#cyathea
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#1947 - Cyathea medullaris - Black Tree Fern
AKA Sphaeropteris medullaris, mamaku, katātā, kōrau, and pītau. Found across the south-west Pacific from Fiji to Pitcairn Island. Common in lowland forests of the North Island, and wetter coastal areas of the South Island.
These ones were growing around Lake Mangamahoe, and given how many of the plants growing there were actually from other parts of the world and left to go feral, it’s nice that @purrdence found one that was actually native.
The trunk is black, and upto 20m tall, and covered with distinctive hexagonal scars from old fronds. The fronds themselves may be up to 5 m long, and as many as 40,000 leaflets have been counted on a single frond.
The 1889 book The Useful Native Plants of Australia records that Indigenous Australians ate the starch-rich slimy pith of the fern. On the other side of the Tasman, the Māori cut it into slabs and baked it in hangi ovens.
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There are two main kinds of treefern around here: rough and soft. They are well named, for the simplest way to distinguish the two is to feel the bases of their fronds. The rough treefern’s, Cyathea australis, is covered in warty bumps and feels almost like sandpaper. However, as you descend into the deeper, wetter valleys, you start to see the soft treeferns, Dicksonia antarctica. These are smooth and covered in long, soft hairs at the base, like a horse’s mane or something ...
These soft teddy-bear like beings also tend to have more clingers-on (epiphytes) than the cyathea. One such is illustrated below: a Mother Spleenwort, Asplenium gracillimum. The spore cups (sori) under the leaves are pouch-like.
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#Cyathea mertensiana#Jindai Botanical Garden#Tokyo#マルハチ#神代植物公園#東京#Tamron SP AF 90mm F/2.8 Di MACRO 1:1 (272E)
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tree ferns are the peak form of plant life and you can't change my mind
#I love tree ferns!! This one wasn't even that big but the light was very pretty#Tree ferns#You can't tell super easy bc of the lighting but this is a kātote!#Aka cyathea smithii#I think
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Among the Sun Ch 2
Description: Your mother must make a choice for the good of the kingdom.
Ch 3
Your corset feels too tight, but you relish it, taking comfort in the grip it has on your rib cage, pretending it’s a firm hug, a grounding measure as the throne room fills with armored soldiers.
“You must forgive me y/n, you must.” Your mother says stricken, your hand in hers, her grip ironclad.
“All will be well, do not fret.” You whisper, standing beside the throne, the hem of your skirt wet with blood.
“The Great Sun of the Empire, the Conqueror, He Who Bled Among Demons and Lived, Miguel O’Hara, Emperor of Nueva York, stands before you.” A herald announces as the doors slam open.
You flinch back at the sound and force yourself to turn towards the doors.
“Forgive me, y/n, forgive me, my child.” Your mother whispers over and over again, the sound setting your nerves on edge.
The room quiets as he enters, the sound of his heavy boots echoing off the walls and up to the high domed ceilings.
He is…not the monster you envisioned. He has monstrous traits, but your first thought is that he’s quite handsome. Tall and muscular, with thick black hair and piercing brown eyes. His features are strong, almost divine in their arrangement, and you fight the urge to move towards him for a better look.
“Queen Cyathea, you have my deepest sympathies for the loss of your husband and son, but I am a man of principle, I cannot make exceptions, so I offer you a choice, bend the knee, pay tribute or—”
“Take her.” Your mother says, cutting off the emperor.
You look back at her in shock, but she pushes you forward. “You must do it, y/n, for our people.”
You stumble forward, catching yourself right before you topple into the firm, armored chest of Miguel.
It’s as if he hadn’t noticed you before, but now he grabs your wrists, pulling you closer, inspecting you with an uncaring eye. “You wish to offer your daughter as tribute? My people do not believe in slavery, nor do I.”
“Take her as a bride, a servant, a bedwamer, she is pretty and a quick learner she can do many tasks.” Your mother says frantically, sounding very unlike herself.
Your face burns at her words, and you struggle against Miguel’s grip.
