#I'm going to compost it or something

[dreamytfw]

Question for y'all: is this fic any good? Can't decide if I should I read it or sell it to a 2nd hand book store.

[night-raven-tattler]

Can you offer me a nice shirt in this trying time?

Summary: The usual shenanigans leave you with an unwearable shirt. All you can do is ask your friend (?) for help.

Characters: Leona, Jade, Epel, Malleus and GN!Reader (separate, platonic adjacent...?)

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and mild panic over the dirty shirt

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Looking at your pathetic expression akin to a kicked puppy while you tried to cover your dirty shirt made Leona burst into laughter, even after you just stepped on his tail

You looked away, flustered, not even wanting to recount the embarassing turn of events that just happened

But you didn't need to; Leona heard it all

He heard you from the other side of the botanical gardens talking with your friends, who started bickering with each other

Things got a bit physical in a playful way, but none of you really expected to shove each other so hard you all crumbled to the ground like a ridiculous domino

And the only thing you could be glad for was that you missed the pile of compost nearby

And now you were in front of him as he quite enjoyed your flustered state

"I wanted to apologise for stepping on your tail, you know. But I changed my mind."

Leona's laughter turned into snickering as he wiped nonexistent tears away from his eyes

"If you don't want me to laugh, then stop acting like a clown."

You stomped your foot, which made Leona look at you

"This is serious! I have no other clean shirt and class is going to start soon. So you can either help me or give me an idea or leave me alone."

Something in Leona's eyes changed at your words: his mocking aura went away slightly, and you could almost hear what he was thinking

Still thinking about class after being dragged in dirt? Damn goody-two-shoes.

"Alright, I'm doing this just this once. But if I catch you play in dirt again, you're on your own, you damn warthog."

Leona put a hand in his pocket, then tapped his foot

To your surprise, the dirt started vanishing from your outfit right away

All you could do was stare at Leona, mouth agape

And he stared right back at you

Until his smile turned into a frown in a secons

"What are you waiting for, a kiss on the cheek? Just go to your class already."

You just frantically nodded and scurried away from him

...just to return a few seconds later and leave, in fact, a kiss on his cheek

He just stared at you while you awaited any kind of reaction beside his resting tired face

"...Forget what I said about not helping you. Next time I'll shove you into dirt myself."

That reaction seemed to satisfy you enough, as you took your leave right after his threat

『••✎••』

Working at the Mostro Lounge had its ups and downs

Ups: the job is on campus, the place is always looking for workers and it's one of the best paying jobs on campus

Downs: one of your coworkers is Jade, and the other is Floyd

They'd be relatively nice coworkers if they didn't take their sweet time with helping you while enjoying every second of suffering from all living creatures

Like they did when you tripped on your way to a client and spilled the drink on yourself

They just watched for a few seconds how you panicked over the dirty shirt and the irritated customer

Jade came and dragged you away a few seconds too late for your liking while Floyd started on another drink against his will

You had no idea why Jade led you to the Lounge's changing room, but his smile did not calm you down at all

After all, Jade was very talented at everything except of being reassuring

He left you on your own for a few seconds, coming back with a new uniform shirt, which he handed to you

"This is a replacement for your dirty shirt. Please get changed so you can resume your duties."

You stared at Jade suspiciously

Was he handing you a shirt just like that?

He accepted your silent confusion for a few more seconds before his smile widened, showing his teeth

"What is the problem, Reader? Perhaps you require my assistance with getting changed?"

No matter how hard you frowned at him, the blush was not making your disdain too effective

"What? No! That's not it!"

"...So you're saying you would not refuse my services if that were to be the case?"

"I- no! Ugh!"

Even while you hid your face in the shirt you knew he was still giving you that annoying grin

"You're saying I can just change into this? Without any payment or punishment?"

Jade gasped and put a hand over his chest, feigning offense

"What an incredulous accusation, Reader. I can assure you that no consequences will follow you needing another shirt for the remainder of your shift."

"..."

"..."

"...Are you sure?"

"Certainly."

You knew better than to trust any of the tweels, but you supposed you'll cross that bridge when you got to it

Besides, being MIA on your shift might make Azul take thaumarks out of your paycheck, and you didn't need to manifest that kind of outcome

"Fine, I'll take it. Please leave so I can change."

"As you wish."

So he left you in the empty changing room, a hint of a blush still on your face

You knew getting revenge on any student at NRC was a bad idea, but you couldn't help but imagine "accidentally" spilling some cherry juice on Jade's dorm uniform

『••✎••』

Cleaning duty in the library was not fun, but at least Epel knew how to make things entertaining

He wasn't a comedian or anything like that, but his Vil-themed tirades were always animated and gossipy enough that they had you hooked on his every word

Or every word that you could understand, at least

And a complaining storytelling Epel is not the most careful Epel

So you were not too surprised when he spilled some ink on your sleeves

"Hey, my shirt! You spilled ink on me!"

Epel noticed the big stains and his eyes widened

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

"What am I gonna do?! I have no clean laundry today!"

While you were frantically pacing around, Epel was staring at the floor, not being able to meet your eyes

"Hey, come on... It's not that bad. See, it's just a small stain!"

The death glare you threw his way rivaled Vil's, and Epel took a step back instinctively

"Okay, okay! I get it, let me think..."

A few seconds of contemplation later, Epel went to the window and looked outside

"Hey, Vil is having a club meeting outside right now. He must have a stain stick or a spell or something."

"What about cleaning duty?"

"Just go deal with your shirt and come back when it's clean. I'll put away all the old ink in the meantime."

After Epel's convincing, you relented

But now you had the perfect opportunity to show off your newly aquired NRC thirst for revenge...

Let's just say that Vil was very thankful you told him about Epel's attitude towards your stain while he dealt with it....

Epel did not talk to you the next day

Except for that time during lunch when he came towards you with a bitter expression and some comically overfilled pockets

When he got next to you, he shoved his hand into one of his pockets and, with difficulty, pulled out 5 stain pens

"I hate you."

That was all he said before walking away

『••✎••』

During your days as an NRC student you've learned a lot of things, including facts about the weather

1: The weather will always be nice on the date of the monthly scarabinelle debates in the courtyard

2: The statue of the King of the Underworld from the courtyard never got wet from rain

3: Unlike his statue, you were not waterproof

Neither was your shirt

So by the time you reached the Hall of Mirrors, you were soaking wet

You marveled at your misfortune right as Malleus entered the room through the Diasomnia mirror

His mild surprise from bumping into you made him almost not notice your predicament

"...Child of man? What happened to you?"

You sighed and told him you were caught in the rain, but you had no clean change of clothes and were feeling pretty cold already

"Hm. This can't do. Humans are very fragile creatures, a simple soak can leave lasting effects on your body.

Malleus seemed to fall deep in thought, as if he was presented with an incredible puzzle, and not the random misfortune of a friend

He nodded to himself, and you were curious to know the conclusion he reached

"Allow me to help you."

You sighed of relief at his decision

Out of everyone on campus, you trusted Malleus to be genuine and helpful, so you accepted his help

You didn't think much of it when he pulled out his magical pen from his pocket; you figured he was just going to use a small drying spell

Boy were you wrong.

Malleus rotated his pen slightly in the air, creating an ever growing wind

The speed and intensity of it grew very fast, and you had to grab onto a pillar to hold yourself in place

You watched in horror how a few students were pushed by the wind back into their mirrors as soon as they entered the Hall of Mirrors

You couldn't even attempt to do any damage control, since the wind was too loud for your voice to be heard

After what felt like forever, Malleus' wind started to dwindle and your feet were able to be on the ground again

"That... That certainly was a method of helping."

"Well? Was it successful? You seem pretty dry to me."

He smiled proudly at you

It was obvious how he knew that he did a good job and he was simply awaiting your praise

You patted down your uniform, and were surprised to notice your uniform was, indeed, dry

"...Yeah, actually. Thanks!"

"You are very welcome."

His smug words were carried by his confident grin as he proudly marched away from you and out of the room

The whole interaction was definitely weird, so you couldn't help but share it over lunch with your friends, Ace and Deuce

After you shared Malleus' small drying machine job, Ace started laughing at you, while Deuce put a hand on your shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face

『••✎••』

[norrisradio]

PRESSED BETWEEN PAGES

LINE BY LINE ᝰ.ᐟ "If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever." - Lord Alfred Tennyson

ᝰ PAIRING: yuki tsunoda x reader | ᝰ WC: 1.4K ᝰ GENRE: fluff!!! mention of one (1) fight, yuki is in love ᝰ INCOMING RADIO: turns out me and a have a shared favorite quote! i'm a big lover of the language of flowers so this one is special to me ꨄ︎ requested by @hello-car-fandom !

send me an ask for my line by line event.ᐟ

Yuki doesn’t say much when you change the flowers.

It happens quietly, usually on a Sunday. The kind of slow morning where the sky hangs low and the light in the apartment turns golden for no reason at all. Sometimes he’s just getting back from a run, shoes damp with dew, shirt clinging to his back. Sometimes he’s on the couch, scrolling through lap data, one leg tucked under him and his hair still damp from the shower.

