#ct rotten roots

[missr3n3]

saw what appeared to be a teaser for a sequel to happy anniversary on the bird app, so obviously i had to get these last few rotten roots memes out of my system

[miss-wanna-draw96]

New story just dropped

@missr3n3 @mustangs-flames

Dis is for you lovely folks!! I love your stories and your style of writing. Thank you for encouraging me to write more fanfics and just whatever I wanna write.

(Sorry for the ping!!)

[rmorde]

A concept that won't leave me in peace.

Soooo... A previous Six Eyes (SE) was murdered by Kenjaku. Screw the timeline and let's think that he did it while possessing Noritoshi Kamo.

The Gojo Clan declared the Kamo Clan as culprits for the assassination. It sadly didn't go anywhere because the Zenin Clan backed Kamos for political reasons. This made the Gojos seethe.

The 4th SE was born. They grew up long enough to stop Kenjaku again. However, their life was cut short in a duel against the Zenin's clan head. Again, the Gojos demanded reparations. They were ignored as the Kamos returned the favor and supported the Zenins.

Naturally, the Gojos went "Fuck this shit. We're out." And I mean really out. They had all their active sorcerers pulled out from everywhere. They literally burned their bridges by destroying their own compound to hide their traces so no one from the jujutsu society will ever find them again.

There was a great diaspora of the Gojo clans. They set roots in places far away and unexpected by the other clans to avoid further assassination attempts on their precious SE.

The Gojos became a strong-knit family after the complete disregard for the death of their leader twice. Even if they were apart and in hiding, they did their best to keep in touch in a variety of ways both mundane and magical.

And so, the Gojos successfully integrated themselves into society as sorcerers hiding in plain sight:

The main family founded a successful and powerful corporation in the tech industry. Through the use of a CT, the Gojos mass produced products that can pass as talismans to ward off curses from their customers.

One branch family entrenched themselves in the entertainment industry. Through musicians and dancers, they can enhance any Gojo products' potency as long as they are within range of their live performance or recordings in play. Actors, models, photographers, news reporters, and filming crew are the "field" agents in exorcising curses as they work their day jobs.

Another branch is in the pharmaceutical industry and is making their way slowly to the top. They don't have yet the perfect CT that can help make their products useful against curses but they are working hard on it.

A select few went into various temples, shrines, churches, hospitals, and the police. Their roles are akin to spies. Any curse or sorcerer-related cases tend to be reported there first. They are still mulling about going into politics and the food industry.

The reason behind their drive to succeed both in and out of jujutsu related everything is pure spite. They are living up the motto "I can live without you but can never live without me."

Beating the Zenins and the Kamos regarding sorceries without them being the wiser is their clan's mission. The two clans' frustration is a great source of entertainment for the Gojos ever since one of them had a CT that is like an SE offshoot that allows them to observe a room at a great distance. That particular Gojo infiltrated Tokyo and Kyoto jujutsu schools as a janitor to set up discreet "spy cams".

However, the Gojos do feel bad about the non-clan affiliated sorcerers. So they try to alleviate their burden by helping in a round about way to avoid revealing themselves.

Then, Satoru was born and he was spoiled rotten albeit suffocated. He is treated like the next best thing since sliced bread, the ultimate weapon, and a fine porcelain doll.

Satoru's childhood is a bit confusing but Satoru knows he is the clan's greatest darling. Adults are fighting over what he'd be in the future. Will he inherit the tech company? Should he go into acting or singing? Maybe he'd be charismatic enough to be a politician. A model was a good option too or an an athlete!

All plans were put into a halt though when the Gojo in the police department found Riko in a car accident. They learned she was a potential Star Plasma Vessel (SPV). So they took her and her maid in.

Satoru instantly fell in love at being an older brother. He wished for Riko to be his little sister to protect and spoil.

The Gojos know the SE, SPV, and Tengen have a weird connection with each other. They were wary about having the two children close and having the Amanais as part of the family. However, one look from two pairs of big baby blues and the entire family folded.

