#Budget Hanging Baskets

[moisfrenchadventure]

Hanging Gardens

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (8/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: It's always nice meeting new people. Especially British ones.

Warnings: fluff, flirting, one swear word, social media aspect

Word Count: 3.3k

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A/N: this chapter is for everyone who send me kind words when I was feeling down. even tho I don't answer every single message, I read everything you send me. I love you.

You look desperately at the piece of paper in your hand. 

You have the chicken breast, the avocado and the kale and garlic. According to the signs in the shop, two aisles down are the jars of sun-dried tomatoes that you also need. But where the heck are the sesame seeds and chilli flakes?

You rub your forehead with the back of your hand. 

For twenty minutes you have been walking through the supermarket, which is so much bigger than the one around the corner from you. Ten minutes ago you put the chicken in the shopping basket, which is hanging down on your elbow. And since then you have been wandering the aisles with little success, trying to find the rest that Charles scribbled on the piece of paper. 

When you left the bedroom this morning, your roommate had already disappeared. He had stowed his sleeping things in the wardrobe and tidied up the living room. Even the dishes had disappeared from the sink. Apparently he got up very early. 

After drinking a glass of orange juice, you found the note on the kitchen table that Charles had left there. 

"Bonjour, 

Je suis à la salle de sport ce matin. I'm at the gym this morning.

Pourriez-vous acheter ces choses pour le déjeuner ? Could you please buy these things for lunch?

Merci, mon ami. 

Charles

PS.: Mes amis et moi sortons ce soir et j'aimerais que tu viennes avec moi. My friends and I are going out tonight and I would like you to come along".

Next to it was another piece of paper with the shopping list for the bowl his nutritionist had picked out for him. Judging by the ingredients, Charles has good taste and for a moment you had considered buying a double portion - one for him and one for you - but the toast lying in your kitchen is about to go bad and you are reluctant to throw it away. Besides, no food in the world can beat a good sandwich.

But reading the list, you also realise that the small supermarket around the corner would not be enough to get everything.

The employee you asked a few minutes ago gave you a rough direction where you could find the sesame seeds, but he disappeared so quickly that you couldn't follow up. And since then you've been standing in a corridor that looks like you might find them here. But you've read through every label on every shelf, and although your French has improved - and you have a translator app on your phone - none of them sounded remotely like sesame or seeds.

"A pretty lady wasn't on my shopping list today, but I can be spontaneous," you hear someone with a British accent say behind you.

As you turn around, a young man is standing in front of you. He is a little taller than you and wears a black hoodie with his hands in his pockets and a black cap on his head. Although it is winter, his skin is tanned, and as he grins broadly, you see a small gap between his white front teeth.

You hesitate for a moment, trying to gauge whether he is really serious, and glance briefly at your shopping list before turning to face him fully. "An overeager man is not on mine either. And unfortunately, since I have to stick to my budget, I can't be quite as spontaneous."

His grin widens even more. "So the pick-up line was that lousy?"

His smile is so honest and friendly it's infectious. "Terrible."

The young man presses his tongue into his cheek before pulling his hand out of his jumper pocket to hold it out to you. "Lando. Nice to meet you."

As you place your hand in his, you feel the warmth of his skin. "Y/N."

Before you can respond, Lando snatches the piece of paper in your hand. His eyes flicker over the ingredients on it and then over the contents of your shopping basket. "You've been standing here for ten minutes. Do you need any help?"

You narrow your eyes and try to reach for the list in his big hands, but he is quicker. He pulls his hand away. "Have you been watching me? See if the note says stalker."

He pretends to go through the ingredients again, but his gaze lingers on you again after a few moments. "Stalker it doesn't say, but helpful stranger it does." He holds the note up to your nose. "Right under chicken breast. See. Right there. In invisible ink."

You push your lower lip forward and consider whether you should accept his help. The only thing against it is the fact that you can usually help yourself. But since he has already noticed how helplessly you search for the missing groceries, the argument is not exactly convincing.

"Alright." You extend your arm and wave it in a semicircle in front of you. "Show me the way."

Lando leads the way as you follow him through the shop. Despite his jumper, you can see that his cross is relatively wide. Not as wide as Charles, but still enough to be noticeable. 

"You don't seem to be from around here, do you?" asks Lando as you walk past the cheese shelf. He looks down at you. 

"I've actually lived here for months, but I've never been to this supermarket," you admit, shrugging. "The stuff on the list isn't for me, it's for my roommate. I'm not much of a bowl fan."

The helpful stranger stops abruptly in front of a shelf, causing you to bump lightly into him. You can still feel the hard muscles through the many layers of clothing. "What are you more into?" When you look at him with a raised eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "Food-wise, I mean."

"Culinarily, I'm afraid I've stayed at McDonalds level. Or frozen pizza." As Lando grins, you lightly punch his arm. "I know, I know. Like a kid."

He reaches out and takes a packet from the shelf, and as he puts it in the basket, you see that it's sesame seeds. He then takes the basket from your hand. "So I don't need to take you to a super fancy, expensive restaurant? You'd be happy with take-out as well?" He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. 

Apparently he can't help it. But you find his boyish charm not annoying, rather amusing. 

You raise your hand and poke your index finger against his chest. "You could buy me a can of soup, too, and I'd be blown away."

Lando is too surprised to retort, so he lowers his eyes to the list in his hand. You can still see the blush that comes to his face. He clears his throat. "Chilli flakes should be here somewhere too. Ah, there. Right behind you." He leans forward a little and reaches past you. As you inhale, you can smell his perfume.

"Thanks for your help, Lando," you say as you stand together at the checkout a little later, putting your purchase into a bag. "I don't know what I would have done without you." Your smile is genuine and you're glad he returns it. If it hadn't been for him, you'd almost certainly still be standing here tomorrow looking for the ingredients.

"I'm glad I could help." As you take your groceries from him, he shoulders the bag and shakes his head. "Would it be weird if I asked you if I could walk you home?"

"It would." You've both known each other for a few minutes and for sure it's unwise for a young stranger to find out where you live. Yet something about him makes you trust him. As Lando's mouth curls into a thin line, you smile kindly at him. "But weird is okay."

His expression brightens instantly. "Great. Show me the way. I'll follow you."

The walk home takes thirty minutes, but it feels much shorter with Lando by your side. He's two years older than you and incredibly funny, which is why your stomach starts to hurt from laughing at some point. He talks about what it was like growing up in England and that although he has his permanent home here in Monaco, he still works there. 

"So you're always flying back and forth? Isn't that very tiring?" you ask him. The house where your home is located comes into your field of vision. In a moment you are about to say goodbye and somehow you have a feeling that he would make an attempt to ask for your number. 

"It's very exhausting," he confesses, but shrugs. "But you know yourself what it's like to live here. Monaco is beautiful and I love it. Besides, many of my friends live here. It's definitely worth the stress for me."

You stop at the front door and Lando's smile disappears from his face as he realises that your time - for now - is up. He hands you your groceries, which he's been carrying for you like a gentleman for the last half hour. 

"Thank you. For your help and the nice company," you thank him and fish the front door key out of your pocket.

Lando puts his hands back in the pockets of his jumper, undecided whether to hug you goodbye or not. "I have to thank you." He pulls his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. "Can I see you again? Maybe for dinner? I'll get your favourite can of soup too," he grins and you have to laugh out loud.

"I'd love to," you reply. Why green eyes and dimples suddenly flash in the back of your mind, you don't know.

"Great. Do you have Instagram?" he asks and you look at him, confused. He raises a hand and scratches the back of his neck nervously with it. "I'd ask for your number, but I don't think you're someone who gives out their number to helpful strangers just because they're friendly."

You turn your head and point to the front door. "Well, you already know where I live, after all. And yet you ask for my Instagram?"

He licks his lips once with his tongue. "I didn't mean to be too forward."

You look down at your shopping bag, then back up at him. "You? Forward? No way."

You tell him your Instagram name and he saves it before you say goodbye with a hug that, in retrospect, you might find a little too brief. But Lando doesn't seem to want to cross any lines, which is why he only puts one arm around you to pull you close for a moment, not pressing you tightly against him but leaving some space between you.

"I'll get back to you," he says as you put the key in the door lock and turn it. "Promise."

When you enter the apartment minutes later, Charles is sitting on the couch, staring at his laptop, which is on the coffee table in front of him. You feel his gaze on you as you close the door behind you and slip off your shoes.

"Bonjour, Y/N." He gets up and follows you into the kitchen, where you take the groceries out of the bag and place them on the countertop. "Thank you for shopping. Did you sleep well?"

You did indeed. Whether it was the wine or the fact that you really enjoyed your evening with him, you don't know. When you woke up this morning and found that Charles had already left, you had been a little too relieved. The thoughts you harboured towards him last night make you feel guilty, so you decide to repress them and forget about them. 

Everything that happened last night was purely amicable, which his "mon ami" on the note also confirms. Secretly, you are glad that he sees it that way too. If he were to give you signs of being interested, you would have to think seriously about the whole situation. And you don't want that.

You're happy living with Charles. And even though you've only known each other for two days, you're sure he's a better friend than anyone else has ever been. No one in your old group of friends had ever been so friendly, so helpful, so caring. 

If that's how friends behave, then you never really had any.

"Well," you answer him. "I'm still alive, although I didn't lock the door yesterday. That certainly lets me sleep well."

Charles smiles and reaches for the chicken breast, which he rinses and seasons as you put a pan of oil on the hob. "Or maybe I just want you to feel safe. And someday, when you're not expecting it, I'll catch you," he jokes. 

"And that's exactly why I was serious about my offer last night," you return, watching as he puts the chicken into the hot oil. You hear it hiss and bubble. "That you can sleep in bed tonight. I don't mind. After all, it's your bed. And it's only fair that you use it."

Charles turns the chicken in the pan and looks at you. "And you're not just doing this so I won't murder you while you sleep?" His grin widens. 

"That, my friend, is a nice side effect."

While the chicken sizzles away, you prepare the avocado and Charles the kale. "It's all right, Y/N. It's only been the second night on the couch. And I promise you nothing will happen that would make you lock the door."

"But last night you -"

"Last night the wine was talking out of me when I sent you the picture," he interrupts. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." His smile is gentle. "That's what we agreed and that's what we'll stick to."

"That we agreed, I know," you confirm, digging a bowl out of the cupboard. Charles fills it with the ingredients and finally puts the roasted chicken on top. You turn off the hob. "But I don't think we have to stick rigidly to that rule for this," you point to the space between you, "to work. We're friends, not strangers. And as your friend, I can't have you breaking your back."

You see Charles swallow before turning away and picking up the bowl. Apparently he doesn't know what to say in response, because he changes the subject as you sit down on the couch together. "So, are you coming tonight? We were going out for dinner and then to a club. You don't have to come if you don't want to, of course, but I'd love to introduce you to my friends. We're a cool group and I think you'd fit in quite well." He spears a piece of avocado with his fork. "Besides, maybe I can take your mind off your asshole of an ex-boyfriend that way."

That's right. There was something. 

You haven't had to think about him since last night. About him calling you all the time and spoiling your mood. That he cheated on you a while back and broke your heart. 

Charles managed, with just a film and his company, to make you forget the pain and anger. In his presence you felt comfortable, warm, which was perhaps also a little due to the wine. And as you thought back over the evening, a feeling spread through you that you could not describe. 

The only word you can think of to describe this feeling is Charles.

"I didn't mean to remind you," your roommate says softly when you don't answer him. His eyes are fixed on his food. "Sorry."

You shake your head, more to let him know that your thoughts are not about your ex-boyfriend, but about Charles's kindness and care, but apparently he takes it as accepting the apology. He exhales in relief. 

"So? Are you coming with me later? With my friends and me?", Charles asks again. 

Isn't it too early to meet his friends? You two haven't known each other for very long either. But after all, you would be there as his roommate slash friend, not as his girlfriend. So for him, there's no reason why you shouldn't be there. So there is none for you either. 

"Do I need to wear anything nice? My wardrobe isn't exactly the most elegant," you confess, pointing to the oversized jumper hanging from your shoulders and the black leggings down your legs. 

Charles' gaze moves from your face, across your torso, down further to the tops of your feet, which are inches away from his. "It doesn't matter what you wear. You look beautiful in anything."

You hope he doesn't notice how hard you have to swallow the lump in your throat. "Then I'll come with you."

Satisfied, Charles puts a piece of chicken in his mouth and chews on it. As his cell phone vibrates on the table in front of you, he stiffens a little. 

From your position you can see that an unknown number is calling him. And you can well understand his reaction to it. You definitely wouldn't answer a call either if you didn't know who it was from. A short time later the phone is silent again and the screen goes black again. Charles visibly relaxes.

