#Spongy sandy

[belarix]

Hey there, how are you? My question is how Silver and Alessa meet each other? Was it love at first sight?

Hi! I'm fine thank you. 💚

Well...

Silver and Alessa's relationship is a collaborative project with my bestie @spongysandy that we are working on.

It is not that Silver and Alessa are from the same universe, but we reached an agreement that the universes (called Spongy Universe and Belarix Universe) upon feeling the loving loneliness of Silv and Alessa guide them to a kind of neutral universe, where they meet and can live together without the limitations of their respective worlds.

Also, each one of us handles the characters in a different way, they have different roles both in my AU and in Spongy's.

(In mine, Alessa is a mental manifestation of Silver's lack of feminine love, which makes him fall in love with his own hallucination [still working on it, it's not final]).

In Spongy's universe he is Alessa's boyfriend, but he is a guy who is not related to Ales or Betilla. That is also working ands he has many subplots with the couple very nice. (Credits to Spongy for her magnificent drawing ☺️🤲✨️)

SO...

There's no "specific" way how they met, but it was love at first sight. 💚🩷

I also add, that although both in each universe are children of Ales, THEY DO NOT SHARE COBLOOD, being from different universes, different Ales, different mothers and relatives.

Thanks for asking, and I'm sure Spongy would be pleased to hear that you like Silver and Alessa ☺️.

To tell the truth, the ship started with our followers on Instagram, then we made it canon 🙊🙊

[konigsblog]

Was gonna say don't forget the sunblock but now all I'm thinking about is turning up red with very obvious outlines cause König saw something he liked.

(hugs and kisses from an irish lass to the scottish lass)

TW: NON-CON, SOMNOPHILIA. MDNI 18+

Perv!König and how desperate and depraved he is to have his filthy, dirty hands all over his crush.

König's crush on you intensifies each day. Sometimes, it feels as if you're taunting him, teasing him for his perversion while he admires your soft, plush hips from afar and how supple your breasts look in that tiny bikini. It almost feels as if you wear the tiniest, skimpiest bathing suits on purpose just to irritate and turn him on, leave him with an agonising stiff boner.

When you ask König to rub your shoulders and lower back with the sunscreen, he's way too eager and zealous to please and satisfy you, the thought of rubbing and trailing his grimey, grubby hands all over your soft body being a fantasy for the sick pervert.

König can feel his meaty, hard cock twitch and pulse inside of his swimming shorts, becoming speechless and breathless as he grasps the sunblock, shooting and smearing the milky, soothing cream all over your skin. König would never turn down an opportunity like this, but God, just the thought alone leaves his lengthy, fat cock painfully sore. He can barely focus or pay attention to the words flowing from your soft lips as he massages your shoulders gently and tenderly, resisting the urge to bend you over and pry your plush thighs open, to take you ruthlessly for your teasing and cruel behaviour.

And when you're fast asleep at night after a long day of sunbathing at the sandy beach, König will continue to explore your body despite the shame and disgust weighing on his shoulders. His calloused fingertips reach places they shouldn't, reaching to more intimate and private areas for him to violate with his perverted and gross touch, his mind screaming at him for getting too touchy-feely with his crush. You could wake up at any moment, catch him red-handed, in the act of admiring your tan lines, or worse, touching your sensitive areas to please and relieve himself.

He pays close attention to the sound of your quiet breathing before pulling his thick and girthy boner from his boxers, slowly sliding a thick and rough finger into your soft, slick folds. He pumps a digit into your spongy, delicious cunny, his breathing becoming laborious and heavy at the sick and immoral thoughts rushing through his dirty mind. He groans and heaves as he strokes himself faster, sliding another two digits inside to mimic the thickness of his sweaty, fat cock. He'll shoot blanks, squirting white ropes of his arousal all over your tight pussy, before moving his large hand to cup and fondle with your breasts. Your nipples become hard and perky, looking almost desperate for König's attention. Or maybe, König's just looking to excuse his disturbing behaviour.

He'll jerk himself off while tracing his fingers along your rear, across your tan lines. And if you catch him, he'll just have to keep you silent by stuffing your tight hole full, won't he?

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

His

Pairing: Maul x reader Type: Drabble Word count: 571 Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, porn without plot, f!reader, reader used to be a Jedi and fell to the Dark Side, name-calling/degrading nicknames, use of the Force, power dynamics, teasing, no y/n

Summary: Literally just filth. Inspired by one of Maul's lines of dialogue in the Lego Star Wars game: “Does this belong to the Jedi? No? Good.”

Fic under the cut!

Your chest heaves even though Maul has barely touched you. At least, not with his hands. He’s spent the past...you don’t even know how long using the Force in ways you knew your former Master would consider sacrilegious. Undressing you. Skimming lightly over your bare skin. Pressing as if with his entire hand against the veins in your neck and simultaneously pinching a nipple. But through it all, avoiding the one place you need him the most. 

“Maul.” The gasp is ragged and broken as it passes your lips. 

Across the dark-lit room, lounging with one leg propped up over the chair’s armrest, yellow eyes meet yours. They are pitiless, tinged by just the faintest hint of amusement at your situation. 

Glinting dully in the faint light, Maul’s mouth curls into a smirk. “Yes, doll?” 

“P-Please,” you say. “Please.” 

“Please, what?” he growls. 

“Please-” You swallow thickly against the distracting pleasure of him using the Force to knead at the soft skin of your inner thighs. “Please t-touch me.” 

His low chuckle sends a fresh wave of goosebumps skittering down your body. “So desperate for me already?”

His eyes flick down from yours to linger on your soaked cunt. You can feel your juices beginning to drip down the swell of your ass, and for a moment you are stuck in your head, stuck in the past mindset of earthly pleasure being sinful, antithetical to your calling, a problem. With a shake of your head you refocus your eyes to find Maul gazing at you. His head lolls languidly to one side. 

“Tell me, padawan,” he says, and the term is laced with sarcasm, “did your Master ever touch you? Did he ever fuck you like the slut he knew you were?”

You whimper, flashes of sandy hair, a neatly-trimmed beard, and amused blue eyes presenting themselves to your mind’s eye. Swallowing again, you shake your head. “No.” 

“No?” Maul grins. “But you wanted him to, didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes.” The shudder in your breath betrays you. Attachments led to the Dark Side, and your attachment to your former Master led you straight to the path of the Sith. “Maul, please, touch me.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Maul tuts. “I still have one more question for you, pet.”

He rises from the chair and finally--finally--steps over to you, looming over you, the spikes of his horns ominous in the darkness. Your breath catches in your throat as he flicks one wrist and the light teasing at your thighs becomes a harsh grip. Maul leans down, bracing himself with one hand against the back of the chair you’re seated in, his face mere inches away. His eyes bore into yours.

“Tell me, filthy little girl,” Maul says. “Does this belong to the Jedi, then?” 

He finally reaches between your legs and plunges two thick fingers into your tight heat. A cry wrenches itself from your throat as you see white, momentarily blinded by a wave of pleasure. Tears dew at the corners of your eyes. 

“No, Maul, only you, this pussy belongs to you!”

Maul bares his teeth in a smirk that is as dangerous as it is attractive. He curls his fingers up, pressing into the spongy spot in your walls and sends you tumbling immediately into what is sure to be only the first of many orgasms tonight. 

His breath tickles your ear as he leans further down to whisper, “Good.”

[lolo3hwriting]

The Squid Orange in Kelp Dome - What is it? How would it be grown?

The Squid Orange in Kelp Dome - What is it? How would it be grown?

Within The Art of Splatoon artbook, we see a lot of concept art for ideas and worldbuilding of the splatoon world. One of these concepts that I found the most interesting was the fruits and vegetables that would have been grown in Kelp Dome. They are all based on real life fruits/veggies with a few differences and usually squid themed. One of my favorites was the squid orange because of my personal interest in citrus production and because my family has tried their hand at growing citrus trees before. It got me wondering, what is it based on? And how would it theoretically grow in a greenhouse in kelp dome?

I should say that most of my knowledge of citrus production is based in America (since that’s where I study) so my writing may not reflect Japanese production styles. From what I read the general concepts are mostly the same, but intricacies like harvesting techniques may be different.

Design Origins

(A picture of a kumquat, image taken from here)

Although it is called an orange, the squid orange may be based on many different fruits in the citrus family (Rutaceae). The edible peel made me think of kumquats because they are commonly eaten fresh with the peel. However, while the peels are sweet like what was shown in the picture, the rind is often soft and rarely bitter. However, other citrus peels do fit the description of being bitter and hard, so the squid orange could be something of a hybrid between kumquats and other citrus species. 

The albedo portion reminds me of navel oranges because of the similar belly button, or navel structure. Just for clarification, the albedo is the white and somewhat papery/spongy portion of citrus fruits, considered part of the peel. Navel oranges have a primary and secondary ovary when they grow. The primary ovary gives rise to most of the fruit while the secondary ovary is reduced and becomes a bump that looks like a navel. This part is technically edible, but not preferred and is often thrown away with the rest of the peel. 

For the sake of simplicity, I’m just going to consider the squid orange under the sweet orange group (Citrus x sinensis) as opposed to other citrus crops.

The Orangery

(An orangery, from Kew Gardens in London. Image take from here)

Oranges and other citrus crops have a long history of cultivation indoors. Orangeries have existed since the 17th century were structures built specifically to grow citrus crops, usually in places where they wouldn’t naturally grow. Although orangeries can be considered distinct from other structures like greenhouses and conservatories, the terms are used interchangeably and as such I will be using the term greenhouse to describe orange production within indoor structures. Also, I will be talking about citrus production in general as opposed to specifically oranges because most of the cultivation practices are the same for many citrus species. 

Greenhouse Production

(A Valencia orange tree in a greenhouse. Image taken from here)

Citrus plants are subtropical to tropical fruits, and as such they do not tolerate the cold at all. Many fruits will be killed below freezing, and the entire tree will be killed at temperatures below 28F. However, there are some citrus varieties and rootstocks that are more cold hardy, but even then it's quite marginal. The minimum temperature to avoid damage is 50 F, but some greenhouses won’t go below 65 F. The average temperature for ideal citrus production is around 75 F, but most varieties can tolerate up to 90 F or even up to 100 F. 

Citrus trees can grow in most soils, but prefer sandy soils because they have better drainage. Most of them will not tolerate flooding and overly saturated water, so most greenhouses will do infrequent watering and soil/potting media with good drainage. Citrus require moderate humidity (around 50%), which shouldn’t be a problem in most greenhouses but they may need to supplement it with a humidifier if it is particularly dry.  Pests and diseases may become a problem in greenhouse production, especially if trees are packed close together. Proper monitoring and sanitation, like using insecticidal soap and removing infected plant material, will help ensure these problems stay to a minimum. 