Tough luck for Tengen. The Gojo clan do not bear the old sorcerer any grudge but they are just really weak against this generations' SE and SPV. They unanimously decided to let them live a long satisfying life as much as possible. Tengen would be fine on their own.

So, Satoru Gojo and Riko Amanai became Satoru Misato and Riko Misato. They live an ordinary life together with their Aunt Kuroi Misato. They are students by day and exorcists (with a legion of chaperones/guards) at night. They are living up the superhero vigilante life.

Then a Meet Cute happens between Riko and Yu one mission gone wrong. Nanami gets slapped in the face. Then it is hate at first sight between Satoru and Suguru because they stole each other's first kiss Naruto style.

[southern-juju]

My Grandma's Magic Garden (AKA the Compost)

As I contemplated writing about starting a compost of all things, it occurred to me that I have a lot of odd stories about my grandma. My maternal grandma was the daughter of Polish immigrants. She was born and raised in Hartford, CT during the dark days of the Depression and was in high school during World War II. Right after the war, when she was fresh out of school, she met and married my grandfather. He was a young Air Force officer, and their courtship was a two week whirlwind of a romance that resulted in six kids and decades of marriage. After many moves around the world (and by the time I was born), she and my grandfather (a Lt. Colonel) had settled into an upper middle class neighborhood in Northern Virginia between Old Town Alexandria and Mount Vernon -the famous estate of George Washington.

My grandma and grandpa owned a six bedroom house in this neighborhood. Five of these bedrooms were used for people and one was just used for Grandma's clothes. She loved getting dolled up and could be as elegant as a movie star when she wanted to be. However, because of her humble roots, she was also thrifty and hard-working at home (when she wasn't watching soap operas in her bedroom). She was also never afraid to do her "own thing," as she would phrase it, however eccentric her "own thing" might be.

One of her eccentric "own things" was the way she "gardened." Grandma's "garden" was actually an enormous patch of decaying kitchen scraps --AKA a compost heap. Under the rubbish, you could tell that Grandpa had originally intended for this area to be a real garden. It was a large rectangular plot neatly trimmed with gray plywood fencing around the perimeter. It's size mirrored the deck of the tall wooden porch next to it. You could also tell that Grandpa had once tilled the rich Virginian soil. However, instead of cultivating this patch in the traditional way 98% of gardeners do, my Grandma would just hurl buckets of vegetable scraps, egg shells, coffee grounds, and tea bags onto it from the wooden deck above -like a farmer feeding slops to pigs.

Need I say, this "garden" probably made the residents of Grandma's swanky hamlet really happy (she, on the other hand, could give a s*%t what anyone thought).

Once in a while, and I don't know if this used to be standard protocol, Grandma would cover the entire patch with newspaper and and sprinkle it with lime to hasten the process of decay. I am pretty sure you can dispose of dead bodies this way, too, so lime is probably not a product you want big brother seeing you buy on a regular basis -even though alkaline lime can help neutralize acidic waste like pine needles and reduce odor (btw, I am joking about big brother -sort of).

In between these activities, my grandma hardly looked at her heap, and it was during these moments of NOT looking that the MAGIC would happen. Rotten tomatoes would release seeds and fertilize baby plants with sweet decay. Scooped out squash and cucumber seeds would nestle into moist pulp and sprout in the rich soil -gently coaxed by the rain. Grandma's weird compost would magically become a garden of first generation wild edibles -fertilized by the chemical energy of cultivated forebears. The plants that survived and thrived under these hard conditions were strong and untame, just like Grandma.

To a little girl like me, the fruit from this garden was magical because it was a surprise, a gift from the Earth to my grandma because she refused to be wasteful. It felt like Christmas to me every time she walked through her side door with an armload of butternut squash or tomatoes. Of course, we also benefited from these gifts because we got to eat the good cooking a harvest inspired. Contrary to what the neighbors might have thought, we knew that Grandma's thrifty garden was no eyesore but an abundant "waste"land that left us not wanting when it came to meals.

