#laying tree mulch

[tenpolegardener]

Spring in the garden

Now that i have cleared the weeds I’m laying down tree mulch.

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[headspace-hotel]

Tree stuff

Most trees should outlive you. If a landscaper tells you the lifespan of a tree is 10 years, they don't know what they're talking about.

Trees are free. Carefully comb over your yard for baby trees, especially in mid-spring!

Similarly, If you live near a gravel driveway or gravel parking lot, you can find baby tree sprouts that can be easily transplanted by gently removing the gravel bits from around the roots, wrapping the roots in wet paper towel, and transplanting to a large pot.

Do not pile up mulch around the base of a tree. You can mulch under the tree, but it should be a mostly flat layer, not a raised mound, and keep the mulch a few inches away from touching the trunk. Roots need some access to air or the tree will grow roots upward through the mulch, and the roots will slowly wrap around the trunk and strangle the tree to death. It's called root girdling and it is very sad.

Trees need friends!!! If possible, plant two or three trees instead of just one. Trees share nutrients through the mycorrhizal network and they protect each other from storm damage.

Always get a tree that is native to your area and suited to your local environment.

Growing an oak from an acorn is easy. Go to an area where there are oaks in the fall, and collect the acorns that have turned brown and whose hats have popped off. Get large pots at least 8 inches depth, and lay the acorns on their sides on top of the potting soil, then cover them with a layer of damp fallen leaves, and leave them outside all winter long. Just be sure to cover them with some wire mesh or something to protect them from squirrels

Please keep oaks and other large trees about 20 feet from any structure because they will grow huge. Websites will tell you to keep trees X distance away from "structures or other trees" but other trees can go as little as 6-10 feet apart whereas structures need to be like 15 feet away minimum, generally speaking

Prune the tree while it's dormant, NOT in the middle of summer!

If you happen to be from the Eastern United States, please consider getting an oak! They are keystone species and host plants for literally hundreds of insects. We have too many maples here too, so maybe consider a Sweetgum or Black Gum for pretty fall colors?

If you have a tree that's tied to a stake to keep it upright, get rid of that thing as soon as you can, particularly if there's zip ties holding it to the tree, because those can grow into the bark and kill the tree...

If your tree is dead, please consider cutting off the branches and leaving at least 6-10 feet or so of trunk standing. Dead tree snags like this are important nesting places for many birds and you might see a woodpecker

If you live in North America, whatever you do, do NOT get anything marketed as an "ornamental flowering pear tree." They're typically Pyrus calleryana, and they're virulently invasive

Bugs eating a few holes in the leaves of your tree? Good for them! (They aren't hurting the tree unless they're like, fully skeletonizing it, and they're just the caterpillars of butterflies and moths. Want Luna moths or Tiger Swallowtail butterflies? Let the caterpillars eat their dinner mmkay.)

Don't throw away the fallen leaves! Butterflies, moths, stick bugs, lightning bugs, ladybugs, and many other insects hibernate the winter in the fallen leaves. Use them as mulch for flower beds, compost them, or just leave them alone! You'll probably want to stop mowing after the leaves fall if you'd like to see bugs.

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Moi Devochki: Chapter 10

Authors note: This is the last chapter of this series! Thank you for reading and enjoying it, and I hope the ending is satisfactory! 💖

Word count: 2320

WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Moi Devochki Masterlist

Five Years Later:

    Natashas back lays in the cool grass that's shaded by a large oak tree, and her eyes light up as she laughs at the sight before her. The pup straddling her chest bounces slightly because of this, but he doesn’t seem to mind the action. In fact he starts to giggle along with his Mama, oblivious to the fact that he was the one being laughed at.

   “Look at you, you're a mess!” she exclaims as her hand comes to soothe his wild head of hair full of small twigs, leaves and some mulch, “What did you go down the slide head first or something?”

   “Uh huh, was fun!” he admits with a wide smile

   She glances beside her to the backyard playground where the other two toddlers are playing. Sure enough at the end of the slide is a patch of messed up mulch and his stuffed tiger lays beside it.

   “You are crazy, Pietro. It’s a good thing you came to Mama to help sort you out instead of your Mom or Mommy”

  “Why?” he asks as his head tilts adorably, letting a small leaf fall onto the Alphas abdomen

   “Because they would have worried. Especially your Mommy.”

   “Oh, m’kay” he states, likely filing that information away for future mishaps.

   She chuckles at him and continues to work on cleaning him up. He behaves and sits there, letting her make him look presentable while he watches his siblings continue to play. His sister, Sasha, is working on a sandcastle in the sandbox that was recently put in after a trip to the beach. And his half sister, Lena, is swinging on her swing with her stuffed bear.

   “There we go my handsome little man, all fixed up” 

   “Thank you Mama!” he exclaims, glancing down at her briefly before darting back off to the playground

   She watches him fondly as he picks up his tiger and brushes off the debris from it as he makes his way to one of the swings next to Lena. He sticks the plush between his legs so it can swing with him and he pushes his little legs off the ground to get his momentum going. The pups all laugh and smile, and Natasha knows without a doubt that retiring and having a domestic life was absolutely what she needed to truly feel whole.

   “Alpha! Pups! Lunch is ready!” Wanda suddenly calls out the back door to them

   Ever the hungry one, Lena jumps up and sprints towards the house, “Did chu make macs with cheese, Mommy?”

   “Lena, baby, change out of your sandy clothes and wash your hands first! Then ask Mommy questions!” the Alpha shouts out as she stops the swings for the other two, “Go wash your hands too, please.”

   “Yes Mama!” they both reply before darting into the house as well

    Wanda smiles as they all rush by her to do as their told, and she greets her Alpha with a kiss, “Hi love, you all looked like you were having fun”

   “Hi dorogoy(sweetheart)” she replies, holding her close for a moment, “We were, them more so but I do love watching them just get to be pups”

   The brunette nods in understanding, “Me too. So happy and carefree, as they should be”

   The patter of small feet gains their attention and Lena bursts into the room in a mismatched outfit, “Macs with cheese Mommy?”