You move through the room like it’s something sacred—plucking limp stems from glass jars, fingertips stained with water and wilting green. On the kitchen counter. By the window. Once, tucked inside a toothbrush cup by the bathroom sink.

You never make a big deal out of it. Just hum under your breath and hum again when the new bouquet unfurls its petals under the faucet. It’s the only way you really keep track of the seasons, you told him once, hands full of lilacs and eucalyptus. When you don’t have time to notice the air changing or the daylight shifting, you trust the florists to do it for you.

He listens to that in the back of his mind, files it away. Like how tulips mean spring. Daisies mean rain is coming. Marigolds mean you’re starting to sleep with the fan on again.

He never says anything when the old ones go. Just watches as you slide them from their vases, one by one, and lay them gently into the compost bin. The petals fall apart in your fingers sometimes, thin and papery. The stems bend too easily. They’ve softened with time.

But when you leave the room—off to take a call, or switch on the kettle, or pull laundry from the dryer—he moves.

Softly. Like it’s a secret. Like he’s doing something wrong, though it never really is.

He reaches into the bin, fingers threading through damp coffee grounds and orange peels until he finds the stems. Not all of them. Just one. Maybe two. The ones still holding their shape, even if their color has started to fade.

❀˖° THE TULIP - APRIL °˖❀

The front door creaks open with the soft click of a key turning too carefully, like he’s afraid to wake the walls.

Yuki drops his duffel bag quietly just inside, his shoulders stiff from the flight, neck aching from hours spent tilted awkwardly against the seat. Tokyo rain clings to the sleeves of his hoodie, tiny dark circles blooming where it soaked through.

He’s barely taken a step inside when he sees you—curled up on the couch, arms folded tight against your chest, knees drawn in like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. You’re asleep, mouth parted just slightly, hair falling across your cheek. The TV flickers with the low hum of some late-night rerun, casting moving shadows over the blanket tangled around your legs.

He moves quietly, kneeling beside the coffee table. That’s when he sees the bouquet—still wrapped in brown paper, tulip heads peeking shyly from the fold, pale pink and a little bruised around the edges.

The receipt is folded underneath it, timestamped from hours ago. You must have picked them up right after your shift. You must’ve waited.

Yuki swallows around something that tastes too much like guilt and gratitude and everything in between. He should wake you. He doesn’t.

Instead, he touches one of the tulips lightly, presses the soft edge of its petal between his fingers. He smiles, just a little. Then he stands, pads over to the kitchen, and pulls an old mug from the cupboard. Fills it halfway. Snips the stems like you always do.

By the time you stir awake, groggy and blinking through the television static, the tulips are standing tall in the center of the kitchen table, catching the soft, early light of dawn.

You don’t even notice the single tulip missing from the bunch.

But Yuki does. He presses it between the pages of an old notebook that night, the faintest scent of your waiting still clinging to its petals.

❀˖° THE DAISY - JUNE °˖❀

The clouds break with no warning.

One second it’s thick summer air, heavy with sun and the low buzz of heat, and the next it’s thunder cracking over the buildings and rain hitting the pavement like applause.

You don’t even flinch.

Yuki’s still drying his hair from a post-run shower when he hears the balcony door slide open. The curtain lifts with a gust of wind, carrying the scent of wet concrete and ozone.

When he walks into the living room, towel draped over his shoulders, he freezes at the sight of you—barefoot, already soaked, arms outstretched like you’re trying to catch the sky in your hands.

You laugh—head tipped back, eyes closed—spinning once on your heel like a kid. Your white T-shirt clings to your sides, and your hair sticks to your forehead in wet strands, but you don’t seem to care.

“It’s raining,” you say, like he hadn’t noticed.

“I can see that,” he replies, deadpan—but he doesn’t pull you back inside. He leans on the doorframe, watching you twirl barefoot on the slick tiles, lightning stitching its way across the clouds.

There’s a tiny jar by the railing with a single daisy, already sagging under the weight of the water. You must’ve grabbed it from the little garden box, some spontaneous, sunlit moment made permanent in glass.

He’ll take it inside later—after the sky clears, after you’ve come back in, dripping and radiant, tugging him by the wrist to dance with you in puddles.

That night, while you’re brushing your hair out, back turned to him in the mirror, he plucks the daisy from its jar and slips it between the pages of a half-filled journal.

Even months later, it still smells like summer rain.

❀˖° THE MARIGOLD - LATE AUGUST °˖❀

The silence after the argument feels like its own kind of noise.

Yuki sits at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, fingers knotted in his hair. You’re in the kitchen, pretending to do dishes, though all he hears is water running and not much else.

Neither of you meant for it to go that far. The fight was stupid—about groceries, or maybe laundry, or maybe the way he sometimes shuts down when things get hard. You’d raised your voice. He’d left the room.

Now it’s sunset, and the apartment glows with that soft, golden hush that only comes once a day, like the light is trying to forgive everything it touches.

When you appear in the doorway, your expression isn’t angry anymore. You’re holding something in your hands—a marigold, still bright, pulled from the vase on the table.

You walk up to him slowly and offer it out, wordlessly.

He looks up, meets your eyes. Then he laughs—quiet and a little embarrassed—and takes the flower from you, twirling it once between his fingers.

“I was an ass,” he says.

“You were tired,” you reply. “So was I.”

He tugs you down beside him, your thigh pressed against his. The marigold rests between you on the bedspread, its orange glow catching the last of the sun.

Later, he pretends to be asleep while you make dinner. He slips the marigold into a folded napkin and places it gently in the spine of his notebook.

It smells like apologies and soft light and the feeling of coming home again.

Each flower is carefully flattened between the pages of an old notebook he keeps zipped up in the lining of his suitcase. He doesn't need to label them. He remembers. Which flower came from which Sunday. Which week you couldn’t sleep. Which day you laughed so hard you spilled water all over the counter.

Sometimes, he tucks one into his pocket before a flight or race weekend. It crumbles a little each time he does, but it’s still enough. Just a whisper of the color, the shape—of you.

You never notice.

Or maybe you do. Maybe that’s why you started tying the stems with twine now, something softer and easier to unwind, like you’re giving permission. Like you’re saying, go on, take this one too.

And he does.

Quietly, always.

[leupagus]

Guys I Might Have Three Nickels

I've been watching "Agatha Christie's Marple" for the past few days and it's pretty good! Marple adaptations all tend to have a better caliber of actors than a lot of bog-standard mystery shows (looking at you, "Madame Blanc"), and while Joan Hickson's Marple is right up there with David Suchet's Poirot and Jeremy Brett's Holmes as "literally can never be beaten, these are the best anyone's done it," both Geraldine McEwan and Julia McKenzie do a fantastic job as Miss Marple.

Then I got to "The Secret of Chimneys," Season 5 episode 2

and guys

Guys

So there's a murder of a viscount, like there is, and this detective Finch rolls up and immediately spots Miss Marple (in her NIGHTIE! standing at the window like some kind of hussy, honestly Jane) and doffs his cap to her with that little smile that makes you go, "huh."

At this point I've watched a couple dozen Miss Marple episodes where she goes through detectives like wildfire and this guy's supposed to be a "*guru*" so I'm expecting some battle of the egos or something and like, Stephen Dillane is great! But bleh, I might have to skip this one.

Then my dude asks Miss Marple to SHOW HIM THE BODY, with a pleased little smile at her as she goes "uhhhhhhhh but my knitting?" (He even does that thing where you use someone's honorific and wait for them to give you their name, and that's when I was like "ohhh this bitch knows exactly who she is.") What follows is what I can only describe as a meet-cute in the secret passageway where the viscount was shot (and in fact the body is STILL THERE) and where Miss Marple literally asks the police equivalent of "is there a Mrs Finch" and he looks at her like this:

At which point I'm like "ohhh my dude not only knows who she is, he deliberately came here without a sergeant so he could draft her," and sure enough he just starts...handing her pieces of evidence like "hey babe can you decipher this note for me thanks love you" while Miss Marple is like, "this approval and camaraderie coming from a cop... not sure if want."

Next is a series of romantic strolls through the gardens while they discuss murder, during which Finch reveals his undying love I mean his research into Miss Marple and the "dozen case files" of her previous exploits that he's collected like some deranged fanboy. Miss Marple responds to this by BLUSHING LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL and stammering about how pish tosh it's nothing really, and I couldn't find a gif of it but he's staring at her like this:

Yeah I bet u r tempted

He also makes a half-hearted attempt at negging her "amateur sleuth" status, only to then immediately assure her that he makes like, so much money being a big fancy detective and can keep her in all the yarn and garden seed she could ever desire.

There's also a late-night tryst at the compost pile right after Finch has been (mildly) poisoned and Miss Marple is like "men are so weak" as she roots through the garbage for clues.