Now, decades later, but still inspired by my memories of Grandma, my family and I have decided to compost, but not using Grandma's open air method. Grandma used to befriend every raccoon and bird that came to visit her "garden." We, on the other hand, are not interested in becoming Chez Rubbish, the new hot spot in town, for every critter near our southern bay. Instead, we have opted to purchase an enclosed, plastic compost barrel that is easy to rotate. The barrel lets air and insects in and keeps rodents out.

The manufacturer's instructions are simple: mix 2 parts Brown materials (wood ash, cardboard, cornstalks, leaves, pine needles, straw, paper -Grandma was on the right track with the newspaper) with one part Green --everything grandma put into her heap plus any green plants (the instructions also say manure, but that is not happening here). It sounds simple enough, but we are clearly newbies, so any advice from more experienced composters is appreciated.

Ultimately, I know that with our new compost barrel, my chances of growing a magical garden like Grandma's are slim to none. Still, I hope to reduce our garbage output by at least one bag a week and to fertilize our sandy soil. And, hey, Grandma, if you are listening, once in a while I still throw fruit directly into my garden patch off season, hoping to create magic just like you did.

[coffee-with-kelly]

Life without Mom?

I made a big decision yesterday: I’m moving back in with my mom....Which is a scary idea to imagine. We have never gotten along well while co-living. But, due to the recent incident and the issues it has brought to the surface, I’m going to suck it up and move back, no matter how difficult and frustrating it may become. My mother’s well-being matters more than anything else.

My 16 hour long shift got cut in half yesterday due to my mom having a health emergency and needing to go to the hospital. She called me, complaining of shortness of breath, edema in her feet and ankles, chest pain as well as heart palpitations. Luckily, we happened to be double staffed yesterday evening, enabling my leave. I arrived at her house and she showed me the severity of her edema, which was immediately alarming. Her being a nurse, she summed up her symptoms and concluded the possibility of CHF (Congestive Heart Failure) or a blood clot.

Cue the stomach-turning anxiety. Many different thoughts and feelings began pouring into my mind -- Anger for her not taking better care of herself. Sadness for the idea of her grandchildren not knowing her. Panic for maybe not having her here with the important times to come in mine and my sister’s lives.... Nothing that I have time to acknowledge right now.

We arrived at the hospital and despite their business, we did not have to wait long for a bed because they were also alarmed at her symptoms, with her age and condition. My mom, being my mom, down-played everything she was experiencing. Surprise. I made sure that the point got across to her nurses and doctors. For this fact, I was especially happy to have came; assuming her symptoms would've been possibly overlooked if I hadn't been there to force her to be honest. They checked for all possible emergent problems but had found none; even after a CT scan, X-ray and numerous blood tests. Unhappy with not getting to the root of what is seemingly putting my mom’s life at risk more and more each month, we left the ER with general directions of drinking more fluids, eating and staying out of this heat. Not to forget the obvious order: stop smoking.

We left and went home. First thing she did? She smoked a cigarette and made herself a cup of coffee. My level of frustration was at it’s highest of the day, now.

Throughout the evening, amongst the conversation and discussion of her health, it was very difficult to not seem upset. I didn’t even want to imagine the possibility of her not being around for all that I thought she would be. I was and still am angry and scared. Why did the first thing she did after she left the ER have to be to go against the doctor’s orders? Yes, I understand addiction to caffeine and nicotine. Her life was and is on the line, though. I expressed to her that at this rate, she wont be around for my kids. I told her I want her to be and I think I told her I need her to be, too. I have a very, very hard time expressing any emotion to her and that’s a big issue for me. I don’t know how to fix it. Times like this are when I resent not having a closer relationship with her the most. Because even in a situation like this, I can’t just say something along the lines of “Mom, I love you and I really care about you and your health. I need you around for when I become a mom. I need my kids to know the woman that raised me. I need you there when I get married, when I buy a house; I need you there on the holidays. I just need you there. Life is so hard and I am in no way, shape or form, able to carry myself through all of it’s good times and bad times without you. I can’t, and I never want to. Someday, yes I understand it is sadly going to happen. But mom, you don’t even have any white hair yet. You haven’t kissed my babies yet or spoiled them rotten. You haven’t given them memories that they will cherish forever, you haven’t been there to decide if the man I want to marry is worth my time. You haven’t been there to help pick out a wedding dress or help me make it through that special day, steering me clear of an emotional breakdown. We haven’t even gone to the arboretum yet, Mom! There are so many things that life has to offer us to experience and learn together. Life is not done with you! Please, don’t be done with it.”