  Wanda giggles at the small girl, “Yes honey, I made some”

   “Yay!! Tank you!” she says, hugging Wanda's leg briefly before scrambling into her seat

   The other two pups file into the kitchen next, and Pietros shirt clearly shows evidence of a mishap with the sink but neither of them mention it. He smiles a gap toothed grin, waiting to be given his plate as little Sasha struggles to get her chair out far enough for her to climb up on it

   “Careful baby, let me help” Wanda says as she moves to do just that

   “I'll go get Y/n and the little twins” Nat tells her mate before heading upstairs. She makes her way down the hall and into the large master bedroom, “Hi medovyy(honey)”

   “Hi Tasha” you greet, shifting slightly in your nest

   She comes over and joins you in the nest and gently cups your face, her eyes scanning the small pups by your side, “You and the pups doing ok?”

   You smile at her, “We’re fine Alpha, I finished feeding them a little while ago”

   “Well, Wandas just made lunch and I think it's your turn to eat now”

   “Yes please” you agree, moving to pick up one of the two month old pups, “Mind carrying Scarlett downstairs?”

   “Of course not” she replies, getting out of the nest and carefully taking the small pup in her arms, cradling her

   You get out of the nest too, and pick up Rico cradling him similarly as you follow your mate back downstairs and into the kitchen. It warms your heart to see all the toddlers sitting at the table with their plates of mac n cheese and dino nuggets.

   “Hi detka(baby)” Wanda greets, kissing your cheek while caressing the pups head, “Did they eat well?”

   You nod, “Very well, they passed out almost as soon as they had enough milk”

   “Good” she exclaims, taking the small pup from you, “Now you sit and start eating, Tasha and I will get them settled”

   You do as you're told and sit, watching on fondly as your mates help get your littlest ones into their highchairs beside you and Wanda. Your Alpha places a gentle but loving kiss on each of their heads before grabbing your plate and Wandas. She sets them down in front of you both before grabbing her own and taking her seat.

   “Thanks for making lunch baby, it looks delicious”

   “No need to thank me, you were both busy with our pups, lunch was the least I could do” she replies before taking in a forkful of macaroni 

   After a few bites of your meal you turn towards your pup Lena, “Did you have fun outside baby?”

   She nods and swallows the bite of her chicken, “Mhm, I was swingin’ the whole time”

  “Tell Mom how high you were going” your Alpha encourages

  “So high up! And without Mama's help!”

   You smile, “Good job baby!”

   Wanda looks over to her twins, “And what did you two get up to?”

   “I played in the sands” Sasha tells her with an excited smile, “Made a castle”

   “I didn’t go down the slide headfirst, so no worries. Just did the swings” Pietro says, winking at his Mama

    You giggle as the Alpha hides her face in her hands and Wanda does her best not to smile, “Oh, well, ok then. I won’t worry.”

   Nat sheepishly looks up at the Omega, “Sorry dorogoy(sweetheart)”

   “Its ok Alpha, pups are a bit wild at that age. He's not hurt and that's what's important.” she smiles and looks back at the boy while he tries to shove an entire nugget into his mouth, “Besides, he's just living up to his namesake”

   After lunch you, Natasha and your twins head into the living room while Wanda makes her way upstairs to put the other pups down for their afternoon nap. Your Alpha snuggles up to you on the couch as you both hold the twins, she still remembers when the other three were this small. And it seems like only yesterday she was running around like crazy trying to supply both her Omegas with their every craving, keep them sexually satisfied, take care of them and keep them safe.  

   You glance over at your mate and notice her pondering gaze, “What are you thinking about?”

   “Just how much I love our family” she admits, “And how glad I am Wanda chose to carry more pups at a later date, because you two were a handful”

   She chuckles at your fake expression of hurt, “I was not. Wanda definitely was though”

   “Wanda was what?” she asks, walking through the threshold

   “Y/n said you were- ”

   The Alpha is cut off by your free hand cupping over her mouth, “The most beautiful Omega in all of Sokovia”

   She quirks her brow at the two of you, “Now, why don’t I believe that's what was said?”

   You give her your best innocent smile while Nat playfully glares at you. Wanda only shakes her head with a smile before she joins you both on the couch, snuggling into your other side. 

   Nat huffs and you remember your hands position and quickly move it away, “Sorry babe, couldn’t risk it”

   “I’ll get you back for it later” she teases, leaning in for a gentle kiss. As soon as she pulls away Wanda's lips are taking her place, and the three of you settle down to snuggle and watch tv.

    About an hour later the thudding of small footsteps down the stairs alerts you all that the pups have awoken from their short lived nap. The three scuttle into the room, trying their best to remain quiet in case the younger ones are still asleep. Once they see them sitting up in their playpen and hear them softly cooing they know they don’t have to remain silent

   “Mama! Mama!” little Sasha squeals as she reaches out for your Alpha

   “What's wrong baby?” She asks, picking up the girl

   A large grin spreads across the pups face, “Nothins wrong, I’s excited!”

   “Oh?” the Alpha says, casting both you and Wanda a look, “And why is that?” 

   “I did what Mommy does!” she answers, making the three of you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion

   “What do you mean honey?” Wanda asks 

   She excitedly looks over at the Omega, “The wisps you do with your fingers!”

   Wanda may not be an active Avenger anymore, but that didn’t mean she stopped using her powers. In fact she used them on quite frequently to help her with household activities, calming one of her mates down from a ptsd induced nightmare, and helping lul the pups to sleep when they needed it just to name a few things. So the pups have definitely seen her use it, and since they weren’t really old enough to fully understand they story about them and she didn’t want them confusing her magic with that of fairytale story magic the three of you decided to refer to it simply as wisps for now.

   Your Omegas eyes widen slightly, “You did this?”

   The three pups watch as scarlet tendrils leave her fingertips and sore into the air before they dissipate. She nods, “Mhm! Only not so big”

  Natasha had anticipated the possibility of the pups inheriting powers, but she hadn’t expected it so soon. And based on Wanda's wide eyed expression, she hadn’t either.

   “Well, guess that means you’ll have to start teaching her about everything so she doesn’t accidentally do anything she shouldn't” 

   Wanda nods in agreement with you, “And that means we need to keep an eye on Pietro too”

   You move your gaze from your mate to your pups only to see that in the last few seconds the boy in question had wandered off. It doesn’t take you long to spot him though. He's next to Natasha, reaching up onto the end table to try to sneakily grab her currently unattended coffee cup. You weren’t sure why he's been so fascinated by the dark liquid lately, but a certain feline is usually pretty good at deterring his interests.