Not how he wanted their first date to go D:

The next morning there's another murder which: bummer, but also allows the two of them to read love letters together and for Finch to give Miss Marple the following look as she explains how secret assignations among lovers can "quicken the ardor":

Miss Marple then goes onto solve the murders and btw hands over the priceless diamond that's been literally missing for two literal decades that she found in her spare time. The entire scene features Finch looking at her like this:

After the dust settles, Finch and Miss Marple have a lovely moment where he calls himself "another one of your casualties," then super casually mentions that he's probably going to have to go on assignment to use the diamond in a daring international espionage case and I can't decide if he's asking Miss Marple to go with him or simply trying to show her that he is cool and smart and would make an excellent wife, but either way the episode ends with her turning him down and Jane, we need to talk about your priorities.

Anyway I've already written 2K about the subsequent 10-year epistolary romance these two have following this episode because I make poor choices.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Cain (p3)

Tw: Violence, Cain is a mean asshole, he is also mentally unstable, lost his shit in this chapter; smashing furniture and shit. This is just abusive relationships man, yandere themes. Reader is gender neutral. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is part 3

Click here for part 4

Click here for part 1

Days turned into weeks, into months. You've let this stranger live in your apartment rent-free. But you don't think he's a freeloader, because you noticed that whenever something runs out at home, be it eggs, toothpaste, or your favourite snack, it magically replenishes itself. But you knew Cain was behind this; you barely go to the grocery store anymore because it just keeps getting replaced with new versions of it.

You know that he's not paying any of it. The first time you went grocery shopping with him and saw him with the duffle bag, it had a purpose. His stopping by your shopping cart every so often had a purpose; his being a jerk about people looking at him also had a purpose.

You deduced all that when you came back that day and found that there were duplicates of every item you bought in your pantry and fridge. You weren't hallucinating, you weren't going crazy, you didn't pay extra. Cain stole a copy of what you lawfully bought that day.

Asking him about it (no matter how gently) will make him yell at you for being "ungrateful", "picky" and a "Stuck-up asshole", and make him storm off to "cool down" somewhere else on earth. He would come back either injured or with a whole bunch of random valuables, which would disappear the next day. Being the kindhearted person you are, you wanted to think that Cain returned the items to their rightful owners.

Regardless, Cain still replaces your favourite cereal whenever it's running low.

He still maintains his quirk until now: refusing to eat anything unless you take a bite or sip out of it first. You don't have to worry about cooking too much and wasting the leftovers, or eventually finding out that you don't like the dish. Because Cain is like your compost bin, he would just eat it for you.

He doesn't cook. You found that if you left nothing behind, he didn't get to eat that day... or so you assumed. But either way, you made it a habit to cook a larger portion so he could be fed too.

Conversations are few and far between. You know virtually nothing about the man aside from a few fun facts: he likes keeping his hair red because you caught him one day dyeing his hair with a box dye in your bathroom. You thought that you're going to get kicked out or yelled at because it might be an embarrassing situation to be seen in, but instead, upon noticing that you're there, he said:

"Go piss or shit. I don't care." while applying dollops of dye to his hair in front of the sink mirror.

You said that you do mind it very much, you want your privacy.

"Then hold it in. I'll get out when I'm done." He said so nonchalantly.

Other than that, he's surprisingly respectful in his own way. You thought you would need to do everything yourself on top of taking care of a grown man. But Cain learns. He observes you and, most importantly, does what you do to keep this household afloat.

He noticed that you would clean the dishes a few hours after the meal. Cain would do the same thing, just an hour before you're expected to get up and do it.

He noticed you would take out the trash whenever it filled up, which used to be weekly before he came along. Cain would take care of that before you do.

He noticed that you would stress over the bills and how much it has risen since he came into the picture. And there was the question of your mortgage, too. You're too scared to start charging him rent, fearing that he might not take it well, as he seems to be the type who does not like explicit directives.

However, it seems like he would pick up on it. You would find extra cash that is sometimes speckled with some red liquid. And these aren't chump change either; they can go up to hundreds of dollars, usually enough to cover all your bills and give you a bit of fun money.

He would put them in places where you would absolutely find them, but it's an objectively strange choice. You found a rolled-up stack of hundred-dollar bills in your shoes once, five dollars in the shower caddy, twenty dollars taped to the inside of your uniform (scratching you as you put it on), eighty dollars under your pillow... Asking him about his choice to do this leads to the same angry rant about how you're looking down at him and not appreciating his efforts.

Out of all the places, you don't think that he has ever put cash in your wallet. But with the help of Cain, you managed to get yourself a brand new phone and made the mistake of getting him one too. To which, he took great offence until you framed it as your thankfulness for his efforts around the house. And it was a token of his appreciation. Only then did he accept it without speaking any further.

He's unfortunately not too much of a tech wizard, often leaving them at home when going out for long periods. The way he acts made you wonder if he's someone from the 90s being brought forward into the present.

Cain also had an effect on your work life.

You don't think you have missed a bus anymore, as Cain had the balls to block the doors and force the bus driver to wait for you.

Whenever you're doing the closing shift, he would be there to escort you home. And it was the safest you've ever felt, despite feeling embarrassed when you think Cain is being unnecessarily hostile to innocent people who just "appear" unnerving.

You had an idea to try and get Cain to work alongside you. In hindsight, that was a terrible idea. Surprisingly, Cain agreed to it. Since this is a small town, your boss favours you; he had no problem getting in without an interview or even a background check.

He got fired and banned from the establishment on his first day.

A woman in her mid-ages complained to Cain that her coffee wasn't done well when he had followed all the instructions to a T. She has complained that it wasn't hot enough for her, despite it being at a temperature that can burn. You don't know what set him off that day; maybe it was the ridiculous nature of her complaint, or maybe she reminded him of his many foster mothers who neglected him.

To your horror, Cain decided to splash the cup of coffee against her face. She screamed in pain and fell to the ground. Raising his voice, "Fucking hot enough now, isn't it?"

Cain walked out of the cafe with eyes all on him; it was a miracle that no one was recording. And it was an even bigger miracle that you kept your job, the woman didn't press charges, and neither did your boss. You, of course, apologized profusely to them.

The woman screamed about suing them all, putting Cain behind bars, and closing the cafe down. But you never heard from her again, not even a subpoena. You thought she had a change of heart, and such a nice woman for forgiving everyone.

You expressed your thoughts about it, and Cain kept his lips sealed. He also didn't want to look you in the eye. Perhaps he's feeling remorseful?

You had no idea what happened to your bicycle; it disappeared the day you got your new phone. Asking Cain about it will just earn you a huff and silence. Pressing him about it will get you yelled at for being a dumbass and potentially being part of the statistics of idiotic bicycle deaths.

You think he sold your bicycle.

But it's alright, because he made it up to you by getting a Roomba. You don't know how that is the equivalent of your bicycle, but in his mind, he thinks it is. It was one of the things he's actually proud to present to you, and you didn't have the heart to express anything less than gratitude.

You have to admit that it's quite interesting and fun to watch the small robot just scutter around the room. You would catch him doing that, too, and he doesn't seem to care that you're there, unless you stare at him for too long and not at the Roomba.

Laundry is a strange ordeal with him. There is a Laundromat nearby, and he would always be the one to do it. Whenever you tried doing your own, he would hiss and snarl like a wild animal before snatching it away from you.

As it turns out, he just likes watching the clothes spin and spin through the windows of the front-loading washing machines and dryers. You deduced that it's almost meditative to him, because he would be at his calmest in the laundromat... as long as no one keeps his eyes on him too long.

You even joined him one day, sitting next to him and watching the hypnotizing spin. He paid you no mind, but you knew that he was aware of your presence, as there was one time someone tried striking up a conversation with you. Only for the stranger to be met with Cain's snappy attitude, no one dared to approach you after that.

All seems well. Even though it felt like you were walking on eggshells around him at first, you quickly learned his unspoken, sacred rules and easily maneuvered this strange friendship you have with him. You think Cain is perfectly integrated into your life, and he seems content either sleeping on the couch or on the floor.

He never asked for more, but you're sure that his back is probably killing him from sleeping like a shrimp. So you made the change from a regular couch to a sofa bed, and you made sure to clarify that you're doing this for yourself. Cain didn't object to it, which you can safely interpret as approval.

And approved he did, he was the first one to try out and explore the new piece of furniture. Cain hogged it entirely, using it as a bed and also a shelf, having items randomly placed as if they're soft plushies- you noticed that he's a bit of a hoarder with the random jewelry and items he brings home. He wouldn't encroach on your cabinets and drawers, save for that one portable closet you bought online for him. It was empty for a few weeks until he got the hint that it was for him to put his own stuff. And boy, did he really utilize it.

He doesn't verbally express his gratitude, but you know that he's not taking whatever you gave him for granted. You can see it in his actions, you can feel it.

You don't really have a lot of contacts in this town. But sometimes you do have friends and family flying in and asking if they could spend the night at your place. And you're always put in an extremely difficult position, because what the hell should you tell them? You tried asking Cain if they could stay over, and he flew into a fit of rage. Now, you only saw him cry once, and that was when he first asked you if he could stay at your place. But there were hot, angry tears whenever you mentioned friends and family.