She unfortunately is the type of person to say “Hey, life is short. Why not enjoy it.” That mentality reaches all aspects of her life. Regarding unhealthy food, lack of drinking water, smoking cigarettes, etc. I want her to so badly understand that yes, life’s short. Why not live the best one, then? Eat healthy, drink more water, get up and go exercise. The results to quitting bad habits are rewards so big that you would be more satisfied by them than you ever would be by instantly gratifying yourself with the things that will only hinder you in the long run; money-wise and  energy-wise. Cut back on the unhealthy fast food and cook your own meals. Watch the money that you would be spending build up. Watch your body lose weight. Stop smoking. Watch yourself wake up easier each day. Feel your body re-stabilizing. Again, watch your bank account fill. Drink more water and watch your symptoms decrease or all in all, disappear. Lastly, get more sleep. Your mind will work better. You’ll have more energy hence more motivation to go and do. You’ll have more money. You’ll feel so much better. So much happier. You’ll feel good about the life you’re living.

I just wish I could give her a taste of it. Once I felt the benefits of changing my lifestyle, I didn’t want to stop. I want her to know that feeling.

-knf

[santereconstruction-blog]

Tips To Remedy Water Damage Fixing And Also Rot Repair Service

There are two related ideas that any resident should recognize with: water damage repair work as well as rot repair. Water damages could be specified mainly by its origin. Typically, it can be traced from a dripping tube, an overflow from the kitchen area sink or the washering, in-wall pipelines that have actually broken down, commode obstructions, roofs that leakage, walls that form wetness from within or even normally happening phenomena like flood, snow, or hefty rains. It could start as something that does not pose any type of risk to your house's framework, however in the long run, it can lead to the major damages to your residence.

Generally the rot damage impacts timber. Inning accordance with professional professionals, it is always much less tough and much more cost-effective to subject the rotten wood to fix. Changing the whole thing can set you back as much as hundreds or hundreds of dollars. However, there are things that a person should keep in mind prior to really subjecting the impacted timber to repair services. Inevitably, the reason for damage needs to be explained. If the resource of damage is constant exposure to dampness, then it ought to be a good idea to resolve both of the following ideas: water damage repair or rot fixing.

The best method to fix this is not simply to resolve the most pressing problem, however instead safeguard all of the timber in the framework. Amongst contractors, a certain epoxy product that is normally utilized by watercraft owners to produce a safety covering on the timber element of the structure. Apart from this, home owners are likewise given the alternative to make use of wood hardeners to safeguard the timber in the structure. It acts deep within the timber as well as offers it extra security. Before using, one must bear in mind the adhering to points. First, the wood ought to be completely dry sufficient prior to application. Next off, one need to ensure that the layers outside the timber are removed. The epoxy product or wood hardener can be applied using a paint brush to equally apply it. If you can see any openings within the timber, you need to remember that this could be treated by loading them out with wood fillers. If there are irregular components or surfaces, fining sand would be optimal. Finally, you can apply stain or paint.

In spite of all of these things, your initiatives would certainly be meaningless if you cannot resolve both water damage repair and also rot repair work. Any house owner ought to combat the issue from the roots. Because water damages is far more difficult to resolve, it is constantly suggested to speak with an expert, credible, as well as dependable service provider for you to be able to do this.

Contact Us: Sante Property Damage Reconstruction Address: 100 Peters Road b Bloomfield, CT 06002-1384 Tel: (844) 254-1480

External Links:

https://www.santereconstruction.com/

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Angel.co

[missr3n3]

Cringetober Day 18: Fandom AU

of course i was going to do something rotten roots themed for this prompt lol

so have this mock-up thumbnail!