"I think calls from unknown numbers are totally nerve-wracking," you try to lighten the situation a little. "There was a time when I let the phone keep ringing, but now I just press unknown callers away."

Charles looks to you. "Would you press my call away?"

You draw your eyebrows together. "Well, since I don't have your number, I probably would."

Your roommate presses his tongue into his cheek. "Then it would be better if I gave it to you, no?"

Without a word, you hand him your unlocked phone - which looks really puny in his big hands - so he can punch in his number before calling himself. As he hands it back to you, he picks up his own phone to put your number in, deleting the unknown call. 

"Give me your Instagram, please."

You look at him uncertainly, but give him your name. "Do you need anything else? My credit card number? Birth certificate? National insurance number?"

"No, you dickhead." He taps away on his phone and a moment later a notification pops up on your screen. 

bawsixteen started following you

You open the app and click on his account and on the "Follow" button and a few moments later his entire profile is visible to you. He hasn't posted many pictures, some you recognise from Jori's place, but one in particular catches your eye. 

"So, tonight we're going out for dinner. Around eight, so we have to leave around around quarter to." Charles puts the empty bowl on the table and turns to you. "I have to leave in a few minutes. Will you be okay on your own until then? I don't think I'll be gone too long." 

You wonder if he's going to the woman he spoke to on the phone yesterday. "I'm an adult, Charles. I'll be fine," you smile. "Maybe by then I'll find a nice potato sack to wear later."

Charles laughs, gets up and goes into the kitchen to wash the bowl. "If you can find a second one that might fit me, bring it along. Then we could go in matching clothes. That would be something." You hear him turn on the tap at the sink. "Well, if you find one, you can call me."

"As long as you promise to answer." You turn and lean your arm over the back of the couch to watch him. His back muscles stand out under his shirt and you can see them moving. 

Charles looks over his shoulder at you and smiles. "Deal."

-

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bawsixteen: 📍📸 the most beautiful place in Monaco

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[mermaidfanficlibrary]

Tokyo Lights and Street Frights || Yandere Yakzua x Gn Reader

Characters: Takehiko

Summary: After moving out to Japan, you seemed to have caught a Yakuza boss's attention.

Warnings: Yandere themes, possessiveness, violence, yakuza things

A/n: he's such a sugar daddy fr

Yan Yakuza boss who sees you at a convenience store in someplace in Tokyo. He offers to pay for your items even if he had just met you. You were just so cute to him.

Yan Yakuza boss who makes sure one of his men is always follows you. He can't have his rivals hunting or takes you away from him. He just wants you to be safe.

Yan Yakuza boss who meets you again in one of the restaurants he's contracted to protect. The perfect chance to get to know you in a private setting.

Yan Yakuza boss who finds out where you live and your job. You just so happened to move into his territory. That makes it so much easier to protect you.

Yan Yakuza boss who leaves you little gift baskets at your doorstep. He's not ready to face you in your home quite yet. He doesn't want you in his world.

Yan Yakuza boss who keeps you at arms length. The last thing he ever wants or needs is to paint a target on your back for rival groups. The thought of you being hurt or kidnapped by anyone makes his blood boil

Yan Yakuza boss that is very traditional with his yakuza group. He doesn't use guns or does drug dealings as a result. He's often judged for it when everyone else is more modernized.

Yan Yakuza boss that is slightly older than you, like in his late 30s to early 40s. Doesn't like his age due to the wrinkles and when he sees your youth.

Yan Yakuza boss who finally gets the courage to hang out with you in a more casual setting and getting your number, not that he didn't already have it. It was a fast friendship considering his talent is making connections.

Yan Yakuza boss that takes you shopping to spoil the hell out of you. He has the money and room in the budget for you. Just ask and it's yours immediately.

Yan Yakuza boss who finally gets the courage to ask you out. Well not him specifically, but he sends his trusted 2nd in command to do it for him.

Yan Yakuza boss who is elated you had said yes. He sends only the finest. A fancy car, fancy flowers, fancy food, fancy guards. He's pulling out all the stops for you.

Yan Yakuza boss who ends up saving you on said date from a rival yakuza group that was after him. He feels like a fucking idiot for subjecting you to that.

Yan Yakuza boss who goes silent for a few days after the date. He's way too embarrassed to face you. Not when you saw the darkness he wanted to keep hidden from you.

Yan Yakuza boss who ends up with you on his doorstep. This time you're the one bringing him flowers. He was shocked that you were at his home. How did you find out where he lived? One of his members told you just in case.

Yan Yakuza boss who finds out that you didn't catch on to the fact that he was a yakuza boss and thought he was keeping you safe like any gentleman would. I mean that was the reason, but the fact that you don't know what he is baffles him.

Yan Yakuza boss who relishes in your naïveté and offers the flowers as your thank you for saving you. He's then floored by you asking him on a 2nd date.

Yan Yakuza boss who becomes your boyfriend in no time. Well that's what his members think your relationship is at this point. He's to much of a coward to ask.

Yan Yakuza boss who has a katana but doesn't ever use it due to him having wrist problems from using it so much. It doesn't matter though, he has his fists to protect you.

Yan Yakuza boss who would teach you how to use his katana if you asked about it. Becomes prideful when you compliment the sword at the amount of skill he must have had to use it so much.

Yan Yakuza boss who is very cautious when someone of the law comes up to you. This person isn't someone he pays to turn a blind eye, so he has to be careful.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[anipgarden]

Adding To or Starting a Garden

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

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

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

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

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

Front Lawn (or Managing Principles)

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

Obtaining Seeds for Cheap or Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See this? I don't trust this.

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

Other Ways to Get Plants

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

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

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

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

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

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

Volunteer to Garden for/with Someone Else

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

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

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

[cottonlemonade]

A large mocha latte for here. Kindly put Matsukawa Issei on the cup, please and thank you! 🌲

Celebrating An Anniversary

word count: 774 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip husband!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader

genre: suggestive fluff

warnings: mdni, nsfw

request: fluffy spicy, celebrating an anniversary with your husband Mattsun

“Are they closed?“

“Yes!“, you laughed, feeling your husband‘s hand on the small of your back guiding you forward.

“Still closed?“

“Yes!“

“Okay, there is a step here, babe. - That‘s it. Almost there.“

“I swear, if you prank me somehow…“

Issei‘s smile turned to indignation - you didn‘t need to open your eyes, you heard the pout in his voice, “When have I ever-“

“Choose a different wording.“, you scoffed.

“You know what?“ In the next moment you felt yourself being lifted off your feet and thrown over his shoulder. “You asked for it.“

“Ah, set me down before you hurt yourself!“

“Never.“

“Issei!“

“Ahem… Good evening!“, he called to someone you couldn‘t see, then he chuckled nervously, “Thi-this is not what it looks like!“, adding quietly, “Honey, please confirm I‘m not kidnapping you against your will.“

“I‘m fine! We‘re married! - Happily!“, you announced loudly, probably rather unconvincingly the way you hung blindfolded over his shoulder but Issei let out a sigh of relief and kept moving, eventually setting you carefully down again, holding your chubby waist to keep you steady.

“Can I take it off now? - Oh my god, Issei, the blindfold, stop unzipping my dress!“

He chuckled and returned the zipper to the top, helping you take off the eye mask.

You had no idea where you were. It looked like a rather rundown living room of an abandoned house but Issei had clearly put a lot of effort into making it cozy. Electric candles flickered all around the large space, surrounding a picnic blanket in the middle of a massive amount of snuggly pillows. A bottle stuck out of an ice bucket next to a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a delicious smell wafted over from a basket right next to it.

“Oh, honey… This is beautiful!“

Issei grinned and hugged you from behind.

“Do you recognize it?“

“Uhm… surprisingly enough, I feel like this particular run down house slipped my mind.“, you said apologetically.

He let go and pouted again, “You mean you don‘t remember?“

“Remember what…?“

Your husband pointed to a cluster of candles somewhere off to the left, “It was right there. I confessed to you.“

Your face brightened, finally catching up.

“Oh my god!“ You recalled how nervous he had been and how he had offered a little roughly picked bouquet of wildflowers to you. At first you were convinced he was joking. There was no way the tall, handsome volleyball player actually meant it when he promised not to leave your side as long as you‘d let him. But well, it was ten years later and he had kept his promise. Back then, the house was newly abandoned and frequently used by students sneaking around.

“It’s on the market.“, he noted and walked excitedly over to a door hanging off its hinges, “Look, this room could be your office. It‘s nice and spacious and has a view of the backyard and over here-“, three long strides took him to what looked to have been the kitchen, “we can even put an island and right there“, a few more steps past you led to a double door, “is the master bedroom. There is enough space in the front yard to plant a cherry tree like you always wanted and-“

You joined him and pulled him down by his tie for a kiss.

When you parted, he continued, “The landlord said he‘d fix it up for us and it would even be within our budget and-“, another pull on his tie and this time you deepened the kiss.

“So is that a yes?“, he asked with an unsure squinty sort of smile.

“We can look at it again in the daylight.“, you laughed and he beamed, leaning down to kiss you some more.

“Who did we talk to earlier?“

“Possibly our new neighbors.“, he snickered and the thought of the memorable first impression you must have left made you snort.

Taking your hand he pulled you over to the picnic blanket and once you got comfortable, got started on pouring you each a glass of wine.

He laid down on his side next to you while you sat cross legged with a pillow in your lap.

“You know what else we did here?“, you smirked.

“Well, I know what we definitely didn‘t do here.“

“Because you were too chicken to even go near my bra.“

“Keep joking, wifey, see where that gets ya.“

He opened the picnic basket and revealed what appeared to be a fruit platter at first but was actually just a bunch of colorful condoms arranged like fruit slices. And you burst out laughing.

a/n: ngl I snorted while writing that last bit 😅 thank you for the request! Please enjoy 🌟

[themratts]

A Surprise For Papa

[ A mysterious 'gift' arrives at the ministry, addressed to Copia, and he's not quite sure what to make of it ]

Rating: Teens and Up (May be subject to change)

Chapter One • Delivery (word count : 2.3K)

—— 🍼

It was easy enough for Papa to get into the zone when it came to his ministry work. Despite how tedious and time consuming it could often be, by now, at his age, he was more than familiar with the grind and it came simply enough to him every day.

He’d sit, at his usual deskspace with his usual documents and reports and church budgets and he’d scribble away at them for as long as he had to. The trick was not to get knocked out of his focus once he was already in. That in itself, was the hard part. As he set his coffee mug down, three sturdy knocks met the door of his study, and when the Ghoul’s voice followed, Papa knew he was in for a long day.

“Hey,” Before Copia could even respond, the door was being opened and his eyes were greeted by the sleek and feisty figure of the fire ghoul. Dewdrop leaned against the doorframe, he told him, “Something’s here for you,”

“What?” That was odd. Not that things - fanmail, letters, whatever else - never came for him, but they were commonly delivered to his personal chambers. The odd part was the way Dew had shown up just to tell him about it, “Here for me?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?” He asked but the ghoul only shrugged.

“Haven’t opened it. But it’s weird.”

Copia wasn’t sure if he was more curious, or worried. He turned in his chair now, papers forgotten for the moment. “Weird how?”

“Come and see for yourself,” As he left, Dewdrop flicked his tail and then it disappeared into the hallway. Papa knew he shouldn’t. He needed to stay, to get things done. Yet, he couldn’t help the urge to follow him. As if something was pulling him from his chair. Copia rose to his feet, and made his way after the ghoul in the distance.

He led him through the hall and down the main staircase. Before turning, and gearing them into the ghoul livingspace. A widened room with separate halls that would lead to ghoul dormitories, but the open area served as a nice space for them to hang out. Ahead, Papa could see two ghouls crowded around a small table. And when he got closer, he recognized them to be Aether and Swiss. Aether was especially close to whatever was on the table, nose twitching when he sniffed so curiously. Dew stepped to the side, hands on his hips.

“Guys, move.”

The other ghouls looked up, and backed away when Copia approached. Now that he could see what they were looking at, he was even more weirded out. A basket, it looked like, covered by a lumpy, stuffed-in sheet with a single folded piece of paper sat atop. A note, it looked like. It simply read “Papa” on the front. Copia’s brows furrowed, creasing the paint on his forehead. He looked at the mysterious package, to his ghouls, and then back down.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was left at the gate this morning,” Swiss answered, crossing his legs where he sat on the other side of the table.

“The gate?” Copia almost laughed, “This isn’t a prank, is it?”

“Nope,” and Dew shoved his clawed hands into his pockets, “Although that’d be hilarious.”

On the other side of Papa, Aether was taking another step back. He shook his head and crossed his arms, “It smells so strange,” He noted, tilting his head, “You should open it.”

“It smells strange? What does it smell like?”