And you could tell that he felt really hurt for some reason. You couldn't tell what the hell he was ranting about, but he goes ballistic over the thought of you having a life outside of him.

Unfortunately, you end up turning them away, because at one point, his outburst got so bad that he took your phone and smashed it against the ground while screaming about how life is unfair to him, about how he wishes death upon your friends and family that he hasn't even met, about how it was only supposed to be you and him. And no one else.

You told him that you didn't understand why he was so upset over your friends and family. You said that you wouldn't have them over if he doesn't want them encroaching on his space. Though you felt bitter when you realized you didn't have full control over your own home.

"Of course you don't! You don't- Don't know what it's like to be me! I fucking hate it, I fucking hate myself! I-I-" He was pacing around, tugging on his hair and grinding his teeth. His teary face scrunched up, as if he were in unbearable pain.

He curled up into a ball on your living room floor and just sobbed. He was expressing a lot of pain, the type that would kill any normal person. But not him, because he's strong and fueled with determination to live in spite of it. But there is only so much stress a man like him can handle.

You looked around. And saw the broken furniture, electronics, and decor that Cain destroyed during his massive meltdown. Most importantly, the phone that's in pieces on the floor. You should have left, you should have called the police, and changed your locks.

Yet, you made the conscious decision to stay and hold a respectful silence for him. You didn't touch him, you didn't give him words of comfort, you just stayed.

And to Cain, that was his first taste of warmth that didn't scorch him. The type of warmth that soothes him, the warmth that he was supposed to receive from the one who loves him.

He mumbled something. You let out a "huh?" as you didn't catch what he said.

"I'm sorry..." He muttered in between sniffles.

That shook you to the core; it was the first time you had heard him apologize. It must have taken tremendous strength for him to have said that. And so, you verbally and clearly forgave him.

He broke down further, crying harder and coughing more.

You didn't know why or what you were doing, but you scooted over and coaxed him to place his head on your lap. You then started to play with his hair. And this seemed to lull him into a deep sense of safety, as you saw him struggling to keep his eyelids open.

He felt warm.

Over the following days, Cain tried his best to clean everything up and to replace whatever he broke. Which is nice of him, but you knew he shoplifted a lot just to do that, and you wished he didn't.

Neither of you spoke about the incident. You end up using his phone as your own now. Cain offered that as a solution. He didn't mention getting another phone for you or himself, though.

Disappointed, but accepting, your friends and family ended up deciding to get a hotel instead. But the visitation date would be pushed back further. You don't think it was a good time to talk to Cain about them visiting, regardless.

Life went on as usual. Except Cain would be at home a lot more, seemingly wanting to get close to you. His temper became much milder, and he became a lot less snappy, instead opting to stay silent when he gets irritated.

You didn't think much of it, until one day he dropped this bomb on you:

"I'm in love with you."

He said this with such conviction, no room for doubt, all certainty. It wasn't phrased as a question, but a solid statement.

You were sitting on opposite sides of the dining table, doing the crossword puzzle book Cain got you as a silent apology for destroying your phone. You looked up and examined his face.

His eyes were soft. Weary, even. There was no hint of wrath, trickery, or shame. There was an air of desperation and even... vulnerability around him. It's a new look on him, and it felt uncanny to you.

You have no idea how to respond. So you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, but said nothing.

Eventually, you expressed that you're speechless and you don't know what to do with his confession.

He looked crestfallen. Cain then averted his eyes to somewhere else. You saw that he's blinking a lot more and taking deeper breaths.

You thought that was the end of that conversation because he didn't continue it for a while.

But you were wrong.

"...What would it fucking take to make you love me, huh?"

You felt the chills down your spine once you heard the harshness return to his once tender tone. He's back, and he's pissed.

His expression became mean. He became the Cain that you always knew. You sighed inwardly, realizing that you had made him put his walls back up.

"Was everything not enough?! Am I not enough for you, huh?! You think you're better than me?!" He shot up from his seat and slammed his hands onto the table. You winced at the sheer volume of his voice. But you could feel the excruciating torment of being rejected once again, and he felt cold. He felt unwanted once more.

You made yourself much smaller in your chair, putting your hands up as a shield.

"You're a fucking asshole, a fucking piece of shit, I hate-" He choked on his own tears, knuckles turning white over how tight he balled his fists. "I..." He gulped and then coughed, then gasped for air. Then sobbed.

It was a pitiful cycle, and it was scary to watch. But you do so anyway, because you believe that everyone deserves to be heard, no matter how insane.

Cain collapsed back into his chair and sobbed into his hands. He kept wiping his eyes and nose harshly, until they turned red.

"I-I can never hate you, I can't. I..."

Cain sounded so broken. But there isn't anything you could do aside from waiting it out.

"I don't know..." He rasped. "I'm in love with you, and it hurts. It really fucking hurts."

You gave him a minute to calm down before speaking up.

You asked him how you could help. To that, you were met with a long pause from the distressed man in front of you.

He reluctantly put his hands down, not before giving himself one last wipe.

Cain then brought his gaze to yours, and you never realized how beautiful his deep brown eyes were. Tortured, but they held an almost ethereal quality to them.

"Will you... Love me back?" He asked, with caution and hope.

You hesitantly replied that you could... try.

Save for the birds outside and the humming of the refrigerator, it was a pin-drop silence. It seems like Cain was processing all of this on his own.

You don't know if you should have said that. Immediately, you started wondering what you had gotten yourself into. But before your thoughts could get too deep,

"Thank you."

It was said in earnest, filled with gratitude and reverence.

Both of you spent the rest of the afternoon in each other's quiet and comforting company.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sparkle in my Eye 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Syverson and Gem.

Summary: there's more growing in the garden than flowers.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Oh, I’m just getting ready—yeah, yeah, we can go tonight.” Her voice trickles down from the open doors of her balcony. 

Sy wipes a sheet of sweat from his brow and snips another thick stem with the pruners. He nearly catches the fingertips of his thick gloves. He’s working off of instinct rather than focus. He’s entwined in her conversation, though the other side he only catches pieces. 

“Ew, Margo, please, you know I'm not doing that. The kind of guys that take you home aren’t what I’m looking for,” Gem scoffs and sets something down. “Oof, I cannot get my hair to behave!” 

“You look fine,” the muffled response comes from her phone speaker. 

He knows she does. She always looks perfect. He pulls away a dried out stem and drops it in the clutter. It’s a nice day out but the sun is burning through his shirt. It’s like fire on the back of his neck. He pauses to adjust his hat and looks up. 

He sees her shadow looking off the balcony. The house is just as immense as the yard. His work takes at least a day but he can’t complain; her father overpays him for what he does. Who wouldn’t? With a house like this? A family? You’d want it all to be kept just so. 

“Ugh, don’t be a bitch,” Gem sneers. “It’s my car, I can take it when I want--” 

“Yeah, but daddy--” 

“Do you even want me to come over?” She snips. 

He laughs but not loud enough to be heard. She has some fire and her friends deserve that. They're all spoiled. She is too but she’s not like them. 

She closes the doors. Good. She forgets to do that sometimes and from the right angle, anyone could see in. If they knew the gate code, they could even get in. 

He shoves the snipped ends and dead bits in a compost bag. As he rolls the edge, she comes out. He keeps her in his peripheral but doesn’t look directly at her. She waves. 

“Is my dad gone?” She asks. 

“Em, yeah, think he left a while ago,” he peeks over at her. He takes off his cap and wipes his face on his arm. 

“Oh, it’s very hot. I should’ve brought you some water,” she tuts. “Anyhow, I’m on my way out. Looks nice out here.” 

“Thanks, miss,” he says. 

She smiles at him, “Sy?” She asks, hands on her hips. 

“Yes, miss?” 

“How does my hair look?” She turns to show him all of it. His eyes dart down to her checkered skirt. Quickly, he lifts them back to her face. 

“It looks very nice,” he assures her. It always does.  

“Aw, thanks, Sy,” she shimmies. “Well, have a good day. I’ll see ya next week.” 

She dances off in her platform heels and digs in her purse to find her keys. The white mercedes beeps and unlocks and she takes her time getting everything sorted. Purse in the passenger, pink leather knapsack in the back.  

She’s finally in. She backs up and the gates open at the push of her button. She swerves around and drives through. He watches until she’s gone. He just needs to clean up anyway. 

He leaves an hour later. He leaves his truck at home. It’s too obvious. He takes the pontiac in his garage instead. The pet project put together from his fruitful business and scavenging in junk yards. He drives past Margot’s and parks a block down. 

There’s a place around here where he does the hedges. They have a nice tree in the back too. It’s not exactly cozy and a bit of an effort but he gets to the top and perches between the branches. He’s been trying to cut weight but he’s always been on the thicker side. 