“Stop.” He orders, his voice cold.
You freeze, glancing back at your mother, silently begging her to do something, anything.
“Take her, leave our kingdom alone, we will not trouble you.” Your mother says a tone of finality to her voice.
She has made her choice.
Tears sting your eyes, and you stare up at the ceiling, praying they will not fall. You can’t cry in front of the Conqueror; you can’t show such weakness so early on.
Miguel laughs, it’s a booming sound, soon echoed by his men. It’s terrifying, and you fight the urge to curl in on yourself.
“I will take the girl, your kingdom remains in your hands, My Queen.” He says, giving her a half bow before throwing you over his shoulder and departing.
He doesn’t set you down until you’ve entered some kind of tent. It’s large and lavish, lanterns hanging from taunt ropes, trinkets, and pillows thrown about.
“Please, my mother is grieving, she did not mean what she said, I will return, and we will not trouble you. You can take anything you desire from the kingdom, but I beg of you, please let me go.” You can’t stop the tears from falling, and you try to quickly wipe them away.
Miguel towers over you, his arms crossed, his broad chest rising and falling in an even motion. “An arrangement was made; will you not honor it?”
“I—”
“A queen, a princess, a kingdom without honor is no good to me. It serves only as kindling.” Miguel says the lack of concern dripping from each word.
“No, no, please, I will honor it, I will.” You stumble over your words, cursing yourself for such weakness.
“Good.” He says curtly, his hands settling on your shoulders before they begin to slide down your body, his large warm hands caressing every inch, the skin so hot you fear he’s attempting to burn through the fabric of your dress.
You jump back, mortified. “How dare you?”
He grabs you, pulling you back, one hand on your waist, the other continuing its path. “I am checking you for weapons, cariño, cannot have you attempt to kill me as I sleep.”
You relax, slightly. “Oh…well I did not bring any weapons, I was not allowed to bring anything, but clothing and a few personal items, all of which were checked by your men.”
“But they are not me, they are not allowed to touch you.” He says, his hand leaving your wrist as he crouches down, his hands sliding down your waist, hips, legs, until he stands back up seemingly satisfied.
“I have no weapons.” You tell him.
He hums in response and grabs a dagger from the wall.
“Wait, wait, please, I swear I have nothing.” You plead, throwing your hands up in front of you helplessly.
He throws the dagger with surprising speed, and it tears through the fabric of the tent. Then you hear a thump. He leaves you there, then reappears dragging a body behind him. “Recognize him?”
You force yourself to look at the dead man’s face, he has a strange mark on his neck. You don’t recognize him. “No, I’ve never seen him before.”
Miguel hums in response.
“Should I recognize him?” You ask, inching closer, trying to place the man.
“Stay back.” He warns.
You freeze and your stomach churns as you watch the flesh melt off the man, revealing a twisted, demonic form beneath.
“He’s an anomaly, a human who strayed too close to dark magic and was consumed by it. They prowl the land searching for victims, destroying lives with a single act.” He explains, before he snaps his fingers, and the corpse dissipates.
“And he was coming here? For what reason?” You ask, a chill of fear settling over you.
“There is no reason to these creatures, y/n, if you see one, with that mark on their skin, you run. You find me, and I will kill it, do not attempt to engage it, no matter what it says to you.”
“They speak?” You’re both curious and horrified.
“They lie.”
He’s silent after that and finishes removing his armor, leaving him in simple breeches and a linen shirt. The shirt is unlike any you’ve ever seen. It dips low in a sharp “v” exposing his toned chest, with loose laces you assume meant to close the gap, but Miguel has them undone.
“Where am I to sleep?” You ask carefully, your hands behind your back to hide their fidgeting.
He looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. “In my bed.”
Your face heats up and you shake your head. “I—that is not appropriate, I am unmarried.”
Miguel makes his way over to you, his amber eyes burning into you. “Would it be more appropriate if you were married? If I kept you half bare in my bed while your husband was languishing in a castle somewhere?” He leans down skimming his nose up your throat inhaling deeply. “Yes, perhaps it would, how pathetic he would seem. How tortured he would be knowing that his wife is well satisfied night after night, drooling for my cock like a whore.”