The art book says that it would be eaten around June-November. While this aligns with harvesting for some cultivars of oranges, since the oranges are being grown inside a greenhouse their harvest time may be different. Oranges can be stored for about a month under the right conditions, so they could be realistically eaten any time of the year.

Just as a final note, most citrus trees in orchards grow up to 15 feet tall. Although I’m sure a big greenhouse like Kelp Dome can house a tree that tall, they may use dwarf varieties or prune the trees to make them more manageable. 

Other Concerns with the World of Splatoon 

Both inklings and octolings dissolve when submerged in water, so irrigation might be a concern. Although I mentioned beforehand that citrus trees are usually only watered sparingly, they do need to be watered eventually. I’d imagine greenhouse workers would need to wear some protective equipment when watering plants, or non-inkfish species would handle the watering. Also, I don’t know what pests would be around since a lot of the insects would be wiped out from the drastic climate change that takes place in the splatoon world, after the humans are wiped out.

Sources

[prasemvanguardgerman]

Here to seen the other finds. Sponge & Flint.

New pieces of rounded nature polished imprints from prehistoric sponges out of flint. I didn‘t know the genus of this sort of distant spongy.

Those are intact, i saw a lot fractured or shards from it or without the mold.

Then new two ovale shaped, grind polished from glacial force millenials + ago.

Wall stones called here, i find a lot now on near open fields and sandy area in the province but they appear a lot of fields, sandy terrain and washed out near beaches or any river or earth pits or gravel spots.

Also common in the pebble bolder pieles or forest paths.

Sadly the most seen are cut in half, broken shards of it or near ovale, the most are like this ovale, size from tiny to an egg and above,

or a lot in the shape of unique beans or kidneys with one or two tiny holes on or in them. Each have an smooth fractured texture on it like an pattern, each of them shares it. Some have an eye mold in grey on it, like the bubble white underside from the common MC Donalds buns on the underside. That is weird.

On sandy terrain or fields great little finds from ground to pick up & collect, decoration or for the garden. I enjoy finding them with others.

I find a lot of them and are here common have an box full of them - vs the sponges to compare

This stones are not fossils, pure rocks with mostly none features of fossil traces like imprint molds or bryozoan. If than also rare cases.

They are not so polished round like riverbed pebbels of other sedimentary stones.

The varity goes from grey to dark brown to black color, are from the iron in the stone.

[dougdimmadodo]

California Barrel Cactus (Ferocactus cylindraceus)

Family: Cactus Family (Cactaceae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Least Concern

Native to the western Sonoran Desert and eastern Mojave Desert in northern Mexico and the southwestern USA, the California Barrel Cactus grows in dry, sandy soil and typically inhabits scrublands and “forests” of Joshua Trees (the only tree species found throughout most of its range.) Members of this species typically grow in a cylindrical or spherical shape and are covered in a large number of long, thin spines (which, as is typical for a cactus, are highly-modified leaves and serve to protect the cactus from herbivorous animals) which can be used to estimate an individual's age: newly grown spines, which are made of living cells, are deep red in colour, but as the spines develop the cells that make them up die and they become harder and grey in colour, so if an individual has a large number of red spines it is likely young while an individual with entirely grey spines is older. Like almost all plants California Barrel Cacti are photoautotrophs (meaning they are capable of producing nutrients through photosynthesis, a chemical reaction between carbon obtained from the air through tiny respiratory pores on the cactus’ outer surface called stomata and hydrogen obtained from water taken in through the plant’s roots), and like many plants adapted to life in warm, arid conditions they exhibit CAM photosynthesis (a form of photosynthesis in which the stomata only open to take in carbon at night when the air is relatively cool, thereby minimizing water loss through evaporation and allowing the carbon to be put to use in photosynthesis when the sun rises the next day.) The inside of the stem of a California Barrel Cactus is spongy and allows water to be stored as a gel during times of relatively high rainfall to sustain the cactus during times of drought, and as the roots of this species do not go deep into the soil and can re-grow easily California Barrel Cacti can survive being completely uprooted by flash floods, and may even take advantage of floods by allowing them to carry them to areas where the flood water settles, where they will then develop new roots and take in the plentiful water. Like most cacti California Barrel Cacti are hermaphroditic (meaning that every individual can produce both pollen and seeds), and during the early summer they develop “crowns” of yellow flowers which, following pollination by small insects such as bees, develop into small, egg-shaped yellow fruits which are eaten by birds and carried away to allow the seeds within them to develop into mature cacti without competing with their parent.

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I’ll be doing a module on plant biology later this year, so I’m brushing up on plants. This is a particularly cool species!

Image Source: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/54453-Ferocactus-cylindraceus

[hehefanfuction]

A Spongy Story

In the colorful world beneath the sea, there exists a spirited sponge named SpongeBob SquarePants. With his pineapple-shaped house and buoyant personality, SpongeBob is known as the friendliest creature in the underwater city of Bikini Bottom. He spends his days flipping Krabby Patties at the Krusty Krab and embarking on whimsical adventures with his best friend, Patrick Star. One sunny day, SpongeBob woke up feeling particularly mischievous. He had a brilliant idea brewing in his sponge-shaped head. He decided to throw a surprise party for his best friend Patrick and invite all their underwater pals to celebrate. With his trusty spatula in hand, SpongeBob set off to make this the most unforgettable party that Bikini Bottom had ever seen. To make the surprise even more exciting, SpongeBob decided to have a treasure hunt. He crafted a map using colorful coral and seashells, marking the path to the ultimate treasure chest. The treasure chest, of course, was filled to the brim with Krabby Patties – Patrick's favorite treat. As the day of the party arrived, SpongeBob excitedly hid the map in an old shipwreck and invited all his friends to gather at the Jellyfish Fields. As each guest arrived, SpongeBob handed them a clue to begin their treasure hunt. Squidward Tentacles grumbled, but even he couldn't resist the allure of Krabby Patties. The underwater gang embarked on their quest, following the clues through coral reefs and shipwrecks, giggling and marveling at the beauty of the ocean floor along the way. SpongeBob's creativity shone through in every clue, as he cleverly incorporated his friends' interests into each puzzle. Sandy Cheeks had a physics-based riddle, Mr. Krabs had a math problem involving his beloved money, and Plankton had a microscopic challenge only he could solve. As they progressed, the group encountered various challenges – from dodging the clutches of the colossal clam to deciphering an ancient hieroglyphic code. These obstacles tested their teamwork, resilience, and wits. But through it all, SpongeBob's infectious optimism and belief in his friends' abilities fueled their determination. Hours turned into minutes as the friends approached the final clue. It led them to an enchanted underwater cave, illuminated by the shimmering glow of a magical jellyfish. At the heart of the cave, the treasure chest awaited, twinkling with anticipation. When they opened the chest, the aroma of freshly grilled Krabby Patties filled the air, making everyone's mouths water. Patrick's eyes widened with delight, and SpongeBob jumped into a frenzy of joy. The party had reached its climax, and laughter echoed through the cave. But the true treasure, revealed in that moment, lay not in the gold but in the friendship that SpongeBob and Patrick shared. Through their shared adventures and bonds, they had turned ordinary moments into extraordinary memories. As they sat around the treasure chest feasting on Krabby Patties, their laughter and camaraderie filled the underwater world with warmth and joy. The friends continued their celebration late into the night, dancing to the rhythm of the sea and creating waves of happiness. From that day forward, Bikini Bottom knew that SpongeBob's creativity was boundless, and his infectious spirit could transform any gathering into an unforgettable experience. And so, in the heart of the underwater realm, the tale of SpongeBob and his cute and creative adventures became legendary – reminding us all that friendships, laughter, and a dash of imagination are the greatest treasures of all.

[grim-faux]

3 _ 38 _ A Playground in a Suspicious Place

First - An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

Storms were a thing of the Pale City.

Regions had harsh extremes of the weather. The Territories persisted with brutal winds carving across the land, ebbing away the liquids and flesh, only to leave behind dust and rocks. Or other lands held a perpetual cloud cover with no rain, but the land stayed marshy and humid despite a want for fresh showers to dilute the bogs; the air would hover unyielding and stagnant, the a fog as thick as grease refused to seep through anything porous, not even the spongy soil – the stale breath of the Territory crowded the lungs, choking out fresh breezes that might shift the trees.

The Pale City was notorious for its storms. They could be pitiless and vicious, or an indifferent presence hounding passengers to the Territory.

It was a bad hour to travel the unreliable terrains, especially for the inexperienced. This was his first passage within the landmass on his own, but only after he lost his Veter. Hunting through the buildings was better done with one or more, a fledgling or two. If he didn’t mess up, maybe he’d yet rear a proper scab.

Regardless how hard the rain crashed against his face cover, he could find the sheen of light winking through the chainmail of pellets. The Electrician worked odd hours to keep the lamps of the streets lit, and the tacky neon-signs of storefronts glittering, if only barely. He shuddered to think of ever encountering the being, though it couldn’t have the spare time to wander far from its territory. This was only one of the many reasons he regretted losing track of his Veter.

The scenery of the ruined city roads was easy enough to read, even with the brief ventures he had with the Veter. He knew the ruin of the sidewalk, and was familiar of the wilting eaves which took the burnt of the chattering rain. He tugs the crate higher against his side and keeps it pinned with his elbow, and uses his free hand to fix the cover on his face. If there was a television nearby he couldn’t hear its chipper songs.

A body cracked against the pavement, the squeal cut off instantly. The container under his elbow shifted.

Ahead, the side of the road crumbled away into a rocky slope. Nearly a third of the road was left to contend the storm above and held together, despite how the punishing ruble of the skyrise piled where the sidewalk on the far side of the road should have been. He could only suspect there was once a sidewalk, by going off the splintered staff of an electrical pole bent and shredded among the slate of asphalt that folded in unnatural angles. This disaster could have been a natural erosion, or... some other presence may have tampered.

In the hollow below, a yellow glean swept against the sandy wall carved from beneath the road of the cities ground level. He stepped down into the hollow, inching around heaps of crack cement or brickwork from the masonry. The warren was not just beneath the road, the demolition wormed through buildings that punched through the crust of the road, in some places the windows were still intact. More or less. Interwoven with gravel and pale sand, ran rusted pipes and cinderblock walls, the innards of basements remained, hanging like tangled viscera from a disemboweled brute. In most spaces among the undercity, the ground was packed and slick with silt, the pulverized river bottom was compressed by years of shelter forging and an constant occupancy of discarded passengers. From the fringes of the Warren rolled smoke, the smog bellowed above pits chiseled into the floor; stacks of cinderblocks and other ruble served as seats or boarders for the pits. A camp was always available, since the storms were rough and navigating safely was perilous. His Veter could attest to that.