He can see almost right into Margot’s room. Gem is there. She has a glass bottle with bright pink liquid inside. He doesn’t think she should drink so much or so early but that’s why he keeps an eye on her. 

The girls eventually head out. He follows them to the mall. He eats while they waste time at that makeup shop. They come out and he gives them a bit to get ahead of him. He’s tired but he doesn’t have any other jobs to do. 

Dinner at a fancy place that demands ties and jackets sees him scrolling on the Discord. A few of the other men say they made progress, whatever that means. Some of those guys are a bit off. Especially that Cole fellow. Clumsy, to boot. 

After, the girls go down the street to a flashing marquee. They head into the bar without being stopped. The pretty ones never have trouble. He waits an hour, restless, then goes in after them. 

He trawls the place. He finds her. She’s got another drink. A bad habit. He nearly drowned in the stuff after he got back from serving. She’s young, she’ll learn. 

A man approaches her and Margot. He’s up on Gem before she even notices. She grabs his hand and moves it away from her hip. The other girl giggles. It’s obvious her friend is uncomfortable but she just thinks it’s amusing. 

Gem deserves better. She deserves people who care about more than labels and credit cards. She just needs that bubble popped. One day she’ll see.  

[friend-crow]

I think I've rambled about this a little bit before, but I really believe that if we were able to shift our standard burial practice to human composting and memorial tree planting, the impacts could be huge.

Imagine how much more people would care about trees if they were the grave markers of their loved ones (and unlike grave markers, actually grew from the remains of their family). Think of the legal protections people would place on ancestral forests. A lot of people would probably be more invested in learning about the biodiversity needed for a forest to thrive -- not like the bullshit "carbon offset" single species tree plantings used to alleviate consumer guilt.

Some people would probably be motivated to spend more time in and learning about forests. Others probably wouldn't really, but you'd better believe people would be up in arms if they heard that somebody wants to cut down grandpa's tree.

Something I've seen in recent years is that the increase in fires on the west coast has made the reality of climate change a lot more real for a lot of people here. Especially after the week in 2020 when Portland had the worst air quality in the world due to wildfire smoke, people could no longer think of it as something for future generations to deal with. It became clear that we were going to be living with this, effective immediately.

I'm not saying that having ancestral forests would suddenly stop forest fires, but it would be another thing to get more people invested in environmental protections and technology.

And yes, I am on some speculative fiction hippy shit, but dammit, ancestral forests would be cool. Don't you want to remember your loved ones by going and talking to a tree? Or a group of trees? Like yeah, they'd be less permanent than a stone monument, but once an ancestor's tree falls, it can become a nursery log for younger generations.

Don't you want to become part of the forest when you die??

*Disclaimer: idea presented primarily as an alternative to preserving corpses with toxic chemicals and burying them in expensive boxes as is common where I live, and not meant to replace all other cultural traditions related to death and burial. Please don't come at me for responding to the norms of my own culture, I am aware that other cultures exist.

[turtlesandfrogs]

Ok, now I'm really concerned that how to prevent rats isn't common knowledge like I thought it was. So, to anyone whose parents/guardians/adults didn't teach you, here's the basics of prevention*:

Rats, like you, need three things: food, water, and shelter. If they don't get these things, they don't bother sticking around. Access to food is probably the biggest draw, and the one you can do the most about.

Rats eat the same foods you do, and the same food that most pets eat. You don't want them to have access to this food, so:

Don't leave dirty dishes laying around, the smell will attract rats. Don't put leave dirty dishes in your bed room, or under the couch, or in your car, or whatever. Dishwashers are great, but if you don't have a functional one, and you're low on energy/executive function, at a minimum cover your dirty dishes with soapy water instead of leaving them out. Rats can't eat soapy food.

Work to minimize food waste, because the smell of tasty food in your compost or garbage will attract rats.

Don't put food scraps in your indoor garbage unless your garbage can is rat proof. Take it outside asap, to a rat-proof bin.

When composting, if you're composting food that would be attractive to rats (grains, fats/oils, dairy, meat) it's best to: bury the food down in the center of the pile, try out bokashi composting, or have a rat-proof composter. Generally people do tell you not to compost dairy and meat, but I do know that some people do it anyway.

Keep your grains & legumes in rodent proof-containers. Glass jars, metal trash cans, etc.

If you have dogs, put their food away at night. If you have birds or other animals that eat a seed-based diet, then it pays to make their food/enclosures inaccessible to rats as well. Cats are rat deterrents so leaving dry food out for them is probably the one exception.

Clean up spilled foods immediately.

If you have fruit trees (like those apple trees everyone has that were planted 3 or more decades ago) and notice that something besides a deer is eating them, it's really best to pick all the fruit. You probably can't eat it all, so giving it away is a good option. Compost the rotten/icky ones fallowing the advice above, or dig a hole and do some trench composting.

Rats also need water, which is another reason to make sure you don't have any leaks anywhere, and to not leave beverages out in open containers.

Beyond that, thoroughly looking around your house, inside and out, to make sure there's no access points. Vents can be covered with wire mesh, holes the size of a dime need to be patched (because mice exist, too). Keep vegetation clear from around the base of your house, and make sure there's no trees or shrubs growing close enough to your house that a rat could make the leap to your roof. Keep an eye out for tunnels near your house's foundation, because they will tunnel underneath.

Also, while I'm at it, for the love of your house's structural integrity, DO NOT store wood piles against your house. Termites people!!!

And yes, there's a reason why cats are such a common pet. Not only do they hunt rats, the very smell of a cat is enough to deter rats. Do not just get a cat for rat prevention though, only get a cat if you're going to provide it a good home and are able to take on the additional care tasks without over extending yourself. Getting a housemate that comes with a cat is a great alternative to getting your own cat (and I'm only halfway joking).

*because prevention is much easier and much less terrible than dealing with an infestation. Prevention is so, so, so much easier than getting rid of them, particularly because once they're there, they'll start eating other things that wouldn't have been enough by themselves to draw them in.

[spooniechef]

Produce Issues (variable spoons)

Not recipes so much this time, but a short PSA for Americans, because the issues they're about to be facing are pretty much the exact ones we faced with Brexit over here, except worse.

With all the bullshit going on, there's a pretty good chance that produce is going to get mega-expensive over there. A lot of people talk about growing your own vegetable garden, without thinking about how the people who are going to be hit hardest by price increases probably don't have a house with a garden, or in fact a house at all, and many are lucky to have an entire apartment to themselves. That makes having a vegetable garden difficult ... but it doesn't make it impossible.

Storytime: when I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia a few years ago, I needed something. I didn't specifically know what I needed, but I knew in general. I was so angry and scared and ... well, mostly depressed. I'd been down the depression road before, and I recognised the signs well enough. I needed something to get me through the worst of it - something that I could look at and feel productive, like I wasn't a waste of space. And, most of all, something I'd have to actually continue getting out of bed in the morning for. Turned out that for me, the thing I needed was a garden.

I'm fortunate. I live in a decent-sized apartment with no flatmates, a few decent window ledges and even a balcony. Less fortunate in that all of it's north-facing and I live in the UK so it doesn't get a lot of sun at the best of times. Still, I've managed to get some pretty wonderful things out of my windowsill and balcony garden. Mostly herbs, which gives me cookery herbs, medicinal herbs, and just nice-tasting herbs for tea, but vegetables and fruit too. There are varieties of strawberries and tomatoes that do just fine in shaded areas, and peas and some varieties of lettuce will grow faster than you can eat them all. I haven't done so well that I could completely stop buying produce, but I'll get there one day.

I can't give you all the tips - it'll take too long. But I can give you some basic ones, and the titles of a few books that might be helpful for you overall. (I didn't link to the books because regional booksellers.)

Indoor Kitchen Gardening by Elizabeth Millard. This one lets you know how best to use the space you have available and how to take advantage of any lighting conditions you might have in your home.

No-Waste Kitchen Gardening by Katie Elzer-Peters. This one's particularly good because while some of the suggestions are better for outside, it's a guide to how you can grow more fruit and veg from the remnants of the stuff you bought - onions and stuff.

If you do have a balcony, best thing you can get is the humble grow-bag. It's basically like a pot, but ... fabric, sort of. They go well with "No-Waste Kitchen Gardening" because potatoes, onions, and carrots can be regrown from the leftovers of purchased ones, and if you can manage that, you've got a recursive source of staple vegetables.

Another good investment if you have a decent-sized balcony is a composter bin. Potting soil can be expensive, and turning your food waste into compost as well as a source of recursive vegetables will nourish your produce and help make a bag of potting soil stretch.

If you don't live directly in a city (and maybe even if you do, if you've got green spaces in your area), you could also look into foraging. I actually have a forager's guide, but it's for the UK. For Americans, I did a bit of a search and found the 50-State Foraging Guide, which gives basic information and information about regional foraging guides. If you've got the spoons for it, it's nice to be out in the fresh air foraging for things.