You rear your arm back and slap him. Shock reverberating through you, your hand stinging, your head reeling. You were going to die.
Surprise flickers across his face, then he starts laughing. He keeps laughing, doubling over, the sound rich and still booming, echoing off the walls of the tent, and you take a panicked step back.
“I—I am so sorry, Your Majesty, truly, truly sorry.” You cry, tears welling in your eyes once more.
Miguel straightens up and in one swift motion throws you over his shoulder, then onto his bed. “You have fire cariño, I enjoy it.”
He’s hovering over you, strong arms steady, no sign of fatigue from holding up his weight. Gray ram-like horns protrude from his head, their bases hidden by his thick hair, the ends tipped with gold. He trails a clawed finger down the curve of your cheek, until all you feel is a calloused fingertip resting at the corner of your lips.
Can he retract them? You wonder, your eyes on the cloth ceiling.
Miguel gently grabs your chin, guiding your eyes to his. They’re brown like the rum barrels you often see rolled off ships, and just as potent as the intoxicating liquid they hold.
“Please do not harm me, I will not cause you trouble, I swear.” You promise, feeling a strange tugging at the edge of your consciousness as Miguel keeps his eyes locked on yours.
“Sleep, I will not touch you. I am not an animal who forces himself upon others.” He reassures you, a bitter tinge to his tone, his eyes shifting from yours for a moment, that tugging feeling receding.
You’re too stiff to sleep but try to force yourself to relax. “Thank you.”
Miguel’s eyes snap back to yours, red scattered within the brown, blood flecking the dirt of a battlefield. “Do not thank me, sleep.”
His words echo in your mind for a moment, then you sink into the arms of sleep.
TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch
#meg's writing#among the sun#very much my mom sold me to one direction to pay off her gambling debts vibes in this chapter#still need an official tag ughhh#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara fanfiction#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x you#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n#emperor!miguel#princess!reader
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Phylum Round 2
Plants That Can Grow On Walls, Apparently
Polypodiophyta (ferns): If a fractal was a plant. The tallest tree fern, Cyathea intermedia, can grow up to 100 feet (30 meters) tall.
Broyphyta: a moss-like moss plant. Have been used as insulation, wound dressings, and to absorb menstrual fluids.
#polypodiophyta#bryophyta#plant taxonomy showdown#battle of the plants#phylum round 2#phylum#plant bracket#tumblr bracket#bracket tournament#poll bracket
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This is my Hollow Knight OC Cyathea
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Les fougères arborescentes de Madagascar
Les fougères arborescentes de Madagascar sont parmi les plantes les plus remarquables de l'île, ajoutant une touche de mystère et de beauté à ses vastes forêts tropicales. Scientifiquement connues sous le nom de Cyathea madagascariensis, ces fougères géantes se dressent majestueusement parmi la canopée, atteignant des hauteurs impressionnantes et formant des colonnes vertes épaisses qui dominent le paysage forestier.
Ce qui distingue particulièrement les fougères arborescentes de Madagascar, c'est leur taille imposante et leur apparence préhistorique. Avec leurs troncs minces et droits, qui s'élèvent souvent à plus de 10 mètres de hauteur, et leurs frondes élégantes et en forme de plume qui s'étalent gracieusement au sommet, elles évoquent une époque révolue où les dinosaures régnaient sur la Terre. Cette impressionnante stature fait des fougères arborescentes de Madagascar un spectacle fascinant à observer pour les botanistes, les touristes et les amateurs de nature.
Outre leur aspect esthétique, les fougères arborescentes jouent un rôle important dans l'écosystème de Madagascar. Elles abritent une variété d'espèces animales et végétales, fournissant un habitat vital pour de nombreux oiseaux, insectes et plantes épiphytes. De plus, leurs feuilles mortes se décomposent pour enrichir le sol en éléments nutritifs, contribuant ainsi au cycle naturel des nutriments dans la forêt.