All three ghouls exchanged a look. A hard to read expression, but it was enough to creep Copia out. He shivered, and when none of them answered, he reached instead for the note that was laid atop the blanket. It was written in unfamiliar handwriting, on thin, ordinary lined paper. He scanned the front and the back, before flipping it open. In big letters on the inside, the words read,

“Your problem now.”

Disturbing. A deeper confusion coursed through him and Papa turned back to his ghouls, “you are sure this isn’t a prank?”

“Not a chance,” Dew raised his hands innocently. Feeling defeated , Copia once again forced his attention back to the basket. He was almost scared to open it. He felt a pressure in his chest, an uneasiness. The circumstances were just so weird. But what choice did he really have?

“Alright,” He sighed. And Copia let his gloved fingers grace the edge of the basket. He hovered there for a second, before moving again. And when he did, he jumped backwards. Something inside the basket had moved, too. “Wh-what the hell!?”

“Dude,” Dew pushed him forward, “Open it!”

“What is it!?”

“We don’t know any more than you do.” A blatant lie.

Papa grumbled. He went to push and rub at his temples but halted when he remembered his face paint. He had to resort to a groan instead.

The thought that whatever was in the basket was alive was both alarming and very concerning. His hand crept forward to the blanket again, as he decided not to waste anymore time in getting to the bottom of it. Carefully, he removed the sides from their tucked position, and lifted the blanket from the basket.

It was barely in his hand for a second before he’d dropped it in shock. Papa gasped, stumbling backward and letting his mouth drop open. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to be inside- but it definitely wasn’t that. A tiny, wrapped up, sleeping little baby.

“What-what the fuck!?” He yelled , slapping his hand to his head. Way, way too startled to care about his paint anymore, “what.. what!!?”

The ghouls were looking at each other, but none of them seemed as surprised. They’d known, of course, what was in there the whole time- from the moment they’d picked it up, the sound of the infant’s heartbeat had been a giveaway.

Copia spun around to them, “what is the goddamn meaning of this!?”

But Dew shrugged, “I feel like we should be asking you that,”

“che cazzo vuoi dire!?”

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious,”

“No it isn’t!?”

“Well,” Swiss leaned forward on the table, “it must be yours.”

“My…..” Copia felt like he’d just hit a brick wall. His stomach absolutely dropped, and he stared blankly at the small baby in confusion and disbelief. “..it… n-no, it can’t be. It can’t be,”

“Why the hell else would it be here?”

“It-It’s not mine.”

“Dude-“

“It isn’t!” Stressed, Copia’s fingers raked through his hair, “It-It just can’t be!”

“Hey, Relax,” Aether placed a hand, soothingly to Copia’s back. Well, about as soothingly as pointed claws can manage, “we’ll figure this out,”

Inside the basket, all the commotion had begun to rouse the sleeping infant. Its hands grabbed weakly at the sheet it was swaddled in , eyes barely opening. Copia just watched. He could hardly breathe.

It… it couldn’t be….

..Could it?

Dew’s tail thumped against Copia’s leg, “why the fuck would someone leave you with their baby if it’s not yours?”

“Can you, please…” Papa groaned. He pulled a chair out from the table and slumped himself into it. “I need… to think for a minute. I just… oh my god…”

Swiss leaned a little closer. Nose angled toward the baby’s hair, “little thing’s super fresh too,” he said, then looked up, “what were you doing nine months ago? Or. I guess. Who?”

Copia remained slumped against the table. He shook his head, “how-how should I know..”

“Nine months ago… nine…” Aeth suddenly snapped his fingers, “We were still out on tour nine months ago,”

The realization settled in on all of them, and all three ghouls slowly turned their heads toward Papa. He was staring blankly at the table, unmoving, stiff as a board but the piercing red that painted his ears was a clear indication that he was in fact, still listening.

“..So, did you..?”

“-on tour?”

“I mean, that’s about right, but-”

“Please.” Copia groaned and leaned back in his chair. His head was pounding, even as he tried to think back to however many months ago, just entertaining the idea that this baby was somehow his had him shaken. What were the chances of this!? He felt… extremely unprepared. “Just… just let me breathe for one moment..”

The ghouls managed to silence themselves, and exchanged looks instead. They weren’t entirely sure how to feel, either. As humorous as it partially was, this was also a very, very serious deal. If this was, in fact, the child of an Emeritus.

The baby made a small, fussy noise and flexed its little hand again. Aether reached forward, allowing it to grab hold of his claw. He smiled, “Cute,”

“Do you think it came from on tour?” Dew asked, and leaned forward on the table beside Papa. The man was quiet for a second, mind running a mile a minute. It was moments until he answered. Quietly, palm against his forehead.

“It’s… it’s not impossible,” he groaned, “but-but unlikely, no? This wasn’t.. I mean, I..”

“I guess you’re a father now,” Dewdrop suddenly slapped him on the back, “Congratulations,”

“Fermare, we don’t know that,”

“There is literally no other reason this baby would be here right now,”

“You know, it’s addressed to ‘Papa’ and not to ‘Copia’, notice?” Aether pointed out, then. He picked the card up, and flipped it around on all sides, as if in search of a clue, “Maybe it came from someone inside the ministry? You know, a congregational member?”

Swiss shrugged, “Yeah, but on tour?”

“Those Sisters who come along and help out backstage?”

“Ohhhh,”

They both looked to Copia, awaiting an answer or reply but he just sat there, blank look on his face. His eyes descended toward the baby in the basket, who was looking at him now, too, and smiling. His heart felt a million things at once, “I can’t believe this..”

“What about a DNA test?” Aether suggested with a shrug, “You know, just to make sure.”

“Yes,” Papa swallowed. It was almost like the reality had started to settle in, and the longer he gazed upon the infant the realer it started to feel. Was it true? Was he really a father now? And if that were the case… who the hell was this baby’s mother?

He felt regret, fear and uncertainty. Guilt. Copia leaned forward, exhaling deeply and covering the upper part of his face with his already paint-stained gloves. He shook his head, mumbling something not quite audible. The ghouls looked at each other. And Dew took a step back, “I’m gonna go get Sister,”

“No,” Copia lifted his head, “Please, per favore, she cannot know about this!”

“What?” The ghoul let out an amused hiss, one of laughter, “You expect to hide an entire baby from her?” He could practically see Papa sweating.

“we-well… eh…”

“They’re gonna know about this one way or another.”

He knew they were right. Groaning again, Copia just shook his head and slumped back in the chair. He didn’t notice when Dewdrop turned and left the room, but even then, he didn’t care. His body felt numb, and he stared and stared at that little bundle on the table. How could something so small carry such a heavy weight of responsibility? He couldn’t even imagine what this would do to his schedule. To his… everything. Copia trembled.

“I.. I-I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby,” And Aether placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it there.

“It’s alright,” He did his best to comfort, “You’ll figure it out,”

“How could this have happened…” Papa shook his head, slowly. And when he turned, and looked up at the ghoul beside him, his eyes appeared damp, “How could I be such an idiot?”

“You aren’t an idiot,”

“The thought of..” He paused, and his lip quivered. Copia turned his head away, emotions hitting him somewhat suddenly. He told him, “...the thought of someone, someone carrying my child, while I am far away, with no idea, no way to care for her, to be there or to help… that breaks my heart,”

“Hey,” Aether continued to pat his shoulder, “Hey, It’s alright. And… besides. She seemed to know where you are, yeah? She left the baby here. So.. if she’d wanted you for anything, don’t you think she’d have reached out?”

Papa hung his head, low. The words weren’t nearly as comforting as they might’ve sounded. Whoever this woman was, she likely wanted nothing to do with him. Nor with the baby, apparently. The longer he thought about it, the sadder he became.

Copia rose from his seat. The baby gazed up at him, eyes wide and curious, and made a small babbling sound. The man sighed, “I don’t know. I don’t know.. where this came from, or what’s going on here, but. We certainly aren’t going to leave it here, and certainly not without a home.”

From the basket, he lifted the little baby, still wrapped and swaddled in its blankets. It was warm, precious, and when its little head lay against him he felt himself melt. He mumbled quietly, “You are certainly adorable..” And brought one finger up to let it grab. The baby giggled, gently when it did and Copia couldn’t fight his smile. “I wonder if you have a name,”

“I guess you’ll pick the name,”

“I guess…” Papa sighed. He only watched, still and mesmerized by the tiny being in his arms, how sweet and sound, and resting on the possibility that this baby was his own. He just couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t. It had been so quick, so sudden. And yet.. after only ten seconds in his arms, Copia knew. If this baby was his… if it was really true. He wouldn’t stop at anything to be the best, the best Papa that he could possibly be.

[modanisgf]

002. HESISTATING

prev | next | masterlist

wc: <1k

if you told haerin only an hour ago that she would be going to the girls basketball practice after school, she would call you insane. she wasn’t even sure right now why she was there, agreeing to something danielle said earlier on impulse.

haerin had walked down the hallway absorbed in her phone, not noticing they were approaching the gym. danielle and aeri opened the doors, the loud nose alarming haerin.

“why are we here?” haerin questioned, receiving confused glances from the two in front of her.

“we’re here to monitor over the girls basketball practice, we wanna see how we need to divide funding this month. i thought dani told you?” aeri said.

“are you serious..” haerin mumbled, ignoring the head shake danielle gave her.

“maybe you should start listening to what i say haerin.” danielle says, sighing.

“you talked to me while i was drafting funding for prom.” haerin deadpans.

“okay well, i needed you to come. i knew you weren’t gonna say yes cause of yn..” danielle says, mumbling the last part.

“she’s practicing right now?!”

“look haerin you’ll be fine, i don’t even get why you hate the girl she’s really nice.” aeri shrugs, “plus you have to be here, you are the treasurer.”

“you’re just saying that cause she’s yizhuo’s friend.” haerin says.

“i’m not..” aeri says, sighing.

“anyways, let’s go in!” danielle says, entering the gym with aeri following.

haerin hesitated to follow her friends, but soon went in picking up her pace in order to catch up with them. she ignored the eyes she felt staring at her, keeping her eyes trained on in front of her.

the trio took a seat in the stands together, them being the last to enter allowing the practice to commence. the practice had a smooth start up, each player working on their shooting first.

unfortunately for haerin, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. the way you played was so smooth and satisfying to watch, resulting you being the star player. you made every shot look easy, and even analyzed your teammates forms to provide feedback.

it was one of the many things kang haerin hated about you, you were extremely good at what you did, years of practice and experience contributing to it. haerin still remembered when she would call you up, only for you to tell her the same thing everytime she asked to hang out.

‘i’m practicing.’

the sentence rang in her head whenever she thought about you, reminding her of how you never set aside time for her.

haerin refocused on watching your team play, trying not to reminisce on the past. she felt her eyes roll when she saw you and ningning cheer each other on, the two of you making the most baskets.

danielle and aeri were talking silently, the conversation now registering in haerin’s brain.

“they’re really good.” danielle states, aeri nodding.

“what do you think haerin?” aeri asks, looking at the girl next to her.

“i agree with danielle, it looks like they’ve been practicing a lot.” haerin says, aeri nodding again.

“so far so good.”

the practice continued smoothly, mainly consisting of you and ningning excelling in each category. little did haerin know, you were trying to get her attention. you never tried this hard in practice, it resulting in you getting pulled over by one of your teammates.

“who’s in the crowd that your trying to impress?” rei asks.

“no one.” you start, “just trying to work harder this season.”

rei just dismissed the conversation, knowing you were lying. she’d probably find out soon, your friends not being the best at keeping secrets.

the practice finally came to a close, the three girls in the stands finalizing their decisions on the budget. haerin wrote all of it down, putting the paper in her binder after.

they all left the gym quickly after that, aeri leaving first leaving haerin and danielle.

“i saw you.” danielle says ominously.

“huh?”

“looking at yn.”

haerin froze, not knowing what to even say to her.

“the way she plays is just satisfying, there was nothing else to it.” haerin says, receiving a unconvinced look from dani.

“you want her so bad.”

“no i don’t?!”

TAGS ���️ (OPEN) — @jayjj7 @saysirhc @sixflame438 @ajjilhan @amourjins @isither @sserajeans @greenniee @isabbellle @gayforalll @leeohknows @airice @yeetaberry127 @l0l44444 @inosfavgf @emphobics @edamboon @s3mz @newhairnewjeans @xen248 @nooneissheree @wintersgff @haechansbbg @gtfoiydlyj

— if your name is red i can’t tag!

[twst-beam]

I see you are in need of prompts, then I shall humbly bestow upon thee some a prompt.

Hmm, what about going to a farmer's market with *insert YOUR favourite character here*? I believe in shameless self-enjoyment when it comes to writing; be self-indulgent. Don't you want to go apeshit?

