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#crested succulent
growingsucculents · 2 years
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Crested grapto still crested but also growing a “regular” head
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eunnuiphyte · 5 months
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ID: Aeonium Pink Witch crested 💖🩷
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Same plant. The lights kept changing colors.
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eunnui · 1 year
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Echeveria 'Red One' crested
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reptimoe · 1 year
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What's better than reptiles and plants?
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silvandar · 2 years
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Plant update: They Grow!
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Plus new child for the crestie viv
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xplant-co-kr · 1 year
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멋지게 물들어가는 🎨❤️🌅 #에케베리아 #레드와인철화 #Echeveria #crested www.xplant.co.kr #다육식물 #다육 #식물 #succulents #succulent #sukkulenten #pflanzen #plant #たにくしょくぶつ #多肉 #多肉植物 #植物 #суккуленты #суккулент #кактус #кактусы #растения https://www.instagram.com/p/ClQaLaPrkva/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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solar-sunnyside-up · 9 months
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How to start building your social village--
How do you go from isolated to being apart of a properly connected social circle?? How do I go from that isolated individual to an actually connected person without having to force myself out to be a regular at a club or something??
Pick the most used social media across all your connections (for my this is sadly Facebook but I'm sure you could do this through discord or some other site I'm like 90% sure this is transferable in some formate maybe other ppl could pitch those ideas tho-) and then add everyone you know! And here's the fun stuff you could do in your group!
Functional ideas Village Group for-
Offer to swap babysitting/chores/errands or even buddies for these things
Offer to exchange sale/coupon/bulk buying info (A good example of this is a have a friend who knows a butcher and so her family once every 2 months bulk orders from him directly and it'd WAY cheaper for everyone)
Holiday organizing
Dinner party ideas/hang outs (know 2 or more ppl who like sewing? Organize a dinner once every few months and watch a movie and sew! Do a book club!)
Trade/swap/leading stuff (ex tools, books, unused snacks, boardgames, clothes, etc..)
Offer to be apart of a shared calander (I use Cozi personally but again use your preferred)
Event spamming (community event sharing bc no one ever gets proper info on them in time)
Plant swaps (I personally know like 3 different plant ppl who specialize in different types of plants ex 1 person does a lot of herbs and another does all succulents and another does super well with berries and they always wanna get rid of the babies or spread the spoils)
Organizing work parties (repair parties ex fences/roofs/, bulk cooking parties ex my families perogie parties, tax prep parties, hair dying get togethers, etc..)
Fun ideas for village-
Make a village badge/crest of some kind (at one point was making badges for dinner parties as gifts so this is an easy one for me)
Funny pet photos/meme dump ground
This allows for a pretty fun way to also make ppl feel connected. If I get to know someone fairly well like my neighbor or another parent from my kiddos school- I'll just add them to my weird little club thing! Here's a patch for you. Your family now!!
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comatosebunny09 · 24 days
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Imagine being snuggled up in bodyguard!Leon’s arms whilst in your bed, and he can’t stop kissing you. Not that you’re complaining, having wanted this for a long time.
You’re greedy. Want a little more than your hands and legs twined together and his lips gently ghosting over yours. You’re not entirely sure how to ask for more, though. Don’t want to scare him off since you’ve only just given in to your feelings last night.
“It’s bad enough that I’m kissing you,” he husks against your mouth, a dimpled smile cresting over his face. “Touching you like this. Your dad’ll murder me if he finds out.”
You pout, toying with the fabric of his collar. Lure him into another succulent kiss, savoring the flavor of his lips and the hoarse, pleased sound he pours into you.
“Don’t care,” you rasp, lashes fluttering, lips parted and wet. “Want this. Want you.”
Leon chuckles something abrasive, your cheek soft and doughy in his palm. His smile is boyish, eyes creased and shining. “Don’t be greedy,” chastises the blond between each sticky grind of your lips. “At least buy me dinner before you try to get my pants off.”
You laugh in the space between your mouths. Busy your thumb with skating over his plush bottom lip, entranced by the elasticity of it. Dinner doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, you muse, venturing in for another taste.
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Spicy Continuation
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I need more of this force sensitive teenager 😭
(With reference tho this post)
Attachment is Forbidden. To hold on too long, against the current of reality, is to bind and strangle, to cause suffering and grief.