   As if your thoughts had summoned her, Liho hops up on the table, making Nat turn in that direction at the sound. Before she can scold the boy Liho does it for her, slapping his hand repeatedly with her paw. He quickly withdraws in who;e pouting at the cat

   “That’ll teach you.” Nat giggles, ruffling his hair, “Mamas coffee isn't for you, and I don’t know how many times you have to be told that”

   “Natasha Romanoff” Wanda scolds, “I swear, if that cat of yours ever ends up using her claws on one of my precious pup hands, you and she both will become acquainted with the doghouse”

   “But Mommy, we don’t haves a dog” Lena tells her with a perplexed face

   “It's just an expression baby” you explain, “It means Mama and Liho will be in lots of trouble”

   “And they’ll be sleeping on the old couch too” Wanda adds with a huff

   Nats complexion pales, “But dorogoy(sweetheart)”

   “No now, there's no need to worry Tasha” you tell her, “Liho has never used her claws, except on the cat scratch post. You have nothing to worry about. She just likes putting the pups in their place, printsessa(princess).”

   Wanda melts a bit at your affectionate nickname, though you've been using it since you started sleeping with her all those years ago it never fails to make her knees weak  

   “I know.” she sighs,  “I just don’t want them to catch her on a bad day and end up getting hurt”

   “I’ll make sure to keep her claws trimmed” Nat says, before turning to her beloved cat “And you’ll behave, only smack them if they get into something they shouldn’t. And no claws. We don’t want the couch. Bad for our backs”

   You smile at the one sided conversation and though things are sure to get a bit hectic with your pups having powers, you know this is where you're meant to be. A home, with your mates and pups, away from everything hectic in New York. Being a hero was fun and it gave you your mates, but being here with your family meant more than words to describe. Looking over at Wanda as she holds Sasha, you know she feels the same. 

   Nat seems to sense this too as she turns to look at you both, “I love you, moi devochki”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastorm @zoomdeathknight @aeroae @sashawalker2 @maggieromanov @doveromanoff @mommyluvu @404-almostdone @tarathia @ayoungexwife @loki-laufeyson68 @elle161989

[tinydefector]

IRON GIANT 2

Optimus prime x human

Warnings: none.

Word count: 2.3k

Is this becoming one of my favourite pieces? Yes, it is. So enjoy more of the dadimus agender.

Optimus prime Masterlist

1

111

__________

It's nearly a week later when the sound of little footsteps echo through the forest again. Optimus had taken to using the cave as a sanctuary, he was away from people, war and causing anymore harm; it was his peaceful spot to coexist with the life of earth. He had taken to watching his step a lot more. 

"Oppy!, Oppy!" The voice of the child calls out in the forest from different areas of the small meadow. Optimus onlined his optics slowly as familiar foot fall neared, accompanied by an eager call he had not expected to hear again so soon. Unfurling from his rest against the cave wall, he peered out into the dappled forest light just in time to see the youngling break into the clearing, they continued calling out. 

"Here, little spark," he rumbled gently, not wishing to startle. His chassis gave a rumble of quiet amusement as they raced over to grasp a digit in childish enthusiasm, peering up at him through delicate facial features wrought only for joy and new discovery. 

"Oppy! I knew I'd find you!" they declared proudly, patting his hand. Pars working, I come to play! You wanna see berris? I picked pretty colours for you!" Bright optics shone with innocent invitation, as if this massive metal being was not so different from the little one smiling up at him. 

Settling back with a faint creak, Optimus regarded them fondly. "I would be honoured to see your findings, little one." The child slowly rummages through their pockets pulling out crumpled flowers, berries, rocks and dirt, eagerly showing it to the Large bot who's hand they sit on. "Oh look, look! I drew this for you!" They exclaimed as they pulled out a drawing. It's a crude yet adorable child drawing of Optimus. "It's You!" They state proudly.

Optimus gingerly accepted the well-worn offering, optics crinkling with gentle humour and affection as he examined the unmistakably drawing of himself, however simplified.

"You have quite the artistic talent, little spark," he rumbled warmly, carefully stowing the drawing within his chassis to keep safe. "I shall treasure this." 

As they continued showing findings, however, his sensors pinged softly, noting the absence of their guardian. Brightening optics subtly scanned the trees, playing drones searching for any signs of the guardian... but none appeared. 

A faint thread of concern wove through his field. "Little one, where did you leave your carrier today?" he asked gently after a moment. "Oh, oh! Pars at home. Just the other side of the meadow!," another toothy grin spreads across their face. 

Optimus is more worried about the young child wandering off without their guardians knowledge, he slowly walks out into the sunlight with them in his hand. anxiety rising though his systems. They were too young yet to wander so freely alone in the forest unguided. 

Stepping carefully out into the dappled sunlight, he turned optics down to them and rumbled in his gentlest tones, "It is not safe for you to wander away from their carrier's care, little one. What if you stumbled upon dangers I was not near to help?." His voice is ever soft as he talks to them.  Shifting his hand, he lifted them up to optic level and tapped their tiny nose softly with a digit. "Let us return you home swiftly, less your guardian finds you missing." striding with utmost care and speed towards where he remembered the meadow lay. 

A set of eyes flicker up as they hear their loud steps, the crunching of branches and the loud voice of their child. They look up from working in a garden, planting vegetables. They look up worried for a second before seeing their child with the large red and blue robot. "Baby I told you, no going into the meadows without me!" They call out as they stand and begin walking towards Optimus. They are covered in a mix of soil, mulch and fertiliser. 

Optimus bowed his helm apologetically as the youngling's carrier approached with concern clear upon their features. Stopping a respectful distance away, he carefully lowered his hand and helped the little one slide to the ground between them. 

"Your child came to my shelter with gifts of drawings, yet when seeking their guardian’s presence I discovered them wandering alone and brought them swiftly back." He explains. 

They slowly check their child as they pull their cheek lightly. "No wandering without me baby, I mean it, what would have happened if Optimus wasn't there and you got hurt?" They ask the child. The little one just smiles at them without a care or worry. "Thank you Optimus, sorry they seem to have a skill with disappearing and finding trouble" they state with a sigh.