If you're going to try medicinal herbal teas, do your research and find a reputable guide. There are lots of them around, so read carefully and try to avoid ones that sound too ... witchy, I guess. I have a copy of Rosemary Gladstar's Medicinal Herbs, which I check against my copy of Culpeper's Complete Herbal - Culpeper's is old, but it's been an authority on herbal medicine for hundreds of years, so it's still pretty helpful.

Things are really tough for everyone right now, I know. There's so much going on, and so little of it's good, and it's easy to feel depressed and powerless. I honestly did find that growing things helped me feel less powerless on the whole. I'd made life happen! I'd created life out of dirt and water and hope. I've had mornings when my breakfast was alpine strawberries fresh off the plant. I've got coq au vin marinading in the fridge with three sprigs of thyme I got just by walking onto the balcony and snipping them off with the kitchen knife. I found there's no going back to dried oregano when you've had it fresh. I've learned how to dry various herbs and even my cayenne peppers. All of that was because I lavished love and attention on a pot of dirt. Which is how I think about it, because seeing an indoor garden for its mental health benefits is a lot better for ... well, the mental health ... than thinking about things like this being necessary because capitalism is bullshit and designed to crush us all.

I hope this helps. I know that nurturing something green and useful helped me. But seriously - even if you just have a little windowsill - oregano, thyme, rosemary, mint, lemon balm. They will survive anything you throw at them. Then work up to basil because homemade pesto sauce is awesome. (Though you can make lemon balm pesto too, and it's less pernickety about its growing conditions than basil tends to be.)

[evitirey]

ok so this was a beast to draw and research good GORD. this one requires a glossary so i'll be putting the entire text under a read more bar, meet me there?

I think most of us in the Avatar fandom have some range of obscure knowledge (or who knows maybe the knowledge is less obscure to everyone else and I'm the silly one) but here's a handful of words I had to learn for this: Chinampa: small, stationary, artificial island built on a freshwater lake for agricultural purposes. Chinampan was the ancient name for the southwestern region of the Valley of Mexico, the region of Xochimilco, and it was there that the technique was—and is still—most widely used. (Encyclopedia Britannica)

Conuco: A portion of earth that the native Tainos of the Caribbean would grow their crops on. (More on that later)

Winnow: In the western world, to remove (something, such as chaff) by a current of air. I specifically based theirs off of a video that @aketchjoywinnie on tiktok posted of her culture's winnows. She is from Uganda and I love her videos whenever they come across my fyp. In this case it is more of a woven basket/plate that is used for food.

As for the drawing:

The Ro'atni have 2 forms of 'floating' gardens. The first and most productive are their chinampas; kind of important to the context is that the Ro'atni were originally a river people, but a portion of their river gave way to an oxbow lake. The young lake has turned into their gardens. The chinampas are made by their swimmers who usually chose their lifestyle very young, as their bodies adjust and grow to adapt underwater better; their strakes go from soft, unobtrusive cartilage to actual strakes, smaller than the reef people's. They dive under water and plant the reedy plants that they then weave together into a roughly rectangular box. Each chinampa is a labor of love that normally takes years to make (though if they feel the next season will not be fruitful they can and will build some quickly). The base layer of the chinampas is essentially a refuse pile. Their compost, their unusable bones, any trash (which is much less than most modern societies) is thrown into the woven reed "basket" to form the solid base along with base stones. The middle layer, still submerged in water, is a combination of compost, mulch, manure, night soil and gravel.

As the compost decomposes, they churn the dirt and build it up over the years until they build above the water level; once the dirt remains relatively dry on a sunny day, and they can dig without immediately hitting mud, they begin to build the conucos on top of the chinampas.

The Conucos are logs stacked up and packed with earth, the shape keeps plants that need dryer soil out of the water, and retains water when the lake starts drying down during the dry season. As the logs decompose they leave behind air pockets for the roots to take up as well as the necessary microorganisms. Most of the weeds are allowed to grow to an extent - once they begin to choke out the plants they want, they will be cut down. The Ro'atni believe that even the most annoying creatures (weeds) have a place in the balance of life. If they're uprooted, they're tossed on shore where they continue to grow. To combat the growth of weeds, they plant a groundcover berry-producing vine that functions as a nitrogen fixer as well as food.

The second form of floating gardens tend to be used for children to learn, as they operate on the principles of aquaponics. The winnow pads are sometimes made specifically for the purpose, but often they're made from a winnow that has reached the end of its life. If it is no longer buoyant, it is tossed into the bottom of a new chinampa. If it is buoyant, then small anchors are tied to the bottom, and a fast growing plant is placed on the winnow to take advantage of the nutrition in the water. Often seedlings for the chinampas are grown this way and transplanted once they're big enough.

Now for the plants they grow; I only had the mental bandwidth to name ONE plant, and I welcome any professional Na'vi speakers to correct me on it lol. So, they grow: Furina'ngrr: Primarily this plant functions as a starchy tuber, but it also grows "beans" (in the way that a coffee bean is a bean but its actually a berry) with a soft outer fruit that the entire clan uses to produce a bright red stain/dye. Combined with red ochre and animal fat, it creates a thick, water resistant body paint that they use both to ward off bugs and to paint pretty patterns and symbols on their skin; certain ones are protective symbols. The fruit can be peeled off of the bean and the beans can be eaten; they're more often replanted to avoid genetic monocropping. They only ripen every 2 years more or less, so the elder gardeners know to stagger their crop growth to accommodate for it. The root however is the main crop from these plants. It is ground into a pulp, seasoned and wrapped in leaves, then either boiled or cooked in a firepit. It's dumpling-like in the firepit, and more like a mochi if its boiled. It can also be fried and baked depending on preparation. The roots can be replanted and this is the quickest way to propagate the plant. They also store for a long time in a root cellar like environment. This is their first source of starch.

Reed-maize: Many different kinds of reeds can be used to create chinampas, but reed-maize is the favored choice; even after their cultivation the reeds remain for a good while before decomposing, giving the gardeners time to grow their replacements, replant them around the chinampas and weave them in again. The reed-maize grow seed pods that can be harvested; they usually require a good strike to release their seeds, which is an adaptation to release their seeds during windy season when the fluffy seeds can fly far away. These were a gift from the Sa'anre side of the clan, and comes originally from the swamps and deltas they traverse; in the oxbow lake the wind is only strong enough during typhoon-like weather to open the seedpods. The seeds release from the pods wrapped in tightly coiled fibers that spring open as they fly out; the fibers carry them on the wind. So the gardeners beat the seed pods open only inside of the hometree or where large structures have been built to catch them. The fibers are hand-ginned off of the seeds, and the seeds are then winnowed free of chaff. The fiber can be processed into cloth, but its very time consuming so they often trade it out to other clans. Other uses are compost mulch, or bedding for their fishing companions. The seeds range in color from soft oranges to gray-blues; an act of love is to separate the specific color seed your child/mate/parent loves most and to make them ground cakes from the singular color. It's extremely time intensive to sort, then grind these seeds separate from all the rest. Normally however, they are stored as grain alongside the furina'ngrr. The grain can then either be processed into flour, "grits", or eaten with minimal preparation. Boiled, they taste both earthy and floral.

Oh my gosh almost done guys lets go. Together with dried and powdered meat, the clan makes a type of pemmican out of their crops; dried roots, dried meat, dried berries and fat are mixed with reed-maize flour, then dried down and stored in their root cellar caves. Their stores are for the long rainy season when hunting is difficult and flooding is common. They have also experienced famine before so they prepare for it again at all times.

Mothers sometimes make the little pemmican cakes into cute shapes for their young ones!

[mamawasatesttube]

"Your hands are freezing." from the prompt list :]

Ma hasn't been sleeping too well lately, since Kal went missing. Now that he's back home, safe and sound in Metropolis, Kon has finally managed to succeed in turning Ma's own gentle-but-firm bullying techniques on her so that she'll actually get some rest, and you bet he's gonna be riding that high for a while.

It's a pretty warm spring day, so Kon decided he'll take the outside chores while Pa handles the inside ones. And he's breezing through 'em pretty fast! He's milked the cows, fed the chickens, collected the eggs, and weeded the kitchen garden, and...

And the entire time, Kal's been in the sky, way up out of sight, staring at him.

At this point, it's getting kinda ridiculous. Kon dumps the last of the kitchen scraps into the compost, washes his hands off at the hose, and leaps into the sky.

The sun buoys him up, full of energy and warmth as the air grows cooler around him. The farmhouse grows tiny under his feet, all the lush fields and farmland sprawling out towards the horizon. His TTK keeps the wind from mussing his hair as he zooms higher (up, up and away, right?), until he zips through a wisp of cloud and slows.

Kal, caught red-handed, gives him an awkward smile, clearly trying not to look too guilty. "Ah," he says. "So you noticed me."

"Uh, yeah, dude." Kon squints at him. His cape flaps behind him in the breeze; he's fiddling with the edge of it with one hand, almost like he's nervous. Since when does Kal get nervous? "You've been watching me for, like, an hour. It's getting freaky, man. What's going on?"