Attachment is Essential. To become disconnected from the world around you is to fall to cruelty and madness, to cause suffering and grief.
The Force is very complicated and only vaguely comprehensible to three pounds of electrified jello piloting a meat suit and specialized to sort different kinds of berries. It is a knife's edge to walk and the blade cuts and cuts at those with the force until they learn to wield it. When you seize the edge of attachment and the blade is in your hand, the decision is yours to decide what to preserve, and what to cut away from yourself. Can you really be the Judge of which relationships, which laws, which lives are worthy to keep and which to discard?
The Jedi and Sith agree on this one facet- Yes. Yes, you can, you should, and you Must, or what is the point? The dispute is whether to trust in your own judgment, or to attempt to divine and follow the will of The Force.
There is, of course, another option.
There is always another option with the force. The question is always, is that option worth the cost?
---
The morality of choice is not on her mind when she discovers the other option. What's on her mind is grief, the final hell of the descent of fear into anger into suffering. But the fear wasn't hers, the anger wasn't hers, even the suffering wasn't entirely hers- Her parents and siblings alike bear the emotional and physical scars of her inability to control this- but the grief, the grief is overwhelming and far too personal to be anyone else's.
It's not like anyone else can mourn the life she should have had, dead on the cold ground in front of her like a carrion corpse. She can see it so clearly in the Force, it's her as she should have been, loved and respected and loved and encouraged and loved and free to grow into the shape she should and loved and loved and LOVED- but there her theoretical future self is, dead on the ground, strangled.
And despite breaking, her heart insists on beating.
If this is the final step of the descent into darkness, and she is not dead, what's the next one to take?
Well, immediately, big ones, very fast, and very far away from here.
She runs away, away from the institutions, away from the medication that never helped, away from the frightened eyes, away from the exasperated sighs and hands that dragged and the 'its for your own good's, and into the night.
Barefoot, over the rough ground, over the sharp stones and uphill into the mountains, into the desert away from the lights of town, into the night. She's probably bleeding, her lungs burn and the windy night is cold. At the crest of the Hill she stops, wheezing and sobbing, only able to scream and cry.
The lights of the town (or at least, the few not effected by the power outage) are still close. It wouldn't take long to run back home, especially not downhill, to crawl home and scrape and beg forgiveness, it won't happen again-
...except that it would. It always did.
And now she'd crossed the line from "Shattered furniture" to "possibly leveling part of a building". And there was no going back. Police would get involved for real this time. No more institutions would take something capable of destroying a building. Can't stay home, where she'd hurt another member of her family. Can't go somewhere private if I'm a living wrecking ball. Can't be in public, twitching and chattering, frightening people. There is, of course, another option.
She looked down the other side of the hill, deeper into the only-sort-of-explored so-called wasteland of thorny succulents, bare rocks and unforgiving temperatures.
The question is, as always, is it worth the cost?
Well, heading back to civilization cost what was left of her dignity, and quite possibly the lives of her family. And she was fuck all out of pride, and not willing to gamble with their accounts.
Into the wild it was.
Of course- she considered, starting her descent down the other side- the desert wilderness is no place for a barefoot twelve year old, especially not alone and possibly being hunted by law enforcement. It's a place for the toughest of beasts, of nocturnal horrors and all things red of tooth and claw.
"Can't be myself anywhere, can I?" She asks, hysterical. She winces at another sharp rock. "Be nice to have proper paws or something-"
She stops.
There is, of course, another option.
---
The Jedi and Sith agree on another point too.
You can use the force to shape reality. Any part you want! Change minds with a wave of your hand! Defy gravity with extremely direct eye contact! Generate lighting by thinking about it really hard!
But they both hold a secret taboo.
As much as the Jedi profess detachment and humility and selflessness, and as much as the Sith proclaim self-determination and experimentation and manifestation of vision, they hold the same secret rule-
When you grasp the Blade of Attachment, and are deciding how to sculpt the future, don't turn the blade upon yourself.
Like how there is a line in the sand between shattered furniture and demolishing a building, or one between parental rights and child welfare, there is a line between using the force to alter your body as a means of preservation of the self, and using it to transform the self.
The line is so secret, it's rarely discussed and even then only in metaphor. It's called The Rubicon, after a mythical river a foolish emperor once crossed.