One of the passengers shifted from the fire they watched, and the glittery edge of a wet eye peered at him through the sewn patch that served as its eyepiece.

He ignored the older passenger and moved further through the hollow, only occasionally glancing around the passengers that had congregated to the common area for shelter. None of them appeared to be Plunder, but he did not expect to see him here. Soft grumbling slipped among the gathered. It was difficult to grasp the utterance, he was not familiar among the divided dialects that some isolated groups acquired.

Not with the Veter. Hmm?

With a hum under his breath, he set the container away from the smoldering pit, but not too far. The others might tamper with it.

Separated. That was what happened. The other passenger let it be, allowing him to find a clear space beside the withered embers.

The passengers mentioned scabs in the discussions. That was the quarry they sought. A rare commodity to collect in bulk, but the Case Worker made the route through the Pale City worth it. The scabs migrated through the city on some sort of mission, none of the passengers could figure, it wouldn't make the work easier or tolerable. Perhaps it was for the same reason the Denizens of the Signal worshipped the Black Tower. The city was not hospitable, even for the passengers, but it benefitted squires and apprentices.

He tried to make sense of the discussion though his limited grasp. Some passengers lost the ability to articulate verbally, a dysfunction that carried over from exposure to the Transmission that stole the awareness. None of the passengers knew the exacts on what it did or what made the televisions so spurned, though the effects - over exposure - were not difficult to miss. At any rate, they could manage with familiar grunts and warbles that matched near enough a common language. The passengers discussed hunting grounds and buildings where scabs began to frequent, or when other districts had gone deserted of the wee irritants.

Between the shrouded mutterings, some of the passengers took to mending their ‘uniforms’. There was no shortage of stitching rips and untangling seams, or removing a face cover to patch the fabric. Some of the passengers carried oils or mild stains to work into the fibers of their canvas coat, which ferried their some comfort during the intense storms; even if repellents decayed within hours, it could manage them between shelters. Then of course there was mending traps, and working threads into snares, and repairing thick carry parcels. And no master poacher ever skipped a meal when it could be taken.

The Broadcaster's shadow, was mentioned.

He sat beside the stacked cinderblock piled near the pit, where the heat wouldn’t baste him. For a while he was trying for a brief doze, but he knew that snarl well. It was fear mixed with revulsion.

While at other camps, he had picked out on details of the scabs mentioned among some of the passengers. Recurring irritants that had the North Winds blessing, or some unnatural force working in the backdrop. Though no scab was worth anything on its own, the passengers had interesting… incentives for acquiring deviants. A lone tick didn’t go far on its own, but they could spare them from the harvest and have a potluck out of the effort. They could savor a particular deviant for all the issues it caused.

Myths. Another passenger hissed, and grumbled half to himself, His Tower listens.

Whatever that meant.

Who could give a damn where it came from? Or what it was? For as long as he could remember (and he tried not to remember that far back) it always had been. It was taboo to regard the thing or stare upon it too long. The face covers helped. Or, that was the belief. No one questioned when a passenger went reclusive or vanished from the city without a trace. The terrain was perilous, and the buildings – where scabs infested – would collapse under the most intense stare. A bad sneeze, even.

The passengers murmured about the odd tick. That one too, was a bit of a myth, but a lot of them had observed what was the same tick. Though, they all did sort of look alike....

Conversations rolled with the old tales of how the Broadcaster spirited the scabs away to the Tower. And another hissed and murmured, about grumbling about ghosts or the curse such teasing invoked. Then a soft sort of sigh, what would such a being need for children? Eat them? If that were the case, the territory would be blighted. But no such myths took leisurely strolls through the city roads, as if it had always been.

Another gruff croak did venture about something terrifying. An entire building dissected and then remade, on the flick of a long, branching arm.

No passenger gave the rant any heed. The fires crackled in the dirt pits and the yellow glow heaved swells of black tendrils. The older passenger near him took a bent pole and jabbed it at the coals behind the raised cinderblock, a glitter of sparks raised against his face cover and the eye within glowed like the clay-mud left at the bottom of a drained creak. The eye within swiveled the same way a muddied fish buckled against impending suffocation.

Some made mention of the Ferryman rooting through the streets. He was perhaps more ancient and renowned as passengers went, a genuine collector of things and useful creatures. No scabby eluded such an agent, but the Ferryman was a specialist and not usually a ferreter of nests; unless a nest contained the acquisition he sought. It was rumored a possibility to barter unique wares for scabs, if the Ferryman thought the exchange was worth the thought such interactions demanded.

A sneer drifted among the passenger, and a chortle. The idea was foolish, because only prime stock went to the Nest. The city streets wouldn’t hoard grandeur and spared nothing but grit and water to emaciated scabbies. Only the Maw would compensate for yield, not the quality.

He rifled through his damp coat and tugged out containers. Small, circular dishes or oval saucers. In one of his pockets he kept a sharpened knife, which was stronger and more useful than a can opener. While seated, he kept his work low and mostly out of view, with the cinderblock wall sheltering him from the brunt of the snapping flames. He had rations for himself, but he wanted emergencies meals for the usual long excursion for nothing shown. That would be the case, since he had lost his Veter.

The passenger he had been squire too was nothing special or noteworthy, and he wasn’t found of the creature. Veters kept squires around and that kept him from suffering an early, gruesome fate, but survival was not given without something first exchanged. When nothing worth remained for the exchange, then there was always existence to forfeit to the Winds. Regardless how measly or loathsome a carcass was, the Winds had use for the most parasite riddled husk of flesh.

Grumbling complaints roved beneath the intensity of the storm, and the offchance that the building above might suddenly come undo on this hour. They had all seen a skyrise or other come down for less, a sour thought, a disgruntled sigh, or the dry rattling cough even. It would be a mercy to bury them and that would be the end of it.

Some passenger furthest on the fringes of the clutch, muttered about the tick. There was hope yet that the Ferryman might appear from the fog on the instant, to make an exchange for the scrawny, cursed hazard. Some of them swore they misplaced a cohort after seeing the dastardly nipper. The Pale City was a coiled trap and executioner to any trespasser that had a misstep or lost their way, it was unlikely a tick in a ratty coat had anything to do with bizarre… accidents.

The other passengers rambled on and on, there was not much else to do aside from mend and eat, and prepare for the storm to tire of its tantrums.

As for him, he leaned his shoulder onto the chiseled sand of the hollows curved wall and let his head dip low. He poked at one of the empty cans with his boot, scooting it across the trampled ground. It wouldn’t matter if he could read or not, the label had long ago been bleached of all record of the contents. He thought the ground mush might've been oily fish or watered down… something else. The fire crackled beside his face cover and the heat pooled into the sodden fibers of his coat, making him feel broiled but not content. Above the lull of chattering kindling, the suppressed snorting rolled through the gray glow within the fabric that shielded his head.

In the container behind him, the scab shuffled around and sniffled.

__

A greasy can crashed into a sooty pile, which sent the fine powder swirling.

Beneath a jutting edge of packed clay, movement glittered in the shadows. This shelter faced the patch of dust now scattered into the dry air, and despite the swirling powder transfixed by the orange glow, two figures inched out beneath the hanging cloud.

The girl in the yellow coat shoved a hand against her nose and rubbed away the tickling sensation caused by the gritty haze. At her shoulder, the boy curled down into a ball and covered his head – a series of jolts racked his frame. For a moment it looked like the boy would be doomed to perpetually snort or wheeze, but within a minute of more the bursts subsided. He didn’t uncoil immediately, but settled to wheeze through the rags coiled around his shoulders.

Six rolled her eyes. Of course, the two of them should be more cautious about stuff like dust and other hazards - she was keen to recognize the peculiar strung bits of twine, or a stack of empty cans, or bits of metal gleaming under a fresh pile of gravel. While also, knowing the best opportunity to emerge from a hidey place to scout around. The Snatches warren was too dangerous for one kid, let alone a pair, and also a risk. Desperation made kids go crazy.

The other kid, he called himself Chert. He was here before she stumbled into the warren, but he didn’t chase her off. He reminded her of a kid that would cry first… and then run. The only reason he wasn’t dead or caught was only because he had a lot of luck, and Snatchers were dumb.

Snatchers always had food stuffs too, and they always left scraps.

The Chert kid kept his gaze locked on the Snatcher that just joined the warren. It was close to where they had been hiding, but now that it was settled in and digging through its supply sack, she and him had a chance to move again.

Chert was already examining the discarded can and sampled the clump of dust caked to the edges. His gaze kept shooting to the new preoccupied Snatcher, while he tasted the sooty, grease he scraped out.

Watching that kid didn’t make her hungry, but she chose to ignore her growling tummy. Instead of risking a dangerous spat with this boy - she decided he was a boy buried under all those rags - Six passed him up in favor of creeping through a narrow crevice, branching off and circling around where the Snatcher was perched close to the lashing flames. It stayed fixed on whatever it rooted for in the sack, and it had a lot of focus for the fire. The crackling kindling did smell good, the fire began to flourish under a steady supply of cracked wood and whatever else. A haze of warmth trimmed some of the chill and dampness off the rains, but the delicate silt soaked into everything. Her coat was not meant for dry.

The shallow fracture Six slipped through did hide her mostly from view, but it also concealed the Snatcher from her own gaze. She did more listening rather than chance poking her head up to glance the creature, even if her smart hood resembled a rock shape. Cluttered snuffling noises gave the clear for check and duck; the Snatcher scooped its fingers into the opened canister and delivered heaps of food up under the mask it wore. It made her spine shiver at how a creature could eat like that, some of the mush got soaked into the rim of the mask. At least the routine made the eyeholes move askew on the face, and that was why the creature was bad at spying the boy. Chert was not good at sneak.

When she made it around the backside of the Snatcher, she stumbled onto Chert emerging from the large opening of a pipe embedded in the ground. It annoyed her how he was more savvy with navigating the furrows and random ducts that sank deep into the dark unknown, but she supposed he had learned the routes in all the time he traveled around. Six never knew a kid that scavenged so close to Snatchers. The monsters were always on the lookout for kids, and they were hard to shake once they got a whiff for chase.