Optimus vented quietly, field radiating amusement. "No apology is needed," he rumbled gently. Turning down to the child now regarding him with less enthusiasm, he continued in a rumble barely louder than a murmur but meant only for young audials, "Your carrier speaks wisdom, little one. These forests hold wonders, but also perils for ones as small as you. Promise you'll not stray from home again, hmm?."

Rising once more to his full height, though still kneeling, he paused watching them together, there was something about this that made his spark ache. "Go have a bath bub" they state to their child giving them a quick kiss to the forehead. “ahhh par you are stinky!” They squeal and take off running into the house. "Bath!, bath!, bath!" They yell in excitement. It makes their parent sigh with a shake of their head. "Don't use all the Hot water!" They yell out.

Optimus' optics crinkled with gentle amusement as the child raced off squealing. his plating shifted in a subtle shrug. "Younglings possess a boundless energy and curiosity it appears," he rumbled. 

They slowly try wiping dirt off their face. "Can I get you anything, I'm not sure if you eat or drink but is there anything I can get you?"

"You know you don't have to stay in that cave, you're more than welcome to stay in the barn if you wish" they hum with a smile. For a moment Optimus was surprised by the thoughtful offer, not used to such easy generosity. His optics softened earnestly even as his sensors subtly noted details of the little homestead and its assorted life - taking in the moment watching the small farmhouse and barn, a small collection of many animals linger on the property.

"You are too kind," he rumbled gratefully. Although space within his plating felt... empty, lately, in ways repair and recharge did not mend. He lingers watching as They head inside, helping their child wash up. “ You know one of these days you're gonna get yourself in real trouble you know that kiddo” They huff as they scrub their back. Small giggles leave the child as they throw bubbles back. “But Oppy was out there I wanted to say hi!” They state. 

“and what would happen if he wasn't there, baby. You could have gotten hurt” they sigh. Slowly drying their kid off before letting them race around the house. Making dinner and getting them set for the night is a chore in itself. It's only when the phone rings do they let out a tired sigh, answering it. 

 "Yea, yea I can do that Murphy, I'll be in, in 30 just let me get dressed and put my kid to bed" they state. After the phone call they move around getting dressed quickly. "Baby I've gotta go to work, remember the rules about what to do if I'm not home?" They ask the child. "Mmhmm! I stay inside, lock the doors, don't answer for anyone but you, Par! Can Oppy stay and watch me please?" the little one asks with the biggest pleading eyes, still towelling off damp hair. "Please par? I promise to be good, and not wander, if Oppy watches till your home?" 

"I will ask him but you need to go to bed soon it's getting late" they state while pressing another kiss to their forehead. They are quickly out the door. "Sorry I've got to go to work, would you mind just watching them to make sure they don't wander" they ask softly to Optimus. As they head out to their car. 

"It is no trouble," he rumbled gently, bowing his massive helm in easy acceptance. Settling just outside where his pedes would not disturb soil, Optimus' optics dimmed in contentment as he slowly sank to sit beside the house. "Oppy, watch a movie?" They ask while moving the TV so Optimus can watch through the window. 

his optics flicker gently toward the tiny gaze regarding him through the transparent barrier. "As you wish, little one," he rumbled softly, dipping his chin in a nod. Adjusting his massive bulk carefully so as not to shake the dwelling's foundation, he folded his pedes aside and rested intake against powerful arms, 

 The starting of the movie, excitedly showing him the Iron Giant. “Look look its you!” they say excitedly while pointing to the metal man on screen. " He comes from space just like you!" They state excitedly. Orion's optics brightened keenly as the child excitedly guided his attention to images upon the screen, quickly parsing scenarios and recognizing similarities between fictional depiction and aspects of his own frame and past. 

"Fascinating," he rumbled softly. Looking down with a gentle tilt of helm to meet shining eyes gazing up at him in awe, his field pulsed with warmth. "It would seem he and i are in similar situations." 

Turning audio receptors attentively back to the story unfolding, great hands carefully gathered tiny one closer within his palm, sheltering them in one massive digit as together they watched adventures of the unlikely bond between alien visitor and human child unfold. 

As the movie plays on they continue explaining things to Optimus. The large bot focuses in as the movie shows a little boy saving the large bot from a power plant and how their friendship slowly evolves. It makes him see the parallel with his own situation. As it gets to the scene with the Deer, it makes Optimus' spark ache, remembering what had happened only a week ago when he had stepped on a deer. “ Ah I see why you refer to me as the Iron Giant” he states ever so softly.  Within some time the child is asleep on the couch. Optimus can feel the rain clouds rolling in and decides it's time to retreat into the barn for the night. Transforming down into his alt mode, systems powered down into minimal low-energy mode as the rains began. The little one had drifted into recharge as intended, and his duty for now was fulfilled.

It's a peaceful night until the thunder starts. Cries break through the air. Setting Optimus fuel lines a blaze with true terror hearing the child crying out.

Optimus systems roared instantly back to full alert status at the first crack of thunder and subsequent crying, Transforming smoothly and silently into root mode once more, he began querying sensors for signs of harm - but quickly pinpointed the source as the small one rightfully frightened by nature's fury. The small patterns of foot fall along the wet ground echo's as they run into the barn, meeting his blue optics in fear. 

 "Little one, it is alright. Its only the sky." Holding out palm upturned, 

"It's scary, it's after me!" They cry out.A pang of sorrow shot through Optimus core at the terror in those tiny words, and he responded without pause - tiny arms had barely reached him before he folded massive digits as gently as his construction allowed around them, lifting and tucking them close to his broad chestplate in a cradling hold.

"Shh, little one," he murmured, the steadfast thrum of his own mighty spark resonating against their frame. "The thunder cannot harm you, I promise." he leaned carefully back against the barn walls, free hand coming up to form a shelter around them as the storm raged on outside. "Listen to my sparkbeat," he whispered through the noise, They pull their stuffy and blanket closer. Pressing themself into Optimus’ chest flinching every time the loud thunder echoes in the distance. Snuggling closer to him hoping he will chase away the monster in the storm.

Optimus core ached anew at each flinch of tiny form against his own, Curving lithe digits ever-so-carefully around the little one and their favoured possessions, he cradled them close as any carrier would. 