There are of course, those who have Crossed The Rubicon- Darth Nihilus and Darth Sion come to mind, though there are some suspiciously long-lived and more-hands-having-than-circumstances-would suggest Jedi as well- there's always someone who will decide the forbidden option is worth the cost. In this case, the currency is flesh, and to an extent, the self.
...But if you are twelve years old and already changing and grew up told your self as it is is repulsive and dangerous, so you grew alienated from that self to the point of being a stranger to the person everyone seemed to know and that self was useless in your present circumstances anyway...
The Force shines. It shines bright and beautiful and even the crude matter of life is luminous in the dark, and it is so, so easy to see how a hand is just an elongated paw.
She runs.
She runs down the hill, cries of pain now intermingled with those of discovery and the joy of creation. She runs toward the desert, towards the beautiful night-blooming flowers, towards the blissful silence, towards the personal space measured in hundreds of square miles, toward freedom, towards a new future self, and away from the carrion corpse of her youth.
There is a river at the bottom of the hill, and as her eyes open to new possibilities and spectra, she sees how it's nearly entirely underground, and how the ox-bow at the bottom of the hill is only where it briefly breaches the surface and she runs toward it, gait shifting awkwardly under her but everything was always awkward, but now it's awkward with Purpose-
-She leaps across the river, and when she lands palm-first on the other side, the things on the ends of her arms are no longer hands.
---
The Apprentice awakens with a terrified shriek. Her bones ache with sympathetic sensations of shape-change, winded and shaking. A dream, a dream, it was all just a terrible dream-
Her Master stumbles into the room to check on her, legs not feeling quite right, and one look between them belies the awful truth.
It was not just a dream.
They embrace, too tight and fingers digging into clothing, tears hot, faces hidden in each other's shoulders, trying to find comfort in shared horror and grief. Something happened earlier, when they heard something break, and now they were bound to this stranger's destiny.
Attachment and Detachment are the choices you make the shape reality.
Attachment and Detachment are forced upon you no matter what choices you make.
The Force is very complicated and only sort of comprehensible.
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violetsiren90 · 9 months
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Stolen Tides
(A What the Moon Saw Drabble)
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Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader (What the Moon Saw universe)
Genre: Drabble; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; childhood friends; old flames rekindled, angst and fluff
Summary: Time is the great force - it changes everything. The ebb and flow of the tide. The fullness of the moon. It carves mountains, and quiets storms...but it stands powerless in the face of love.
Content Warnings: PG-13, but ALL my content is off-limits to minors; nudity, implied sex, cooking and eating food, mention of minor character death, kissing, cuddling, working through feelings, tears are shed (it's them, so, of course, lol)
Author's note: I literally just posted a poll asking which drabble I should write first, and their first meeting won (which I was stoked about), but then this popped into my head and I just wrote it. I wrote it while I was supposed to be submitting a project with a deadline, because, in the words of MYG, I'm bad boi. But...I had to. I gave them their ending because they deserved it. 💕 (If you've never read the one-shot this universe takes place in, I recommend starting there!)
And as always, if no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜
*Stolen tide: Occurs when weather and wind conditions suppress the ebb of a flood tide and then the next high tide washes in bringing even higher levels.
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    Your lids raised and dipped and raised again, like linens in a summer breeze, as your eyes came into focus. Soft late-morning light spilled through the window onto the golden-brown planks of the oaken floor. The western-facing window was open, and the thin curtains billowed inward with each puff of salty air cresting over the hill off the distant waves. Your eyes tracked a spider plant swaying from where its macrame harness was secured to a hook in the spackled ceiling. You shifted in the white sheets of the queen-size bed to glance around you. The room was small and minimally furnished, but everything within it seemed significant to its tenant. There was a little bookshelf propping up a guitar, and a roll-top desk bearing an open journal and coffee mug. On the other side was a nightstand with an antique lamp perched beside a book splayed open on its face and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. On the far end was a dresser with pretty little mother-of-pearl knobs topped with two potted succulents and an abstract of an albatross in flight, and the accordion door of a closet cracked open to reveal neatly stored clothes and shoes.