Also do give your hands a well deserved rest every so often ^v^

ohohohoho you're giving me a lot of power with the YOUR favorite character there dove dear, but alright let's go >:D

Gifts

??? words, featuring my THREE favorite boyos because self-indulgence ftw <3

Deuce Spade

Going to the farmer's market was his idea; the two of you needed groceries, and it just so happened that the farmer's market was convenient for you.

Early morning, it was decided, it would double as a date, and both of you were early risers anyway. It'd also boost the morale of the farmers, Deuce had reasoned, and you fell all over again.

A wicker basket, two, so that you could carry your purchases home, although Deuce insisted he'd carry all of them for you, and you laughed and told him no.

The morning sun shone brightly as you walked towards the farmer's market, feeding a few ducks along the way as you walked by the lake and watching as Deuce's expressions softened every time, it was cute, and he grinned sheepishly when he caught you staring.

The entrance to the farmer's market was marked by a decorated arc, and it was peaceful and fun as the two of you walked around, buying produce and chatting with the stall owners, at one point Deuce was given a comically large round of cheese to carry home when he fought off a bunch of menaces from an old lady's stall.

But the real highlight of that morning was when Deuce found the chicks.

One, two, three, more chicks than he could count properly waddled around in a pen, and with a joke, an exclamation of wonder, and a hopeful confirmation, the two of you brought home two very full wicker baskets and a baby chick that rested on Deuce's head.

Jade Leech

Though he thought foraging in the mountains would have been a better decision for both your budget and experience, he relented when he saw the eagerness in your eyes.

By midmorning, you were dragging him to the farmer's market, chattering about the crafts and produce that could be found, and he smiled despite himself.

He watched as you conversed eagerly with the merchants, calmly observing how you skilfully picked the best produce, and how you looked at the crafts with admiration.

You had just purchased a new scarf, wrapping it around your neck and grinning as you waved at him to come over.

"Jade, Jade, look at this one"

He leans over as you took a scarf from the layed out pile on the table, and widened his eyes slightly as he saw what made you wave him over.

"Mushroom print," you smiled as you showed it to him, "and with the coloration and teal ruffles it reminded me of you"

He took it gently from your hands, noticing how the fabric was smooth but thick enough to warm, and kissed your forehead.

"Thank you, my pearl"

You muttered a "you're welcome", dazed by the sudden display of affection as he thanked the stall owner and payed for the scarf, bringing you out of your reverie.

"Hey, wait a minute, I was the one supposed to pay for that, not you"

Jade grinned, displaying his sharp teeth, eyes glinting with mischief as he feigned innocence.

"You were?"

You huffed, "it was supposed to be my gift for you, for bringing me here."

He leaned closer, scarf now hanging from his neck as he tapped his lips in thought, smirk giving away his intentions.

"Then what about a different gift?"

Rook Hunt

Your expedition to the farmer's market was on a whim, a fancy, a spur of the moment thing, but who were you to complain? the moment his hand held yours you couldn't help but go anywhere he wanted.

So there you were, between the rows of stalls and booths, illuminated by the fairy lights as Rook marveled at each product, generously purchasing trinkets and produce and whatever caught his eye.

You couldn't help but smile as Rook's exclamations of fascination and wonder brought smiles to the farmers' faces, and as you sat he waxed poetic about all the beauties the market provided, and you looked at the moon, content to hear him speak amidst the chatter and bustle of the bazaars.

"...but you know what the most amazing thing is in this place, mon amour?"

You closed your eyes, tilting your head as you emitted a curious "hmm?"

He held your hand, looking into your eyes as he smiled in adoration.

"You."

[purefandomonium]

It's The Thought That Counts-Chapter 1

***Monday Night***

Vince had said his favorite food was lemons. Not lemon meringue pie or lemonade or lemon cake. Just... raw lemons. Rody was no chef—hell, he couldn't boil water without starting a fire. He was unfit and unqualified to be telling someone such as Vincent Charbonneau how to eat. The man obviously ate well enough to stay alive, so Rody really shouldn't have felt so obligated to stick his nose into Vince's lifestyle choices.

As he removes the fourth failed baking attempt from the oven, all smoldering char and dust, Rody starts seriously contemplating his. He lets out a tired groan as he sets the ruined baking sheet aside to let it cool so he can dump the contents into the trash with all the rest. Maybe he should just save up and buy something from a local bakery. 

The thought is dispelled immediately. The whole point would be lost if he just went out and bought the chef dessert. No. He needs to make it himself. He has to surprise Vince with something special. He wants to show the chef his appreciation with a homecooked meal. It's the least he can do, after being given the job and fancy leftovers at the end of each shift. Even if they were a bit on the bitter side. So he flips back to the start of the recipe and gathers up the necessary ingredients once more.

***Wednesday***

Rody can barely hide his irritation anymore. It's not terribly obvious to the customers, but by the end of the day any pretense of friendliness has been drained from him and he's been a tad snippy to the cooks and even Vince himself on occasion. He's stayed up late every night trying to get the hang of this whole baking thing. Cooking isn't worth it; he tried it after screwing up countless baking attempts and after two close calls with a pan fire he decided it would be best not to work with open flame. 

He wants to tear his own hair out. He's bought a bunch of cook books and supplies, learned how to use a mixer, and has put so much time and effort into this and he still can't get it right. The lack of sleep and immense frustration is really starting to catch up to him. Maybe he can pry Vince for alternative recipe ideas and try those. They might be easier than baking lemon-flavored dishes. Or maybe he should just buy a basket of lemons and slap a bow and a 'thank you' note on it.

Ugh. No, he can't do that either. He's already spent the money on the kitchen utensils and books, he might as well make the most of them. He just needs more practice, more time to get this right.

***Friday Afternoon***

Vince still can't bring himself to question Rody about his strange behavior as of late. Whatever has the waiter so high strung, it's clear he's taking it to the grave. The most he can be bothered to do is shrug and remind him he should be working when the questions become a bit too personal. So long as it doesn't affect his ability to do his job, Rody can stress about it all he wants. Even if Vince feels a little uncomfortable seeing the youthful man so restless and tired.

Locked in his office, the chef hums as he goes over this month's budget. He hates this, really he should just hire an accountant. If it weren't for his stubbornness, he'd have found one already. However, he's nothing if not meticulous, which is why the moment he sees something odd with inventory he's lighting a cigarette and cursing.

***After Closing***

"Lamoree."

Rody yelps and spins around to see his boss standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed and frown looking a little deeper than usual. Unease bubbles up. "Uh, yeah?"

His voice is firm. "I need to speak with you about something."

Painfully aware of the time and bummed he can't head straight home after a long day, Rody nods and follows the chef. He's quick to realize they're the only two left in the restaurant; all of the cooks must've rushed out as soon as the last customer of the day paid. He can't blame them, both he and Vince were especially short-tempered today. If his stiff strides are anything to go by, whatever's got him so irritated is still present.

"Um... What did you wanna talk about?" Rody says as they stop at the prep counter. Several papers are laid out atop it. There are a lot of numbers and hard to read scribbles that must be Vince's writing. If this is supposed to mean something to him, Rody doesn't get it.

Vince takes note of the blank look Rody gives the papers. Uncrossing his arms, he points to one. "This is the budget for this month. I was going over it and the estimated inventory costs when I noticed something."

"...Ok?"

"It seems we've been going through certain ingredients faster than anticipated."

"Well, it has been pretty busy lately." What is he getting at? Does he expect him to help budget? Rody glances at Vince and decides that, no, that is not the face of someone looking to give a promotion.

Vince pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to sigh too loudly. "None of the dishes this week have featured lemons, copious amounts of sugar or," he checks one of the papers, "almonds. Those are for next week's menu. As you know, we make everything fresh here. There's also quite a bit of flour missing. More than expected. It seems someone has been 'borrowing' ingredients..."

Rody hopes the heat in his face doesn't turn his cheeks too red. Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding Vince's intense glare, he stammers, "O-oh... Funny that... M-maybe it went bad and one of the cooks... threw it out and ordered more?"

"Lamoree..."

"Or-or maybe it was rats! Yeah... We should, uh, call an exterminator."

Vince has to resist the urge to slap the idiot. The annoyance makes him momentarily choke on his words. "Y... You're not seriously going to stand there and suggest that my restaurant is full of rats and old food."

Oh... Shit. There's no way he's going to come out of this unscathed and still employed. The words begin pouring out before he can make them coherent.

Vince brings up a hand to silence Rody's panicked backpedaling. "Since it isn't obvious enough, I'm asking you about this because one of the cooks saw you shuffle off with eight pounds of lemons this past Monday. I noticed the weird discrepancy with the supplies and costs and asked around." Nevermind how in the hell he'd managed to ride his bike all the way home like that, or how or when he smuggled everything else out. It would've been more impressive if Vince weren't so annoyed at the blatant theft. Does the fool have no shame?

"I can explain!" Rody blurts out.

"I'm listening." He leans back on an adjacent counter and waits for the explanation he's sure will get the idiot fired.

Rody's face feels like the sun. "Ah... Well, it's kind of stupid now that I think..."

"Keep in mind your job is riding on this," Vince supplies, lighting the proverbial fire beneath him. He's almost amused at the way Rody sputters and trips over his own words. Almost. The faint smile vanishes in an instant.

Rody sucks in a deep breath, halts his wild thoughts, and says, "It was for a surprise for you." It's hardly above a whisper. When Vince lifts a brow and leans in with an ear turned to him, Rody curses the universe at having to repeat himself. He forces his voice to be a little louder this time. "I was trying to make something for you. Like you always do for me?" His ears are burning now. He has half a mind to drown himself in the nearby sink.

Vince blinks. Once. Twice. "I... beg your pardon?" Rody wanted to prepare something for him? He can't even remember the last time someone wished him a happy birthday, let alone made something for him. Not that he cares; no, it's just...  The fact that Rody would go through all the trouble. Still...

The awkward squeal he lets out isn't much of a reply, but the poor waiter can hardly save his words from the embarrassment. "Do I really need to say it again?" he manages, hugging his arms tightly across his chest. "I just... thought that I could return the favor. I know you're a chef and all and you don't need me to cook for you and you probably do just fine on your own and-"

"But why lemons?" The look Rody gives him make his chest feel funny.

"...You said they were your favorite."

Oh.

Oh...

OH.

That... well, it did make more sense but... Ok, it was still stealing. He should... He should... Well he should definitely not be feeling...

Why does Rody have to look at him like that?

Fuck.

Cursing, Vince throws a hand over his face at the ridiculousness of it all. He hates the way hope blossoms in his chest. "Let me get this straight," he begins, the appendage still covering his features. "You stole ingredients from the kitchen to take home, all so you could cook something for me?"

"...Yes?"

"Lamoree..." The sigh isn't angry or indignant, only mildly disappointed. Like a parent annoyed their child jumped into the mud because they thought it would be a fun idea. Somewhere beneath that, however, is a small twinge of endearment.

"I'm sorry! Please don't fire me! I promise I'll stop. It was stupid anyway, I can't cook to save my life."

Vince removes his hand to meet Rody's nervous gaze. "What did you try making?"

"I-huh?"

"Forgive me for being curious as to what one could do with eight entire pounds of lemons in the span of a single week."

"Well, burn them mostly..." Rody rubs his arm as he recalls the many molten piles of former food he's pulled out of his oven these past several days.

Vince shakes his head. "You really are something."

"Man, cooking is hard! And baking too! You have to mix everything a certain way or it just ends up gross. Not to mention lemon pies. So many steps to make sure it turns out right..."

A small chuckle comes from the chef as he shakes his head again. "It usually helps to follow the steps, you know." Knowing Rody, he likely skipped a few key parts of the process due to his impatience. 'What's the harm?' he probably thought.

"Ugh... Well you don't have to worry about me stealing anymore ingredients," Rody says with a small groan.

"No. It seems not."

The two stand across from each other, one with an unreadable expression and the other slowly growing worried.

"Wait... Are you gonna...?"

Vince thinks about it, sighs, and pushes himself off the counter. "I'm not going to fire you, Rody," he says to the other man's wide-eyed terror. "I think whatever state you left your apartment in is punishment enough."

It did smell like burnt lemons and sugar in there. He's pretty sure it's seeped into some of his clothes by now.

"However... I do have one condition in exchange for your employment." He lets himself smirk at the waiter's bewilderment.

"...What's that?" Rody questions the sudden look of mischief.

"I'd like to see something by Tuesday next week." His smirk turns into a rare smile at Rody's shocked expression.

"I... I mean, I can try?" Vince... isn't mad at him? Looking back, eight pounds of lemons, a large bag of almonds and several bags of sugar and flour smuggled out of the restaurant probably is a lot of money. And yet, Vince isn't just letting him stay; he also wants Rody to bring something in for him?"