 "Listen to my pulse, little spark," he murmured softly between cracks above, voice a low, calm anchor in the chaos. "No monster dares face a Prime. I have you." Dipping his helm, Optimus brushed a tender kiss of metal against their head, They eventually fell back asleep snuggled against his form. He powers back down. Locking his systems so that no harm would come to them by him moving in recharge.

When dawn's light broke anew over gentle fields, his core pulsed gratitude for the reminder that life went ever on, even in darkness' wake. And as tiny optics fluttered open to his calm regard once more, he knew true purpose and solace would await wherever innocence required shelter and guardians stood watch.

It's very early morning when they finally arrive home, drained as the head towards the door keys in hand. When they go to open the door only to discover it's unlocked. Cold fear runs through their veins, they move towards the barn with speed. Optimus systems powered alertly at the barn door's opening, yet he remained as still as possible, not wishing to disturb the little one's recharge. Lifting weary optics, A digit raised gently to his intake. “shhhh” he calls out softly. 

_________

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Taglist:

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

[bouncybongfairy]

Werewolf Ghost looses control on the full moon and fucks the new recruit. New recruit doesnt know who it was cause they were face down in the dirt the whole time getting the best fuck of their lives.

Brainrot

Animal Like Rage

Werewolf Ghost x Fem Reader

Summary: As a new recruit you hear alot of tales and stories about Ghost on the feild. You chalked it up to overexaterations based on his intimidating apearance. After being paired for a mission with him, you see first hand these account, if anything played-down.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut, Sex in Forest, Masocistic Ghost, Blood Kink.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Everyone knew that there was some underlying reason why they called Simon ‘Ghost’. As a new recruit you heard stories about seeing Ghost do remarkable things on missions. Ripping a man's throat out with his teeth. Beating men twice his size into an unrecognizable pile of messy flesh. While hanging out with other recruits, they would exchange rumors heard about him. After hearing all the tales you came to the conclusion that it was all just over exaggerations. Maybe you were just telling yourself that in order to comfort yourself for the upcoming mission you had with Ghost. All your friends were making a big deal of it. 

As if he was going to chew you up and spit you out or something. The two of you were driving towards the perimeter you’d be guarding. It was actually quite a picturesque section of forest. Lots of trees and wildlife living among them. The mission was to simply look out for the assailants if they fled in your said direction. The two of you both knew it would be a boring night. The sun had set about an hour ago, and the moon was beautiful. Full and completely illuminated the sky with its burnt yellow tone. 

“It’s really nice tonight right I mean, look at the moon-” you started to make conversation but then realized Ghost was no longer with you. 

Your initial reaction was that he was fucking with you. Trying to pull a fast one on you so he could entertain his friends with a story of a gullible recruit. You called out his name a couple times over coms but got no response. Yelling his name out wasn’t an option, seeing as that could give away your location. For about 20 minutes you continued to check the perimeter of the area but to no avail. Eventually you decided to go into the forest to look for him. Starting to get uneasy, feeling like you were seeing things out of the corner of your eye. You stumbled across both of Ghost’s guns placed upright against a tree. 

Immediately you bend down to investigate the scene. As soon as your knees hit the ground, you felt someone on top of you. Hitting the ground so hard, it knocked the wind out of you; rendering you completely disoriented. The taste of copper started to flood your mouth. Immediately you assume it’s one of the target’s men. Especially when he ripped the radio off your vest. You reach down for your knife and go to fight back. However, he uses his palm against your back; shoving your upper body against the dirt. You tried to get up but the person’s strength was unparalleled, like a cement wall. Heavy breathing and growls could be heard from above you. 

Ghost’s mind was wrapped in a fog of lust and greed. Ever since he first saw you,  he knew he wanted to lay much more than his eyes on your body. He had so much pent up sexual aggression that he’d been carrying for weeks. He was practically shaking with anticipation, he ripped your pants off. His claws leave abrasions on your hips and upper thighs. Blood starts to create droplets along the vertical lines. Only to be smeared by his hands gripping your sides, lifting your body and forcing you to change positions. Grabbing your hips and forcing you onto your knees. The dirt and mulch from the forest floor cutting up your skin. 

He grabs your ass and spreads you apart, watching as you desperately try to get away. Not wasting any time, he shoves his cock into your entrance. Loving the way you squirm and clench around him; not used to the burning and stretching. Most of you was scared but there was a small part that found this exhilarating. Being bent over in the middle of the forest while you were supposed to be on guard. Apart of one of the deadliest task forces to ever exist but still being used like a bitch in heat. 

He began rocking his hips in and out of you, loving how your tight pussy hugged his length. Like you didn’t want to let his member go. His bloody hands grip onto your ass, his claws digging into the soft flesh. He was growling and snarling; drool dripping from his mouth and onto your back. He’d been watching you for a while, walking around the barracks practically half naked. He’d been waiting for an opportunity to get you alone and when he found out you two were together on this mission… It was like fate was trying to satisfy his hunger. He loved watching you, completely in submission for him. Your face was buried in the dirt and your blinks were slow. Gradually becoming more braindead and pliable. So cock-drunk that you were pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. 

“Such a little pain slut, you want more?” he asked, voice raspy and low. 

His thrusts were so hard his thighs were spanking your ass, starting to leave the skin reddened and raw. His hip bones leave bruises from them assaulting your skin. You were going in and out of consciousness, his tip hitting your cervix is what brought you back whenever things went black. He was starting to get sloppy, losing rhythm and frantically groping your body. Pushing your body flat against the ground and pile driving you. You never felt someone so deep inside you, like he could literally rip through you. 

Having no control of the situation but loving every fucking second of it. The burning feeling in your stomach boils into your climax. Holding your breath while trying to rub yourself against the ground; overstimulated and desperate for any type of friction. Seeing you becoming so disheveled and desperate made him cum. Letting his body weight fall onto you, bucking his hips and growling into your ear. Once he’d finished up, he got the both of you dressed and carried you back to the safe house. Where you were treated for injuries sustained by a ‘animal attack’.