Kal rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. Isn't that wild? Superman, sheepish? What's gotten into him?

"Sorry," he says. "I, just, hm... How do I put this..."

He drifts closer, his eyes never leaving Kon's face. Kon tilts his head to one side, studying him. He looks... tired. Not, like, physically tired—that would be alarming, 'cuz they're in direct sun—but like, tired. Kon heard vaguely about the stuff that happened with Kandor, with Preus, but looking at Kal sets off some alarm bells. He knows what happened, but what happened?

Kal reaches out, and his palm brushes Kon's cheek.

Kon scrunches up his face in mild protest. "Dude, your hands are freezing! How long—"

Kal jerks away as if burned. Horror flashes through his eyes before he wrests it back behind the curtain. "I'm sorry!"

Kon blinks. "Uh... you didn't hurt me or anything." What is going on with Kal? "Your hands're just cold. You've been up here since way before I noticed you, haven't you?"

On impulse, he reaches out and grabs Kal's hands. They're cold, but he knows to expect that now; it only takes him a second to focus the energy behind his eyes, to warm them back up. Kal's the one who taught him that trick, just a few months ago, when his heat vision started to come in.

"I've... been here for a while, yes." Kal's voice is oddly soft, almost... fragile. He's staring at their joined hands like they contain all the secrets of the universe, and, uh, wow, Kon is definitely missing something here. "I'm sorry for freaking you out."

Kon's pretty sure Kal's the one who's actually freaked out, but if he says that, he knows Kal will deny it and shoot off back towards Metropolis. "No big," he says instead, and grins wryly. "You may as well come down 'n' come in, though. Pa's making cobbler."

Something eases in Kal's expression, and Kon knows he said something right. Warmth settles into his chest.

"Pa's making cobbler?" Kal raises an eyebrow, glancing down towards the itty-bitty farmhouse far below. "Ma let him?"

"He promised he wouldn't make a mess with the flour this time." Kon grins. "But maybe you better check on him, just to be sure."

A little of the ever-present weight on Kal's shoulders seems to fall away as he smiles. "You do make a compelling argument, Kon-El. Maybe I should."

"I make great points all the time, Kal-El." Kon squeezes his hands, bursting with pride. Kal's approval always makes him feel like he's basking in sunlight all over again. "C'mon, then. Krypto'll be excited to see you, too. And you can bring back treats for Lois!"

"Yes, yes, you've already persuaded me," Kal laughs. He lets go of Kon's hands to ruffle his hair, and Kon squawks in protest, ducking his head. "Let's go."

"Last one home's a rotten egg!" Kon crows, and zooms downward.

He can still hear Kal laughing behind him.

[mommyslittlebird]

i'm not gonna lie, i am a TEENSY bit curious as to how mean!southern mama wanda x puppy!reader would play out. mama wanda would definitely find reader snooping through her trash or compost for something to eat, and immediately pick them up by the scruff of their neck to reprimand them, or tells reader to "go on GIT" as she shoos them away with a broom. definitely would result in a fox and the hound situation where wanda's hillbilly neighbor goes to sh00t reader or something for stealing food and wanda has to tell her neighbor that reader belongs to her (secret soft side unlocked 🥱).

love u always :3

- 🦊

I love this. I just imagine Wanda smoking a cigarette in an arm chair while she holds puppy, curled up and slobbering on her lap.

Call it “Mama and the mutt she swore she’d shoot.”

[briarpatch-kids]

are you willing to talk about your experience gardening while disabled? i have different support needs and limitations than you, but i have no idea how to navigate pain, fatigue, and limited mobility (wheelchair user) and still care for plants (and even associated tasks like canning or otherwise preserving your harvest). it's something i've always wanted to do but always felt was surely impossible for me. if specific details about my situation would help i can provide them! i'm just in such awe of the work you share on here and i'd love some ideas of what i might want to try to work towards.

Thank you so much! Here's a lot of what I've learned over the past 8 years or so. I went from using a cane to a walker to a wheelchair to a powerchair so I've had a lot of varied experience.

I've found doing it in a powerchair makes things MUCH easier, but I also did it in a manual chair. You can get shorter handled shovels (go from the ground to your shoulder in the chair for measuring handle height) and that helps a lot, as does a hori hori style garden knife. Sometimes I get like, children's hoes and tools so I can use them easier. I can still move my legs, so I kinda stomp on the shovel while still sitting in my chair to dig. I'm trying out a tool called "grandpa's weeder" this year to see if it can weed better than the garden knife. Sometimes, I use my powerchair to add extra leverage to digging by driving forward with my shovel in the soil. I use my footplate to carry things like bags of compost or tools.

A lot of my physical therapy tasks focus on keeping the bend over and sit back up skill because I don't do the tall raised beds, the tallest i have are the four 12 inch high raised beds in the back. I generally make sure I have three feet MINIMUM between garden beds, four in spots I might want to turn around in.

A three foot wide bed is generally the best width for me reach wise. Most of my pathways are packed soil, but that's a little harder in a manual chair, if you can get pavers put in it's a lot nicer. If you have a manual chair, the wider casters are better for this.

Go SLOW. My big garden is the culmination of like... 8 years of work. I generally do less than an hour of work a day MAX. A lot of times when it's not prep and planting season (about two months in the spring and one or two in the fall if you want to dig a new bed) there isn't much more than 10 to 15 a day of pulling the odd weed and harvesting. If you are gardening in both the front and back yards, get one hose for watering each side or you'll suffer. Dragging hoses is literally the hardest part for me. Planting perennials (plants that grow year after year instead of just one or two years) works really good because once they're in, they're in, and don't need much maintenance beyond a winter haircut or pruning.

If you're ambulatory and capable of it, consider a rollator for gardening or one of those garden carts if possible. You can also get these cool little stools that come with taller handles to help you stand back up. I used to be able to sit on my walker and plant and bed prep so easily when it was just my four little raised beds in the back. That was so much easier than hauling my ass around the dirt in a manual chair. If you are not ambulatory or barely ambulatory, I would recommend only gardening when someone else is home and able to rescue you if need be because I've gotten stuck a couple times lmao. If your wrists and hands are weak, there are adaptive gardening tools you can get to help out, like gloves that you can basically velcro a tool into for weak grip or tools with like a brace that goes against your arm.

[darryscrow]

Hi hello how are you!

Point 1: OH MY GOODNESS!!! I'm a Darrel girl personally so *waves hands frantically* A DARRY BUDDY IN THE WILD

Point 2: If you're up to it could I possibly get more of the Darry Spiderman AU? I've decided it's my favorite thing ever

1) If you're a darry fan you're gonna love my account. I talk about him sm & repost a lot of stuff about him too!! 2) I'm glad you asked. Below are headcanons specific to each character in the gang!

Darrel Curtis Junior.

Darry had a side gig as a photographer at 18-19, taking pictures of villains and himself for J. Jonah Jameson. He used his father’s old prized camera.

Had an internship at Hoscorp for a year, from 17 to 18, until dropping it to do spider-man more often.

His life at school was basically the same as it had been in OG outsiders back in Tulsa. He’s popular, football captain and ‘in’ with the rich kids. He toes the lines with the rich kids, still being from the poor side of the city and more caring than they are. 

He’s more nerdy in this au, being into science a lot more than I think OG Darry was. He’s not outwardly nerdy though, but sometimes his interest in science comes out and he gets teased and made fun of.

Ever since his parents died, he keeps their apartment locked. There’s a spare key hidden for the gang to come and go as they please, (maybe set up something with their fire escape?) as he still wants them to have a place to lie low, despite his paranoia of someone breaking in again.

Whenever he gets really mad, from a fight with his brothers or an overall bad day, he goes out as spider-man so he can throw some punches around and blow off the steam.

Ponyboy Michael Curtis.

Ponyboy picks up the photography gig in The Daily Bugle that Darry left behind, having quite the knack for taking photos. Sometimes he messes with the drafts about spider-man when he walks around the office because he hates their takes on his older brother.

Has almost walked right into traffic more than anyone can count, he’d be pulled back sharply and look up from his shoes to see a car zoom past where he almost stepped to. It leaves everyone’s hearts drumming.

After the accident, Pony hates getting into cramped spaces, getting reminded of hiding in the closet. He feels like something bad is about to happen.

Asks Darry all about the villains he fights & his suit and everything. Darry is actually very excited to show off his smarts when it comes to designing his suit and fighting his enemies. Pony keeps a journal and writes down everything he knows, so he can help Darry if he ever forgets (he wouldn’t)

Sodapop Patrick Curtis.

Asks Darry to swing him around the city after finding out he’s spider-man.

Actually pretty apprehensive of Darry being spider-man, even if he doesn’t do it often, the times he does, it’s extreme scenarios. He’d hear about a bomb or something on the station’s radio and bite his nails down worrying about if Darry went to it or not. 

Works at a DX (yeah it's still DX don’t care) station pretty far from their house so he has to get up as early as Darry for work. 

