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flowercrowngods · 2 months

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okay due to popular demand (3 people mwah!), here's all i have on prisoners ranger!steve, bard!eddie, and the royal entourage accompanying the diplomatic mission that went so horribly wrong

Steve’s whole body is made of pain, and has been for the past few days. His feet are aching and raw from trying to keep up as they were bound to horses and dragged along. His skin is chafed and bleeding where the unforgiving rocks have managed to destroy his clothes after one too many falls, and every smallest of cuts feels like his body is nothing more than a pulsating mess.

Worst of all, though, is the dizziness. He doesn’t know if his head is still bleeding or if the wetness he can feel running down his temple is his body’s testament to the unfamiliar heat, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

There’s only pain. And nausea. His eyes are open but he needs a second to understand what he’s seeing — and what he’s seeing is a ceiling made of sand coloured stone. Distantly, he hears a door clanging shut, but that might just as well be a memory.

He’s going to throw up. Tough luck when you don’t even know where up is.

A groan leaves his mouth as he tries to take a deep breath and fails miserably. Instead, he can add two broken ribs to the list of misery.

Gods above — whichever of them are listening — he’s tired. But he fears that if he closes his eyes, he might not open them anymore for the sheer release that would bring. He can’t sleep, can’t rest, not when—

“Easy now,” a gentle voice interrupts his less than coherent thoughts and just moments later, a tender hand is combing through his blood-crusted hair. “You shouldn’t move, my friend. There’s nowhere to move to anymore.”

Steve frowns, his brain trying and failing to provide any information at this point. The hits to his head must have been worse than he thought if his short term memory refuses to work with him anymore.

“We have reached Capital City,” the voice continues and Steve has to blink the fog away to make out its owner. When he does, it must show in his eyes, for the worry in Theodore Munson’s eyes makes way to the briefest of smiles before returning even stronger than before. “Do you not recall?”

Steve just stares up at him. That’s all his wrecked body and mind allow him to do right now. That’s all they want to do when gentle hands comb through his hair and chase away some of the pain.

It is then that reality slowly comes back to him and he realises where he is. Where they are. What is at stake if they fail any more, if they decide to torture information on Elanor and William out of them — out of him. He’s not sure how much he can take. They have been held prisoner for weeks. Steve has been hurting for even longer.

Shame rises in him and he has the urge to apologise to Jim, to explain, but moving his head to the side, he sees that his old master isn’t any better off. He appears to be sleeping, his face bruised, and a teary-eyed Maxine is wiping blood away from his face with a piece of her cloak.

Steve blinks once, twice, and takes in the man who practically raised him, watches the steady rise and fall of his chest and listens, beyond the pulsing rush of his own blood, that his lungs are not rattling. Shame makes way to satisfaction when he sees that none of their party has taken as many hits, kicks and punches as himself. His distractions have worked, then.

That’s good. Now if only they didn’t make him so nauseous. So tired. So…

“Don’t fall asleep, Steven,” Eddie demands, and the world tilts slightly, which makes everything worse until… soft. It’s softer now.

Eddie has moved him so his head is resting in his lap now.

“You don’t look too good, Ranger. Sleep is dangerous in your state, no matter how badly you might need it. Give it a few hours, please.”

A beat passes where Steve tries to process the words that are just too many. Since when does Eddie talk with him so much?

“Lies,” he says after a while and with greater effort than should be necessary.

“Lies?”

“I look very good. You just can’t see it under all the blood and the bruises.” He tries to crack a smile, but even the huffed breath jolts his head too much.

Eddie does him the favour of a brief chuckle, and Steve feels better for it. Lighter. Light is good, he finds. Maybe all he has to focus on is Eddie and his hands working out the clumps of dirt and blood from his hair, maybe all he has to do is make him smile and the world will be a bit less painful.

His world narrows down to all the ways Eddie is close to him and it does keep him occupied, but it also gets his mind wandering, the adrenaline of the past days wearing off.

“Keep doing that and I will fall asleep,” he says after another beat of silence. Fall asleep and dream. Dream of what this could mean. Dream of smiles that make me feel lighter.

“Keep doing what?” Eddie asks, and Steve senses a trick to just keep him talking, no matter how slurred his speech is. He needs a moment to remember what he said.

“This,” he says eventually, and Eddie only hums. Finding words is hard. He tries. And tries again. “Being gentle.”

Another smile, and Steve wants to close his eyes to keep it there to hold on to. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my friend.”

“Can’t not be gentle?” He’s losing force on the consonants. The pain is getting stronger, his nerve endings more frayed and his vision blurry. This is familiar. He gives himself another quarter of an hour at most before he will lose his consciousness, no matter how hard he tries to stay here. With Eddie and his wavering smile.

“Not with my friends, no.”

This time it’s Steve who smiles at the word friends. He likes to be Eddie’s friend. The man, as it turns out, is admirable, he’s strong, he’s wise when he wants to be and gentle with young Maxine. He’s kind, he’s quick-witted and patient, and his hands are impossibly soft.

“I know you said not to sleep, and I’m not normally one to deny a well-respected bard’s command, but…” He swallows. Words are hard. He’s not sure they come out as planned, but he perseveres. “I’m afraid I have to prove to you now how stubborn the Queen’s Rangers can be.”

Another hum from above him and Steve opens his eyes he hadn’t even noticed closing. The world is fading, but still Eddie is at its centre.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, then, stubborn Ranger.”

Will you smile at me still? Steve wonders.

“Always,” Eddie says, but before Steve has time to wonder if someone else has said something, darkness has swallowed him whole.

———

Steve wakes to something cold touching his forehead, moving to his temple where suddenly a jarring pain wrecks his body and he can’t quite suppress the flinch.

“Forgive me,” comes a quiet voice from above and Steve opens his eyes to the darkness of a cell, only faintly illuminated by the flickering light of a torch somewhere and the redness of the setting sun. “But I am glad to see you awake.”

The voice belongs to Eddie, who is looking down at him, a piece of cloth in his hand. Gently, he presses it to Steve’s forehead again and the cool sensation comes back, gentler this time. It takes a moment for Steve’s tired and frayed mind to catch up with reality, but when it does, he realises that the bard is washing away the dried blood and cleaning his wounds.

What an odd picture they must make.

“Tell me,” he says before he has time to consider his words. “Is it normal for a bard of Northlands to take care of wounded Rangers?”

“No,” Eddie says and there’s something to his voice Steve can’t quite identify. He’s not sure he likes it, not sure what it does to his insides. “There are never any Rangers there.”

Even through the dim light, Steve can see the mirth in his eyes and it makes him laugh – if only briefly, for his body is quick to remind him that any sort of movement is a bad, terrible, truly horrid idea. He just barely manages to suppress a groan, but nothing could get past the bard’s eyes, and his hand moves from Steve’s forehead to his cheek almost immediately.

“Careful, my friend. You shouldn’t be laughing.”

“Stop making me laugh, then. That would make it all so much easier.” There’s no heat behind his words and he doesn’t even try not to lean into the touch.

Eddie hums but stays quiet otherwise and keeps wiping Steve’s face clean, watching his every reaction. A frown slowly forms between those brows and Steve wonders what that is for. Did something happen while he was out of it? Time passes differently in the desert, yes, the sun and moon following different paths, but he can’t have been unconscious for more than three hours. It is barely yet nightfall, their cell colder than before.

Three hours. And Eddie still sits cross-legged with Steve’s head on his thigh.