    You tossed yourself back against the pillows with a sigh, a smile spreading slowly across your face as images from the previous night developed in the morning light like Polaroid pictures. You reached out to brush a hand over the sheets where he had slept beside you, as naked as you were now. You'd awakened in the middle of the night to find that you'd taken all the covers and to see him, laying there on his stomach - his sweet little ass pale and perfectly bare in the moonlight. You chuckled and bit your lip, slipping out of bed to pull on panties and snatch a flannel from the closet and drape it over your body, pushing up the sleeves to bunch around your elbows. He had always worn his shirts too big, and it dipped down to your mid thighs as your legs carried you toward the scents of garlic and gochujang wafting down the hall. 
    The kitchen was as simple in its loveliness as the rest of the little house, pale yellow light pouring through the large windows over a vase of poppies on a table flanked by two chairs. And a man who used to be a boy was standing at the other end of the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes in a way that made you question if a single day had passed. Yoongi stood at the little stove in a white tee and grey sweats, his dark hair sticking up every which way and his face puffy from sleep. You had to press a hand to your lips to keep from giggling at his appearance, and when he glanced up you found yourself unable to conceal an amused and extremely endeared grin.
    “What?” he asked in sleepy suspicion, his brows up and knitted together as his lips dropped into a pout.
Thirty-two and as cute as he had ever been. You chuckled as you circled around his left, where you turned towards him and slipped your body between his and the stove. Wrapping your arms around his back as he looked down, you regarded him. The same. He looked just the same. His features were a bit more defined, the soft cheeks having sharpened at his cheekbones and jawline, and he was broader and thicker with longer hair that curled at the base of his neck. But his eyes with the dark lashes, his petal pink lips...the way they felt on you...he was the same. You lifted your face to place the gentlest kisses on every feature - the ones that had changed and the ones that hadn't. 
He let out a soft hum, his left arm slipping around your waist as he shifted you slightly to the side, prodding at the contents of the pan with the wooden spoon in his right hand.
“The food will burn,” he chided lightly.
But his eyes creased at the corners and his mouth seemed to hover on the verge of a smile. You twisted to glance at the pork belly fried rice before nestling yourself back into him, your head on his chest.
“Smells good,” you murmured into his shirt.
“Mm. It’s just leftovers,” he replied, in the warm, even tone that pierced your heart like a forgotten melody. 
You pressed back the tears that threatened to come. The moon had seen enough of those last night.
"You were always good at cooking, like your mom,” you sighed into his tee. 
He didn't reply, but he tucked his cheek against your head, his thumb dragging his shirt up and down your back in tiny tender motions. You held him and he held you, and the pork fat sizzled on the stove, and a wind chime tinkled outside the kitchen window, and far off and down the ocean broke against the rocks.
And then he slowly drew you away from his chest so that he could see your face, his eyes meeting yours with the soft wet glimmer of joy and sadness at once, like the soil after a rainfall - that damp warmth from which beautiful things grow - and you buried yourself there, like a seed dropped from the sky by a bird. Dropped on the side of a cliff by the sea.
    Between mouthfuls of fried rice and kimchi eggs, you told him about college. About your passion for your chosen career. About meeting a boy who wasn't him, who had asked you to be his wife. About how you had chosen a dress and sent out invitations and then said no. Yoongi nodded quietly, but didn't ask why. Then he told you about how his father had succumbed to pneumonia a few years ago, and his mother had moved back to Korea and remarried. You nodded and asked him why he stayed. He shrugged as he pushed his rice around his plate.
    "Want to see something?" he asked with a shy smile, as he dried his hands from washing a final dish.
You nodded, smiling when he took your hand to lead you out of the kitchen door and into the yard at the side of the little house. Ice plant and poppies sprang up among the rocks and sandy dirt, disrupted by a cobbled path leading to a periwinkle blue shed only half as large as the house behind you. Yoongi opened the door.
Inside was warm and the air aglow with little floating specks that caught the light, which you quickly realized, as you glanced around, were flecks of saw dust. It was a workshop. In reverent awe you took in the beautiful pieces crafted from oak, walnut, pine, and redwood. There was a bench, a coffee table, a mirror frame, cutting boards, a spice rack. In and amongst the tools and work surfaces, there were handmade treasures against the walls and stacked on shelves. You took a seat in a sanded-down rocking chair.
    "You made all this?" You asked in disbelief.
Yoongi shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweats, casting proud but bashful eyes over the room.
    "I make them to order. Although, you did find the one thing in here that I started for myself."