[missr3n3]

Augusnippets Day 16

humiliation/dehumanization/conditioning

fandom: cabin tales (rotten roots AU) TW: home invasion, beatings, kidnapping, dehumanization, threats of torture, unreliable narrator word count: 560

@augusnippets

Everything happened so fast. One second, Peter was having breakfast mostly alone – save for several attempts to shoo Mittens away from his cereal.

Then, his front door opened, Mittens hissing at the intruders before Peter saw or heard them.

All hell broke loose.

Mittens, luckily, was off like a bullet – Peter could only hope he found a safe hiding spot. Peter bolted out of his chair, heading towards the kitchen – specifically, his knife block. He barely reached the doorway when he was tackled to the ground.

He should've listened to his father, should've gotten into sports. His frail limbs did nothing to defend himself from two pairs of fists and feet slamming into his body – hitting him, kicking him once he hit the ground, beating him.

By the time Peter was dragged into a van he only briefly caught a glimpse of, his whole body ached, burned, an eye was swollen shut, blood filled his mouth from a tooth knocked loose and dripped from a broken nose.

Within seconds of a heavy car door slamming shut behind Peter's bruised, limp body, his wrists were tied tight, and a rough sack was pulled over his head. Someone – a male, if the large size of his hands were anything to go by, pinned his bound hands above him. Someone much smaller sat on his torso. Cold air and ripping fabric told him all he needed to know.

“Look at it, squirming like a little maggot!” a feminine voice jeered above Peter, likely belonging to the captor who cut his shirt off.

“It's about the right color for a maggot after we kicked its teeth in, too,” added a masculine voice behind Peter. “And just as disgusting. You goddamn monster.”

“Save it for when we get to the manor,” a new voice chided – slightly further, probably the driver. It was feminine, but much lower, older than the person sitting on Peter. “You can let it all out during the initiation.”

“There's no rules against just talking,” the younger captor argued.

“Of course!” the male captor concurred. “Especially since there's so much planning to do! We’ve gotta make this one last longer than the previous initiation after all. Given what this shit-stain did.”

“Very true. We've got so many options, too.”

“Do tell.”

“I was thinking… maybe we start by cutting its fingers off.” Peter thought his heart would be merciful enough to stop at the younger captor’s words. “Oh! And then we can gouge its eyes out, since it doesn't deserve to see our newest member after what he did to her!”

What I did to…? What are they talking about!?

“I think the old man added a drill down there,” the male voice continued. “We could use that on its ears so it can't hear her.”

“I don't know… I think forcing it to hear its screams would be far more entertaining.” The younger captor sighed. “Maybe we save that for later, when it starts dying.”

Dying…?

One thought emerged in Peter's mind, a sliver of light he held to like a lifeline within the dark situation he found himself in.

At least they didn't have Sarah. Her sudden, unannounced work trip had become a blessing in disguise. Surely, she'd raise hell once she realized Peter was gone. Anyone would do so for their loved one.

[missr3n3]

Augusnippets Day 1

gaslighting/hypnosis/brainwashing stalked

fandom: cabin tales TW: stalking, implied abuse, implied kidnapping, implied lady whump word count: 170 @augusnippets

A voice clawed at the back of Peter's mind, screaming that his plans were wrong, evil. He deftly ignored the unwanted nagging as his car slowed across the street from Sarah's house. He had no other choice. Then again, nothing he’d done yet was illegal. He merely followed Sarah along her commute… to make sure she arrived home safely. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he allowed something to happen to her?

It didn’t matter if she asked for a break from the relationship last week.

Peter breathed a sigh, somewhere between relief and resolve. Yes, all he wanted was to take care of Sarah, make sure she was safe from a wretched world all too familiar to Peter. It was simple pragmatism. Staying by Peter's side, never leaving him, was the simplest way to ensure her security and happiness.

If only he could convince her of his perspective. If only he hadn't needed to bring a pocketknife and handcuffs.