But starving was more dangerous than Snatchers. More dangerous than getting stole. Snatchers could be evaded and tricked, they could get tired, or get distracted. Nothing stopped hunger. When hunger found kids, it stole little bits of the strength and the wit, until nothing of a kid remained. Nothing but a cold, shriveled bag of skin and bones. A landmark to remind all kids there was no escaping some things.

Snatchers were more reliable than starving.

A Snatcher a short distance from the new arrival was already bunkered down, swaddled in its crusty coat and its mask tucked down. It lay with its back and shoulders inclined on a heap of ruble, but its breathing came slow and passive. More importantly, the containers of food lay discarded by its boots.

Chert crept away from two cinderblocks, the building material was knocked aside from the low embers of a failing fire. He inched forward, then stopped for listen, then scooted further out from the cover of ruble.

Six was not far behind him and managed the same level of caution. She tugged the side of her hood, shedding more of her view of the area and sounds from the grating snarls the nearby Snatchers rattled off with. They were not the same as other adults, which might give a shrieking howl of disgust upon seeing children. Despite their size and gruff appearance, Snatches could be stealthy. There was the Woods she remembered, and the monster that crept through the thicket when he it cloaked itself in the shadows cast by the canopy. And then the blinding light of a lamp cut through the—

“Psst.”

With a sharp twist of her hood, Six looked to the outstretched hand. Chert was already shoving something up under the low hanging hood fixed over his head; his other hand offered something as equally ambiguous.

Six took the sticky mush and sank her teeth through the crusty layer. It didn’t have much flavor or anything. Exactly how she needed it. The stuff was bitter and maybe tart, but otherwise edible.

When she finished that sample, she snuck around Chert’s side to check the other cans. He was still sampling from a short cylinder, his arms rowing along the inner sides of the tin to scrape up the leftovers. The other cans didn’t have much inside, nothing except for scraps packed into the inner edge of the can seams.

Another of the stout and rectangular tins looked promising. Six could tip over the edge and dig at the residue inside without fighting to capsize the dish, let alone crawl inside and trap herself—

A rasping growl unleashed from the heap of Snatcher propped up by the bricks. Six ducked behind the curled top of the can and tucked her arms and legs against the sides of her coat. With her head hood tipped down also, she was unable to find where the Snatcher was or what it was doing, and it was too late to try fixing her hiding spot. If she moved at the wrong moment, what concealment favored her would shatter, and the Snatcher wouldn’t hesitate to grab her up. If she was lucky, the kid would bolt first and draw its attention. An opening would come, but only if she was patient. Only if she was the last to make the move.

Nothing happened after several moments. And also, the Snatcher was being too noisy for sneak and stole. It’s gargled and shuffled around, which prompted Six to chance a peak from under the bent hood.

With a wheeze and a snort, the Snatcher tugged the collar of its ratty coat more over the side of the mask it wore. Then it went still.

She looked back, not at all surprised that Chert was missing. One of the cans was moving, and as she beheld perplexed, the tall can tipped over and the other kid slipped out from within.

The rest of the meal endured without event, though they both kept eyes fixed on the inert heap of the Snatcher. It was down and out for the time, but who knew how long that would last? It left two unopened cans discarded with the castoff wrappers, but neither she of Chert could figure a way to open the cans; not without making a lot of noise.

None of the cans or tins held enough that did more than let them sample whatever the Snatcher had eaten, but the slumbering monster wasn’t the only one with castoffs.

It was Chert who led the way, turning to her and motioning with his hand. He was like all the other kids, eager to share with her some secrets about the places he inhabited, or show her the scrawls he put on walls. This was always in the hollows beneath the rocky floor, or through cracks among the stacks of ruble where the Snatchers wove through. If the creatures suspected a kid was around they never showed it, and Six was uncertain how to take that. She didn’t like it here.

Even if it was out of the rain, and the abandoned fires turned to warm coals, or the Snatchers tossed rubbish wherever. It wasn’t enough to make it worth the constant danger.

That, and she didn’t know for where to go if for way out. Her best chance was follow one of the Snatchers when it abandoned the group, but that hadn’t worked out yet. She did try one time, not too long back. The problem was to not only losing track of the Snatcher, but also not being seen by the others monsters waiting around.

Ages after visiting more of the dumped containers from the Snatchers camps, it didn’t do much for the aching pit in her center. Six did make the futile attempt to stuff her pockets with the few scraps she could spare, it would give her something to sample in the lull of waiting for other Snatchers to crack open containers or loot a satchel. Only Chert was crazy enough to dare crawling into a bag and search out something, like a box of biscuits, or anything else they could tear into without making more sounds. Chert might be thriving on the meager sampling, but the cold burn in her stomach only became worse. 

They snuck back into the area where the new Snatcher was. It stayed away from the others, but had been pawing at its satchel like it had plenty to chew on. From where she and Chert huddled among the ash and debris, it was impossible to make out where the leftovers might have collected. It wouldn’t be worth sneaking around if it dumped the containers beside its boots. The creature was distracted with shoving a stack of books into the embers, which cast a vibrant white and yellow haze over its masked face. All Snatchers looked the same, but Six could tell it was the new arrival because the coat was still rumpled and damp from the rains.

She glared at Chert when he caught the sleeve of her coat and tugged. The boy sprang out of a crack among ruble, which  served as a secluded pass that kept them out of view from the Snatcher. Chert's eyes glittered under the makeshift hood he wore, and Six could only guess he somehow located food, or something almost as useful. Her own mood went disregarded, but she let him drag her among the tight passages and through the dark.

As expected, the out of the way pathways and rows put them all the way around and in a space, way yonder behind where the new Snatcher situated itself. There was no sign of discarded containers, just a large crate planted in the packed gravel of the floor. It looked similar to the traps the Hunter left dumped around its cabin, except this crate had flat sides and few patches for narrow bars.

Six titled her head, while Chert hauled her closer to the container.

Chert showed her around to what must have been the front. The interior was lit faintly by the glow of the firelight and for a spell she thought it was empty, except for a heap of cloth crammed into the corner. The crate didn’t smell empty, though.

“Hey,” Chert hissed, barely audible. He cooed and hummed.

Inside the container, the heap of clothing shifted. A scraggily head poked up from the pile, and beneath the disheveled hair an eye gleamed against the soft glow of fire.

“Oco emm’uh,” Chert mumbled. He was already prying with a latch on the front of the container. The door was kept secured by a bolt, but the base of the shaft had a rusted spring to keep the solid bolt lodged in place. The bolt was something Chert was struggling to force, by anchoring his toes to the door and trying to full-bodily heave the spring back. “Huey eck. Six?”

Without really understanding his speek, she knew what he was asking. Doing the task was something else entirely, since she doubted combining their strength would manage much. But she and the other boy always forced doors open, or wrench planks away from cracked walls with just brute strength alone. Combined strength. It only worked with an other child. She really didn’t care about the kid in the crate – caught was caught. 

Those thoughts didn’t stop her from shouldering in beside Chert, and fitting her hands around his on the latch. He grunted and adjusted his hold on the handle – it was too large for him to wrap both hands around. While he adjusted his toes against the edge of the door and the bars, Six braced her palms against the coarse surface beneath Chert. Another series of grunting and muffled growling puffed out of them, the entire time the latch barely twitched in the shaft.

Inside the crate, the eyes gazed back, vacant and glassy. While she and Chert worked, the trapped child untangled from the scraps of cloth and shuffled across the floor. It watched them with suspecion and something like curiosity, or that was something adding by the flashing camplight.

“Hey,” cooed Chert. “Eru’y heu’erm.” Giving a hard wrench, the brace of the bolt flipped down, freeing the latch. The hard part now was forcing the bolt against the spring, without letting it snap backwards into the slot. The latch resisted them every second, but they made progress with each suppressed groan.

Six hissed at the kid inside the crate.

In a flash, the kid thrust his arms through the bars in the door front and snared Chert by the arm. And started squealing for no good reason. Chert barked and fought to shake off the trapped kid, but the traitor held fast. And kept up with the piercing wails.

Six backpedaled from the crate and grabbed the edges of her raincoat. Even though no other sound could break above the noisy kids shrieking, she huffed at Chert, and stamped her feet on the rocky pavement. It wasn’t like he could break free, it wasn’t like he was okay with this. Chert kicked his knee against the door and clawed through the bars, lashing at the other kid. She’s sure a clump of hair went flying against the yellow glow of the firelight.

Noisy children die. Noisy children TRICK!

A new, more terrifying sound ignited above the shrill. Six turned her gaze up past the edge of the crates roof, and there was the Snatcher. It hadn’t turned in her direction yet, or worked to fumble its mask around to view out the eye slots. Soon, none of that would mean anything, because Chert was held fast.

With a stifled bark, Six bolted at the containers front and grabbed Chert by his elbow – the arm that the trapped kid was fastened to. Two was stronger than one. Two could do anything, trick any monster. Two kids would beat one kid.

But the kid inside the crate was anchored to Chert, and practically dragging him through the narrow bars of the door. Not that the trapped kid or Chert could fit between those corroded bars, but the trapped kid was intent on hauling the other boy through like goo paste through a narrow tube.

The ragged breathing and thundering steps bounded over ruble, filling the small alcove with familiar sounds of capture and isolation. Six fixed her glare on the kid inside the crate, studied his wild face, the lines cut deep into his brow, the dull and muddied eyes.

She shoved the hood of her coat against the trapped kids wrist. The hot taste of rust stained her teeth, but the kid inside recoiled with a screech. At the same time, she had a grip on Chert – with him in her arms, they both crashed backwards onto rock and gravel. Above them, a breathy snort trumpeted.

Chert was fast to recover and scrambled away. That left Six, gazing up into the glittering eyeholes of the ratty mask. Six was already flipped over and barreling towards a gap between a rotted trunk and rocks, andt that moment reflex saved her from fingernails crashing into the floor. Within the narrow space, Chert poked out and motioned to her.

‘This way.’

She crammed into the gap with Chert, and followed him through the jagged twists and turns. The crack didn’t have much cover, but it kept them mostly out of sight if they stayed low and kept moving. Any of the fissures in the walls might lead into a dead end, but Chert always knew which openings to squeeze through. In the flee some of the light diminished, and couldn’t pursue them through the tight spaces that offered seclusion. The further they ran from the Snatchers, the better.

Through one of the tight bends, where they had to slow down and squeeze through or get cut, they came to a space with no branching paths. That wasn’t an issue, since Chert began to climb the rocky outcroppings to the level above.

They might not have had the chance if the Snatcher was after them but since ducking into the windy trenches, Six hadn’t heard the wheezing breathes or felt the booming steps.