Cependant, malgré leur importance écologique et leur beauté remarquable, les fougères arborescentes de Madagascar font face à des menaces croissantes, principalement en raison de la déforestation et de la perte d'habitat. La conversion des forêts en terres agricoles et la pression exercée par l'exploitation forestière illégale mettent en danger ces plantes emblématiques ainsi que l'ensemble de l'écosystème forestier de Madagascar.
Des efforts de conservation sont donc essentiels pour protéger les fougères arborescentes de Madagascar et leur habitat naturel. Cela comprend la création de réserves forestières protégées, l'application stricte des lois environnementales et la sensibilisation du public à l'importance de la préservation de ces plantes uniques. En préservant les fougères arborescentes de Madagascar, nous protégeons non seulement un élément crucial de la biodiversité de l'île, mais aussi une part importante de son patrimoine naturel et culturel. https://presentslointains-madagascar.com/pages/les-fougeres-arborescentes-de-madagascar
https://presentslointains-madagascar.com/pages/les-fougeres-arborescentes-de-madagascar
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Cyathea medullaris, popularly known as the black tree fern, is a large tree fern up to 20 m tall. It is distributed across the south-west Pacific from Fiji to Pitcairn and New Zealand. It is called mamaku, katātā, kōrau, or pītau in the Māori language.
Northcross Drive, Oteha, Auckland 0632
7PJC+M4W Auckland
-36.7182640, 174.7203420
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Alsophila podophylla (syn. Cyathea podophylla), by the lake of Toba, North Sumatra.
#floraofsumatra #Alsophila #Cyathea #sumatrafern #黑桫椤 #鬼桫椤 #苏门答腊植物
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Love watching the new fronds of this Cyathea cooperi (Coin Spot Fern) unfurl 😍🌿
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"Cyathea rojasiana", el helecho arborescente tropical que reutiliza sus hojas muertas
"Cyathea rojasiana" , un helecho descubierto en Panamá reconfigura "sus hojas zombis" para alimentar a la planta...
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#Cyathea mertensiana#Jindai Botanical Garden#Tokyo#マルハチ#神代植物公園#東京#Tamron SP AF 90mm F/2.8 Di MACRO 1:1 (272E)
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اكتشف فريق من علماء النبات في الولايات المتحدة، فصيلة فريدة من نوعها من نبات «السرخس» تعيش في بنما، يمكنها تحويل أوراقها الميتة إلى جذور لتغذية النبات.
ويطلق على هذه الفصيلة من نبات «السرخس» اسم Cyathea rojasiana، وهي تقوم بتحويل «الأوراق الميتة» إلى جذور جديدة للنبات عن طريق تغيير اتجاه تدفق المياه داخل الورقة، بحيث تستطيع امتصاص المغذيات من التربة وتحويلها إلى النبات الأصلي مرة أخرى.
وأوضح الباحث جيمس دالينج، أستاذ علم النبات بجامعة إلينوي الأميركية، أن «هذه الظاهرة الفريدة تحدث عندما تذبل أوراق نبات (السرخس) وتتدلى إلى الأرض، إذ تلاحظ أن الأوراق الذابلة لهذه النبتة تتشبث بالتربة من خلال مجموعة من الجذور الفرعية الرفيعة، وأثبتت الاختبارات المعملية أن هذه الأوراق تمتص النيتروجين من التربة».
وأضاف دالينج، في تصريحات لموقع «سايتيك ديلي» المتخصص في الأبحاث العلمية: «بعد أن تتحول الأوراق الذابلة إلى جذور، فإنها تبدو مثل نباتات متحللة، ولعل هذا هو السبب الذي جعل علماء النباتات لا يلتفتون إلى هذه النبتة من قبل».
المصدر: الإمارات اليوم
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Обычно, если листья папоротника отмирают, растению они больше не нужны. Однако с папоротником Cyathea rojasiana все обстоит иначе: мертвые листья становятся «листьями-зомби».
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