She couldn’t leave him. He wouldn’t let her.

[missr3n3]

so about that cabin tales fic i won't shut up about. the first chapter goes up tomorrow!

[missr3n3]

Augusnippets Day 26

nightmare/warm blanket/snuggling

fandom: cabin tales (rotten roots au) TW: nightmare, referenced torture, referenced lady whump word count: 522 @augusnippets

Golden handcuffs rattling around her wrists, tethering her helplessly to the floor.

Peter laying limp in the basement, blood pouring from too many lacerated or severed appendages to count.

His own father standing over his son's dying body, boning knife in hand.

Blue-grey eyes meeting Sarah's terrified gaze.

There was no saving Peter. She would be next.

A horrified scream.

Said scream made Sarah bolt upright in her childhood bed as she awoke.

Bed… I'm in my bed. Blinking away tears in her eyes, Sarah's vision adjusted to the darkness. I'm in my room, back at the farm house. And Peter…

Her gaze anxiously drifted to her open door. Peter was in the guest room right next to her own, though his door was locked tight from the outside – a mutually agreed upon measure to keep Sarah's fears at bay.

Said measure had backfired. Not a single sound was heard in the hall, nor through the adjoining wall. No snoring, no shifting blankets, not even breathing. The only sound was a chorus of crickets sheltered by crops Peter had surprisingly managed to revive.

It… It couldn't hurt to check inside. Slowed by exhaustion, Sarah reached into the drawer beneath her nightstand, retrieving the key to the guest room – the only key. Either he's still in there and knows better than to try anything, or…

Each creak of old, weathered floorboards beneath Sarah's bare feet amplified her nerves. She wondered if she'd have a heart attack as she unlocked the door.

At first, there was relief – Peter was, in fact, still in the guest room, alive and no more harmed than what he sustained during the Easter Incident.

Then, disappointment. Peter was also awake, and clearly had his ear pressed against the adjoining wall before Sarah opened the door.

“What are you doing?” Sarah rasped, lump in her throat persisting.

“I-I'm sorry,” Peter stammered, his back pressed against the headboard in an effort to make himself smaller, non-threatening. “I just – I h-heard you screaming, a-and I was worried, so…” As Sarah stared into Peter's shaking, scarlet eye, he quickly picked up her distrust. “I'm being honest,” he tried. “I thought… I thought you were- that they had…” Sarah sighed, risking entering the room.

“Would you believe I thought the same?” She sat on the opposite side of the bed from Peter.

“Yeah…” Silence returned to the guest bedroom, save for the crickets.

“Peter,” Sarah muttered, just as surprised by the words leaving her mouth as him. “Can… Can I stay in here for a little while? Just ‘til I get my head on straight.”

“Of course!” Peter pulled his knees to his chest. “I-it's your house. I'm the guest. S-speaking of that…” Sarah cocked her head as Peter's gaze drifted to the floor. “Um, you can tell me if there's anything more I can do to help. Make some tea, o-or put my eye patch on-”

“I don't mind your… your eye.” It almost felt like a cruel joke, referring to the hole on the right side of Peter's face as his eye. “But… some tea would be nice.”

[missr3n3]

YSYDHZJD YEAH he's a little flabbergasted it's very funny

Along with that Sarah spends 80% of the rescue trying to get them to listen to her and stop arguing over the fact they nearly killed eachother. It's like that photo of the woman w two kids on leashes.

- 👁 anon

this concept is too good for me to not draw it

[missr3n3]

the final chapter of rotten roots comes out tomorrow!!! and it's actually going to be a short chapter for once lol

[missr3n3]

found out on the bird app that apparently happy anniversary was first recorded a year ago as of yesterday! couldn't come up with any canon art tho, so have some more rotten roots art instead lol

[missr3n3]

imagine you finally escape from your deranged bf's basement and you run into the worst possible person

also bonus headcanon:

[missr3n3]

pov u just rescued ur abusive ex from a homicidal vigilante cult and now ur both wondering if u made the right call

(new cabin tales fic chapter drops tomorrow!)