"I think it's the least you can do after you raided the supplies, no?"

"You're not gonna be upset if it's terrible?" While he hasn't made a successful batch of anything as of yet, he can at least say he's gotten better with his failed attempts. Tuesday is a bit of a stretch but maybe he can pull a rabbit out of the hat.

Vince shakes his head. "Just... don't steal anymore ingredients, got it?'

"Yes sir!" He turns to leave.

"Lamoree?" He waits for the waiter to face him once more. "Perhaps try cookies this time. I think you'll find they're much simpler than a pie, especially with your inexperience in the kitchen." He watches Rody nod before exiting through the back door. His mind drifts back to the lemons and he imagines the young fool pedaling down the street, bicycle swaying awkwardly as he tries to keep his balance. Vince supposes he is fit enough to manage.

...The idiot.

***Tuesday Morning***

"Hey, Vince?"

Vince jumps at the sudden call, dropping the chair with a thud. He lets out an annoyed grunt in response and goes to pick it up before positioning it at the table. He'd been too lost in his thoughts to hear the door. "You're awfully early today," he says as he turns to face the waiter. He quirks a brow and glances at the small aluminum tray he's holding.

Rody chuckles uncomfortably and lifts the tray. "You wanted me to bring something, remember?" He tries to settle the shakiness in his arms so the contents stop rattling. "They're lemon cookies. You were right; it was a way easier recipe to follow once I found one." He swallows the lump in his throat as Vince approaches. "They're not the best," he blurts as a hand reaches for the foil covering them. "They're still a little burnt. And I didn't really know how much lemon you liked but I added more than the recipe called for so you could maybe taste it more."

Silencing the rest of his nervous rambling, Vincent lifts the foil off and inspects the cookies. A dozen of them are stacked neatly in the tray. On the top they look completely fine. As he picks one up, however, the bottom is an almost-black that suggests too dark a baking sheet and far too much time in the oven. Still, the consistency is fine and as he takes a bite there's the faintest tingle on his tongue. He can't tell what it tastes like but knows it's lemon because that's the only thing that's ever given him the sensation. Burnt bottom aside, the cookie is chewy and somehow the perfect level of moisture.

To think, the young waiter did all this for him.

If Rody has to stand here and wait for Vincent's thoughts a second longer, he thinks he might explode. Watching him swallow the final bite, he speaks. "Well? How is it?"

For the first time in a long while, Vince smiles warmly. "It's good, Lamoree. A little burnt, but you did very well otherwise. I'm impressed. You did this all by yourself?" Something like happiness fills his chest.

He stands a little taller at the praise. "Yeah! I bought some cookbooks and just kept trying different things. I went through a lot of failed attempts though." And a couple ruined baking sheets.

"That's to be expected. Nobody learns anything overnight and practice makes perfect." The smile doesn't fade as he grabs another treat. This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for him.

"So?" A confused hum is his answer. "The cookies, can you taste them?" He highly doubts that his miserable baking is enough to spark Vince's long-dead tastebuds, but part of him hopes it's true. He's never seen the chef actually smile before and his heart buzzes at the fact that he was the cause.

Ah, right. The entire reason to all of this. Vince's good mood deflates a bit as he contemplates how to break the news to Rody. The waiter is just so proud of himself that he feels bad about having to crush his joy. He takes his time finishing the rest of the cookie. "...Actually..." He buys himself a couple more seconds as he swallows the last bite. "I almost can. It's not entirely there but... I can discern there's something compared to the nothingness I usually get." Perhaps he doesn't need to be fully honest. As Rody's face lights up with glee, he can feel his own face grow warm.

"Really?! You mean it?"

"Yes, Rody, it seems not all hope is lost on your baking skills." A startled grunt escapes him as Rody hugs him tightly. He'd been so quick to set the tray aside and close what little distance there was that Vince had no time to react. By the time his brain catches up to what's happening, the waiter's already releasing him and gushing with excitement.

"I'm so happy you like them! I'm gonna keep practicing until I make something perfect! I'll bring in all my good attempts and maybe you can even put one on the menu!" He pauses as his brain processes what he just said. "I mean... If that's ok? I'll be buying my own ingredients, of course." He hopes he didn't upset the chef again. The look he's giving him is... indescribable.

Vince spends several seconds staring at Rody before realizing he has to respond. The gears churn as he formulates his reply. "I'd be fine with that," is the best he can come up with. Rody seems to take it fine, if a little more subdued than before. Still, he wants to see the excitement decorating his features once more. Even if it's for a moment.

Rody says nothing as Vince picks up the tray of cookies, letting him walk away. He's glad he likes them.

"I'll tell you what, Rody," Vince says as he carries the tray to his office. "If you keep practicing in the kitchen, I'll let you take a few ingredients here and there." For half a second, he debates teaching the newbie baker/cook himself. The thought of working alongside him, helping him, is alluring. But he's not so foolish as to think it would work out. 

He's thankful his back is turned so that the blush remains hidden. It seems Rody isn't the only idiot present today.

"Seriously?" To say he's stunned would be an understatement. He can't believe Vince is being so generous about it, and all because of some cookies? He can't help but wonder if there isn't more to it, but the thought is easily dismissed. Surely, Vince isn't... doesn't...

Nah. He's just happy to have something he can taste for once.

"If you've got time to stand there like a lost puppy then you have time to help get things ready," Vince says to the statue that is the waiter.

Rody snaps out of his thoughts and it's only now that he realizes they're the only two in the restaurant. They had another ten minutes before the cooks shuffled in and another thirty before opening. He should take the time to help get things in order and plan out the seating arrangements, should they get hit with more big parties like the last couple of days. The garbage probably needed to go out too; he'd forgotten last shift.

***

Vince spends most of the day in his office, no doubt gorging on cookies, while Rody spends his time between customers deciding what he should bake next.

Despite the not insignificant amount of ingredients missing, Vincent is quite happy Rody went through the trouble. If it were anyone else, he'd have half a mind to pin them to the wall with knives. But Rody isn't just anybody and the gesture is as sweet as he's sure the cookies are.

He can't wait to see what else his waiter brings.

[hillbillyoracle]

Curiosity Box

So a few years ago, I helped tutor some homeschoolers in history and it forever launched me down the rabbit hole of homeschooling content. One thing I think a lot of homeschooling families do really well is making learning fun and communal and that is something applicable to any age.

I've been seeing video after video about people's Morning Baskets and it inspired me to make an adult version. The goal was to give my partner and I an alternative option for hanging out together without screens that was easy to pick up and put back down so it didn't feel like a whole thing. We don't have to use it - it's simply another option.

These were all from our bookshelves - though I do have a reader of Buddhist sutras for recitation coming as well as I wanted a spiritual component. What works well are readings that have sections. Everything here is either a collection of stand alone pieces or written with natural breaks in the prose.

You can select whatever you like, we just happen to have a lot of classics around but there's nothing superior about them or anything. I think poetry is always a solid addition though. Very easy to read one or two of.

More than a few of these came from discount books stores and other budget book options. But if you don't have any money at all, I'd suggest hitting up your local Little Free Library or simply putting in some library books that you don't pressure yourself to read all of.

I also included a Question Jar I made on our first Valentine's Day. It's just a jar with a bunch questions I printed off, cut out, and rolled up like fortunes in a cookie. We keep the old ones so we can use them again and see if our answers change. Basically free to make if you've got printer access. It's sparked so many good discussions over the years and I recommend it.

Currently, we're reading Kafka's Metamorphosis and we're surprised by how darkly funny it is. Much better than we remembered.

I'm considering adding some quick games we can play and some fidgets. I also thought having a feelings wheel and a check in prompt all lamenated up might be helpful since we both struggle with alexithymia.

Live alone? I still recommend this. I grab the Uncle John's Toilet Reader all the time solo. I used to use question prompts for getting to know myself when I lived solo. Throw your tarot cards or a journal in. It's still nice to have your screen alternatives all in one visible spot.

[lordgrimwing]

First Meetings #08 / At The Park #02

Heavy clouds hung over the park as Celebrían parked the minivan in the dirt lot dotted with a handful of other vehicles. The clouds rolled in about an hour ago, contrary to the very optimistic weather report that morning of sunny skies and highs in the low eighties. Despite the threat of rain, Elladan and Elrohir insisted they still wanted to go to a park, so here they were: picnic basket packed and dressed for a potentially wet adventure. 

(sixteen-year-old Arwen declined the invitation to the soggy outing, citing hanging out with friends later as a reason to not risk getting muddied)

“Here we are,” she said to the twins as she turned off the van.

“Woohoo,” Elladan cheered as they undid their seatbelts and scrambled out of the vehicle. 

Oh, for the enthusiasm of ten-year-olds, Celebrían thought with a shake of her head. She got out of the car, retrieved the picnic basket, and headed for the covered pavilion. The boys could run off some energy in the field or on the playset before lunch and before the rain started, with any luck. She’d reassess the situation after eating to see if they should head home yet. 

The park was nearly deserted, not surprising with the gloomy weather. The only other person she could see was a guy with long pale hair sitting on a bench near the hill that went down to the duck pond. She picked a table under the empty pavilion and sat down. Reaching into the basket, she retrieved her computer. She would put it away when the rain started, but until then she wanted to review the family’s budgets. The kids teamed up earlier in the week to ask their parents to please let them go on a fun trip before school started again. Elrond and she were currently in the phase of discussing what was feasible, both financially and logistically.  

The wind picked up slowly, prompting her to zip up the light coat she brought with her. Looking up, she saw the twins on the swings, seeing who could go the highest. 

The first fat drops of rain plunked against the aluminum roof as she finished and put the computer away. The wind blew the drops sideways as they fell, but her spot in the middle of the covered area wasn’t at risk of getting wet provided the wind didn’t get much fiercer. Looking up again, she didn’t see the twins (they probably went down to the duck pond), but the guy reading on the bench was walking toward the pavilion, shoulders hunched against the elements, book tucked under one arm. 

“Hello,” she said with a polite smile as the elf (she hadn’t been sure before but she was now) settled at the other table that wasn’t starting to accumulate little puddles on the bench.

“Hi. I suppose the brown-haired boys are yours,” he said, voice lightly accented.

“Yes,” she said, unsure where this was going. Conversations with strangers at parks were usually about mundane things, but sometimes someone (usually an elf) had opinions about her family based on her children’s ears. This guy, with so much hair he must spend at least half an hour on it every morning, looked like he might be one of those who wanted to air their narrow view on interracial marriage. 

He continued, oblivious to her thoughts. “They’ve joined my kid hunting for frogs in the pond. If he has his way, they won’t be back until they're soaked, but maybe yours will be a moderating influence.” He laughed a little to himself.

“They don’t mind the rain,” she said, relaxing. “Lunch is waiting, though, so that might sway them.”

“Ah, stratagem.” He set the book on the table, giving up any pretenses of going back to reading rather than talking. He pivoted on the bench to look at her better. She noticed opaque scarring in his left eye. It was a little surprising but she didn’t stare. “Should never go on an outing with kids without a way to entice them to come back when it’s time to go.”

“I guess so.” She suddenly imagined making a snack trail back to the car like some kind of fairytale. 

There was a pause in the conversation as she brushed the ridiculous thought aside and he looked out through the rain toward the hidden pond.

When her thoughts were mostly called back from their fanciful trip, she asked, “Where in Doriath are you from?”

He looked at her, mild surprise showing on his face. 

Oh, was she wrong? She’d spent enough time in the country while growing up that she was fairly confident in her ability to recognize the regional accents, even if she couldn’t quite place where each was from anymore. But maybe she was wrong this time. She opened her mouth to apologize for assuming—it wasn’t any of her business, anyway.

“Most people don’t guess with that much confidence,” he said mildly.

“My father’s from Menegroth. I spent a lot of time there on and off when I was young,” she explained, hoping he wasn’t offended by her assumption. She really shouldn’t have phrased it like that or asked at all really. Growing up, she’d moved to so many different countries to follow her mother’s career that she was inured to asking and answering questions about where people were from. It wasn’t like that for everyone, of course—her experience was a bit unique. 

“Sorry, I should have at least introduced myself before asking that,” she said as the rain began pelting down harder. “Hi, I’m Celebrían.”

“Hello, Celebrían.” He pronounced her name in the same way as her father did. “I’m Thranduil. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“How familiar are you with the country outside the capital?” He asked, apparently willing to go back to her original question.

“A bit. I spent a summer in Nan Elmoth.”

He contemplated her for a moment. “I lived in West Region. More recently, I’m from a few miles south of here.”