Chert continued to climb up a steep incline, sometimes dropping to his hands to grab handholds and stop himself from slipping. It wasn’t high, but Six could see above the chunks of asphalt that littered the warren and blotted out her sight. She joined Chert behind a ridge and looked towards one of the gleaming sprawls of light blooming among cinderblock walls. Several Snatchers roamed around, dipping and peeking into the cracks where she had chased the kid. The monsters knew they were around, but not that they had managed to escape from the area where the trapped kid was.

The Snatcher that raced to the crate was hunched over, fumbling with the container and snarling. The noisy making was too much and it skewered the noisy kid. Not that Six cared, but it improved her mood. Across the cavern, the sharp clack and clatter of the metal latch barked as the creature bumbled around. One other Snatcher hiked over to the one with the trapped kid, with the two beside the other it was apparent the difference in sizes. Some Snatchers could be big like walls while others were compact and more narrow, but the one that mucked about the container was a head shorter or something.

When the other Snatcher snorted at it, the shorter one shoved the container aside and growled.

Chert tugged on her sleeve. Silent like a draft, she and he moved to the ledge which dropped to a solid floor below. She let herself down by her arms and dropped, then followed Chert to a stepwork of ruble. As they hoisted up one level after the next, the question nagged her if this was the time to leave the place. It wasn’t safe, and the Snatchers would snare the place. She wouldn’t stay around a doomed kid. All the guiding and help he might offer wouldn’t save her from steel bars.

They were in this mess cause he couldn’t leave a trapped kid alone. Caught was caught.

Across the warren, a hooting rasp clattered forth. At her heigh on a ridge of cracked pavement, the bellowing Snatcher was visible; it knelt and stood, then pointed to the ground. A different Snatcher hiked to the area the first stood, and peered at the spot where it indicated.

Chert snagged her sleeve and tugged, but Six snapped her arm away. “Shh.”

The second Snatcher reared its shoulders and mask up. It took a instant and a delay on Six’s part, to realize it was scanning the ruins over. She hunched down and scurried after Chert. The other kid was a distance away and slipping down an incline made of gravel and mixed with wood splinters. Halfway down the climb, the kid lost his footing on the loose refuse and rolled the rest of the way in tight somersaults. Idiot.

A sharp rock gave under her weight, and she went spiraling down after the boy. She crashed into him on the rocky soil below, which knocked him down right as he was dusting silt out of his rags.

Somewhere too near, a throaty groan rumbled. The boy grabbed her under the arms and heaved her toward a shadowed space, beneath a chunk of asphalt. Six picked herself up and fixed the edge of her coat, while the other kid scooted away. She froze when he held out his hand—

A boot settled on the spot where they had fallen, a whiff of dust scattered from beneath the heel. The boy brought his other hand up to his face and buried down another snort.

Six stayed rooted, twitching internally with all the bits of rock ground into her wonderful coat. The collar and sleeves stuck fast to her cardigan, sweat on her nape burned beneath the fine layer of soot. Across from her, the other kid clashed with each sneeze welling up in his nose. The boots of the Snatcher ground on the soil, then the folds of scratchy fabric rustled.

Chert rotated his shoulders and snagged her by the sleeve. Six tried to snap her arm back, but he held fast to the yellow coat. She wouldn’t have moved ever, if not for nearly losing her balance and crashing. Instead, she let Chert haul her beneath the ledge, until the canopy ended.

When they moved, the Snatcher had knelt low and checked the gravel where they scuttled away from – well, Chert dragged her…. The Snatcher prodded the scattered gravel, then peeked under the ledge where they had been hidden.

While the creatures mask was crumpled, Chert darted across the open patch of ruble and crouched beside a clump of rocky debris. He only poked his head up to motion for her.

Six didn’t move. She inched back and shook her head, which made her hood swish around her head. No. Trick. He tricked her.

She was fine until the tall man appeared in the doorway.

He left her.

Six recoiled under the ledge and huddled in the shadow. She could only watch as the Snatcher tilted its head up and rose from its kneel. For certain, the eyes in the patchy mask settled on her. But the Snatcher didn’t hesitate or stop, instead, the creature stepped between her place and the spot where Chert was now huddled. It stopped a few feet from her hiding spot, but the mask atop its shoulders bent and rumpled as the creature studied a pile of ruble, and a crack in the crumbling pavement.

It was too close. Regardless, Chert poked his head up from the heap of rocks and beckoned. The other boy glanced over at the backside of the Snatcher, while the creature remained oblivious and gazed off elsewhere. One more, Chert made vivid motions for her.

‘Come.’

Six hunched down her shoulders and crept away from the shielded cover of the ledge, and moved across the open patch of discarded cans and crushed splinters. A sudden grinding sent her low to her knees, with her arms pressed to her sides.

The Snatcher was moving away, its head ducked down as it inspected a pile of cinderblocks stained by an ashy fire.

Assured that the fiends focus stayed elsewhere, Six dashed the last few feet to Chert. Her hood tipped up enough she caught the gleam of horror in his ragged features, right before the booming snarl broke out.

A second Snatcher had peered over the edge of rocky pavement, above where she and the other boy had hidden. Its gnarled teeth gnashed behind the dusty cover of its mask, as it began to stumble over the ledge.

Chert was already gone, racing the remainder of the open ditch to the other side, and a low overhang. Six’s own feet blazed across the jagged floor, the sharp rocks punched dents into her beaten heels. The huffing growl of the Snatcher crashing to the floor did nothing to add speed or vigor, its impending rush only made her heart pulse faster. At her side, Chert made a wild leap over a shallow pit, but when he hit the unstable gravel his feet went wild and his arms spiraled out from his shoulders.

She flung a hand at the boy, swatting his arm aside before he could snag her coat. The boy did a tight twirl and ate rocks. She didn’t look back, the space beneath the overhang was clearer the closer she got and it only delved into darkness. Unknown. And aimless wandering.

But aimless wandering and unknowns were better than the looming hazard barreling down on her.

With punishing demand, she lunged for the narrow wedge beneath the ridge. A heavy mass plowed into her backside with a wave of dust on its rags, but when she wrenched around and bit at it, she realized it was only Chert. The other kid shoved her aside and scrambled more into the back of the hollow, he hacked and snorted, his hands clawed at the walls around him.

At the opening where they crawled in from, the frail light blacked out as a gnarled hand squeezed between the narrow opening.

Six scooted backwards on her hands and knees, until she crashed into Chert. He was still crawling this and that way, searching the darkened depths for a way out.

The Snatcher tried to shuffle along the low edge and find a wider opening for its arm, but the dumb creature didn’t get that it couldn’t reach that far. The low edge ended at a sharp corner, and on the other side another Snatcher blotted any escape with its stupid mask. The Snatcher glaring in at them snorted.

Six took it upon herself to hiss back.

“Psst.”

Chert tugged the side of her hood. She slapped his hand aside, but turned to where he was pointing. Unsurprisingly, in a shadowed patch hidden by sharp flint hovered an ambiguous crease, which may or may not be large enough for a kid to squeeze through. With the sad light, it was impossible to tell. Until a frail sheet of radiance lit up the space beneath the ledge, allowing further assessment into the ominous crack. It didn’t look any better.

A low growl, and Six snapped back around. She arched her back and bent her arms out to her sides, when the other kid… the trapped kid, crept under the ledge with them. It didn’t take a clever kid to get a grip on how wrong this was.

For one, the two Snatchers – the big ones – were not staring in at them. Another thing, that smaller Snatcher was taking stock of her and the Chert. And this trapped kid, that was now sneaking his way towards them. With he light at that kids back, she couldn’t find his features or face too well. There was a glint of something in his eyes, and in the way he glanced from her to Chert. As he got closer, the trapped kid slowed his movement. For a solid two seconds, the three of them froze up and glared.

Without warning, the trapped kid dove at Chert. In a flash Chert flipped backwards and thrusted his leg out, giving the traitor kid a satisfying sock to the gut. The kid crumpled with a gurgled sob, while Chert was twisted around and shot into the opening he had shown off prior. Six tore after him, knocking a knee hard onto the sharp edge of the opening. It would’ve been nice to stay back and listen to the other kid squirm and wallow, but Chert was not waiting around.

It wasn’t the last time they’d have to deal with the traitor kid.

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Within the first sharp turns, Six was utterly perplexed and had no sense of where she was going. She didn’t know if Chert knew had a clue of the turns in the passages – the narrow crease opened up into an open patch, where some light from the fires of the warren leaked down to them. The glow only indicated so much of their route by obscuring the few paths with a tick cloak, but staying out of view was essential.

The passages she and the kid squeezed through were formed by a crumpled mess of asphalt and pavement, pulverized by the skyrise that punched through the road where the Snatchers made camp. Sometimes she and the kid climbed through the shattered wreck of a window frame, or helped each other climb a sequence of shattered steps folded over ruble. They stayed under cover as much as possible with the Snatchers roaming, poking through the ruble and in constant patrol. The creatures had a vague idea where they could be, but Chert and her managed to get out of sight for a minute. Long enough to disappear.

Unless the traitor kid reappeared.

The kid from the crate wasn’t good with picking through the knotted terrain, not like how Chert just knew the best passages to keep out of sight and get around, all without snagging or becoming turned around. But neither her or Chert needed the kid to catch a glimpse of them while they wandered out of the hollowed gaps. They typically managed to see the traitor kid first, or hear him. The traitor kid was always wandering in the lit spaces in the ruble, and clucking.

The smaller Snatcher didn’t go far from where the kid was. Ever. In the rare hiccups when Chert or her nearly stumbled into the traitor kid, the kid would give sharp whistles. The cry bounced through the crevices and out of dark passages, giving warning that he was there. None of the noise making deterred Chert, but he always knew his way. They had to listen and keep from crashing into the traitor kid.

Whenever the wistful cry went silent, Chert was always cautious before bursting out of cover. The twittering didn’t do much, aside from coax the smaller monster in close. And that always worked – the monster responded to the shrill, and then Chert and her could keep moving – while being mindful of unchecked gaps or illusive shading. Sometimes the other boy showed her to openings in the cement she couldn’t know where there, not without exploring more carefully the jagged rock.

It made clear that Chert knew his way out of the warren, and wasn’t trapped.

Despite the kid being a reckless idiot, he always knew the obscure paths and roundabout trails that led anywhere, sometimes into one of the secluded campfires where the Snatchers hunkered down to pillage their bags of loot from the city. Of course the kid had to know the best way for flee.

It wasn’t only the traitor kid that they needed be mindful of. He was always making a sound, while the Snatcher nearby moved quietly.

