wasn’t his forte, he’d never taken to it when he and Joel visited their grandparents farm outside of Austin during the spring and summer break . Joel on the other hand had taken like a duck to water.

“I don’t know Tommy, I just got here,” Joel’s tense tone and pointed look at his brother was enough to make the younger Miller stand just a little bit straighter, “Get these folks out of here, this ain’t somethin’ for the kids to be seein’.”

Ellie came back a few moments later, “Here.” She dropped down beside Joel, old towel in hand. “Can you help her?” She asked, sniffling and wiping hastily at her cheeks, “It’s your sheep, the one you always talk to when you think nobody is listening…”

Joel looked from Ellie to you, then back to Ellie, “I’ll do my best, kiddo. Now step on back, alright?”

You guided Ellie over to sit on a bale by the wall before you came back to kneel beside Joel, “Just tell me what to do…”

“Comfort her, it’s about to get a bit messy.” He said softly, giving you a small encouraging nod before he laid his hand gently onto the sheeps side, “Alright baby girl, what’chu got yourself into, hm?”

It hadn’t been pretty, not by any stretch of the imagination, but with Joel’s help the littlest lamb in the flock was delivered safely. The ewe had made it too, though she would need to rest and be monitored for a day or so. The whole town had heard about the birth - news travelled fast within the walls of Jackson - and a cheer rang through the streets when the people heard that both mom and her lamb were safe and sound.

“Aw, look, she’s hungry,” Ellie cooed from her spot on the floor, the ewe’s head in her lap, completely spent and exhausted. Her gentle hands soothed the new mother with long congratulatory strokes. “So fuckin’ cute,” Ellie grinned.

You and Joel both lifted your gaze away from the little lamb lying safely in Joel’s warm lap as he fed her with a bottle of milk.

“Not you, grumps,” Ellie snorted, “The lamb.”

You grinned into Joel’s shoulder as he rolled his eyes, grumbling something under his breath.

“I think you look cute, if- y’know take away all the dirt,” you teased, bumping your chin against the ball of Joel’s shoulder.

“Ain’t never been called cute in my life,” Joel muttered, focusing his attention back on the fragile bundle in his lap. “Save ‘cute’ for you, huh? Yeah, I think so, missy.”

“You tellin’ me your Mom and Grandma’ didn’t think you were the cutest little farm-hand in all of Texas when you were a kid?” You ask against his arm. “Sure wasn’t your brother..” You poke a gentle knuckle against his ribs, making him laugh at Tommy’s expense at the very least.

A short while later, one of the townsfolk came quietly into the back section of the barn carrying a bucket of warm water and a couple of clean rags. After placing the bucket down beside you, he took a peek at the lamb everyone had dubbed a miracle, and promised Joel there would be a strong drink or several waiting for him at the Tipsy Bison later.

“Man, I can't wait to have a shower,” Ellie grumbled, she was still covered in dirt and who knows what else. She looked at her muddy surroundings and then back at the dozing sheep in her lap, “Or maybe a really long bath.”

“I second that,” you agreed, dropping your rag into the bucket after cleaning your hands, “Tommy is going to put round the clock watch on the momma sheep, as well as regular bottle feeds for this little one. But I think she’s taken a real shine to you, Miller.” You nudged Joel gently, bringing his attention away from the bundle in his lap.

“Hey,” you said quietly as you dipped a fresh wash rag into the water. “You did good back there, cowboy.” You wrung out the excess water before dabbing gently at the specks of grime, sweat and goodness knows what else on Joel’s face and arms. “Contractor, voice of an angel, sheep-whisperer. Is there anything you can’t do?”

He pressed a kiss to your head, murmuring a loving, “Shush.”

“What are you gonna name her?” Ellie asked suddenly, her eyes on Joel. She tilted her head at his confused expression. “You saved them both. You should get to name her at least.” You nodded in agreement.

Joel watched as the lamb butted his hand with her woolly white head. “What’s your name, huh? I’m no good at this shit, little miss.”

“Missy?” you suggested, “You’ve called her that a couple of times now..”

Joel hummed, running his knuckle over her nose. “Missy, huh?” The lamb gave a sudden sharp ‘baaa’ in response, making you jump and then shake with laughter. “Yeah I think that might be it..”

The little thing wriggled to get down, walking shakily to her mother who had lifted her head and ‘baa-ed’ back in response.

You all watched as the sheep raised her head from Ellie’s lap and licked her lamb’s head as she came to lie with her mother. The maternal display made your heart ache in a funny way as Joel’s arm slipped around you.

“Let’s leave ‘em be. Get home and wash the sheep smell off’a us,” he said, and squeezed you into his side. “I think they’re both going to be just fine.”

You made it home before the sun set, ready to wash the day off and have some supper. Joel showered, followed by Ellie, as you sorted the laundry - prioritising the clothes you had been wearing, now covered in the nearly overwhelming essence of sheep. You were bone-tired and wanted nothing more than a night with your two favourite people who had promised to rustle up supper as you took your turn showering.

As you made your way back downstairs, hair still damp after a much needed scrub, a short knock led you through to the front door. The sound of Joel and Ellie’s playful bickering in the kitchen made you smile as you opened the door to see Tommy standing on your porch. “Evenin’, you alright Tommy?”

Tommy bobbed his head before speaking, “I just wanted to bring this on over, it’s one of the first bottles from the batch of whiskey they started about a year or so ago.” He handed it over with a little smile, “Sort of a thank you to Joel,” he bobbed his head again, “And to you.”

That caught your attention, your eyes meeting the younger Miller’s, “Me? Why me?” You gave him an intrigued smile.

“Because you stuck by him and never gave up on him after all these years. Even when I did, when I ran away. You and that young girl in there brought my brother and I back together and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“Tommy…”

“No no, ain't nobody goin’ all soppy.” He held up his hand, chuckling, “I just wanted to say that. And I’m sure as hell glad you three found your way to Jackson.”

Giving it a moment you smiled and nodded once, “Well then, thank you for making us feel so welcome.”

Tommy nodded and dropped you a wink. “I’ll see ya’ll tomorrow. I’m sure my brother will be back playin’ Sheep Whisperer.”

You laughed as you waved him off before shutting the door behind him, feeling warmth in your chest.

“That Tommy?” Joel leaned out of the kitchen, his hair slicked after his shower and a kitchen towel over his shoulder. You couldn’t help but grin.

“Yeah. Yeah, he brought this for us. Mainly you.” You held out the bottle as he came to meet you, glancing back to make sure Ellie hadn’t set another kitchen fire.

Joel hummed, eyeing up the bottle. “How ‘bout me’n you have a little glass of this after dinner? Might be mild enough to sit out back on the porch..”

You closed the gap between you and pressed a kiss to the patch in his beard. “I’d like nothin’ more. You gotta keep your strength up if you’re going to be the farmyard midwife for the next couple of weeks.”

Joel huffed but wrapped his arm around you, squeezing you tight. “Ain’t ever going to drop that one, huh?”

“Never. Me and Ellie are your fanclub. Tommy too. I’m gettin’ tshirts made -how bout, ‘Joel The Farmyard Midwife Miller’. Nice ring to it…”

Ellie’s laughter rang from the kitchen, repeating Joel’s new name near the top of her voice with a cackle.

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