She’d been to East Region once to see the eponymous holly trees blanketed in snow (Celeborn later said he never would have forgiven himself if she’d missed out on the classic Doriadhrim childhood experience of hiding in the natural snow forts formed under the trees’ low branches), but the holly was probably what the region was best known for outside of Doriath so she wasn’t going to blurt that out.

“Oh, nice,” she said instead. “I think I have a great-aunt who lives there.” Then, because he’d pointed the conversation to where he was currently from, “it was a bit of a drive out here for me, but the boys wanted to come here again.”

“It’s a nice park,” Thranduil agreed. “There’s a trail, about a mile long, from here to an artificial wetland full of frogs and bugs. Legolas is a fan.”

Legolas must be his son. “Thanks, that’s nice to know. I had no idea.” That could come in handy when it came time for the twins to make bug collections for school.

Just then, a blond head peaked over the hill from the duck pond. A small boy came into view, soaking wet, with mud plastered to his shoes and bare shins and what looked like pond weed in his hair. Elladan and Elrohir came just behind him, windbreakers zipped and hoods up against the rain. They were also wet but clearly from the rain and not from playing in the muck of the shallow pond.

“Legolas,” Thranduil called to the little boy, who couldn’t have been much older than seven or eight. Despite his youth, he had long hair like his father (though more wavy than straight) that would take a considerable amount of time to get clean again. “Where’s your backpack?”

His hands came up as he spoke, and Celebrían realized he was signing. Was his child deaf?

Legolas pointed a muddy finger at Elrohir, who did have the strap of a red backpack flung over one shoulder. His hand then came up to wiggle in front of his face.

Thranduil snorted. “No, you’re silly,” he said, repeating the sign.

Celebrían stood up and unpacked the picnic basket as the three children arrived at the pavilion. They’d made lunch meat and cabbage sandwiches before leaving, Arwen pitching in too lest her brothers create some horrid combination (and so she could eat the pickle slices). There were carrots and apple slices, too.

“How was the pond?” She asked as Elladan and Elrohir plopped down on the bench.

“Super fun,” Elrohir reported. “We saw a lot of frogs and minnows.”

Elladan nodded in vigorous agreement as he bit into a sandwich. “Legolas knows all kinds of stuff about frogs. Don’t you?” He said through a mouthful of bread, good-naturedly nudging Legolas (who’d sat down between the twins instead of going over to his dad) with an elbow.

“Frogs,” the little elf murmured, his hands coming up to form more signs.  

“Frogs are his favorite,” Thranduil said, scooting to the end of his table so he could see his son better. He watched his hands move. “He likes the sounds they make and how they swim.”

“Did you catch any?” Celebrían asked. 

Her sons shook their heads, mouths full. Legolas’s eyes widened and then he shook his head vigorously and looked at his dad.

Smiling, Thranduil said, “We don’t touch frogs. We could make them sick or hurt them if we aren’t careful.”

A little bemused, she unwrapped her own sandwich as Legolas waved Elladan and Elrohir down to his level to whisper in their ears. The rest of lunch continued in a similar manner, part in signs and part in whispered conversations. She offered food to Thranduil—who politely declined—and Legolas—who shook his head and dug around in his flimsy backpack to retrieve a battered peanut butter sandwich.

The rain let up while they ate and talked, the sun suddenly peeking out bravely from behind the clouds. Thrilled, Elladan and Elrohir cleaned up their trash so they could go play again. Legolas jumped up to join them.

“Wait,” Thranduil said, snagging a dangling strap on the backpack that his son had put back on after eating his lunch so he couldn’t run away. “It’s about time to go.”

The child’s face fell. He raised his hands. Celebrían tried not to stare at the signing, but it was interesting to see how expressive the boy’s face was. He was plainly asking a question, even when there was no tone of voice to listen to.

“We can go now or stay ten more minutes, but if we stay then we won’t have time for the library today. Which do you want?”

Staying won out, and Legolas ran off after the twins who’d stopped halfway to the playground when they realized he wasn’t following them.

 Celebrían watch them go together to play. “Well,” she said, starting to put away the leftovers. “Your son is sweet.”

“He has his moments.” Thranduil’s tone suggested ‘moments’ meant ‘every moment of the day’. “What are your boys’ names, again?”

She’d said their names during lunch but wasn’t surprised he hadn’t caught which was which. “The one in the blue coat is Elladan. The one in green is Elrohir.”

“Elladan and Elrohir. Legolas likes them,” he said with a contemplative expression. “He doesn’t normally use his voice this much, especially with strangers.” 

She didn’t say anything to that. During lunch, she realized the child wasn’t deaf, but she felt like she’d risked putting her foot in her mouth enough today so she didn’t ask about it. She was curious, but that didn’t give her leave to ask personal questions. Elrond got so frustrated when strangers kept asking questions about his parents because he was visibly mixed-race. Even if questions were asked innocently, it wasn’t anyone’s responsibility to explain their existence. 

The ten-minute limit drew close.

Thranduil pulled a notebook and pen out of his pants pocket. He tore out a page and wrote a series of numbers down before offering it to her. “This is my cell number,” he explained. “I think Legs would really like to play with your kids again.”

She took the paper and slipped it into her coat pocket. “Sounds possible. I’m always looking for excuses to get them outside.”

He stood and dusted off his pants. “Right. I’d better go, or we will end up being late. I look forward to hearing from you, Celebrían.”

“Have a good day,” she said by way of good-bye as he picked up his book and headed for the playset where the kids were racing up and down the slides. 

She would talk to Elladan and Elrohir on the drive home and find out how they felt about setting up a time to play with Legolas again.

[mariacallous]

Serbia is seeing a growing trend of poverty that disproportionately affects women, particularly single mothers, retirees and those living in rural areas. This ‘feminisation of poverty’ limits their ability to participate actively in civic life and democratic processes.

“What can you do with 23,000 dinars?” asks Emilija* derisively about the 196 euros a month she receives as a welfare recipient.

Sitting on an improvised couch in front of a house constructed of pallets, boards and tarpaulin, the flag of the Roma people hanging above her head adding some colour and vibrancy to the otherwise gloomy exterior of the place she calls home, Emilija, 25, answers her own question with a shrug: “Almost nothing”.

Emilija and her friend Nada*, 31, live in an informal settlement on the outskirts of Belgrade made up of shacks and containers. Emilija has three children; Nada has five.

“We wait a whole month for the money and end up spending it in one day,” Emilija tells BIRN. “For example, when a child asks for a toy, or when we go out with the children, a child is a child and will say, ‘Mom, I want this’. But he can't have it; that's very hard for me.”

Nada finds it difficult to afford food because it’s now very expensive. “Sure, I can find clothes [in bins], but sometimes you have to buy something,” she says.

And if they do manage to buy something, they rarely get anything for themselves. Menstrual pads, a product that is taxed as a luxury item in Serbia, put a huge strain on their budgets, especially for Nada, who has a teenage daughter.

And it is proving almost impossible for them to find a job, they tell BIRN. “This is not an environment where you can leave your children behind. I would like to work, why not? It’s easier for men to find manual work, but as women we have to make a choice, we have a house and children to look after,” says Nada.

Emilija tried to find a job a few times, but it is difficult for women like her given that they will lose their social welfare if they get a job, and none of the jobs on offer last long enough to enable them to stand on their own two feet.

“I worked in the countryside a few years ago. And I worked in the Gallery [a shopping mall in Belgrade] as a cleaner. They paid 750 dinars for three hours [6.40 euros]. I would get 27,000 dinars a month, but they would not pay the whole amount at once. They give you half and keep the other half for themselves so they do not ‘lose’ you,” says Emilija.

Sarita Bradas, a psychologist and sociologist, tells BIRN that Nada and Emilija epitomise what she terms the “feminisation of poverty”, where the poverty rate among women is higher than among men because of gender inequality in all its various guises.

“To get out of poverty, you have to earn an income. To earn an income, you have to be employed. And of course, whether you are poor or not also depends on the amount of income you earn,” says Bradas.

Uneven playing field: the gender dimension

Emilija and Nada are just two of the 89,024 women who receive social assistance in Serbia, out of a total female population of about 3.4 million. According to data provided to BIRN by the Serbian Ministry of Labour, Employment, Veterans and Social Affairs, women make up more than half of all benefit recipients.

A welfare recipient receives a monthly payment of 11,674 dinars, less than 100 euros. Additional benefits are paid for other family members and children, but according to the basis for determining the amount of social assistance, a family of three (mother and two children) would receive about 18,000 dinars (153 euros). That is three times less than the amount needed for the minimum basket of goods in Serbia.

Data from Serbia’s Statistical Office shows that women of all age groups, except for those aged 55 to 64, are at a higher risk of poverty compared to men. And last year’s report from the EU’s Commissioner for Human Rights found that employed women hold lower positions even in the public sector or are less likely to be employed on a fixed-term basis, even when they have higher levels of education. The report also expressed concern about longstanding gender inequality in property rights.

In Serbia, only 25 per cent of women have property registered in their own name. The reason for this is that women are excluded from the order of inheritance in favour of male family members in more than 40 per cent of cases; on the other hand, only 0.5 per cent of men are excluded in favour of a woman. The situation is even worse in rural areas, where more than 80 per cent of women do not hold any property in their own name, while the rest typically have plots of land less than 2 hectares that are not intended for housing.

Sarita Bradas, the psychologist and sociologist, tells BIRN that the gender gap in employment is most pronounced in the group of unqualified and uneducated people. By way of illustration, Emilija has only completed four grades of elementary school, while Nada is currently in the sixth grade of elementary school for adults.

“Among women, 39.4 per cent have no qualifications, compared with 29.1 per cent of men,” she explains.

In terms of education, Bradas says the data shows that uneducated men are more likely to be employed than uneducated women. “63 per cent of men without a degree are employed, compared with only 40 per cent of women. Men are more likely to be employed in jobs that do not require qualifications. They have easier access to the labour market, regardless of their level of education, with these differences decreasing as the level of education increases,” she says.

The gender dimension is also evident in the informal sector. This sector includes the self-employed, undeclared workers, moonlighters and unpaid family workers. “If you look at the structure according to this status, 70 per cent of women are among unpaid family members, while this figure is 25 per cent for men. This means that 75 per cent of men earn an income from informal work, while only 30 per cent of women do,” explains Bradas. “As a result, they have no income and are more at risk of poverty.”

As far as social welfare recipients are concerned, women are rarely able to earn an income because they have to stay home and look after the family. “You should bear in mind that people in developed countries can live on social assistance. But here, a family has less than 20,000 dinars (170 euros). What can you do with 20,000 dinars? Can you buy food, not to mention anything else?” asks Bradas.

For Nada’s five children and Emilija’s three, the chances of escaping this vicious cycle of poverty are slim.

“The probability of attending college is 11 times higher if the parents have a high level of education than if the parents have only completed elementary school. Children from these lowly educated families are poorer, have no money for education, and of course poverty reproduces inequality,” notes Bradas.

“On the other hand, we have the problem that children from marginalised groups and poor families have almost no support for education. In rural areas, children are involved in the work process from a very early age in order to support their families,” she adds.

Man’s work for women

Even where women are employed, the discrimination is all too evident.

Mirjana is 51 years old and works in a factory that manufactures electronic components for the automotive industry. It is a physically demanding job that she describes as “man’s work”, though the factory mainly employs women.

Despite the tough nature of the work, Mirjana tells BIRN the salaries are pitiful. “Those who work on Saturdays and Sundays are paid more. I got 61,000 dinars for the whole month after 13 years, without a single Saturday. But there is also a hot meal, there are also bonuses. The hot meal is 5,000 dinars a month. One bonus is 3,500 dinars; another is 1,500 dinars. If you have Saturday and Sunday, then these bonuses are higher,” she says.

Mirjana puts up with it because she’s a mother, but feels sorry for the younger women who work there. Her daughter also worked there for a while, but left.

The long-term health consequences of working at the factory are serious. “I get injections in my elbows. I was in the hardest part of production, where women work on knots, bend their fingers, break their joints. After eight years, I had no more functioning elbows – my arms were cramped. As we were pulling the cables, I got a hernia. It’s not harmless at all, it’s not easy,” Mirjana says.

She reckons 90 per cent of the older workers are sick or injured. “One colleague suffered a vertebral fracture while pulling the system and now has screws in her neck. She’s still working. We also have colleagues who have had spinal surgery, where cysts and tumours have formed due to the physical exertion, because we all hold our hands up all the time. The women return to the line after operations,” Mirjana complains to BIRN.

There are several factories in Serbia that produce secondary raw materials and components. Most of them have received state subsidies to open their plants here. These companies mainly employ women. In March last year, two female workers died within a short period of time in two of these factories. As the media reported and their families testified, both women had shown symptoms of exhaustion, but were sent back to work even after complaining. No irregularities were found during the inspections.