“Nu rah’hymn is ferret,” Chert had grumbled.

Six didn’t know the speek, it made no difference either. The kid was noisy, and the Snatcher was searching through the open spaces where the cover lay scarce. Unless the Snatcher spied them, and it wouldn’t if she and Chert spotted it first and knew what it was doing, then they could get by without being spotted. That was all good, unless the traitor kid caught them off chance.

From behind a force collided with her lower back, and Six ate dirt. She tasted blood, her blood, but didn’t have a care to decide what sort of damage happened. A shrieking punched through her ears, only diminished to barely tolerable with the hood of her coat shielding her face. The traitor kid screeched and screeched, his scrawny fingers tightened around her neck. Six fought to shake the kid off before he could throttle her, or smash her head against the rocks she was pressed against.

A shadow flashed across her face, and Six fought harder to throw off the kid straddling her back. The shrieking cut off with a solid Thwack! and the weight of the traitor kid ripped clear off her back. She was dragged up by her shoulder, and then glimpsed the other boy at her side. To the side, the traitor kid lay in a collapsed mess of limbs, beside a rock stained red, or was it black? The kid wouldn’t be making noises for a while.

Chert hauled her around a sloping bend among ruble, the broken terrain shifted under their feet as they rushed to what might’ve been a chunk of road from above. The stretching rock from the withered ceiling cut off, revealing the misty skies and dark clouds. Beneath the bent hood of her coat, she couldn’t find a path that led anywhere aside from more crumbling buildings. That wasn’t a bigger concern, not since a low growl rattled out. It was the same sort of noise monsters made when they discovered something that surprised them, or wrecked their mood.

A clump of hardened clay crashed to the left, bits of flint stung her knees and shins. Neither she or Chert stumbled or faltered, but the other kid did tuck his head down. She was actually pulling ahead, despite his grip on her elbow ‘leading’ her on. Chert must not be the sort of runner she was.

He must’ve been scavenging off the Snatchers for a while, living in the comfort and assurance of his stealth. It was a dumb idea to try and help the kid in the crate. Ruined everything.

Six ignored the thought in her head that was eager to leave this place. With or without Chert, she wasn’t staying.

The harsh metallic spray of the mist slammed into her face, along with a taste of the city roads. After languishing so long in the warren and the bitter fires, she’d forgotten what cold wind and water felt like. Her coat was important, it was for the harsh chill and endless rains. The chattering pellets buried the rasping breaths of the Chert at her side, and a little further back. His fingers slipped on her elbow, and Six powered ahead. She scanned across the broken pavement ahead, and the next opening she would duck into. On the sheet of—

A rock cut by on left side, not close enough to hit but near enough that the wind sheer ripping off the sharpened edges made her topple. Chert went down with her, and together the kids bumbled and knocked their boney limbs. The important thing was they were still moving, but probably not in the right direction or going nearly fast enough to keep beyond the crunching boots.

It took a few precious minutes before Six did realize she was no longer moving, though her head still spun and it felt like she was disconnected from her thoughts. Chert tried to vault over her side, but his toes caught the side of her coat and he went down for another round. He had the audacity to sneeze against the rolling dust.

This time Six made it to her feet, but she only managed a step before the spinning in her head flipped her onto her backside. She gawked up at the overhang of rock and the rolling edge of the darkest clouds, the vapor spread a fine veil over her brow and scrubbed loose the frailest layer of dust. Her chest heaved and her breath came in wild gulps.

Then there was Chert, zipping by with barely a glance. His eyes flashed under the ratty hood he wore, but this time he didn’t stop or stir her. In a blink he was gone, his steps already swallowed in the gossiping rains. And the rumble of boots chipping across the rocky floor.

Six’s senses persisted to toss her sharply to the right or the left, the terrain flipped under her heel and she nearly buckled again. She caught her weight on her palms and glanced back in time to see the threat now looming, a large boot arched high. She sprang backwards with the blundering momentum of her spinning head, but not far enough beyond the range of the heel. It was pure intervention by another Snatcher, who snagged the smaller one by the collar and yanked him aside. The boot was very close, maybe fatally had Six not the reflex to dive aside once more.

A scuffle broke out between the Snatchers. The smaller creature swung with knotted fist and connected with the burlier monster, the smack couldn’t have that much force, but the larger Snatcher stumbled backwards before it crashed onto a lopsided window frame.

Six didn’t hang on the sidelines to catch who the victor would be. The seesawing turbulence of her head faded enough by then, she launched back to her feet and didn’t look back. More snarls and Thumping ignited between the Snatchers, which was only a bit encouraging. She scanned across the broken asphalt for any opening that might shelter her, or give cover when one of the monsters returned to the search. The plates of road and sidewalk locked together in layers, and she was climbing ledges toward the large slab that Chert had last been headed.

There he was. A massive fracture split the inclined pavement, and between the misaligned segments hung a warped sewer grate. The turbulent flows of broken cement wouldn’t reveal a duct or rift that would suggest shelter, and she wasn’t looking. Six scaled the steep incline, to where Chert squeezed under the bent lip of the grate. Only he knew where the opening went, but the interior of the cylinder offered no light let alone assurance.

She didn’t glance back to check the Snatchers, she didn’t know where they might be or if one was careening in to snare her up. Steal her away. She crammed her shoulders through the narrow gap, a draft of stale but icy air slapped her in the face. Briefly stunned, she fumbled for a hand hold in the murk, but found nothing but empty and black.

Something she learned way back before the door, was that cages didn’t open. Not without someone outside straining at the latch, or turning the key. A kid might get away, after the Craftsman looked away. It was rare, but it did happen – which was sort of like it didn’t happen. No kid on the other side of the door hung around to try latches or root out keys.

It might’ve been an other kid, it was more likely the Craftsman. When the lock clicked and the crease of light seared through the door and frame of the cage, she didn’t hesitate to barrel out into the air. It must not have been the Craftsman, or she would have been grabbed right off the drawer handles she scrambled up. She didn’t stop to see for certain. Caught was caught. Second chances didn’t happen.

When her lower back struck jagged rock, Six was sure survival would avenge itself with agony. Somewhere in the dark a voice groaned, but she couldn’t decide if that was her or someone else. She did manage to wrap her arms around her face, and the hood shielded her eyes from a spray of pebbles. One of her feet crashed into another wall of malicious rocks, but before the pain registered fully, she was skidding to a stop.

A gust of flint and chalky powder drenched the tough layer of her wonderful coat, the hood kept all of that from crashing into her face. Though, she was on her side with her face buried in the crook of her arm, and most of her in one piece. It should be unheard of after the violent tumble she was thrown into, but she wasn’t complaining.

Unhurriedly she loosened the tangled cords of her body – one leg ached, and her toes stuck together. Every small twitch made her backside pulse and burn, but Six forced her buzzing limbs to work despite searing nerves wailing at her to stall for a moment. There was no moment or pause in this world; weakness meant certain doom.

Yet the cage still opened. The door broke apart. A face peered in, and a hoarse voice slipped through the dark.

“Hey.”

In a simpering haze of light, it was obvious why her foot was so sticky. A thick stain of red colored her toes, and the scuffed bits of skin clung to the knobby joints. The mess was already dried and she couldn’t make out where the scrape was let alone how bad, but it stung and bit with each flex of her toes. No time for pauses, no rest, no dawdling. No weakness.

The imposing darkness above did not let her see from where she came, let alone how far she might’ve fallen. Water gurgled and swelled through the sprawling expanse, the sleek gutter she lay in was soaked as well; from cracks choked by rags high above, water trickled along with gray light spiraling into the tunnel. She blinked at the wispy mist trying to understand what happened and where she was now.

To the side of the gutter lay the other kid, the heap of his body cloaked by the murk. He didn’t move.

Six scooted closer on her knees and leaned low, near his face. She gave his head pat and shook him by the shoulder, but the kid didn’t move. Shoving him more onto his back, she was able to find the steady movement of his chest. He just wouldn’t wake up.

Some time later, Six didn’t know how long she stayed there watching the kid, but the rain softened its drumming and the radiant bands turned black. Beyond the gaps clogged by crumpled clothing, a pulsing glare flashed against the opening. More time later, the rain became nothing but a trickle, the dull illumination brightened into ugly gray slates. All around her, the disembodied crackle of the walls muttered about her arrival, and how she would never find her way out.

She rubbed a fist across her nose and shifted her stiff, sticky toes. Some of the crusty stuff from the cans had stayed mostly good, and she nibbled on that as she gave the other boy a hard nudge.

“Psst.” She glanced around as her rasp clattered against the walls. No snuffling or thumping boots. A Snatcher might fit in this tunnel, though she couldn’t imagine where it would find a way in. The channel went forever into the void, darker than the eye holes of a dumb paper mask.

Not as dark though, as the familiar silhouette cut from the black patch rolling into the nothingness.

Six didn’t bother with standing of shifting, or doing anything but pushing another handful of bland mush against her lips. It tasted more like grit and blood than whatever the food was meant to be (for all these children could possibly know, the tin might’ve contained toxic shoe polish). The shadow was always there, even when she couldn’t see it. The presence it gave off seeped into her nerves, like the static and the ever present unease warning her of eyes watching, of unknown dangers lurking but never acting.

Much like its other appearances, the shade in her shape did nothing but watch her back. It stood on a walkway above the gutter and may have tilted the frame of its hood, but she couldn’t tell. The shadow wanted something of her, or expected something. Six didn’t question where it had come from anymore, but she did endlessly wonder why?

She finished the last bite of food stuff and stood up from the child lying, has sleep but not waking. The shadow did nothing as she walked past it, not like she expected it to suddenly lunge or do anything aside from hover and be ominous. There was always that sliver of doubt whittling away in her head, right beside the curiosity of why it was. The shade in her shape did nothing but shimmer and sputter like a shattered television screen, but seemed solid. It didn’t move as she crept by it, and she couldn’t tell if the shape of its hood moved.

It was something of her. Something that was once a part of her, or it remembered her. She couldn’t recall a time she had been without the shadow.

At only a few paces past the silhouette’s flat gaze, she did stop to look back. The other kid, he had not stirred after she had moved him. A tight clenching burrowed into her stomach, but maybe the food was just old. Getting sick would be bad, and all she had crammed into the pockets was that stuff the other boy showed her. He wasn’t getting up.