[inkskinned]

glory be to the topsoil. to the worms. to the private church of mushrooms. what makes for a better angel than the quiet promise of decomposition - that thankless, endless task. returning to the earth: this is a final prayer.

you said to me - we understand so much of history through the lens of how each society handled death. i have been thinking about the funeral industry. about embalming. how the devil is supposed to be almost-human, charming. i was raised on teflon pans. the poison in my blood came from good intentions; sprinkled over pancakes and scrambled eggs. will those particles go, too, when i go?

i keep thinking about how many cultures personify death as being gentle. as being a friend. as being kind-of-beautiful. an outstretched hand. oh, we scowl so much at carrion birds; but they make their nests by the worship of a carcass. something about that feels beautiful to me.

i am often scared. i understand why some people seek immortality, even if it's not something i desire. i spend a lot of time worrying about coffins. i spend a lot of time thinking about how if they dug me up, my bones would tell very little about my soft spots. so many of my friends say - i just want to be a tree. i want to find a quiet space and go home. the other day, we got the bill from the funeral home, and i just stood there, staring. this is death?

you said: it's learning backwards. from how a society approaches death, we might learn how they celebrate life. i worry about what that means, sometimes. about what others will think about us. divorced from our contexts, maybe alien archivists will have a fondness for our tendency to call death sleep. maybe they will write essays titled towards the light: an analysis on how some sects of humanity worshipped solely facing east.

oh, there's so much about my life that won't survive. especially these days. there's so little that lasts in-the-same-shape. oh, if the universe is kind - i want them to know that we loved moss. that we loved lichen. that even decay could be beautiful for us; the little warm space of mulch. how i will go home, one day, in the body of a bird. in a worm. in a leaf.

how when we lay a body in the ground, we say: be at peace.

oh, to go to sleep so gracefully. when i go i want to leave no mark. i want the dirt to take me. // r.i.d & a.b

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

Battle With Razor Pt 4

It wasn’t long after the start of the battle proper that Razor made a break for it. Goldenstar couldn’t believe the absolute cowardice on display, especially from a leader. He didn’t call a full retreat, he just looked around, seemed to come to a conclusion, and fled. 

“Come on,” she’d barked to Orangestar and the two of them had bolted after him. Luckily, his size and the jingling of his bell made him easy to follow. 

“He’s going deeper into the woods!” Orangestar shouted. 

“Why would he do that?” Goldenstar called back above the noise. They burst from the throng of cats in pursuit of Razor’s fleeting tail tip. 

“I don’t- Ah!” Orangestar cried out and fell to the ground. Goldenstar whipped around to see the ginger cat she had met in the city pulling roughly on Orangestar’s tail. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, reeling her in. 

Goldenstar dropped into a crouch. “Orangest-”

“Keep going!” the other leader ordered, rolling over to kick at the tom’s face. “I’ll catch up with you! Don’t lose him!” 

“Got it,” Goldenstar nodded and pivoted again to charge deeper into the woods. Orangestar was right. The point was to kill Razor. If they let him go, the whole meeting would have been for nothing. 

She bounded through the woods after his scent trail and the faint jingling sound of his bell. The massive tom left a path of broken twigs and scattered leaf-litter in his wake that wasn’t hard to spot. As she raced through the trees, her mind was also racing. He was barrelling west, north-west, deeper into EarthClan’s territory and away from the city. Why would he do that? It wasn’t like he was headed for their camp. How would he have even known where it was? If they kept going, they would eventually run into the river but she couldn’t imagine he would run for that long. 

She couldn’t hear the bell anymore. She paused, looked around, and realized that the trail had vanished too. She looked around at the trees, tried to figure out if he had jumped up one, but that didn’t make any sense given where the trail had ended. It was as if, in the middle of a clearing, he simply disappeared. The fur along her spine prickled with unease as she padded carefully to the end of the trail, mouth open to find his scent. He was close, she was certain, but where exactly? The muffled breeze was blowing against her face but there was no trace of him on the wind. The smell of mulch and growing green things was distractingly strong. 

“Where are you?” she mumbled under her breath, eyes flashing around the clearing. She turned around to try retracing her steps and there he was, looming behind her. She gasped in a particularly undignified manner, puffing up to twice her size. 

Razor laughed. “Did I startle you?” 

Goldenstar lunged. There was no time for fear or conversation. She raised her claws to swipe at his face, aiming to blind him, but he reared up and slammed one of his heavy paws into the side of her head, sending her tumbling into a gnarled root. She groaned and heaved herself to her feet but he was on her again, laying multiple swats on her skull in quick succession. The world spun dangerously. 

“Shh, stay down, girl,” he soothed, one giant paw pressing down on her throat, claws unsheathed. She coughed and clawed blindly at his leg to no result. She quickly realized that he hadn’t been taking the fight seriously before. She had underestimated him, the one thing Scorch had told her she should never, never do. 

“I’m glad we could get some time alone,” he continued, his other paw trailing feather light along the ridge of her sternum. “A girl like you deserves special attention, don’t you think?” 

Goldenstar snarled and he chuckled to himself. As her vision started to clear, his face swam into view, silhouetted against the blood red light filtering in through the canopy above. His too-white smile spread like a menacing butterfly across his face, his pale eyes roving intrusively over her body. Goldenstar knew that, pinned as she was, her hind legs wouldn’t reach any part of his body that would matter so she settled for curling up to try and kick at his leg in a desperate attempt to dislodge it. 

Razor’s smile widened and he pressed harder on her throat, drawing blood and cutting off her air. Her body panicked at the sensation and she thrashed her body as hard as she could against his weight but there was nothing she could do. He was too heavy and seemed unfazed by the claw marks she was leaving on his legs. 

“This is my favorite part,” he purred. “I think it’s just adorable: the moment when a creature realizes there’s nothing she can do. If you stop struggling, this will be easier for both of us.” Goldenstar tried to hiss at him but there was no air in her lungs. She gaped helplessly, starting to feel darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision. Razor frowned and very slightly lifted his paw to allow her to gasp for air. With the immediate threat of death removed, her eyes shut tightly and her body went slack, save for her chest which heaved over and over again as she greedily gulped down air. She couldn’t think straight.

“That’s it,” he said, “stay with me. As fun as it would be to see you choke and squirm until you turned blue, that’s too good for you.” His free paw trailed down from her sternum to her stomach. As it went, he unsheathed his claws and Goldenstar yelped as they scraped her skin hard enough to draw blood. 