Always, ALWAYS waits up until Darry comes back after a night patrol as spider-man with a first aid kit ready.

Eventually got his own police radio that Dallas stole for him, and listens to it while at work in case he hears “spider-man” on it. When he does, he runs to the scene if it's close enough, and Steve covers his ass for skipping work.

Johnny Cade.

He hangs around the Curtis house the most.

Found a friendly sheep dog stray and it follows him everywhere. It eats about everything so it’s the gang's compost bin!

Was the first to go against the newspapers calling spider-man a danger. He felt vindicated when they found out it was Darry.

INCAPABLE of lying. Would be Darry’s worst nightmare if he were ever to get in contact with a spider-man enemy. His face always gives away when he’s lying.

Has low blood sugar.

Talks with Cherry outside of school, Ponyboy nearly killed him when he found out, as he wanted to be friends with her ever since he found out she wasn’t just a one dimensional rich kid.

Found Darry’s spider-man journal with suit designs, and actually helps him with adding new tech to it. Smart tech-y boy.

Has put on Darry’s suit before to imagine himself as spider-man, but that suit is built for a 6 feet 2 muscular man. It slipped right off.

Dallas Tucker Winston.

Has OCA1 albinism! I think I’ve seen this headcanon somewhere once and knew I had to add it to this au.

Night person. He prefers going out at night but would hang around outside at day if tempted to by anything.

Has actually fought with spider-man before, he did a job for the Tombstone once and never again because Darry stopped him. After finding out that Darry’s spider-man, he realized maybe he shouldn’t be as buddy buddy with the crooks he knows, in case it puts him or the gang in danger for simply being close with spider-man.

Originally from Tulsa (switcheroo) but he’s basically the same.

Keith “Two-bit” Mathews.

The closest to Darry like I imagine in canon, and the closest thing that Darry has to a support system as he’s the oldest in the gang. 

Is the one who tells him to be the spider-man the most, as Darry had helped out a lot of people Two-bit actually knows, and he knows what a positive impact spider-man makes, despite his image as a menace to society. 

Darry always brushes off his begs to be spider-man, telling him that he needs to work and get money as they’re always behind on some bills. Two-bit tries to earn money at some point to help out, but he does everything but get a job so it doesn’t quite work out.

Steve Randle.

Moved to NYC a little earlier than Dallas, they had known each other back in Tulsa and were pretty close.

Has a sweet car he had saved up months for & fixed up from a bad condition. 

Rides Sodapop to and from work a lot, even if it gets him late for school when he does. 

Covers Sodapop shifts A LOT.

Asks Darry the stupidest questions after finding out he’s spider-man. “Do you lay eggs?” “Do you see everyone as ants from above?” “Do you have eight eyes?” Darry always fucks with him when he replies.

Belinda "Scout" Jenkins.

Moved to New York from Poland in 19, her English is very rough. 

Babied by the whole gang, but she throws a fit every time because “she’s 13 and a teenager!”

Scout and Ace are very close for being the only girls in the gang. 

Ace.

Sees Scout as a little sister, Steve as an older brother.

Also close with Dallas and Steve from back in Tulsa, moved to New York a few years after Dallas.

She and Two-bit run into a lot of mischief together, shoplifting, talking too much and causing havoc anywhere they go together. 

HAS stolen clothes from the gang and cut or sewn them to make them more her style. The only time she got in trouble for it was when she took one of Darry’s fancier shirts (from Paul).

[charlesslut16]

-lovers-

here are the other parts : (1) , (2) 

summary : after the kiss you and charles talk about what is between the two of you...

PAIRING : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : badly translated french

note : wrote this, while watching the monaco gp qualifying. Sorry if there are mistakes

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stepped away from charles, so your lips couldn't touch anymore. You looked at his face, his eyes, with confusion. What was happening ? Just as you wanted to say something, he interrupted you.

"Y/n I need you to love me, like I love you. I need you to hold on to me, like I hold on to you. I need you to need me. Because this would mean, you can't see the possibility without me. Just like I do with you. "

Speechless. That was what you were. You didn't know what was happening. Just three weeks ago you hated each other, well you didn't hate him, you just thought he hated you. But you were so wrong.

You wanted to say something again, but he put his finder on your lip to silence you.

"You have no idea how far I would go for you, ma jolie fille." charles said, putting a wet piece of your hair behind your ear. My pretty girl.

"Je te donnerais la lune et les étoiles et tout un putain d’univers, si cela signifiait que tu es la femme la plus heureuse du monde." I would give you the moon and the stars and a whole fucking universe, if it would mean you are the happiest woman alive.

In the sky, the clouds started clearing up, as your mind cleared up too, which left you with only one question in your mind. You were stunned. The words charles said, and your heart jumped in your chest.

"You taste like the sweetest drug, mon couer. Like my dearrest addiction" charles growled. "created only for me."

Your breathing started going faster, as you heard his words. Your pulse beating faster by every second that passed. Maybe he was your drug, that you couldn't have enough of.

"God. I can't get enough of you." He rasped. "Everyone says drugs are your death, tell me why I feel so alive when I see you or when I'm with you."

"I... I don't know what to say." you stuttered. "Only that..." you swallowed, took a deep breath and continued. "I think I should go."

Charles bent down to your neck and groaned, as you said that. "You're it for me, baby. It's okay if you're not ready for me yet. Je t’attendrai pour l’éternité s’il le faut, mon coeur." I will wait for you for eternity if I must, my heart. 

"I will wait a lifetime for you if I must." Charles lifted his head to look into your eyes. In them was, confusion, love and most of all, adoration. Then he whispered. "You are worth all the waiting."

At that moment, Charles thought, that was the end. That you had made up your mind and that you didn't want him or the relationship. But then you kissed him. 

You moaned in his mouth when charles pulled you even closer to him.

 "À partir de maintenant, je ne te laisse jamais partir. Jamais. Aujourd’hui, j’ai vu que tu es la seule chose dont j’ai besoin. La course est importante pour moi, mais vous êtes aussi important que la course." From now on, I'm never letting you go. Never. Today made me see that you are the only thing that I need. Racing is important to me, but you are as important, as racing.

You stepped away from his, to say. "Alors, tu vas me demander d’être ta petite amie ou quoi?" Charles chuckled at your aswer, pulling you close to him, pulling your chin up, so you could look at him. So, are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend or what?

"Y/n, mon coeur. Est-ce que tu me donnes l’honneur et que tu es ma petite amie ? " Y/n, my heart. Do you give me the honor and be my girlfriend? 

"I'm not sure. Let me think about it" you answered with a small smirk on your lip, as you saw charles jaw drop.

"oui. I will be your girlfriend, charlie"

Charles composted himself, putted on hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, cradling in the process. You looked in his eyes, seeing happiness. And he looked in yours and saw adoration.

That's when Charles realized, he would do everything for you. No matter the consequences.

[starrymused]

@lannamused

They'd tried everything "by the book" as they possibly could but nothing was happening. Even Makoto's sister said that Haru's situation was difficult because of the legal processes behind it. Takakura had assured Haru that they were working on ending the engagement but it would take time. Time, time, time. Just wait and it'll all get better in time. Why did they always have to hear that? Time didn't solve everything, which was why Ren was making the decision to go ahead with the only plan left to them.

"Haru." He approached her as she worked in her usual spot on the school's rooftop. The plants she so lovingly cared for were in full bloom, the water droplets from her Junes exclusive watering can shining in the late afternoon sun. It only felt right to compliment her on them rather than directly launching right into what he was here for. Ren cared so very deeply for his friends, wanted them to flourish just like these flowers had, and find happiness that they'd been neglected of for too long.

"They look good. Like the sort of flowers you see in Ghibli movies." He'd never seen leaves that green outside of actual florists. If Yusuke was here he'd probably compare them to some artistic shade that he used in his paintings. Ren grabbed the broom that was leaning against the fence and got to work sweeping up some spilled compost.

"Not a lot of progress is being made with this contract you're under. I'm not saying Takakura isn't working hard, I'm sure he is, but there still isn't enough being done." His broom paused as a tiny bug tried to wiggle its way onto the brushes. Leaning down, Ren let it crawl onto his finger so that he could relocate it to one of the flower pots.

"Makoto's sister says there isn't a lot that can be done, at least not for a while." Especially if it involved a political connection. "So, I think the best way to deal with this is have it come from his end." He, of course, was referring to Sugimura. Ren looked up, taking a moment to lean on the broom.

"Futaba searched on the Meta-Nav and found he has a palace. I think we should infiltrate and change his heart. It's the only way I see this ending rather than waiting for something that might happen." And by that time, the opposing lawyers might try to cut deals so that Haru would end up worse off in the end.

"I haven't brought this up to the others yet because you should be the first to know. You don't have to go if you don't want to but I'd like to hear your thoughts." Ren didn't like seeing her so down and unable to achieve her full potential just because of this annoying little leech of a man that thought himself far more important than he was. He had vowed to help each of them as well as those outside their group that needed it, so he found it near enough impossible to wait around any longer.