Guilt and embarrassment shoot through him and he wants to move, wants to get up and release the bard from his demeaning task of playing nurse to a wounded Ranger, but his ribs protest and his head pulses with white-hot pain before it sends his world spinning again and Steve sags back into the warmth of Theodore.

“I must be painting the most pathetic picture of her Majesty’s Rangers. I swear, most of us are better than this.”

It comes out light hearted as always, despite the pain it leaves inside his chest to be presenting himself like this. Representing all Rangers to the kingdoms of the South with his weakness. All that on top of losing Will. Again.

He closes his eyes against the pity he is bound to see in Eddie’s eyes.

“You paint a picture of bravery such as I scarcely saw it before. Never in my life did I see a man move so slowly, so unseen unless as I was looking right at you. You are excellent with the sword and the bow, and even the weapons of the desert folk are natural to you. I can imagine the pain and suffering you have seen, some of which you must have caused in the name of justice, yet you carry inside yourself a light-heartedness that is refreshing to say the least.”

Steve swallows, has never been good at taking compliments, and luckily hasn’t been in the position to accept them in quite a while.

“Light-hearted?” he rasps. “You can’t be talking about the same Rangers I know, surely.”

“I was talking about you, Steven,” Eddie admits quietly, and his voice is so tender when he says his name that it makes Steve’s breath hitch.

“Oh,” he says intelligently. Swallows. “Then the head injury must be severe.”

“Admirable of you to hide a concussion for so many days. I think healers of all kingdoms would have a lot of questions for you if they knew.”

Steve huffs and smiles through the pain of his undoubtedly broken ribs protesting. “My apologies, Eddie. Queen Joyce of the West and Sir James himself would both have my head if I taught you our concussion-hiding ways.”

“A pity,” Eddie says and there’s that smile in his voice again that doesn’t show on his lips, at least in this light. Steve doesn’t care, though, as he smiles up at him.

This moment in time belongs to the both of them as Steve finds he can’t quite look away, and it’s not the pain that keeps him.

Eddie opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it again. The frown reappears between his brows and Steve wants to reach out and smoothen the creased skin above his nose. If only moving his arm didn’t require such strength that keeps evading him, the night weighing heavy on his limbs.

After another minute, Eddie does find his words, though they are quiet this time. “I worried.”

“About what?” Steve asks when he doesn’t continue.

Eddie resumes his endeavour of washing the crusted blood from his hair and face, the sensation soothing his skin but not his nerves. Steve does reach up this time to still his hand, and the bard meets his eyes again.

“That you wouldn’t wake up.” It comes out small, void of that usual easy confidence.

Steve swallows every comment on the tip of his tongue about how the rest of their group could easily keep Eddie entertained without any concussions bothering them. It’s not often that he has control over his tongue, but in the face of such open worry and vulnerability, his heart aches and he wants to say the right thing.

“I’m awake, Theodore Munson. It takes far more to put me out for good.”

It’s a lie, he knows. It would not have taken that much more, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that.

“Don’t let them hear that, they will take that as a challenge.”

Steve only gives a non-committal hum and closes his eyes again. If he didn’t, the darkness of the cell and the kindness in Eddie’s eyes would have made him say stupid things like, Let them, if that means everyone else is safe. That would surely dim the light in those black eyes and very likely make Jim throw a boot at him. And Steve really doesn’t want to have to deal with either of those things.

Eddie resumes his task of gently cleaning him, and Steve gets the feeling that the bard must be doing it for himself just as much as for him. It’s something to keep himself occupied, and the way he talks betrays his intentions in turn of keeping Steve awake and occupied, too.

A gesture that is almost too kind to bear, as dusk turns into night and the silver light of the full moon illuminates their cell.

———

Jim lies just a few feet beside them, and now that his eyes have had the chance to adjust to the darkness properly, the concussion already weaker than it was earlier, Steve can see that his eyes are open. Or, one eye is; the other is swollen too badly. Another wave of guilt and shame clouds his senses for a moment and he has the urge to ask forgiveness. He feels responsible, even though he knows Jim would hit him over the head if Steve so much as mentioned that.

His eyes cut back to Eddie above him when a yawn interrupts the bard’s steady movements with the cloth that is barely wet anymore.

“You never got any rest, did you?” he asks – stupidly, because the moment the words leave his lips Steve remembers the very reason for Eddie’s wakefulness. He winces before the other man even gets the chance to answer. “Right, my fault. Forgive me.”

If the ground beneath him could open now, he would have a banquet in its honour. With a groan, he moves to sit up and free Eddie of his dead weight, the motion pulling on his cuts and bruises, irritating his broken and burning ribs in a way so sudden it steals his breath for a second. Steve is well acquainted with pain, but the all-encompassing nature of it right now is thoroughly unwelcome.

Hands come up to steady him, guiding him to sit up and lean against the stone wall, his own shoulder coming to rest against Eddie’s, who only slowly lets go of him.

“Thank you,” Steve breathes, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s hardly a question of fault,” Eddie says in that calm, soothing way of his that keeps making Steve want to reach out and hold on. Hold him. “And it was no hardship to stay and… be gentle.”

Something in the back of his mind wants to tell him something but it’s too foggy to grasp.

“Gentle,” he says, inquiring, as though saying the word out loud would tell him its meaning.

“Even Rangers of the Kingdom deserve gentle hands and smiles. Even if they are too badly beaten and concussed to recall their request.”

Eddie’s words aren’t making sense, but what they do is make his heart beat faster for some reason other than shame and embarrassment. He presses his lips together and tries to find his voice.

When he finds it again, it’s barely more than a whisper hidden in the moonlight. “Allow me to return the favour, then. Rest, Eddie. Find some sleep while I ensure it is safe.”

Something shifts in those black eyes and Steve wants to chase it. Eddie cast in silver light of the moon is different than the golden figure of the past days. Less imposing and more… fragile. Gone is the teasing, replaced with something more… More. It suits him, the light of the moon, as much as it makes Steve’s heart and mind race.

“Will you smile at me still?” Eddie asks at last, and even the darkness cannot veil the quiver in his voice.

Steve is reminded of something he must have dreamed of earlier, but he cannot focus on that, not with the way the moonlight catches in those dark curls that have managed to slip out of the band keeping his hair bound at the back of his skull. Not with the way it illuminates the twitch of his lip or the impossible way he is looking at Steve still.

“Always,” he says before he can even think about it. Always, he thinks. However long that may yet be.

Another smile twitches and tugs at the bard’s lips, lingering in its nature as he closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall behind them. It can’t be comfortable, and Steve has half a mind to offer his own lap, but there is something about seeing Eddie so calm. He doesn’t dare to interrupt him.

He waits until Eddie’s breathing has evened out before he gives in to the urge to brush the treacherous curl behind his ear. It leaves his fingertips with a tingling sensation that makes him want to do it again, so he does. Sitting there, trying to breathe through his broken ribs and his fluttering heart, Steve doesn’t dare to do it a third time, as much as he yearns for it.

He rests his own head against the wall, too, and watches the bard, because watching him is easier than letting his gaze wander and be reminded of the situation they’re all in.

The moonlight guides his gaze towards Eddie even as he tries to look away, and Steve watches as it caresses the bard’s features in such a way as though that is what it has been sent here to do.

It makes Steve smile even as the ache in his chest grows stronger. He is starting to realise what this is, and he’s too weak to fight it. Not in this prison cell, not in this foreign country where the sun is out to kill you and the moon will watch you shiver helplessly.

How could he fight the moonlight and its tender caress, the world tinged in silver as he lets it work its magic on him? Only a fool would be able to resist.

“Steve.”