You felt warmth fill your chest because you thought he looked a little proud. You swayed in the chair, tucking your legs up under you.
    "It's beautiful, Yoongi. All of it. You're incredibly talented."
    "You started it, you know," he said with a smile, still not meeting your eyes. You cocked your head to the side in question. "You gave me that whittling kit for my birthday."
He shuffled over to a workbench and took a small object in his hand. He approached you, holding it out, and you took it. You turned the little curved knife over in your hands, brushing your thumb over the faded little heart inscribed in pink paint. 
    "You wanted me to have something to do with my hands, so I would stop biting my nails," he replied, taking the knife back from you and regarding it with warm eyes as he set it aside.
    "You remember that?" You let out a laugh.
    "I remember everything," he said.
He said it like an oath...one you had once sworn. He was looking down at you, and suddenly you were on a little ledge under the stars, and he was pulling you into a kiss, and making love to you, and telling you to run and not look back. Yoongi, your Yoongi. You breathed his name, and he reached for your hands, pulling you up and against him as his lips found yours. He kissed you tenderly and fiercely. He kissed you all the way back to his bedroom where he laid you down in the soft white cotton and made up for lost time. 
    The sun made its way over hill and down into the western waters, and all the while you stayed wrapped in the sanctuary of each others' bodies, only leaving his bed twice - once to shower together and another time to share a bowl of bibim guksu and some tangerines from the tree in the yard. Now the moon's waning crescent peeped through the curtains to see you laying tangled in Yoongi's arms, his forehead pressed to yours, as he asked a question to which he didn't want the answer.
    "When are you leaving?" His voice was low and soft and deep, so resonant...but you could hear what it lacked, what he was holding back.
    "Why do I have to leave?" You murmured, tracing a place over his chest where your lips had once left a bruise.
The skin had healed long since, but not what laid beneath. Yoongi sighed through his nose, his breath tickling your chin and chest.
    "What does this place hold for you?" he asked, his voice strained, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw as his thumb brushed over your chin. "Just pain and sadness. You got out of here, you're free."
A tear slipped over the bridge of your nose and onto the pillow.
    "I might have left, but my heart never did," you whispered, your voice shaking as years of never forgetting filled the expanse of your chest. "And it never will," you murmured through a little sob.
You pushed yourself back so that you could see his beautiful watery brown eyes and wet cheeks as you asked him a question to which you already knew the answer.
    "Why didn't you leave?" Another tear slipped down his face as he looked at you. "Why, Yoongi? Why didn't you leave? Tell me, Yoongi. Say it. Why didn't you l-"
    His mouth was on yours, and he kissed you back into the sheets as your tears mingled. He kissed you and he kissed you and when his lips finally left yours by a centimeter he whispered his answer against them.
    The moon had seen him find you, and lose you. Now it saw you tell him you would never leave his side. 
    Some weeks later it sent you both off in a packed-up car (with a rocking chair strapped to the top), as it faded in the light of the rising sun, to start a new part - the best part - of the story of the boy and the girl on the cliffside...
...The part where they lived together, and in happiness, until the end of their days.
-Fin-
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Succulent - Yew Dell Botanical Gardens, Crest Wood KY
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eunnuiphyte · 7 months
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Seems like this crested one was some kind of variegated aeonium? It's currently showing a reverted head 👀
ID: Aeonium sp crested
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Treehouse Gardens
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spiritshaydra · 2 months
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Oh yeah funny story
So I went on a field trip yesterday out to this field station on an island out in the hyper-saline lagoon that’s like,, right down the road to collect botanical samples for my wetland ecology lab.
Left a little while after 2pm.
We were on the island for about two hours collecting plants (and finishing the trip off with some king cake) before hopping back on the boat. It was about 4:30pm
So,, normal lab field trip right?
WRONG.
Our boat stops suddenly and a big plume of mud is sprayed out from behind the skiff. Not a good sign. Four guys hop out of the boat and start trying to push the boat free- Laguna Madre is VERY shallow, especially in this area since we weren’t where they had dredged it out for the larger ships, so the water was about knee deep where we got stuck.
We started moving again. Kinda. I see the guys get these poles out and start using them to turn the boat like those gondolas in Venice. (Sadly no accordion) Also not a good sign.
