Actually you know what. Just don’t mow. Get rid of your lawnmower. Turn your whole yard into a wildflower field or an edible garden. Lawns are the invention of the upper class to show wealth through wasted plots of grass that is meticulously tended for no reason other than to be grass. It’s literally an empty plot of land they kept because they had so much money they didn’t need it to grow food. Not using a yard as just a yard is an act of rebellion.
One of the main industries still supporting lawns is chemical pest control companies, and they’re also responsible for the insecticides that crashed the bird populations in the 40s and 50s as well as a lot of what’s killing bees and butterflies now. The herbicides they produce specifically targets “bad” plants like dandelions, buttercups, and clovers, which are plants bees rely on for early spring feeding. Grass is just grass; it would be great for feeding small mammals if people would let it grow more than three inches, but they won’t.
So, yeah. Kill lawnmower culture. Plant some native flowers. Grow some vegetables and fruit trees. Put out bird feeders and bee sugar spots and homes for both. Be kind to bugs and birds and rabbits and opossums and whoever else might wander by. Make your neighborhood a lot more beautiful.
The little penguin, also known as the little blue penguin, is the smallest species of penguin in the world. They grow to an average 13 inches (33cm) in height. They are found on the southern coastlines of Australia and New Zealand.
The new policy will provide religious accommodations for uniforms and allow beards to grow up to one-half inch, the New York Times reports. Religious head coverings are also permissible to wear in uniform as long as hair is neatly and tightly pulled back under the fabric. Turbans must also have a hat shield of the NYPD seal. Officers would first have to seek approval from the Equal Employment Opportunity Office. Read more.
Though growing no more than 20 inches long, the red octopus is a fearsome hunter! With thousands of chemical receptors and millions of texture sensors lining the rims of its suckers, it scours the seafloor in pursuit of shrimp and small crabs.
An witch, annoyed with the townspeople who come to her for every little problem, turns herself into a doe and spends her time in the forest alone. She’s very happy. She’s not very happy when she’s accidentally hunted, and curses those who pursue her.
1. The food you hunt turns into your most hated meat, and smells gross. its fine to eat.
2. If you look a deer in the eye, little velvet nubs on your head grow. every time you look one in the eye again, they grow an inch.
3. You see a lot more game than usual. ¾ of them are illusions.
On a strut halfway up the Eiffel Tower, just out of reach of the few curious civilians loitering below, Chat paced.
His lady had arranged to meet hi half an hour ago, and Chat wasn’t worried, except that he was a little worried. Maybe.
Scenarios ricocheted off the inner walls of his skull, ranging from ‘maybe she forgot?’ ‘to ‘maybe she’s standing me up on purpose…’ to ‘maybe something happened to her!’ and Chat was growing sicker by inches.
Did it really matter if she’d forgotten or just didn’t want to come? He hoped not.
Would she even do that? …Probably not, but he didn’t know, and it was eating him alive.
Would he survive if that either of those were the case, after anticipating this outing with his heart ion the line for weeks? He didn’t even want to think about that.
But what if he was being unkind? What if her gaping absence really was a mistake? What if she was in trouble, and he was just here, wearing down the structure of the Eiffel Tower, useless instead of helping her like he should be?
…He had her number.
He was only supposed to use it in cases of emergency — if a akuma showered up and she wasn’t there, or if he was in major trouble — but…
This might be an emergency, he reasoned, flicking open his communicator and selecting the only other contact besides the default ‘Ladybug’.
💘 My lady 💘 Dialing…
He put the communicator to his ear and waited.
After three rings, she picked up,
It wasn’t until she spoke — a soft, scratchy, feminine “‘ello?” brushing across his sensitive ear — that Chat realized three very important things:
He’d never actually called her civilian identity before. He’d texted her plenty of times, but never actually heard her voice.
He’d pitifully underestimated what hearing her voice while she was out of costume would do to him.
There was no way he was prepared for this conversation. At all.
“Ah,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “Ladybug?”
“Cha-a-at?” she yawned, and oh, she must’ve fallen asleep.
And now she was tired and fuzzy and warm, mumbling right in his ear.
“Oh no. Chat?!”
She sounded a lot more awake that time, which was disappointing but probably ultimately safer for his cardiac health.
“Hey—” was as far as she let him get before she was rambling on, panic-laced with worrying crashes interrupting the background noise.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry Chat. I thought I’d only close my eyes for a minute— Tikki, where are yo— oh, there you are —I really, really, really didn’t mean to fal asleep— Tikki!”