He just barely manages not to flinch as Jim’s rasping voice rips him away from his musing – no, his yearning. Turning his head, he finds his eyes in the dark, though he can’t make out any question or command in them. Has Jim caught him? Does his old mentor know his thoughts regarding the bard, has he seen the twitch in Steve’s fingers as he refused to let them reach out and touch?

Jim’s silence is as good a command as any, and summoning all his might not to let his face betray the pain shooting through his body, Steve gets up with a suppressed groan and walks over to his old mentor.

As slowly as possible without giving away the pain that feels like his ribcage is being both torn apart and pressed together, he sits down beside Jim, guiltily thanking the swollen eye and the darkness, for he seems none the wiser to Steve’s injury.

“Don’t do that again.”

Steve freezes, his thoughts tumbling over themselves trying to figure out what exactly Jim refers to — the guilt still warring inside him insists that there are many things he should not have done.

“What do you mean?” he asks, feeling like he is but a green student again, getting berated by his mentor after he did something wrong.

“Take a beating for me. I understand why you would do it for the others, but—”

“Jim,” he tries to interrupt him with a gentle sigh, but the old man won’t have it.

“No, Steve. They hate me more than you, we don’t need you riling them up and making things worse for yourself.”

“I will not let them break your arms and ribs, James. I can take it, I’m—”

“If you say you’re younger, Steven, I’m going to throw you out of the window..”

An innocent grin spreads his lips and he inclines his head, meeting Jim’s good eye. “But I am.”

He sees the hand coming, shooting out from below, but his range of motion and reflexes are still heavily impacted by his injuries that he can’t manage to get out of Jim’s reach in time. Before he knows it, Steve loses his balance and falls flat on his back without any grace but with all the more agonising pain.

Nobody would have been able to hide broken ribs and a nearly split skull like this, but Steve still mentally kicks himself as the wheezing groan of pain leaves his lips.

All traces of mirth leave Jim’s expression and everything turns into worry as he, too, sits up with a groan to check over his former apprentice.

“By the Gods, Steve, are you okay?”

Another groan that is supposed to be somewhere between “Just peachy” and “Fuck off”, but even that sound is pathetic with the way the air has been pushed out of his lungs at the impact. All he manages is a whimper, and he doesn’t try to open his lips for more than that.

He doesn’t even attempt to sit up this time, can only try to catch his breath and breathe through the agony with more wheezing, rattling whimpers. Hands hover over him in the dark, but he shakes his head rapidly, scared that Jim would try to touch and feel the injury, only to find a broken rib or two. Or five, at this point.

His lungs don’t work right and he can’t quite catch his breath. It is only experience that tells him this is normal, this will pass, he will breathe right again. Hopefully.

“For God’s sake, why would you hide an injury like that, Steve? Why would you… You idiot!”

There is movement around him in the cell, the others waking up from Jim’s anger and worry and guilt, but Steve keeps his eyes closed lest the tears fall.

“Breathe,” Jim tells him, and Steve finds that to be a wonderful idea, actually, so he tries. And he tries again. “Yes, good. Breathe, Steve. It’s all going to be fine, you’ll get through this.”

“Have to,” he presses, barely any sound to his wheezing. “So you can throw me out of the window.”

“Fucking moron,” Jim mutters, though Steve can hear the emotion in these two words. It makes him smile despite the situation.

“S–sorry,” he wheezes again, and trusts that Jim understands that he means more than his sarcastic retorts or the hiding of the wounds. Sorry for losing Will again. Sorry for not saving Elanor in time. Sorry for failing the mission. Sorry for being weaker than you need me to be. Sorry for—

“It’s alright, Steve,” Jim promises and there are fingers in his hair again, wetness running down his cheek. Did the fall open his head injury again? The situation must truly be dire if Jim is being outright gentle and worried. “Just don’t do it again. Let me take them next time.”

He wheezes again, but won’t make that promise. If their captors come back, he knows he won’t sit and watch them hurt his friends, won’t sit and watch them treat Jim the same way they treated him on the journey here.

It takes a moment for the world to right itself again and for the cell to become quiet, but somehow Steve manages to get his breathing under control and the pain subsides from agonising to miserable, like before. He rolls his head and looks at Jim through a blurriness in his eyes that he has to blink away.

“You think we’ll make it out of this alive?”

Maybe it’s the pain clouding his mind, maybe it’s the darkness that has always made it easier to ask such questions, but Steve finds the words falling from his lips easier than they should have.

Jim’s expression that just a moment ago has been filled with worry and anger sobers now, and Steve doesn’t quite like what he sees.

“Will is still out there,” he says, evading the question and answering it in the same moment.

“Yeah. He is,” Steve says, not sure if he believes it or not. Not sure if it changes anything. “You’re right.”

They stare at each other for a moment, the moonlight catching Jim’s eyes in a way that highlights the emotions in them. The desperate hope that Will is out there, alive, and reunited with his sister — they have their ways of finding each other against all odds. Always have. Steve likes to believe that they won’t stop now, that a desert can’t keep them apart. That they found friendly faces who won’t betray them, and bring them home.

Bring them home even when Steve and Jim can’t follow them. And Maxine. Princess Elanor would turn the desert into an ocean before she left Maxine to die. But down in their cell, the ocean would leave them to drown all the same.

Jim has hope, though, and Steve decides to follow his mentor again. Just for tonight, when all he feels is pain, when his head is being split open, his chest crushed and bursting, his limbs bloodied and bruised. Just for tonight, he will allow himself not to think, not to worry, and to trust Jim blindly like he did all those years ago.

“Sleep, Steve,” Jim says then, and only now does Steve realise how tired he is, his eyes closed long ago.

He spends a brief moment thinking about Eddie and the promise he made the bard to be there when he wakes up. It’s silly, because he’s merely a few feet away, but it still hurts to have abandoned him to lie there by himself while everyone else has company. When he never moved while Steve himself was asleep.

“You should sleep, too, Ranger.” A sudden wave of warmth washes over him when he hears that voice with its foreign inflections. “You both need your rest, I can stay awake for some time to keep watch and wake you up at the first sign of danger.”

“Eddie, I really don’t mind—“

“I insist, Ranger James. You two have taken the most of their hatred and displays of power, it’s the least I can do.”

Jim seems to hesitate for a moment, but Steve doesn’t open his eyes to look. His lids have become far too heavy, even heavier still when a certain hand is back in his hair to comb through it in even movements, mindful of his wounds. He doesn’t fight the secret smile this time.

“Well, if you insist, bard,” Jim finally concedes, never one to really pass up an opportunity for sleep. “Good night to you, then.”

“Goodnight, my friend,” Eddie says in that calm, kind manner of his that is still new to them, and Steve feels as though he breathes easier for it. “And you, Steven,” he lowers his voice, appearing closer now, “truly are a fool.”

“Oh?” he says, wishing that it wouldn’t hurt to laugh or even just to huff. “What happened to brave, kind-hearted, and whatever else you said earlier?”

“You can have those back when you stop lying about being injured.”

“Keep them then,” he says, and it’s meant in jest, but that doesn’t translate well when you barely have enough strength left for a voice, he finds.

“Sleep,” Eddie repeats, gentler this time, though he sighs long and hard after. “You impossible man.”

It makes Steve smile again, even as an impenetrable darkness wraps around him.

He’s sure that the hum and the whispered, “I see you’re keeping your promise still,” are figments of his imagination, his tired mind playing tricks on him. But it’s a dream he likes to sink into, filled with moonlit skin, gentle hands, and kind words.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) and also @ashipwreckcoast and @universal-gay and @marismorar bc you asked me to post the thing (and also b!)

#steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #this isn't really anything but also it's everything to me rn like it's literally what keeps me sane i go about my day and think of them #and all the tenderness and angst in that prison cell #this is a ranger's apprentice inspired au if you will but nobody knows what that is in my experience lmaoo #dio words #sorry tag list gang this aint really a thing you don't have to look at this i'm really just posting this for three (3) people who asked

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pdalicedraws · 7 months

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And there was much rejoicing (until they notice they hate each other)

[1] [2] [3] [4/?] [5] [6] [7]

[index]

#nimona #nimona movie #nimona netflix #nimona comic #nimona graphic novel #nimona webcomic #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister boldheart #ballister blackheart #dr meredith blitzmeyer #nimona nimona #nimonaverse #Pd alice draws #w h y did I have these characters go for lunch I have to draw SO MUCH FOOD #also for the past like three pages I’ve been going ‘‘ok when I finish this one I’ll start scheduling them for a twice a week post date’’#but then I finish it and I’m so excited about it I just schedule it to post the next morning #SOON I will start having a regular update schedule and building a buffer lmao #in other news we all already know Ambrosius Goldenloin is a fucking awful name but you know what really rubs that in?#HAND WRITING IT.

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moongothic · 5 months

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WAIT WAIT WAIT HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

So normally we only get fullblown, extended and dedicated flashbacks for heroic characters in One Piece, the characters who we're meant to root for. The literal only TRUE exception we've had to this rule was Big Mom's flashback. Even fucking Doflamingo's flashback was tied to Law and Rosinante's

So the fact that we haven't gotten a single fucking GLIMPSE at Crocodile's backstory is?!?

Like sure, we haven't gotten like a Moria flashback, but you know, he literally told us all we needed to know himself, AND we got to see glimpses of him in the Wano flashbacks. Arlong didn't get a flashback of his own, but he did get to cameo in Fisher Tiger's flashback. And Rob Fucking Lucci got a flashback that was 6 whooping panels long

BUT CROCODILE?? Not only do we know almost Fuck All about his story, but also have never gotten as much as a glimpse at it? But his backstory has been HINTED and TEASED at multiple times??

GUYS. FELLAS

Like. I am SURE the "Full Backstories for Heroes Only" rule is going to get broken again, but with Imu and Blackbeard already there just BEGGING to have their beans spilled, can we even be sure Sir Fucking Crocodile is somehow going to become A Villain So Dangerous To The Narrative that he ALSO should also recieve a Full Fucking Backstory?? For his Nefarious Schemes?? AT THIS POINT??

Y'all

I think it's more likely Oda's been saving up Croc's backstory because it might just completely recontextualize his entire character

#CROCODAD REAL?!#UNIRONICALLY #Sir Crocodile #Crocodad #Crocomom #OP Meta #Moon posting #Sleep Deprivation opened my third fucking eye I can see the fucking Matrix #Unironically this is the thing that has pushed me back into actually believing in Crocodad despite the timeline #Because I genuinely can not imagine how else Crocodile could be turned into an (anti) hero if it's not Crocodad #And I can not imagine his villanous schemes needing a backstory to explain them at this point- not over BB and Imu #And I mean sure maybe we could get three whole Extended Villian Backstories for Imu Blackbeard and Croc #But I just feel like it'd be so unnececary #Because there is no fucking way Crocodile is going to become The Ultimate Villian of the Story again #Not without some Darth Vader bullshit happening #But since he's supposed to be based on Wagnas from Romancing SaGa 2 and Wagnas wanted to SAVE the world #Look I have a whole different post about that waiting in my drafts I'll post it later #Point is!! I can't imagine him becoming The Final Villian!! Not at all!!#Also yes there are characters like Mihawk who have like histories etc that I'm sure many people would love to learn about #The only difference is that we've never gotten as much as a hint at what kind of a backstory Mihawk might have #Meanwhile Crocodile Having A History is something that's been hinted at every arc he's appeared in pre-timeskip #Like we KNOW he has a story we just don't know what it is

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seawitchkaraoke · 2 years

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I will say this one more thing about this: I do not believe the other try guys (or even many people at 2nd try) knew Ned was cheating before they found out sometime earlier this month. Not because I have some blind faith in the other guys to be good ppl (imagine saying ‘‘he would never’‘ when someone you might have said that about literally just did smth horrible), but because:

- knowing he is cheating and hiding it/keeping him on would be an absolutely ridiculously stupid thing to do and I think they’re smarter than that. Because with how well known they are, that’s a ticking time bomb until someone will snap an incriminating picture in public and if it then comes out you’ve known and protected him? That’s your image of wholesome, good guys absolutely destroyed.

- all the claims that they did know for months or years, that i’ve seen came from random twitter or reddit accounts or were even entirely anonymous. That’s not evidence. That’s some random person saying some random shit

- they were already cutting him out of videos before the video was leaked. Meaning they were already preparing to cut ties with him regardless of whether the fact he was cheating came out or not so ‘‘oh they just have to fire him now bc it got out’‘ doesn’t really make sense.

- if him cheating was somehow an ‘‘open secret that the entire company knew’‘ it wouldn’t stay secret long. Nothing ever does if a lot of people know about it . You ever try to plan a surprise party for someone without someone tattling? This is this except tattling would seem like the more moral option to many ppl and make it even more likely that someone tells so again hiding it in that case is just a stupid strategy even with NDAs (bc your employee could leave instead of signing said nda or they could just hide their tracks well while leaking smth)

Now I will believe that they quite possibly weren’t planning on telling the public why they got rid of Ned, both to protect Ariel and others from harrassment and to protect their own image - any dirt on Ned also harms them bc if one of the wholesome good guys isn’t actually all that, maybe the others aren’t either. If the video wasn’t leaked I imagine they’d have been vague or said it was for personal reasons or whatever, but they still would have seperated from Ned.

I also think like.... listen, you can know your friend has flaws and maybe sometimes flirts too much when he’s drunk or sometimes says inappropriate shit and you can forgive him that and still be friends with him and try to push him in a better direction, you can do all that and never suspect he might be cheating. Because there’s a big jump from one to the other and we always see the best in the people we love. It’s easy to say in retrospect that it was obvious but shit like this is never obvious. You don’t suspect your friends of being capable of that stuff unless it’s pushed right in your face

#try guys #ned fulmer #i am just tired of ppl circulating ''they knew for years'' around like it's a fact #with like.... a screenshot of some anonymous message as the proof #i really don't think they knew #i think the moment they learned about it they started the process of getting rid of him #bc anything else would simply be the stupid thing to do #(then again making out in public and going to a harry styles concert together was stupid)#(so what do i know)#(but i'd like to think that the other three guys combined would have more braincells than that)#man i feel silly even making a post about this #but i am just so amused/annoyed by the posts that are like #''apparently they knew for a year now'' with a screenshot of a reddit comment by a deleted user like babe.......#they've known for a year and so apparently did this random reddit person? but only now are ppl coming out and saying it? sure

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brother-emperors · 7 months

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CAIUS TREBONIUS AND MARK ANTONY, MARCH 15th

The Hetairia of Cassius, Luciano Canfora

Cic. Phil. 2

(taps mic) so as we all know, conspiracy is a kind of seduction, and actions not taken can be just as loud as the ones that are. so. uh. fellas! hey fellas. heyyyyyy.

like, I was looking at the Dolabella-Caesar-Antony mess yesterday, but something really fun and vicious happened here and I will be rotating it around in my head at maximum volume for the foreseeable future

the red panels are the Assassination of Julius Caesar by Vincenzo Camuccini (the pen and ink drawing, not the painting)

#gaius trebonius #like the last three times ive posted him. his look will probably change. but i have never once promised consistency on this blog #what's a consistent character design. you only achieve that when you get main character status in a comic #mark antony #drawing tag #komiks tag #roman republic tag #ides of march baby!#new tag for ides of march art. i'll retag everything later #also I’m going to kill dolabella myself. I love him. I want his head on cassius’ sword.#all these people are so MESSY good grief #also! two conspiracies: one from Cassius one from Trebonius. also sexy. much to think about #anyway test run for an idea. we will be revisiting this scene again #I have a better idea about how to do the red panels. what I don’t have is (checks notes) the patience mostly #I want to draw trebonius’ lip scar origin story #anyway they definitely got drunk and made out in a spectacularly sloppy kind of way at least once #beware! the ides of march!