“No,” Razor rumbled,  “you thought you could take what was mine and get away with it. But nobody,” and here, he sank his claws deeper into her belly and twisted them, causing her to nearly bite through her own tongue, “gets away with stealing from me.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Goldenstar choked out around the blood now pooling in her mouth. “She couldn’t wait to get away from you!” 

“I know,” he laughed and Goldenstar nearly gagged. “She’s always been a flighty little bird.” He dragged his claws across her stomach and flicked them out of the flesh, tearing it away in a spray of dark blood. Goldenstar whined in pain and threw her eyes upward to try and focus on the branches of the tree, hoping it would distract her from the overwhelming pain.

He purred at the sound and kept speaking. “But she’s always known her place. It was your influence that fooled her into thinking she could live without everything I gave her.” He lifted his bloody paw and swiped his tongue between his toes, grinning down at her all the while. 

“You tortured her,” Goldenstar spat, trying to thrash again. 

Razor’s smile contorted into a furious snarl. “I love her!” he shouted, slamming both paws down on her throat. “I’ve shown her more kindness than she’d ever known! More kindness than a jealous little bitch like her deserves!” He sank his claws into her neck, that look of bloodlust back on his face. Goldenstar gasped and felt an uncomfortable flutter in her windpipe as the air escaped around his claws. If she didn’t do something soon, she was going to die. 

She kicked her hind legs up at him again, scrabbling at his now bloody arm. She twisted her head to try and sink her teeth into anywhere on his body she could. He snarled again and sank his claws in even further. 

“What could you possibly give her?!” he roared. “I am the Speaker! I am excellence personified! I am the most powerful cat alive! What are you?! You’re nothing!” The world was growing dark again, his voice fading as blood pounded in her ears and her focus started to drift uncontrollably into the void. She had failed. Tears welled in her eyes, not just from pain but from the shame of knowing she hadn’t been strong enough to protect anyone. The cold earth was leeching all of the heat from her body. Her paws started to grow stiff and numb. She couldn’t find the strength to lift her legs anymore. 

Distantly, she registered that Razor let go of her throat and heard him shout, as though at the end of a long tunnel, “Dammit! Don’t you dare die yet!” 

In one last act of defiance, she ignored him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Assistant 11

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, cheating, creep behaviour, violence, anger. These warnings are not exhaustive.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As an assistant at the Daily Planet, you’re rarely noticed. Until you are.

Characters: Clark Kent

Note: I expect we're near the endgame now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖

🖊🖊🖊

Clark lands with an impact that makes your skull rattle. Your ears ring as the world around you smears. He lets you go and you stumble away. He keeps you off balance as he grabs you again, spinning you as you whimper helplessly.

He rips your hoodie down your arms, tugging it free only to use the sleeve to restrain your wrists. He keeps you facing away from him, forcing you to your knees as he shoves his knee into your back. He puts you on your stomach and bends your legs up, securing your feet with the other sleeve so you’re facedown in the dirt.

You heave as your tears spring out unchecked. He parts from you, his soles mulching the dirt as your sobs echo. You squirm until you fall onto your side, bound helpless as you let your horror mount to frantic screams.

“Help! Someone!”

He hushes you and bends to grip your jaw. You quiet, choking on your voice as you look past him. Canopies of leaves ripple above him, you smell water nearby, a freshness that lends a coolness to the air. He snarls and drags you across the ground, placing you against the brush along the jutting rock wall.

“Scream all you want. No one out here.”

“Please, Clark, please,” you plead through pathetic babbles, “I didn’t–why– why did you– Richard—”

“You promised you loved me. That you would never hurt me–”

“I was scared–”

“You lied to me,” he growls as he paces back and forth, “you betrayed me!”

“No, no, I was just afraid. I was afraid you’d hurt me, Clark, honey, I swear–”

“Hurt you?”

“You’re married,” you whimper, “I knew we could never be together–”

“I know.” He grits out as he stops to face you, his eyes glowing eerie crimson, “you know. Lois is dead. This was our chance and you ran–”

“Dead? Clark–”

“Stop lying,” he barks, “I can hear your fucking heart amp up every time you do. So stop.”

You sniffle and shudder in the dirt. Prickly vines poke at you as you give in to the futility. You’re not getting away this time. Your lashes are webbed with tears, adding a soft glare to your vision. You look up at Clark and pout.

“I can be better… please,” you beg. “What are you going to do to me?”

He raises his chin and stares up at the sun. You murmur and curl your fingers into your palm. You wait in the deafening silence of the moment. The chitter of birds and scramble of critters is dulled by your dread.

“Make you better,” he says as he spins to face the sprawl of trees.

He clutches his fists tight and a sudden rush of air blows over you as he zips up into the sky. It feels as if the earth lurches beneath the force of his departure. You fall back against the rock wall, leaning your elbow on it as you gape up after him.

“SOMEONE!” You screech, even as you know he’s right, that no one will hear, “SOMEONE PLEASEEEEEEEE!”

🖊

Your lungs burn and your throat turns raw. You have nothing left. Your fruitless screams die as you lay in the dirt, wriggling only a few inches this way or that. Twigs and pebbles jab through your clothing and the dewy patches of grass stain the fabric. 

This is it. This is the end. The sheen of disbelief slowly fades. That denial that it couldn’t be real. You are just an intern and he is just a journalist. A lonely man looking for company where he shouldn’t. No, he is a murderer. You witnessed it. You’ve seen the rage in him, you felt it, the insatiability that cannot be denied.

More than that, he is inhuman. He is something else. He is lauded as a superhero yet lurks like a villain behind the mask of Clark Kent.

You quiver and let out a deep heave. Breathless, exhausted, defeated. You let your head rest on the ground as the warmth of the sun pools over you through a gap in the branches above.

Sweat beads over your forehead and dampens your cheeks. It gathers beneath your clothing and trickles along your neck and back. You languish there in the beating of the summer heat and wait. For what comes next. For the inevitable.

As resignation sets in, your fate doesn’t seem so scary. Death is a finality. It is an end. It means that you will be free, even if that freedom is nothingness. There is relief in knowing that those weeks of torture have come to a head. You’ve met the climax and now you’re in the falling action, plummeting towards the finale.

A gust sweeps over you and the earth shakes. You let out a yipe at the flash of colour and the clatter left behind. In a second, he is gone again, whooshing up into the expanse as the din of the forest resumes. You look over at the large ax leaning against the cliffside, a hand saw beside it, and few other tools you can’t place. What?