THEN the guy who was sitting at the wheel gets up and walks up to the front where we were sitting and pulls the anchor out, and then drops it out into the water. NOT A GOOD SIGN.
Then I hear my professor talking about calling the biology lab coordinator to figure out what the fuck to do, and then she’s on the phone with someone talking about how we need someone to come out and tow us back to the boat ramp. 💀
It’s 5:30pm now and the sun’s beginning to set. (And my other lab back on campus had just begun, which I obviously wasn’t able to attend unless I could teleport) My brother also happened to call me which I answered with a “hey you won’t be able to guess where the fuck I currently am.” Never a dull moment.
Another hour passes and FINALLY the lab tech guy shows up with another boat to tow us back (while wearing his Iron Maiden shirt like an absolute legend, we love lab tech guy) it’s now sunset and we’re finally moving. Slowly, but moving’s moving.
The sun set completely and I had dozed off a little as there really wasn’t much else to do. It was also COLD with the wind blowing off the water and the lack of sunlight. Thank GOD I decided to wear both my hoodie and wind breaker, along with a bandana to use as a scarf. Eventually we made it back to the boat ramp at around 7pm. So I’d finally be able to go back to my apartment and have some warm hot chocolaty goodness right?”
HA if only it was that easy.
It probably took them an hour to get the boats back onto their trailers because they kept loading them incorrectly and would have to retry. Me and some other classmates stood out in the cold for about fifteen minutes before we realized that we could hop in the van where it was warm, and wait in there. So that’s EXACTLY what we did. Luckily I packed some snacks because I thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring them along, so I just kinda,,, passed around a bag of trail mix.
Something something hour later we get back to campus at like 8pm where I was finally able to go back to my dorm. (My wonderful roommate brought me hot chocolate bless her)
Anyways I’m tired <33
TLDR: Went on what should’ve been a three hour long field trip for hehe swamp science fun times and our boat's steering went out so we were strANDED FOR TWO FUCKING HOURS IN THE LAGOON. We were out in the sun for like five hours and gone for six. I love being a stem major <333 yippee!!
(For those biology nerds out there we saw mullets jumping out of the water, sea grass beds, black mangroves, various salt flat succulents, stupid plant with wickedly sharp thorns that ripped apart the sample bag it was in, wolf berries, mosquitoes, a tiger moth caterpillar, turkey vultures, dolphins, brown and white pelicans, mosquitoes, a crested caracara, tons of laughing gulls, great blue herons, mosquitoes, egrets, white ibises, cormorants, and black tipped skimmers.)
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beevean · 8 months
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@viralvava
~
A breeze moved Trevor's hair.
He jumped out of the way and rolled on the ground. When he regained his bearings, the tip of a large spear was where he was previously standing.
That was slightly too close for Trevor's comfort.
"You must be the other Devil Forgemaster," he greeted the man holding the weapon. From that angle, he noticed the same crest Hector sported on his back... but embedded in his skin.
"Other?" The man's - Isaac's - eyes blazed. With that bright hair and ridiculous boots, Trevor could not believe that he had managed to sneak up on him. "I did not serve Lord Dracula my whole life to be reduced to the other one. Ah, but I take that you're acquainted with the traitor, Hector?"
"I am. I've been looking for the source of the pestilence that has been plaguing the land. It appears that at last, I've found it."
Isaac placed a hand on his exposed chest, baring his teeth in a mockery of a smile. "Were you looking for me? I'm flattered."
The hairs on Trevor's neck stood up. There was something wrong about that man. It wasn't just that his clothes were rotten and falling off of his body, itself marred in a shameless display. It wasn't just that he reeked of stale blood, like a feral vampire. It was perhaps his eyes, wild and of a sickly yellow, staring at Trevor like a cat would at a succulent bird.
This Isaac would not be as easy to subdue as Hector.
"I don't think you understand the situation you're in, Devil Forgemaster," spoke Trevor, hand clutching the Vampire Killer, muscle twitching to strike at the first chance. "I cannot let you revive Dracula, nor spread misery among mankind."
"I was about to say the same thing to you," growled Isaac, himself holding his spear tighter and bracing himself. In that crouching position, he truly looked like a beast coiling to attack. "You are the filthy Belmont who killed my Lord. If you believe that you'll be walking out of this room alive and in one piece... then it will be but gratifying to show you the power of a true Devil Forgemaster."
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