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celestialrealms · 15 days

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I just noticed Mephisto matches with Barbatos (who is matchy with Diavolo) in the anniversary outfits in his SSR memory card

These three were also the only three who had half masks in the masquerade event!!!

Anyway, The Royals with Mephisto chat group when? We got one for Purgatory Hall with Raphael..... it's just fair !!

And one for Mephisto and Diavolo as well, but also one for Mephisto and Barbatos too. because you can't tell me their relationship isn't deeper than the devs portray when Mephisto has lines like this about Barbatos's room:

#also obviously chat groups like thirteen + solomon or thirteen + barbatos (+ solomon) as well!!!#but i was pointing this out teehee #..........................Anyway I feel like if I were going to make a meta post about Barbatos at this point #it would definitely involve his biggest flaw being his past self-isolation #+ diavolo being the one to break it (and later mc) means he prioritizes diavolo(+mc) over everything/one else #and it's very clear he has difficulty getting close to people #i usually think it's funny tbh #but i think the context it makes me the saddest in where i'm like... momma go to therapy....#is the obvious distance between him and mephisto despite being around as an adult in both his + diavolo's childhoods #while mephisto was being groomed to be diavolo's protector or whatever #i just feel like there's so much room to develop these threes' relationships #but the devs just don't want to do it because it interferes with the brothers getting all the screen time for no reason #+ how they only seem to want to make jokes about mephisto and diavolo's relationship 90% of the time #also just saying..... this being a flaw of barbatos's is also a reason i want him to interact with thirteen more #+ to know more about their relationship #because frankly she is a LOT like that too what with how she opens up exclusively to mc #......................... sowwy about the tag rant #i am simply cherishing and holding them autism style.#obey me barbatos #obey me mephistopheles #obey me diavolo #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date

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front-facing-pokemon · 5 months

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#bouffalant #i forgot this pokémon existed. i don't even know what type it is #ground?? ground/normal??#okay no it's just pure normal. this is like tauros's cool cousin #Tau Ross. 'cause. he has bob ross hair. :)!#did you guys know that the bob ross show was actually filmed at my alma mater #yeah. the college that i'm doing finals for Right Now. the joy of painting was filmed there i think #no one talks about it and i had to find out from random anecdotal evidence from my mom when we were on a road trip #dunno how SHE knew but no one who goes to this college ever talks about it. they only ever wanna talk about david letterman #i hate it here. so glad to be graduating soon #the only reason i'm okay with telling you all where i go to college is because as of this posting (december 13th) i will literally #be graduating in three days. that'll be commencement. which i'm not even going to because fuck commencement

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anipgarden · 8 months

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Tropical Milkweed, Its Problems, and What To Plant Instead

I am writing this to atone for the sins of my past (handing out tropical milkweed cuttings to my friends and teachers before I knew better).

(Also let me make this clear I am Floridian I am writing this from the perspective of someone in the United States if you live in Tropical Milkweed's native range this doesn't apply to you go forth pogchamp)

Look online, on TV, in books, in newspapers, left, right, up, down, anywhere, and you'll see people talking about how planting milkweed is crucial, essential for the survival of monarch butterflies. Milkweed is the only plant that monarch caterpillars can eat as they're growing, and the loss of it in our wild spaces is one of the most direct links to the ecological extinction speedrun of not just monarchs, but dozens of other insects who rely on its abundance of nectar-filled flowers to survive. You'll be urged to run, not walk, to your nearest garden center, buy as much milkweed as you can, and hurry fast to plant it in your gardens and be part of the solution, not the problem. The issue is that, oftentimes, the milkweed you leave the store with is a vibrant red and orange, with pointed green leaves, dozens like it lining the shelves across stores all over the nation...

Tropical milkweed. Scarlet milkweed. Bloodflower. Mexican butterfly weed. Asclepias curassavica. This plant is a being of many names, and our culprit of the hour.

'Culprit? Culprit of what?' Culprit of enticing people to buy it under the guise of helping, only to possibly cause more harm than good.

Let's discuss.

Tropical Milkweed (Asclepias curassavica) is a gorgeous milkweed (especially the yellow variety? ooh, that had me in a grip as a teen) that's easy to obtain--too easy. It lines the shelves of stores like Walmart, Lowe's, Home Depot, and even hundreds and dozens of smaller garden stores, and is sold for reasonably cheap because its quick and easy to grow from seed and eagerly roots from cuttings. It's extremely popular with butterflies too--in many scenarios, Tropical Milkweed will be preferred as host plants over other related species like Butterflyweed (Asclepias tuberosa), and its also popular with other species of butterfly, bees, and wasps as a nectar source. It lasts well into winter in some areas of the United States, is quick to regrow when cut back, and doesn't die back for periods of the season like some other milkweeds do. It's eager to reseed, creating capsules with tens of dozens of seeds and scattering across the winds with the help of little silky parachutes much like the ones dandelions are known for.

'Ani, what's the problem with that? This all sounds like its great for monarchs!'

See, here's the kickers. In fact, here's several kickers. Here's an entire mollywhopping of kickers.

OE Infections

In the temperate areas that it doesn't die back over winter (or even, in some cases, where it doesn't die back during the season like other milkweeds), it can become a host for OE. OE is short for Ophryocystis elektroscirrha, and its a protozoan parasite that can and frequently does infect monarchs. As infected monarchs visit different plants--whether its to drink nectar, to lay eggs, or even just doing a fly-by of the garden--they drop spores from their wings that can then fall onto the leaves, flowers, and even any eggs already on the plant. As caterpillars hatch and begin to eat the plant, they ingest the protozoan, which begins the cycle anew. High OE levels in adult monarchs have been linked to lower migration success, reductions in body mass, lifespan, mating success, and flight ability. And that's if the caterpillars don't succumb prematurely to the infection, or if they're able to even exit their cocoon and fly once they finish pupating--deformed wings are frequently a result after infections. Now, OE is a parasite that's evolved alongside monarchs--and monarchs are usually able to handle an infection just fine, but if they're carrying a high load? That's where the problem lies.

What role does tropical milkweed play in this? Most milkweeds die back after blooming, at least once or even twice per season--and the parasite dies alongside them. As native milkweeds push out fresh foliage, its parasite-free, offering a healthy new buffet for caterpillars. Tropical milkweed... doesn't do that. If nothing's done, (at least in my state of Florida) tropical milkweed will stay fresh and green all the way up until the first real frost hits way in December--and that's if there's a hard frost, when you travel farther south. And during all that time, OE levels are building up on the leaves, so any future caterpillars that feed on this plant are doomed the instant their egg is laid on a leaf.