Without further hesitation, she whipped around and raced into the black veil of the tunnels depths. On her departure the shadow dispersed like a cloud of dust, its scratchy particles dissolved into who knew what or went wherever it went when she shut her eyes. Her worn feet cleaved against the uneven floor, a fine fog of water burst against the hood of her coat as she barreled through the trickling waters cast from above. She might’ve been able to dash the light into pieces, but there was no brightness or color where she was headed. There was only a direction and a few scraps of crusty food in her pockets, but that was all this world offered kids like her. The ones that got away. If there was only one thing Six was good at, it was running away. She was the fastest, and that was all any kid needed.

These thoughts should be reassuring, but it did nothing for the sour ache in her gut. She could always run away. It was impossible to run from herself.

Next

[ajmeltdiaries]

40. CTC, aka Chi Town Chem (IC Collective) Live Rosin

Family, I believe

Chem

P: Chemdog 91 (1, 2) By IC

GP: Chemdog 91 (2, 3) By Chemdog via IC

CTC (Chi Town Chem) is a relative grandchild of original Chemdog 91, cultivated and further bred by IC Collective. They call the pheno "3 Dots", and I'm not sure of the significance, although it does neatly represent the city it's branded after.

Keynotes:

https://www.iccollective.com/ctcstrain

https://www.iccollective.com/cd91

https://www.alchimiaweb.com/blogen/chemdog-story/

Form, as seen

It's a doughy, cold cured texture typical of many other IC strains released this year. It's soft and spongy but not runny. Dark straw / sandy in color. Like One Way, CTC looked a little granular at first, but after tooling*, it changes into a solid consistency with a nice terp sweat.

Full disclosure, I forgot to take post-tooled photos #3-4 above for a couple weeks. These reflect a few days of usage, and the jar was at room temp for an hour or two prior. One unintended benefit here is that you can see a cross section of the mass weeks after tooling.

*Whipping is a common misnomer. You can’t whip this stuff. You can, however, gently form it into a uniform mass using a dab tool. That, for brevity, is tooling.

Flavor, as tasted

Too complex to generalize!

Before I get into aroma, let me clarify that this has perceptibly distinct flavor profiles at slightly different times/temperatures. It is enigmatic and one of the best expressions of this aspect in Chem that I've come across.

Aroma has a major rotating cast of sour skunk, bright citrus, and tart berry--quintessentially Chem fruit--followed by a minor rotating cast of floral, earth, and gas. There is a promise of Kush to be delivered in the flavor.

For the following I used my Victoria D banger.

At 510°F, CTC started as spicy diesel that led into floral, citrus, and fruit candy. The finish was bright, tart, and difficult to pin down between chem and sour candy. This is what I would call Prototypical (Gas, Floral, Sour).

At 525°, the diesel took on a sweeter, breathier Kush note, which emboldened the floral, citrus, and earth/gas notes. She finished dank and sour, with toasted citrus in place of chem/candy. I would generalize this as Sweet (Pastry, Fruit, Chem).

At 550°, the spice took over and transformed the profile into a savory mix of intense gas and chem. I got salty lime in the finish. I would generalize this as Savory (Spice, Gas, Chem).

Felt Effects

This has everything I expect in a pure Chem. It's body and mind, elevated to the clouds, after a long, gradual seeping in. My head felt light and lifted, hazy but creative. My body was fully relaxed and relieved. I could get stuck on the couch if I wanted, and it is fantastic for neighborhood walks. It's potent as hell and can be sedative with enough dose (~.1g for me).

Effect: Strength of Evidence (0=None, 5=Optimal) Energy/Amplify: 5 Relaxation: 5 Relief: 5 Sleep: 4 Haze: 5 Lock: 5

Final Thoughts

IC bottles lightning yet again! This chameleon of a Chem reflects so many different sensory aspects in its flavor and effects, it is very properly named after Chicago. It's sweet, it's savory, it's bright, it's funky. It's gritty and adaptable. It's strong as fuck and unbothered. It's an excellent companion with coffee, or a movie, or going out, or however else I wanna walk that dog in me.

melt shot x anthonyjames

Grand rising with the inimitable Nick Shoulders Evening dip with CTC live resin and the Deslondes

[irisheyesdesigns]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Sanuk sz 8 Yoga Sandy black strappy thong sandals.

[lawndoctorusa]

How to improve soil quality to prevent common lawn problems In Rancho Cucamonga

If you want to enjoy the best results from your lawn soil, you need to take several measures in your space. Fertilizing, applying pesticides and herbicides effectively, and watering appropriately are among them. To establish a healthy lawn that requires little maintenance, you need to check the soil. It is common for Lawn Care Rancho Cucamonga, shrubs, and trees to fail due to poor soil conditions. It is possible to find topsoil differing from one area to another.

Get Ready to make the required changes

The soil test gives you a good idea of how the soil is composed after you have carried out the test. If your soil lacks oxygen or is too sandy, or if it has low pH levels, you can determine what needs to be done. It is important to adjust your soil if you find such issues. The soil in your garden can be improved in several ways.

Supplementing the soil with good nutrients, however, is the best way to improve it. A soil with such a high organic matter ratio needs good additional nutrients. Good nutrients are released by organic soils and fertilizers over time.

Your lawn becomes stronger over time when you do this. On the other hand, organic matter can also make soils better at storing and absorbing water.

Consider Compost

After adding organic material, you should incorporate compost and grass clippings into your soil. Grasscycling is another name for these practices. When you mow your lawn, don’t throw the grass clippings away. Freshly cut grass is a good place for them to stay. Once these clippings decompose, they produce nutrients for the soil.

In addition, composting is another reasonable choice. You can compost a variety of garbage materials, including food waste, green waste, and even newspapers. In addition to deter topsoil attrition, composting balances the pH level of the soil.

Mulch the Soil Surface

Mulch is an excellent option for improving soil quality. Plants and soil need mulch to remain healthy. In addition to stimulating natural growth conditions, it prevents weed growth and retains moisture in the soil, making it cool. The organic matter mulch adds to your yard gradually decomposes, causing weeds to grow more rapidly.

Lawn Care Rancho Cucamonga processes mulching to cover the soil with different types of plants. Yards can benefit from it in a variety of ways. Mulched soil can reap several benefits for growing new grass and dealing with established grass.

Reduce Thatch

Thatch is a layer of dead grass and roots that have accumulated on the soil surface of your lawn. It blocks nutrients, water, and airflow if it becomes half an inch thick. Your lawn’s grass and plants can begin growing above the soil surface instead of below. From the dense mat, the roots become interconnected.

Thatch-damaged lawns are likely to be susceptible to different diseases and pest issues because they have a low drought tolerance. A dead patch can indicate a problem with the thatch. Additionally, walking on the lawn may feel spongy.

Test the Soil

A crucial step in enhancing soil health is to fulfill a soil test. As a result, you will have a reasonable understanding of the existing nutrient levels in your property. Consequently, you can catch what requires to be put into your soil to mend your grass. It is likely to execute a soil examination yourself or hire an expert to accomplish it for you. Check out the market for reliable, user-friendly soil test kits.

Maintain a Healthy Lawn

Making your lawn healthy is one of the best investments you can make for Lawn Care Rancho Cucamonga. Without quality and healthy soil, you cannot have a healthy lawn. You won’t need to use supplemental fertilizers once your lawn is healthy. You will need to invest a lot of time and energy into improving the soil quality in your yard.

As a result, you need to fertilize your yard twice or three times to make it fertile. To increase the soil’s health, you need to monitor fertilizing and watering schedules. Water accumulating on the soil surface without dripping into the roots is another sign of bad soil. This is a sign of compaction of the soil

[philodendronforming]

Brinjal 

Brinjal 

Brinjal is an annual, erect and non-woody plant. Eggplant belongs to the family of Solanaceae. This vegetable has a bitter taste with a spongy texture. The brinjal plant is called the king of vegetables. Oval-shaped leaves are lobed with hair. Mostly grown in India and Sri Lanka. 

Varieties

The types of brinjal plant are evergreen perennial shrub plants with hairy hard leaves. Popular varieties are such brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri), brinjal plant(spiny) Vellore gold, green variegated long brinjal (Neela pachchai katharikaai), pusa purple long, pusa purple round. 

Brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri)

Eggplant is purple and white markings. Highly beneficial to control blood sugar. Brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri) plant grows wild in its homeland of South Asia as a perennial plant, though these warm season vegetables are treated as annuals. They grow fastest when the temperature is between 20-35 degrees Celsius.

Brinjal plant (spiny) Vellore gold

This solanum variety grows fastest when the temperature is between 20-25 degree Celsius. Brinjal plant (spiny) Vellore gold grow quickly, gaining size faster than tomatoes or peppers. This solanum fruit is light brown which is too shiny to touch. These are the best garden plants.

Green variegated long brinjal (Neela pachchai katharikaai)

Solanum melangena contains numerous seeds in one fruit. Green variegated long brinjal are tubular shaped with typical green. It has a good taste and good looking. When compared to other products this eggplant gives quick yield. Planting multiple plants in a pot will also help in better pollination resulting in a huge harvest.

Tender fruit is glossy with purple. Pusa purple long is a hybrid dwarf variety. This fruit can mature between 100-110 days. 

Pusa purple round

Plants are tall with lobed leaves. Sow them as deep as possible as they tend to grow roots from the stem section. Planting them deep will result in a strong root system. Brinjal is a round shape with purple colour. This is disease tolerant-resistant variety.

Flowering

After 20-25 days from the transplant eggplants will start producing buds and flowers.

Soil

Grows best in sandy loam soil, which is rich in nutrients, can hold moisture well and is well draining at the same time. Compost provides nutrients and sand controls moisture.

Watering

During hot days, plants may even need multiple watering a day few the surface of the soil with the use of a hand. Requires evenly moist soil for their healthy growth so, provide regular watering whenever the soil starts to dry up.

Sunlight

Brinjal plant will grow their best when kept in full sun. Requires 5-7 hours of direct sunlight for healthy growth. 3days after transplanting shift the plants to full sun for their healthy growth.

Repotting or transplanting

Prepare eggplant for transplanting in to growbags once the plant has reached at least 4-6 inches in height. Carefully take out the seedling with the help of the gardening tool.

Fertilizer

After every 12-15 days add organic compacts such as cattle manure, Vermicompost and leaf mold. Add 2 handfuls per plant. Feed the plants with seaweed fertilizer. Work it into the first few branches of the soil with a gardening tool and add water immediately after adding fertilizer to the soil.

Pinching

When the plant is small at that time need to pinch the top part to force the plants to branch out/to grow fuller. This will also reduce the overall height of the plant and will keep them compact. Pinch just above a leaf node.

Benefits

Solanum melangena has a very rich source of fibre and carbohydrates.

Solanum melangena is a vegetable as well as a medicinal plant.