Chat thumped the heel of his hand against his forehead, guilt latching tight around his heart. Selfish, selfish, selfish…
“Don’t worry about it, Bugaboo,” he said, pretending he hadn’t just been panicking over her absence, “We can put it off if you need sleep—”
“No,” she repeated, only a little less vehemently. “Uh, cookies? Umm… I mean, I’ve been looking forward to this for— I mean! That it sounded really fun, not that I was especially looking forward to time with— I mean, I do want to spend time with you, not that I— I mean… No, that’s sounds… Ugh.” Then, in the background: “Shut up, Tikki.”
By the time he worked out the point she was talking around — I was looking forward to spending time with you — it was too late for any of her half-hearted excuses to take away from it.
(Not that she was trying very hard.)
Ladybug wanted to spend time with him.
Chat’s free hand went to his mouth, feeling the burning heat in his face crawl down to his shoulders, settling like a hearthfire in his belly.
He was a mature adult superhero, yes he was — even if he was blushing like a schoolgirl over the thought of his crush looking forward to their outing even half as much as he had.
Then she yawned again, and his heart lurched.
“R-really,” he managed, a little more breathless than he maybe should have been. “If you’re tired…”
A moment of silence, and then, sheepishly: “…How much would you mind getting napped on?”
Ladybug slouched against his side with her head on his shoulder, sweet and trusting, while he had nothing to do but enjoy her presence?
Where could Chat sign up?
“I’ll think my most pillow-y thoughts,” he promised, as his stomach gave a little flip.
Ladybug giggled, airy and girlish and still sleep-rough, and the heat in Chat’s face redoubled.
“Thanks, Chat,” she said, affection heart-stoppingly clear in her voice. “You’re the best. Be there in ten!”
She only waited for his acknowledgement before she hung up, leaving Chat standing there with a buzz under his skin and even higher hopes for the evening, somehow.
He dropped into a crouch and buried his face in both hands with a soft groan.
Ladybug was going to be the death of him.
He was looking forward to it.
(From somewhere below him, one of the loitering civilians hollered up a worried, “Everything alright, Chat?”
Chat waved him off weakly.
“Okay. Good luck on your date!”
Chat looked down in confusion, wondering how good the man’s ears were to have heard that, and then remembered he’d been gushing about it on both twitter and tumblr for weeks now, and shouted back, “Thanks!”
The man gave him two thumbs up and moved on, taking his family with him.
A girl Chat was assuming was his daughter cupped her hands around her mouth and added. “Buy her flowers!” walking backwards as they left.
Chat waved goodbye, now smiling for real.)
(The rest of his evening was spent with a lapful (armful, heartful) of warm, cuddly, pliant superheroine, and Chat couldn’t remember being this happy in a long, long time.)
Dragonfish are predatory fish that grow to six inches long and are equipped with long, sharp teeth and a photophore - a light producing organ that is used like a fishing lure. These fish live in depths of up to 5000 feet (1,500 meters).
- read at least 290 books
- grow 6 inches
- watch all the movies I want to watch but can’t be bothered
- find a priceless piece of art in a garage sale and sell it for millions
- sleep on a bed of money
- find a way to make my dog live forever
- use my bag as a bag and not a garbage can
Parvati Patil is teeny tiny, but her wand is the longest in her year.
McGonagall is six feet even, and can rock a pair of heeled boots. It makes her fun to watch when she paces while giving lectures.
Goyle has a dreadful slouch during his teen years. He thinks it makes him look cool and tough, like a gangster in his sister’s stolen muggle mags, but really he looks like a caveman.
Bill, Percy, and Ron are all within a half inch of each others heights. Charlie and Ginny come next, Charlie only an inch taller than his sister, and the twins are the shortest.
Dudley Dursley grows three inches when he starts working out and turning fat to muscle at 16. Running, sometimes slamming his feet on the school’s treadmill, sometimes mapping the tame forests of Little Whiniging is the only thing that keeps the cool feeling of the Dementor out of his head.
Seamus was taller than Dean by a very proud two inches until third year, when Seamus stayed at 5′3″ but Dean shot up to 6′2″ and never ever let Seamus forget it.
Hermione’s hair adds an inch to her height.
Part of the reason Lucius and Narcissa imagined themselves well suited when courting just after Hogwarts was that for each of them, the other was the ideal height. A three inch difference was perfectly respectable and picturesque for a gorgeous pureblood match such as themselves.
Tom Riddle was 5'10". His resurrected Voldemort body was 6'1.“ This was down to Wormtail’s design, wanting to serve a powerful master.
Ginny is two inches taller than Harry.
Rita Skeeter was amazingly dynamic and light on her feet while wearing six inch heels. If they were a little magically enhanced, well, that was just resourcefulness.