Lara Koncar, an anthropologist, tells BIRN that the position of women in the labour market is unfavourable compared to men, which keeps them in a state of poverty and subjects them to different types of bullying and abuse in the workplace, including sexual abuse.

“Poverty is not exclusively due to economic relations. It also has to do with relationships between partners, kinship and family, among other things, which is especially important when women are affected by family violence… If you are in a situation where your freedom of movement in the labour market is definitely restricted, you are very likely to stay in that situation because there is no possibility of getting a job elsewhere, and that will keep you in a situation of bullying,” she says.

Koncar says women suffer many types of bullying and abuse in the workplace. There are the hidden forms of bullying, such as the inability to advance in the workplace. “We know what happens to… women who return after maternity leave, that they often return to their own position but that the advancement that was supposed to follow does not happen,” she says.

Nada Padejski, head of the Safe House for Women in Novi Sad, also sees a clear link between violence against women and their financial situation. As she explains to BIRN, this can be viewed from three angles.

“Firstly, economic dependence influences whether you leave the perpetrator or not. Secondly, whether women with a lower economic status in particular are housed in safe accommodation. And thirdly, how violence in general affects the housing and economic situation of victims of domestic violence,” she says.

Padejski says it is not uncommon for women to be unemployed precisely because of the influence of the violent offender. “In the sense that he says: ‘You do not need to work, there are two small children here, why should they go to kindergarten, it’s better to stay at home, I will give you money’. So, she stays at home with the child, they are both housed and looked after. But when violence escalates, it always turns out that the woman is unemployed and doesn’t have the right to say anything,” she says.

Padejski also cites cases where women have had to take out loans to pay off their husbands’ debts or to help them start a business, only to be left with nothing.

Padejski emphasises that domestic violence leads directly to homelessness among women. Without permanent housing offered in Serbia as a social protection service, a woman who has decided to leave a violent relationship often has nowhere to go.

“Most of these women have two or three jobs and have not made the property claim they applied for because the process has either taken too long or has not yet been completed, or they have not even started it,” she says.

Property law proceedings are also lengthy, complicated and disadvantage women. “The courts do not take into account the fact that there has been domestic violence when deciding on property law proceedings. No woman ever receives everything she has invested. The abuser usually does not pay maintenance. If she files a lawsuit, it takes too long, or it’s not paid properly, or her lawsuit is dismissed,” she explains.

Looking at the example of Novi Sad, Serbia’s second-largest city, the data shows that women rarely initiate property division proceedings – and even when they do, the courts are unlikely to rule in their favour. From 2019 to 2022, there were 2,551 divorces in Novi Sad, yet during the same period, women initiated only 17 property division proceedings, with judges ruling in favour of women in only six cases. By contrast, during the same four-year period, as many as 367 proceedings were initiated due to non-payment of child support.

Feelings of powerlessness

“Powerlessness,” Padejski concludes, “contributes to the reproduction of powerlessness.”

Mirjana, the factory worker, wonders how she can convince her children that Serbia is a good place to live, when no one, not even the mayor or state officials, speak out when workers, especially women, are clearly being exploited.

At the same time, there is a public pressure on those who are being exploited to participate in the democratic processes of the state, by staying informed and voting for change.

Bradas, the psychologist and sociologist, says that demanding the poor and marginalised bring about political change is deeply unfair. “What I resent about the so-called elites is that they blame the poor for selling their votes and warn that it is a crime. Poverty is a violation of human rights – that is the basic thing,” she says. “If you are focused on surviving and looking for any way to do that, you do hard jobs, you work in harsh conditions, for low wages to survive, and you cannot think that your vote is important. Your life is not important in this society, so who cares about that vote?”

In his first speech as prime minister earlier this year, Milos Vucevic of the Serbian Progressive Party (SNS) devoted a large part of his speech to women – but not as equal members of society, rather as “sanctities for every patriot”.

“A woman must always be shown due respect, because she is a symbol of renewal, birth and victory. A woman brings new life into the world, and that makes her a being who is actually most like God,” Vucevic said.

Although he vowed that “women in Serbia will have the same rights and the same starting positions as men”, he emphasised the government is not interested in trying to creating a society of “equal incomes”.

“This is not and will not be a government that will promote the ideas of self-managed socialism,” Vucevic stressed.

Serbian President Aleksandar Vucic has also spoken several times about the importance of women for the state and for SNS, estimating – without providing evidence – that more than two-thirds of the women who voted in the last elections supported SNS.

How much support women have received in return is open to debate. Between 2021 and 2023, for example, Serbia fell from 19th to 38th place on the Global Gender Gap Index.

When it comes to asking for their support, however, women interviewed by BIRN say the authorities don’t hesitate. Emilija and Nada say that “people from the ‘city’” come to their settlement before every election to warn them that if they don’t vote, they will be fined.

Asked if they receive any gifts or offers of assistance when asked to vote, they both reply: “Not this year.”

“But we did get them in the past, honestly, they even gave us as much as 3,500 dinars,” Emilija tells BIRN. “They give us a pen, we sign with that pen, return it, and then if you return the pen, you get the money.”

Nada says they both voted this year too, voluntarily, even though they didn’t receive anything in return. “We voted. Who else are we going to vote for and how? Vucic will win for sure. We have our own problems on our doorstep, we don’t have to worry about him too. Authority is authority.”

*Names have been changed

[cakesexuality]

by unpopular demand, I'm back! We're throwing a giant costume ball in a fancy castle for Halloween. The grander the better. There's no budget constrictions to take into account, the world's your oyster, tell me, what would you go dressed as? How would it look? Does the party have a theme? If you were to host it what'd be the vibe? Where are you usually found at in parties? 😊

Oooh another Glitter Ask Sunday Monday

Using a cut because this got long and I even used pictures to illustrate some of my points

A costume I've wanted to do for a long time is inspired by a photo I once saw on Pinterest where two people were dressed as Spyro and Cynder from the Spyro games, so they had the horns and wings and everything, except they were in prom dresses as well, and I've been wanting to do one like that as Spyro, except in a more casual dress, or, like, as a girl from the 90s, since that's when the Spyro games first came out

The account that I pulled this image from is Breanne Messner, but I don't know if that's one of the people in the photo

I have more Halloween decorations than places to put them, so I would bust out all my decorations and then buy more, so long as the castle has room! I have big light-up spiders with bendy legs, a tinsel spider who I call "Disco Spider" and she hangs from the ceiling, a big haunted house candle holder, a metal bucket candle holder with a cat's face cut out of the side, a ceramic jack-o-lantern candle holder, a string of small paper lanterns with jack-o-lantern faces on them, a sign that sticks into the ground that says "Trick or Treat" with a purple owl on it, a trick-or-treating basket shaped like a cat's head with glow-in-the-dark eyes that I keep on the table and it always has candy for everyone to take, string lights of spiders and their webs dangling, a bunting that's actually a bunch of bloody murder weapons... and there's probably more that I'm forgetting. I could carve a bunch of pumpkins and set them around the whole place -- I don't typically do this because we live in a very small town in the middle of nowhere and don't feel like attracting trick-or-treaters with outdoor decorations because we wouldn't get many, if at all.

Don't worry! This is an electric candle so I'm not heating up the shelf above the candle holder

The closest I've ever come to having a themed Halloween party where the theme wasn't just "Halloween" was in 2015 when I hosted Halloween high tea. (One of the guests tried to correct me and tell me it wasn't high tea, as if I hadn't just been to an English tea room a few months prior where my England Mum called it high tea.) If I'm remembering correctly, I had whipped out the owl-shaped teapot my England family gifted to me. I made cupcakes that looked like zombie heads with the brains exposed, little cucumber sandwiches like what I had in England at the tea room, and I think scones or American-style biscuits? (There is a difference between scones and American biscuits and I will die on this hill)

My England Mum bought this behind my back at the same time I was buying her rabbit socks behind her back

If there was a theme at the castle party, it might be zombies? Just because one of my favourite shows is about zombieism as a chronic illness and one of my favourite video games is about mushroom zombies. If I went with this theme, then I would skip on the Spyro costume and go with being a zombie, though I would have to decide if I wanted to have partially deceased syndrome (an excuse to break out the white contacts) or cordyceps brain infection (a chance to learn some new makeup skills).

Me in cosplay as Kieren Walker

At the castle party, I would probably be setting up the TV for people to watch a show like In The Flesh or Courage the Cowardly Dog, watch a movie like Halloweentown (I don't have a video link for Halloweentown specifically but I do have one for DCOMs in general) or Silent Hill, or to play a video game from my collection like Resident Evil 4: Wii Edition or Silent Hill 4: The Room -- since it's a big castle, there's probably enough space for three TVs and we could have a TV room, a movie room, and a video game room. I would probably have a device somewhere with music playing, some Halloweeny songs such as Sally's Song by Amy Lee (or the original version by Catherine O'Hara) or Howl by Florence + The Machine and some year-round bops such as Planetary (GO!) by My Chemical Romance or Celebrity Status by Marianas Trench. (These examples are based on what my friends and I would listen to at parties in high school.) Sometimes at parties, I organise non-video games, like the time I had a Doctor Who-themed birthday party so we played Doctor Who Risk in the basement, or the time I helped host a Halloween party near a big park with a bunch of trees so we played "live-action Slender" as we called it (a game of tag where one person is "it" and the other players have to collect as many pages as possible before being eliminated by the one who's "it" or before the timer goes off).

A sampling of some games I have that might be appropriate for Halloween -- yes, these are all single-player, but it's sometimes just as fun to watch your friend play a game as it is to play it yourself

A few years ago, I discovered how much I like making nerdy/themed cocktails, so I would probably also be making Halloween drinks for anyone who wants them. Not sure what Halloween or horror cocktail recipes I have (aside from Camp Crystal Lake, which is gross because the Rumchata curdles when it mixes with the other ingredients) but we can probably come up with something! Perhaps boozy hot chocolates or some kind of drink with raspberry Sourpuss. Of course, I would have non-alcoholic drinks, too! Maybe I'll put on coffee and offer my pumpkin spice creamer, have some non-boozy hot chocolates available, and/or make something with grenadine.

The cocktail I got at the Halloween drag show on Friday along with my last five for tipping the artists

For food, I would probably offer pizza, cupcakes, candy, pie, and more!

A picture I recently took for Instagram of my turkey Ulana getting herself a slice of pumpkin pie

And of course, I would send everyone home with a goody bag or goody box! One of the parties I hosted in high school had goody boxes shaped like haunted houses and contained such things as bouncy balls that look like eyes and jelly beans in the Halloween colours

No picture to go with this one 🤷‍♀️ I was gonna put the goody boxes I made my best friends this year, but they both follow me here and I don't want to spoil it for them 🤫

[crawlspacefics]

Hey,

I don't know if you know a lot about cars or not but I've compiled a list of cars of what the senshi would drive and you can tell me what you think.

(If you can look it up if you want)

(This is also going to be a long one lol)

Usagi- Newer Volkswagen Beetle because she thinks it's cute

Ami- Toyota Corolla or Honda Civic. She prefers something reliable and economical.

Makoto- Toyota FJ Cruiser or New Ford Bronco because I see her as an off road driver who enjoys exploring.

Rei- Probably something that runs and drives but I would lean her towards something that is cheap and practical while still enjoying it. Probably a Mitsubishi Lancer Evo or a Subaru Impreza WRX Hatchback.

Minako- Something cool like a BMW M5 F10 (Rip water pump lol) or 2012 Mercedes SL-Class (Rip engine due to trashing the shit out of that car lol)

Michiru- Something fancy yet practical such as a Mercedes E-Class Wagon Diesel or Volkswagen Passat 4Motion.

Haruka- Sport cars obviously lol. I would think a BMW M3 E46 Convertable for daily driver and Volkswagen Golf R to take Hotaru to school while still looking cool lol

Hotaru- Haruka's Golf but Michiru would get her a Toyota Yaris to start but if she doesn't want it, then she's going to get her own car lol.

Setsuna- Anything that runs and drives lol

I love this question! 🌞🚙 (Though I warn I'm not a knowledgeable car person and most of this is based on aesthetics. Also, I'm adding to, not disagreeing with your choices. I like the Yaris!)

Usagi - I agree on the newer Beetle Bug. She needs an automatic, it would be pale yellow with cute glitter decals on the windows and a pink license plate frame. I'd even say she has a pink fuzzy steering wheel cover and some kind of cute pink seat covers. There would be a little crystal hanging from the rearview mirror.

Rei - I feel like I'm being mean to her, but Rei has a faded 1977 Red Gremlin hatchback with the white stripes. It runs (and not much else). And she can shove a dozen people into the hatchback if she really tries. She's no frills with this and also refusing to take anything from her father even though he could have/maybe offered her a nicer vehicle.