Its not that it's utterly impossible for a monarch to get infected with OE on any other kind of milkweed--monarchs are known for their traveling habits, and the chances of them happening upon a different milkweed plant than the tropical milkweed in your backyard is pretty high. But whereas native milkweeds die back and essentially reboot their system with fresh, disease-free leaves at least once a season, tropical milkweeds are like downloading a virus onto a USB and then passing it to your friends.

But that's not all, either. Time for kick 2.

Migration Interruption

Sit with me a moment and imagine you're a monarch butterfly. You're hardwired to know that as your food source starts dwindling at home, its time to get a move on and fly on down to the family's vacation home in Mexico for the winter. The buffets shut down, you exit stage left. But on your way to what's essentially a season-long smorgasbord with friends, you find... a buffet is still open. You're supposed to leave when the buffets are shutting down, but this one's up and running, lights are on, and plenty of people are there having fun, so you step in to relax. You'll take your trip later.

Now imagine a bit after you entered that buffet, the staff stuffed the guests into the walk-in freezer, locked the door, turned off all the lights, locked up the building, and left.

That's basically what tropical milkweed being 'evergreen' is doing to monarch butterflies in the fall and winter seasons. In areas up north where it can stay growing far later into the fall/winter months--or worse, in the south, where it can basically be evergreen until a hard frost (if one even happens), it can interrupt the monarchs' iconic migration cycle. They'll stay in place and continue breeding, living life like they aren't supposed to be a country away--until a frost hits, and they're dead in a snap. And if there's not a frost, you're getting a bunch of OE spore-ridden monarchs flying around a bunch of OE spore-ridden milkweed plants that the butterflies who followed the rules and overwintered in Mexico are gonna be returning to. POV you're starting a family in a house so laden with asbestos and black mold that there's practically black dust floating around.

This is already pretty bad. Can it get worse? Absolutely. Kick number 3.

It's Pretty Invasive (in the US)

It's fast growing, its eager to go to seed (so eager that it can flower and produce seed at the same time), its growing all throughout winter--which would be great, if it were native to the United States. Unfortunately, it isn't! As one could imply from the name, Mexican butterfly weed is native to--well--Mexico, as well as the Caribbean, South America, and Central America.

Further North into the states, and it's more of an annual--a plant that lasts maybe a year tops, dies back permanently, and you go buy more next year, or start from seed. Further south? It's a perennial, baby--which means its got even more time to spread its seeds and really thrive in the warmer climates of places like Florida, Texas, California, etc. Not to mention, as climate change makes temperatures rise, places where tropical milkweed is an annual may quickly begin seeing it stand strong all year...

I won't pretend to be a Professional Milkweed Identifier. I'm getting better at it with time, but I'm not a pro. But most of the time I go outside and I go 'oh, that's a milkweed!' its tropical milkweed. I've seen it grow in the sidewalk cracks of a gardening store I go to--its a clean four feet tall, always flowering, always making seeds. Tropical Milkweed is eager to escape the confines of your backyard, or make more plants in your backyard--I started with 5 plants one year, and the next year I had seven, then twelve, and that's just the ones that didn't get mowed over in the seedling stage...

But wait, that's not all! Kick number 4, baby!

Toxic to Monarchs????

According to the Xerces Foundation, emerging research suggests that tropical milkweed may become toxic to monarch caterpillars when exposed to the warmer temperatures associated with climate change.

'What the fuck, I thought milkweed was good for monarchs! How the hell does that happen?!'

All milkweeds produce cardenolides in their sap--a type of steroid that are toxic to most insects (and even people). Milkweeds create it to repel herbivores that would munch on it otherwise--except for milkweed butterflies (Danainae family), like our legendary monarch, as well as the queen and plain tiger butterfly. Larvae eat up milkweed leaves like there's no tomorrow, to stock up on those cardenolides and become toxic to their vertebrate predators--except for a few species that have evolved to become cardenolide-tolerant (black-backed orioles and black-headed grosbeaks). But, when cardenolide concentrations are high enough, it's too strong for even monarch butterflies to withstand--they die because of the very plant that's supposed to give them life. Kinda fucked up. Comparatively, many native species have lower cardenolide levels--and don't immediately go into flux at higher temps like tropical milkweed does.

'Wait, Ani, if there's all these problems with tropical milkweed, why is it sold everywhere?'

Capitalism. The answer is capitalism.

Well, actually, its a bit more complicated than that but it's also still capitalism.

The very same things that make tropical milkweed so invasive and such an issue are what make it so incredibly popular to sell. It's fast growing, and eagerly starts from cuttings as well as from seeds--which is perfect for growing tons of plants in quick and easy batches to send to vendors all over and get a quick profit. It's easy to grow from the home gardener too--its resistant to most diseases, looks gorgeous almost year-round, is quick to return in many areas without even the slightest sign of a die-back, and is popular with monarchs and other pollinators. Want to start a pollinator garden with quick results? Plant milkweed--and when tropical milkweed is all that you see available when you walk into your beloved store, it's what most people are going to get without thinking twice. Not to mention, when you hear it starts quick from cuttings, and you really wanna get your friends and loved ones into pollinator gardening, well... you get well-meaning people sharing invasive plants with their homies, like I did in high school. I've been pollinator gardening for around sixish-sevenish years (I think) and I didn't even catch wind that tropical milkweed was invasive until three years in! To say I was mortified doesn't describe it fully.

'Wait, three years ago? So information about this has been out awhile! Why aren't more places selling native milkweeds by now?! Why are people still buying this invasive milkweed and not native ones?!'

It's capitalism again! But in a different way.

Compared to tropical milkweed, many other milkweeds are a lot more... finnicky to get started, or grow in general. Many of them are a lot slower to germinate, are more prone to failing as seedlings and falling victim to things like 'dampening off' or 'too many aphid' or 'the vibes were wrong.' If they do germinate, they're slower to get to size too--I've grown tropical milkweed from seed in solo cups and gotten something about four inches tall within maybe a month and a half. Some other milkweeds I've grown from seed take about a month and a half to get more than four leaves, or even poke their little green heads out of the dirt. In addition to this, milkweeds have taproots--and some are a lot more friendly to the concept of 'transplanting from a pot to the ground' or 'growing in a pot at all' than others, and tropical milkweed ranks at the top of that list again. Not to mention, their willingness and ability to overwinter in pots--many native milkweeds fail that test, meaning that even if all the resources and efforts are put into getting a milkweed to grow from seed, it won't survive longer than a year in that pot. Considering most milkweeds don't flower until a year or so into their growth, and it's easier to sell plants that are flowering... many plants are a tough sell.

Another reason? Some native milkweeds are way more picky about when they want to make seed pods, or what conditions their seeds want to be grown in. If the seeds are hard to obtain? Good luck growing them in a production greenhouse. Let alone finding seeds for sale to grow them yourself at home--in my hunt for native milkweed species, I've seen packets of ten seeds sold for twenty bucks, packets of 25 seeds sold for anywhere from 50 to 100--meanwhile, you can find dozens if not hundreds of tropical milkweed seeds sold in a pack for maybe a dollar or five.

Let's be real. Producers haven't figured out the magic ticket to pumping out native milkweeds like they have with tropical milkweed--as such, finding native milkweeds for sale is rare, and they're often pricier. And as someone who's been to a native plant sale and found the stands sold out of milkweeds not even 30 minutes into the event--you are likely not the only person wanting native milkweeds. It is war out there in the garden parties.