Eating brinjal is good for the heart.

It has antioxidants.

Help with weight loss

“Conserve and preserve green”

Brinjal vegetable plant

Blog created by Santhionlineplants

[philoldendronindoor]

Brinjal

Brinjal 

Brinjal is an annual, erect and non-woody plant. Eggplant belongs to the family of Solanaceae. This vegetable has a bitter taste with a spongy texture. The brinjal plant is called the king of vegetables. Oval-shaped leaves are lobed with hair. Mostly grown in India and Sri Lanka. 

Varieties

The types of brinjal plant are evergreen perennial shrub plants with hairy hard leaves. Popular varieties are such brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri), brinjal plant(spiny) Vellore gold, green variegated long brinjal (Neela pachchai katharikaai), pusa purple long, pusa purple round. 

Brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri)

Eggplant is purple and white markings. Highly beneficial to control blood sugar. Brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri) plant grows wild in its homeland of South Asia as a perennial plant, though these warm season vegetables are treated as annuals. They grow fastest when the temperature is between 20-35 degrees Celsius.

Brinjal plant (spiny) Vellore gold

This solanum variety grows fastest when the temperature is between 20-25 degree Celsius. Brinjal plant (spiny) Vellore gold grow quickly, gaining size faster than tomatoes or peppers. This solanum fruit is light brown which is too shiny to touch. These are the best garden plants.

Green variegated long brinjal (Neela pachchai katharikaai)

Solanum melangena contains numerous seeds in one fruit. Green variegated long brinjal are tubular shaped with typical green. It has a good taste and good looking. When compared to other products this eggplant gives quick yield. Planting multiple plants in a pot will also help in better pollination resulting in a huge harvest.

Pusa purple long

Tender fruit is glossy with purple. Pusa purple long is a hybrid dwarf variety. This fruit can mature between 100-110 days. 

Pusa purple round

Plants are tall with lobed leaves. Sow them as deep as possible as they tend to grow roots from the stem section. Planting them deep will result in a strong root system. Brinjal is a round shape with purple colour. This is disease tolerant-resistant variety.

Flowering

After 20-25 days from the transplant eggplants will start producing buds and flowers.

Soil

Grows best in sandy loam soil, which is rich in nutrients, can hold moisture well and is well draining at the same time. Compost provides nutrients and sand controls moisture.

During hot days, plants may even need multiple watering a day few the surface of the soil with the use of a hand. Requires evenly moist soil for their healthy growth so, provide regular watering whenever the soil starts to dry up.

Sunlight

Brinjal plant will grow their best when kept in full sun. Requires 5-7 hours of direct sunlight for healthy growth. 3days after transplanting shift the plants to full sun for their healthy growth.

Repotting or transplanting

Prepare eggplant for transplanting in to growbags once the plant has reached at least 4-6 inches in height. Carefully take out the seedling with the help of the gardening tool.

Fertilizer

After every 12-15 days add organic compacts such as cattle manure, Vermicompost and leaf mold. Add 2 handfuls per plant. Feed the plants with seaweed fertilizer. Work it into the first few branches of the soil with a gardening tool and add water immediately after adding fertilizer to the soil.

Pinching

When the plant is small at that time need to pinch the top part to force the plants to branch out/to grow fuller. This will also reduce the overall height of the plant and will keep them compact. Pinch just above a leaf node.

Benefits

Solanum melangena has a very rich source of fibre and carbohydrates.

Solanum melangena is a vegetable as well as a medicinal plant.

Eating brinjal is good for the heart.

It has antioxidants.

Help with weight loss

“Conserve and preserve green”

Brinjal vegetable plant

Blog created by Santhionlineplants

[philodendronleaves]

Brinjal

Brinjal

 

brinjal is an annual, erect and non-woody plant. Eggplant belongs to the family of Solanaceae. This vegetable has a bitter taste with a spongy texture. The brinjal plant is called the king of vegetables. Oval-shaped leaves are lobed with hair. Mostly grown in India and Sri Lanka. 

Varieties

The types of brinjal plant are evergreen perennial shrub plants with hairy hard leaves. Popular varieties are such brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri), brinjal plant(spiny) Vellore gold, green variegated long brinjal (Neela pachchai katharikaai), pusa purple long, pusa purple round. 

Brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri)

Eggplant is purple and white markings. Highly beneficial to control blood sugar. Brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri) plant grows wild in its homeland of South Asia as a perennial plant, though these warm season vegetables are treated as annuals. They grow fastest when the temperature is between 20-35 degrees Celsius.

Brinjal plant (spiny) Vellore gold

This solanum variety grows fastest when the temperature is between 20-25 degree Celsius. Brinjal plant (spiny) Vellore gold grow quickly, gaining size faster than tomatoes or peppers. This solanum fruit is light brown which is too shiny to touch. These are the best garden plants.

Green variegated long brinjal (Neela pachchai katharikaai)

Solanum melangena contains numerous seeds in one fruit. Green variegated long brinjal are tubular shaped with typical green. It has a good taste and good looking. When compared to other products this eggplant gives quick yield. Planting multiple plants in a pot will also help in better pollination resulting in a huge harvest.

Pusa purple long

Tender fruit is glossy with purple. Pusa purple long is a hybrid dwarf variety. This fruit can mature between 100-110 days. 

Pusa purple round

Plants are tall with lobed leaves. Sow them as deep as possible as they tend to grow roots from the stem section. Planting them deep will result in a strong root system. Brinjal is a round shape with purple colour. This is disease tolerant-resistant variety.

Flowering

After 20-25 days from the transplant eggplants will start producing buds and flowers.

Soil

Grows best in sandy loam soil, which is rich in nutrients, can hold moisture well and is well draining at the same time. Compost provides nutrients and sand controls moisture.

Watering

During hot days, plants may even need multiple watering a day few the surface of the soil with the use of a hand. Requires evenly moist soil for their healthy growth so, provide regular watering whenever the soil starts to dry up.

Brinjal plant will grow their best when kept in full sun. Requires 5-7 hours of direct sunlight for healthy growth. 3days after transplanting shift the plants to full sun for their healthy growth.

Repotting or transplanting

Prepare eggplant for transplanting in to growbags once the plant has reached at least 4-6 inches in height. Carefully take out the seedling with the help of the gardening tool.

Fertilizer

After every 12-15 days add organic compacts such as cattle manure, Vermicompost and leaf mold. Add 2 handfuls per plant. Feed the plants with seaweed fertilizer. Work it into the first few branches of the soil with a gardening tool and add water immediately after adding fertilizer to the soil.

Pinching

When the plant is small at that time need to pinch the top part to force the plants to branch out/to grow fuller. This will also reduce the overall height of the plant and will keep them compact. Pinch just above a leaf node.

Benefits

Solanum melangena has a very rich source of fibre and carbohydrates.

Solanum melangena is a vegetable as well as a medicinal plant.

Eating brinjal is good for the heart.

It has antioxidants.

Help with weight loss

“Conserve and preserve green”

Brinjal vegetable plant

Blog created by Santhionlineplants

[phildendron]

Brinjal 

Brinjal 

Brinjal is an annual, erect and non-woody plant. Eggplant belongs to the family of Solanaceae. This vegetable has a bitter taste with a spongy texture. The brinjal plant is called the king of vegetables. Oval-shaped leaves are lobed with hair. Mostly grown in India and Sri Lanka. 

Varieties

The types of brinjal plant are evergreen perennial shrub plants with hairy hard leaves. Popular varieties are such brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri), brinjal plant(spiny) Vellore gold, green variegated long brinjal (Neela pachchai katharikaai), pusa purple long, pusa purple round. 

Brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri)

Eggplant is purple and white markings. Highly beneficial to control blood sugar. Brinjal plant (Nattu kaththri) plant grows wild in its homeland of South Asia as a perennial plant, though these warm season vegetables are treated as annuals. They grow fastest when the temperature is between 20-35 degrees Celsius.

Brinjal plant (spiny) Vellore gold

This solanum variety grows fastest when the temperature is between 20-25 degree Celsius. Brinjal plant (spiny) Vellore gold grow quickly, gaining size faster than tomatoes or peppers. This solanum fruit is light brown which is too shiny to touch. These are the best garden plants.

Green variegated long brinjal (Neela pachchai katharikaai)

Solanum melangena contains numerous seeds in one fruit. Green variegated long brinjal are tubular shaped with typical green. It has a good taste and good looking. When compared to other products this eggplant gives quick yield. Planting multiple plants in a pot will also help in better pollination resulting in a huge harvest.

Pusa purple long

Tender fruit is glossy with purple. Pusa purple long is a hybrid dwarf variety. This fruit can mature between 100-110 days. 

Pusa purple round

Plants are tall with lobed leaves. Sow them as deep as possible as they tend to grow roots from the stem section. Planting them deep will result in a strong root system. Brinjal is a round shape with purple colour. This is disease tolerant-resistant variety.

Flowering

After 20-25 days from the transplant eggplants will start producing buds and flowers.

Soil

Grows best in sandy loam soil, which is rich in nutrients, can hold moisture well and is well draining at the same time. Compost provides nutrients and sand controls moisture.

Watering

Sunlight

Brinjal plant will grow their best when kept in full sun. Requires 5-7 hours of direct sunlight for healthy growth. 3days after transplanting shift the plants to full sun for their healthy growth.

Repotting or transplanting

Prepare eggplant for transplanting in to growbags once the plant has reached at least 4-6 inches in height. Carefully take out the seedling with the help of the gardening tool.

Fertilizer

After every 12-15 days add organic compacts such as cattle manure, Vermicompost and leaf mold. Add 2 handfuls per plant. Feed the plants with seaweed fertilizer. Work it into the first few branches of the soil with a gardening tool and add water immediately after adding fertilizer to the soil.

Pinching

When the plant is small at that time need to pinch the top part to force the plants to branch out/to grow fuller. This will also reduce the overall height of the plant and will keep them compact. Pinch just above a leaf node.

Benefits

Solanum melangena has a very rich source of fibre and carbohydrates.

Solanum melangena is a vegetable as well as a medicinal plant.

Eating brinjal is good for the heart.

It has antioxidants.

Help with weight loss

“Conserve and preserve green”

Brinjal vegetable plant

Blog created by Santhionlineplants

[sollilua]

i need to find an apple expert because i cant keep describing the only affordable kind of apple i can eat (sensory issues) as "the red and yellowish green one that's very crisp and not too sweet and smells like apple soap". pls i need to know it's name 😭😭

(pretend i put a picture here bc i forgot to take a photo of them before eating lol)