Ami - this one was harder. I actually see her on a scooter with a cute little basket on the front. Pale blue with white details and a matching helmet. But, if she were to get a car, it would be a Smart Car. Same pale blue with white details and a little black cat decal on the back window. She's getting her transportation to take her from point A to point B without really thinking of passengers. If it's more than just her going anywhere, the other person is driving. Or alternately, a dark blue Prius.

Makoto - my girl has a small, budget-friendly pick-up truck. Specifically, a Chevy LUV (manufactured by Isuzu). Fading baby blue with a rust spot on the hood and a pink plastic flower hanging from the rearview mirror. She keeps an old wooden crate in the bed to throw stuff in and has a flowered license plate frame. Alternately, she gets a classic Bronco. There's still a wooden crate in the back.

Minako - my party girl gets a party vehicle. A bright sunny yellow VW Bus with polished chrome. It's a bitch to park in Tokyo but she loves it. It has a hippie stoner look but only because Minako loves the aesthetic of all the rainbows and colors and peace sign stickers. There's a blue bird figure glued to the dashboard and she pats its head every time she gets in. Fuzzy dice! Artemis has his very own customized cat seat slung over the front bench (it can be relocated if he wants to get in the back to get away from the commotion of the entire crew on a road trip). She has a custom license plate - SAYLAV

Haruka - like you said, definitely sport cars. And more than one because she married really well. 😁 I definitely see her going with mostly modern cars, like day one off the assembly line. There's a Porsche involved. But there has to be a classic 1965 Shelby Mustang in there somewhere. White with a dark blue racing stripe. She would not besmirch her car with decals. LOL

Michiru - she's going for classy and high end. I had to look some of these up because I'm not familiar with high end 😅, but I could see her in something like a Lexus LFA as her everyday driver. But I'm also giving her a high end modern Jeep for fun, like when they go on trips to the mountains. It is teal. Because she is girly.

Setsuna - she's going for basic use and reliability. Cadillac XTS in dark burgundy.

Hotaru - she'll inherit Michiru's Jeep and have it repainted purple. 😎

[anipgarden]

Cheaply Starting Seeds

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

Having a high-quality seed-starting setup can feel like an ultimate but distant dream. An entire shelf--an entire room, even, filled with grow lights and plant trays in the optimal setup to make tons of plants? Tons of garden tools, each with a diverse and dedicated purpose? That’s just not an option for some of us. But that doesn’t mean we can’t get started at a low cost!

Seed Starting Set-Ups

Speaking from a somewhat biased Floridian perspective, I’ve had great success starting seeds outside! My usual set-up is on a rarely-used outdoor patio table that’s moved to a sunny spot in the yard, but I’ve even grown seeds in solo cups on sidewalks, or directly in the ground, with great results! 

Some seeds grow best when they go through a cold period before germinating, while other seeds aren’t affected much by it and just wait for warm weather. As such, a viable option is to sow your seeds in late fall, let winter roll by, and wait until the seeds sprout on their own come spring! I would try and mark off where you planted said seeds, so you don’t lose track of them and accidentally dig them up.

Alternatively, if you want to get started while it's cold outside, a popular option I've seen is to grow in milk jugs! There's a lot of different ways to do it--everyone has their preference--but if you're already drinking things like milk or juice or sweet tea, and you're going to get jugs at some point in time--why not use them for gardening?

An easy way to clear up a section of lawn to create open gardening space is by using a sheet mulching or lasagna gardening method (though I like to call it the Cardboard Snuff-Out). Place cardboard or newspaper down in fall/winter to mark out where you want to garden. Layer compostable materials like grass clippings and wood chips on top of it, or potting soil/bagged compost. It’ll decompose over Winter into an organically rich bed that’ll have killed the grass and weeds underneath it. You don’t have to break out any tools and sweat over it come spring, and the cardboard itself will slowly decompose as well!

Though it's often recommended to plant things directly into the ground to decrease watering needs and increase nutritional independence, there’s plenty of reasons you may not be able to. Whether you’re renting, living in a place without a yard, or even just can’t or don’t want to break ground in a yard, you can still help biodiversity by growing in pots. Some plants have rather extensive root systems and aren’t well suited for pots, but there are still plenty of options available for plants that’ll boost biodiversity, be beautiful to look at, and grow just fine in pots! A recommendation is to get a larger pot, if you’re able, as it’ll hold onto more water and need watering less often. Not only are potted plants great for providing food for insects, but they can be shelter for other creatures too--there’s been a good few times I’ve moved a pot and found a frog or toad living underneath it.

If you don’t have room for pots on the ground, you could consider using hanging pots or window boxes! These can be great and easily-maintained options to provide food and habitat for insects and birds in an urban living situation like apartments or townhouses, but they can also be a fun way to add even more habitat to an already-robust home garden. You can even make an entire mini habitat in a window box or pot! I can personally say I’ve seen tons of pollinators visit my yearly hanging basket garden that consists of about five to seven plants, and I’ve always loved the idea of having a window box for blooms right out my window. Just make sure that it’s safe--make sure they’re securely fixed, and that whatever they’re hanging from can handle their weight when they’re freshly watered and loaded with plants. 

If you want to start indoors, you don’t necessarily need grow lights or heat mats (though it will make things a bit easier.) I’ve successfully grown milkweed, peppers, tomatoes, zucchinis, and even sprouted lemon seeds in college dorm rooms, and kept tomato and pepper plants in a dorm room on a sunny windowsill. For the most part, you need a nice and sunny window, some kind of container, and a source of heat (in my case, I used anything from a space heater to the warmth of my laptop running nearby. If you don’t have any sunny windows, or enough windowsill space to start plants on, its possible to obtain cheaper grow lights. One year, my mom bought me some gooseneck grow lights that could clip onto things for cheap off of Amazon. (Fair warning, though, they did light up my entire room in purple. I lived alone that year (covid year, my roomies bailed), so it was fine, but it was kind of trippy,)

Another year, when I was in an apartment on my own, I bought a grow light modeled like a normal light bulb from the lightbulb aisle in Lowe’s and put it in my desk lamp. Growing seeds indoors can make them grow fast and leggy, so it’ll help if you can keep a desk fan on them so they focus on growing strong instead of tall and fast.

If you’re fortunate enough to have a friend with a nice set up, you could see if they’re willing to let you borrow some of their space to start your own plants as well! My set-up in college was by no means High Class, but I was still more than willing to start seeds for my friends who asked!

Containers for Seed Starting

So now that we’ve talked starting seeds indoors and out, we need to address what to start them in. It’s important that whatever you’re using has drainage holes, and be large enough to support your plant (starting something like milkweed or a squash in a tiny little pot won’t yield great results). Fortunately, there are options here!

If you’re looking to buy pots, Dollar Tree will sell some small plastic pots for cheap in the spring! They’re kind of thin, and won’t last forever, but they’re great for a few uses and don’t cost a lot of money. Something that’s a bit more pricey but are longer-lasting, in my experience, are the Burpee SuperSeed trays. They come in different sizes, but I’m fond of the 16-cell trays--they have silicone bottoms and are made of a nice solid plastic with a tray to hold water, so they hold up for a long time and are easy to clean and reuse!

Burpee seed tray, my beloved.

What’s better than a cheap pot? Free ones, and there’s plenty of options there! I’ve seen people use toilet paper or paper towel rolls as pots by folding the bottoms in and have it work well for them! I think this method would work best if you had some kind of tray to keep them moist, because mine dried out fast last time I tried this method. I’ve also seen people make pots out of newspaper with a few different methods, and the people who use this method love it--apparently, the roots pass through the paper easier and it decomposes faster when buried, so you can just transplant the whole pot and avoid any kind of transplanting shock. If you don’t have any newspaper on hand, you can likely ask your friends or neighbors! 

I’ve gotten lots of mileage from reusing old containers by poking a few holes in the bottom with knives or scissors--just be careful while you’re doing it! I, personally, am more likely to use an already-used solo cup for it--they’re a nice size, so they hold a good amount of soil and moisture and give the seedling a good amount of root space. I tend to write the plant information on the side of the cup in sharpie marker, or on an index card in pen. I’ve also heard of people making use of egg cartons, fruit containers, yogurt cups, milk cartons, soda bottles--the more you start thinking about what you could easily poke a hole in, the more options start coming around!

This photo may be from 2018, but I'll still regularly reuse cups like this! They're also great for cuttings!

As you start planning to move your seedlings into the ground and preparing planting sites, you’ll likely need a few tools to do it! How do you get these? You may be able to borrow some tools from a neighbor! As long as you make sure to return them in good condition, depending on how friendly your neighbors are, they might be totally fine with you borrowing their tools for awhile. If you don’t want to take that route, there may be a tool library you can borrow from, or a mutual aid group that can loan you tools for awhile. Either way, borrowing tools is cheaper than buying them--though, if you do have to buy tools, cheap hand-tools from Walmart or the dollar store work just fine. They’ll even last a good while if they’re taken care of when not in use! I've even seen places like Ross sell some tools and pots in spring!

Spotted in a Walmart gardening section by the registers, 2023.

Of course, your mileage may vary with these. I genuinely cannot think of the last time my house got a newspaper, and as I've mentioned I don't have to worry about snow. Similarly, maybe you don't use plastic cups when you can help it, or don't have a particular affinity for eggs and yogurt. Maybe there isn't a tool library in your area--I sure don't know if there is in mine--but it could still be worth poking around and asking a neighbor!

That's the end of this post! My next post is gonna be about ways to support your plants for cheap--we're gonna be talking compost, mulch, and trellises. Until then, I hope this advice was helpful! Feel free to reply with any questions, your success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!

[joy-drops]

this mf long so don't tell me i didn't warn u

been in a rut for over a year

something something autistic burnout

idk the cause or the solution

just trying to survive each day as best i can

easier said than done when everything that brings me joy (ha) is behind a pay wall

that's capitalism baby~

found out fauna is going to the only anime convention i can attend on a reasonable budget.... but im already so broke....

I'd shell out the cash (debt) if it meant guaranteeing a spot at the meet and greet but they might not release info until too late when plane tickets are unaffordable ;_;

i wanna look forward to something because sustaining my sanity on retail therapy and getting high definitely is losing its effectiveness

brain always returns to the loneliness. i know its crippling but how much of my struggle is from that and how much is from my disability... they're both invisible which makes it hard to tell

would having a partner help that much? my gut tells me yes since ill have motivation to live if i have someone to share existence with but that feels like putting all my eggs in one basket and setting myself up for an unhealthy relationship

i like to think i won't fall down that path of toxic codependency like i have in the past tho im not crazy confident based on my track record

Which reminds me I've realized how appealing polyamory sounds to me but I'm terrible in groups I feel like I'd be overwhelmed with more than 3 (including myself) tho who knows what can happen

REGARDLESS i guess i gotta talk to people and make friends since i am incapable of socializing with the intention of dating (trust issues yippee)

i wish i had a crush at the very least. i bring this up often but i fucking miss the feeling of legitimate interest and attraction towards someone

How do I meet someone, become comfortable enough with them, and ultimately find a partnership that satisfies my insane desires???? maybe I'm putting the cart before the horse? Tackling too much at once? Something like that...

Imma be real the only reason I'm active on here is another mechanism to cope with this loneliness (akin to listening to asmr for instant happy brain juice + with the added benefit of "putting myself out there")

My strange fantasy that I'll meet people on here like I did years ago and magically hit it off

AAAAAAUGGHHHHH how did I do it back then it seemed so easy what happened to my social skills (trauma, probably)

How is it I work 2 days a week and am still drained constantly? when will I be free from sleepy bitch syndrome? it's like I've been running on fumes for the past year WHEN WILL I HAVE THE WILL TO LIVE AGAIN

i miss having someone to talk to frequently about everything

i have my besties but unfortunately knowing there's no sexual or romantic attraction there makes it hard for me to get past these barriers?? Is that weird? I wanna be able to be intimate with someone and close but for me that's intrinsically tied to sex and romance. I'm overflowing with platonic friendships to the point where I had to cut off a bunch and leave many people I care about hanging because I simply have no energy to exist anymore

I've been doing my best each day but it only gets harder

The only thing I have energy for is getting high and living inside the fantasies my brain can muster as a means to cope with how lonely I am

I dream of being hugged, of someone touching me, of being accepted for all my flaws and reassured that my existence isn't shameful. I live for the day these might become reality

Since as long far back as highschool I've yearned for intimacy

Physical intimacy specifically since the most I've done is hold hands and lil cute things like that I CRAVE SKINSHIP UNLIKE ANYTHING ELSE

Anyway if anybody made it this far hi feel free to confess ur undying love 2 me