And that's assuming you've actually found native milkweed for sale! As you get better with milkweed IDs, you'll be able to clearly identify the liars who are telling you they've got something that they don't, but for those who aren't In The Know--if you see a milkweed labeled like a native milkweed and want to buy native milkweed, it might be too late by the time you realize you just got sold tropical milkweed with a mislabel. Whether its on accident or on purpose, it still bites.

I've asked some of my favorite, smaller greenhouses if they'd be willing to start selling native milkweeds. Most of the time I get an exasperated 'I would love to.' But they can only sell what the vendors can produce--so if they can't find a vendor that's selling swamp milkweed (or at least reliably), then they can't give me swamp milkweed when I poke my head in asking if they have any in stock. Of all the times I've gone to dozens of different green houses and gardening events, in different cities even, to see if they have any native milkweeds I've only had success a few times--one small vendor who only has them in stock at events sometimes (and that's if I don't show up late), and the one time I rolled into a not-big-box-but-not-small gardening store near my friends house after being sad that I couldn't find it at a different gardening event. And the one I found there was the last one they had in stock for the next month or two. Until The Vendors get better at growing native milkweeds, your best bet is going to be growing it from seed yourself, getting a start from a friend, or dumb luck at smaller nurseries and events. It's rough out here, friends.

Granted! Keep in mind! That whole last paragraph was personal anecdotes. It's entirely possible that other places' greenhouses have already caught on, and I'm simply in the shadowlands where nobody's selling native milkweeds except for once or twice a year and selling out within 20 minutes of opening their damn booth. And I've heard tell of people getting milkweed popping up willingly in their backyards by doing things as simple as not mowing. I pray you have better luck than I do, young Padawan.

Now, keep in mind, there are people actively working on this. Whether its a team of university scientists dedicating themselves to a project, or a few home-growers in a sunny backyard and a greenhouse doing their damn best to grow native milkweeds as efficiently as possible for themselves and their friends, there are people working on this, sharing advice and communicating online. This isn't some unresolved issue that no one has noticed. We just... aren't at the end post yet. Until then, we scrounge for what we can.

'Oh no, oh god, I have a bunch of tropical milkweed plants in my garden!! Am I a bad person?!?!'

No You Are Not A Bad Person For Growing Tropical Milkweed

And I'm perfectly honest about that. Because I'm here telling you this and I've still got tropical milkweed plants in my backyard. As that one comic once said, about 10,000 people learn something new every day, and unfortunately today that 'new thing' is a bit sad and a bit untimely. In full honesty, oftentimes in my brain I refer to Tropical Milkweed as Starter Milkweed--its what a lot of pollinator gardeners end up starting with, because its just so available! But! There are things that you can do to mitigate the Damage that tropical milkweed can bring to your backyard butterflies.

Step One: Cut back your milkweeds! At least once a year, maybe even twice a year if you want. This will force them to put out new growth, which will be free of OE spores and give monarchs on it a good head start against the Disease. But for sure, for sure, cut your milkweeds back in the fall--once October hits, I go into the backyard and I snip down everything that's tropical milkweed. Usually at this point (at least for me), the milkweeds don't try to grow back again until spring. This is to prevent monarchs from seeing a buffet and getting locked in the freezer.

Step Two: Cut back seed pods! You would not believe how many seed pods milkweed makes. You see those little green footballs? You wanna snip these back ASAP. Even if they're tiny, but especially if they're bit. In peak flower production times, I'll go out there at least once a week and just do a look-back and cut them off. You can even yoink them off with your hands if you're in a rush--just don't get that sap into your eyes. If you do this, you're stopping seed production in its tracks--and don't forget, these plants want nothing more than to split those pods open and unleash a hellfire of flying seeds all over the place. They'll float on air, they'll float on water, they'll do whatever until they land on a prime patch of soil and get started.

If you see these you're a tinge too late. But also still yoink that off and Dispose of it.

Step 3: Don't give cuttings to your friends. It's tempting. If you're raising caterpillars in a little enclosure and see that every time you refresh your cuttings, the old ones have tons of roots and are ready for a little pot of soil and a name tag? Don't. Resist the best you can. Dispose of your cuttings whenever you go in for a trim.

Step 4: Consider replacing them with something else! I know I already went off about just how hard it was to find native milkweeds for sale, how expensive and difficult they can be to grow--but they're not impossible to grow, and putting in the effort could be worth it! Even as I speak, I'm trying to add as many native milkweeds to my garden as possible--and when I've got something that grows reliably in my backyard, I will eagerly rip up my aging tropical milkweed plants and promptly toss them in the bin so i can put a new, better milkweed in its place. Native milkweeds are more likely to be suited to your environment, making it easier to maintain and more welcoming to the pollinators we gardeners want to help. Not to mention, a lot of them are way pettier than tropical milkweed (in my opinion). Do some hunting online to see what's native to your area--your state's extensions office will likely be great for this! You've likely got great variety--the state of Florida has 21 native milkweeds! Who knows how many your state has! (Not me, I am Floridian, and I am already getting dizzy trying to learn about all 21 of our milkweeds).

Conclusion!

Anyone who knows me knows I'm not gonna be the one to discourage someone from starting a garden, especially a pollinator gardener, and especially growing milkweed. But avoid tropical milkweed when you can--the harms it can cause far outweigh the quick satisfaction of a busy garden it can bring. Take some time to select a native plant more suited to your area, give it some friends and some time, and soon you'll have an amazing pollinator garden that'll be teeming with life!

#milkweed #tropical milkweed #asclepias curassavica #asclepias #outdoor gardening #succulents #bloodflower #pollinator garden #pollinator gardening #monarch butterfly #ani rambles #out of queue #what was it three hours ago that I was declaring that I wasn't gonna write up a long research post again?#now here i am at 3:30 am ranting about milkweed with like a dozen sources #granted this is nowhere NEAR as long as the biodiversity saga was BUT STILL #i told myself i was gonna write today... i meant one of my novels NOT RANTING ABOUT MILKWEED #if this post blows up this is gonna go on my wall of 'posts that i thought of on the toilet that got way more popular than I expected'#there's not a lot of posts on that wall maybe 2 or 3 but its weird that its happened that many times already

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margridarnauds · 1 month

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Seeing whole ass posts about how *frightened* Michael Sheen must be to be in Wales, writing long posts headcanoning him as a queer Welsh man who finds peace in the Big City before having to return to his backwards country where he can never be his true self, unlike here, in Enlightened America....is.....something, especially given that, frankly, without minimizing the homophobia that can and still does exist in the UK and Ireland (and the current state of trans rights in particular in the UK...), I've overwhelmingly felt safer there, even in remote regions, than in my own home state.

#like I'm just saying maybe look at what's going on on THIS side of the Atlantic #before making concerned posts about a man with a longterm partner and three children #FUCKING LUKE EVANS EXISTS AS A QUEER WELSH MAN #HE IS OPENLY GAY

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natelia-aldelliz · 1 year

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"What if I fade?"

Soap lifts his head from his journal, looking up at Roach who is eerily floating near the ceiling. The slow movements almost make him look like he's in water. Kind of ironic given the way he died.

"What do you mean?" he asks, confused.

"What if I move on, what if I disappear," Roach elaborates, refusing to meet his eye. "Not everyone is a ghost, right? We'd be overly crowded. The fact that we're not also means that not every ghost stays."

Soap forces his dry throat to swallow. He honestly didn't want to think about that. He still needs Roach, he probably always will, but he hasn't even told him that he - he takes a deep breath in to calm himself.

"I don't know how it works," he admits quietly, bouncing his leg absent-mindedly. "You're probably right, like most of the time. Even if I really want you to be wrong about that."

Roach finally looks towards him.

"Maybe I should move on," Roach whispers. "It's not healthy, Johnny. You have no idea the things I want, what I wish for, that I'll never get."

Soap doesn't stand up, just keeps staring into Roach's eyes.

"I think I might have an idea, actually," he whispers back. Roach flounders for a moment. Soap really wishes he didn't get that wrong. He's pretty sure Roach meant that he can't have Ghost, and he himself can't have Roach. So... It's pretty similar.

"I've been feeling less like myself recently," Roach insists, deciding to ignore that comment for now. "I find myself wishing one of you would die so I wouldn't be alone. I never thought like that before, I fear that I may have stayed too long, that I'm starting to lose myself."

And he looks scared. It's written on his features so clearly and it breaks Soap's heart.

"You're not alone," he swears. "I'm here with you, and I'll make sure you stay you, however I can."

Roach looks at him, examining his face, looking for... something. Whatever it is, he seems to have found it because he exhales through his nose like a very soft laugh and averts his eyes, almost... blushing? It's a bit hard to tell from the distance and his left cheek being covered in burns while his right is covered in freckles, but he's pretty sure his ears are red.

"You can't look at me like that, Johnny," he says almost coyly. "I can't do anything about it, it's not fair."

Soap's face is burning and his eyes are wide. Was he too obvious? Did Roach understand or is he joking?

They probably look stupid, both of them redder than a fire truck, avoiding the other's eyes, regretting their words. Or at least he supposes that it's what's happening, because he's sure not looking up.

"If it makes you feel better," Roach finally says, sounding like he's smiling, "you were right for once : I am right most of the time. Judging by your reaction, you did indeed have no idea what I want."

#cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #gary roach sanderson #soaproach #roachghost #ghostsoap #ghostsoaproach #they're in love and stupid #more necromancer!soap and ghost!roach wooo #accidental necromancer soap and ghost roach au #i like writing the angsty parts but just imagine the happy ending from the other posts it's what i do bc i can't do no happy ending #anyway yeah that was supposedly their love confession but they're repressed military men so after that they ignored it for a few days #and then they accepted that they were actually in love and the shenanigans started again #this is the kind of love triangle that i like where all three are in love with the other two but think they're the only one like that #and then they realise that no they're just dumb and they're all in love and all ends well and they're happy ever after #roach : anyway now that we're talking about love - you're in love with my boyfriend and he's in love with you now make a move finally pls #roach : it's not that fun anymore watching you squirm; that's not the kind of squirming i want to see you do #roach : and simon will take care of that real easily so please go confess already #soap : O////O wh-what?

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cerise-on-top · 28 days

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Easter with König

It's another holiday, which means I'm going to make my favorite fictional Austrian go through the holidays as well. First was Fasching, now it's Easter! If I have to celebrate it, then so does König, except he gets to have a better time doing it!

I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d meet his family during Easter. It’s a tradition of his to go to his parents’ home during that time for a visit and a chat, he only sees them maybe twice a year, so he can appreciate having a small get together with them. He normally gets along well with his parents, but he’s lost most of the contact he had with them ever since he hit his mid 20’s, but he does look forward to seeing them. Naturally, he’d take you along for the ride, regardless of whether you actually know German or not. He can play interpreter for you, it’s not a problem for him. But if you know German already? All the better, that way his parents and you can just talk to each other with no problems. He does hope that you’ll get along with them, they did play an important part in his life when he was younger.

König genuinely hopes that you will like the traditional Osterjause*, though. He’s loved Easter for that reason, and for the freshly baked lambs, but mostly for the best Brettljause*. In fact, he’s probably called his mother two weeks before his visit to let her know what kind of meat and sausages to get for him and you as well so that there shall be plenty to go around. If you’re not from around, then you likely don’t know what a “Gsöchts”* or “Schweinsbratn”* is, but he will assure you that it’s something delicious. König could rave on and on about that one farmer’s “Hauswiaschtl”. In fact, if he can, he’d love to go to the farmer’s market on Friday with you just so he can get you something to eat. Not above grabbing some Bauernbrot* and Krenn* either while he’s at it. Mans needs his Krenn when eating his Osterjause. Although it will have been a while since he’s seen everyone, he will introduce you to all the farmers there since he knows a good chunk of them growing up.

Naturally, he’ll be drinking a few beers here and there as well. He’s Austrian, it’s in his blood. Will have you try everything off the plate, from the Nuss* to the low-fat Karree*. Loves having you with him and will actively try to involve you in any conversation there may be so that you get to talk as well. Again, it might be a bit awkward if you don’t know any German, especially since he’s not the most reliable translator, but you’ll get by somehow. His parents have been curious about you for a while now anyway and have been wanting to meet you.

Although he claims to be far too old for that sort of thing, he wouldn’t mind looking for an “Osterkerberl”* with you. It’s a nice tradition that he used to love as a child and he wants you to experience Austrian Easter with him, so he likely asked his mother to hide one for you somewhere around the yard so you can go find it. She won’t give you any clues as to where it could be found. It’s childish, but it’s a lot of fun. In fact, if König were to ask her to prepare a Kerberl* for you, then chances are she prepared one for him as well, for old time’s sake. And then the both of you, two fully grown adults, will run around the yard, looking for the basket. Once you found it, you had to admit it was rather cute, filled with a few hand painted eggs, some colorful chocolate, a baked lamb and some crafted chicks and bunnies. Clearly, his mother put in a lot of thought into what goes into such a small basket. In fact, even the “grass” was made of edible paper, it seemed.

König would feel somewhat stupid, looking for a basket of all things during Easter, but it did remind him of his childhood, so he wouldn’t outwardly complain. Besides, you walking up to him, all happy with your little basket, does something to him. The sight was just too adorable, so he’d likely ask you, the master sleuth, to assist him in his hunt. Once you’ve both found them, you’d return back to his parents’ apartment and continue just chatting while occasionally eating a bit of the Jause*.

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Osterjause - Food that’s been prepared for Easter. It usually consists of meat, sausage, cheese, tomatoes and horseradish.

Brettljause - Same as Osterjause except it can be eaten at any point during the year.

Gsöchts - Geselchtes - Salted and smoked meat.

Schweinsbratn - Schweinebraten - Specifically prepared roast pork, eaten cold in this context.

Hauswiaschtl - Hauswürstel - A hard sausage.

Bauernbrot - A special type of bread.

Krenn - Horseradish.

Nuss, Karree - Types of meat

Osterkerberl - Osterkörbchen - Easter basket, a basket filled with easter themed food. Sometimes has a gift in it as well, mostly for children.

Kerberl - Körbchen - A basket

Jause - In this context it refers to the Osterjause.

#cod #cod x reader #könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #I wrote this a week prior to posting it and just put it in my queue #I am not back just yet I just wanted to post something for another big day for König #I think he wouldn't drink as much during Easter. maybe three beers at most #also he gets along well with his family because I said so. I want the big guy to be happy his childhood was rough enough as it was #I sort of miss looking for the baskets in all honesty. that was always so much fun #it's a shame that I'm too old for that sort of thing these days. I also want a chocolate bunny in a colorful basket!!#if König was real I'd drag him around like a doll to all the places I don't wanna go to alone. and that includes seeing my family #we'd just sit in the other room and play UNO together until we get to leave because we don't wanna talk to anyone #König is good because I get to imagine what it would be like to go literally anywhere here with him #if I had cared about Call of Duty during my high school years I likely would have thought about attending my graduation with him as well #König comforts me in that way. at least I'm not alone in wanting nothing to do with other people while being forced to socialise every time

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