He returns, surprising you again. The clunk of a heavy chest hits the dirt. You flinch and try to turn your body. The effort leaves you hollow as you manage to roll against the jutting rock wall. 

Several more hurtling trips and Clark finally stands still, curls mussed from the excess but otherwise unshaken by his efforts. He grabs the ax as you stare at the wrapped packages of insulation, the bucket of plaster, and litany of materials. It can’t be–

He approaches a tree and swings the ax. He cuts through the trunk with a single strike. He lifts the gargantuan tree with a single arm and tosses it behind him. It bounces and rolls to a stop on the soft ground. He does it again, and again, and again. He clears at least a dozen trees without a glance or word in your direction.

You linger in stupefied silence. He approaches the pile of trees and pulls one out. He is little more than a blur as he works at breaking them down into neat planks. This has to be a nightmare. The distortion, the unreality of the moment can’t be true.

You gulp and lower your head. It makes you dizzy to watch him. You listen to the furor of his labour. The zip of the saw, the crack of the ax, and the rhythm of a hammer. When you peek over again, vision hazy with the beaming heat of the sun, there is a foundation built.

You shudder and blow out through your dry lips. You try to wet your mouth but your tongue is arid. You will against the ground, crushing your shoulder as you clench and unclench your fists.

You’re stunned by a sudden grip on your jaw that brings your head up. You nearly choke as Clark puts a bottle to your lips and pours water into your mouth. Your body gulps it down greedily as your thoughts remain disjointed and distorted.

He backs up and pulls the stump of a log over to sit across from you. He drains the last of the water and brings forward a paper bag. He doesn’t say a word as he reaches inside and takes out a granola bar. He wraps it and leans forward to offer it to you.

You stare at him. He presses it to your lips. You turn your face away.

“Eat,” he demands.

You sniff and push your head back against the side of the cliff, “why are you doing this?”

He sighs and retracts his arm. He breaks off a chunk of the bar. He doesn’t answer you.

“Clark, what are you doing?” You croak.

He gets off the log and comes closer, nearly straddling you as he drops onto his knees. He grabs your skull, turning your head straight, and forces the granola into your mouth. You murmur as he holds your jaw in place and your stare up at him with wide eyes.

“Eat.”

You don’t resist. You chew and swallow. He takes another piece and jams it through your lips; he does it again and again until the wrapper is empty. He backs up and perches again on the log.

You watch him as he looks over at his work so far. A whole wall built. It's not hard to guess at the goal, but you don’t understand why. Why doesn’t he just kill you? Like Lois. Like Richard.

“I’m building us a home,” he says as he drops his head into his hands and scratches along his hairlines, “just you and me.”

He sits up and combs his hair back. He stands and dusts off his palms. He stretches and peels off his shirt, revealing his broad chest and thickly muscled stomach. The hair along his torso speckles with his sweat.

“It must be done by nightfall,” he declares as he marches away.

You turn your attention back to the endless forest. You stare into the daunting sprawl and deflate. It isn’t a home he’s building, it’s a prison.

🖊

The house is complete. Clark carries you through the front door and puts you against the wall, just beneath the window. The interior is barren. No furniture, only a gaping fireplace and a small hoop anchored in the floor.

He unties you and stands over you, watching you as you sit up. Your shoulders and knees throb from being locked the whole day. He bends and pulls your left leg straight, he closes a metal cuff around your ankle and pushes a bolt into place. You kick your foot in fright as he lets it go and a chain clanks loudly as he lets it unfurl.

He attaches the other end to the loop in the floor. You whine and get to your knees.

“Clark, please, what are you doing?”

“I can’t trust you,” he sneers, “it’s for your own good…” he stands and looks above you, to the window, “you would only get lost out there.”

“No, please, you can trust me–”

He raises his hand and you quiet. You sit back on your heels and clasp your hands together. He shakes his head and waves you off, striding away without another word. He goes through the open door as you focus on the chain, touching the links in dread.

He returns and unzips a sleeping bag, spreading it over the floor. He leaves again, coming back with pillows and another blanket. He backs up, hands on his hips and looks over the makeshift set up.

“Tomorrow I will find a bed. Other things,” he turns and approaches the fireplace, resting his hand on the mantle above, “I will start a fire for the night. It’ll be cold soon.”

You want to scream. You want to wail. You want to call him a monster, tell him that he’s insane. But you know that won’t make this any better. You let go of the chain and raise yourself on your knees. You crawl on the blankets and make yourself small as you sit against the pillows.

“Thank you, Clark,” you squeak as you pull off your shoes and place them to the side.

He keeps his back to you, bowing his head as he sighs. Slowly, he shifts and glances over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours and he drags his hand off the mantle. He faces you as you carefully recline.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he says grimly, “but it has to be like this. Just for now.”

“I know,” you say as you wince and rub your shoulder.

He sniffs and reluctantly turns away. His steps are lighter as he goes back through the door, returning with an armful of split logs. He stacks them by the fireplace before he works at starting a fire. You listen to his efforts and close your eyes. Only to hide, not to sleep.

The scent of the fire fills the cabin and he pulls the door shut. He nears and his shadow looms over you. He tugs on the blanket as he climbs down next to you and swoops it over you as he wraps an arm over your middle. He draws you closer, his breath fanning across your hair.

“I know you’re scared but one day, you’ll see,” he rumbles as he bends his arm, fondling your chest. Your stomach knots as he presses his pelvis flush to you, “I saved you… like you saved me.” 

His hand trails down and you hold your breath. His fingertips touch the top of your jeans and he pauses. He brushes his arm back up and embraces you again.

“Not tonight,” he resigns glumly, “I don’t forgive you yet.”

[laelior]

The Weight of the World

To: Master Operations Chief (ret.) Margaret Shepard

This letter is to inform you that your granddaughter, Lieutenant Commander Bethany Shepard, was presumed killed in action following the destruction of the SSV Normandy by unknown enemy forces on December 5, 2183. 

Lieutenant Commander Shepard’s service with the Alliance was an example to us all and her heroic actions in service both to Earth and the Citadel Council will never be forgotten. 

At this time, we are unable to publicly announce details related to the destruction of the SSV Normandy. At such a time when we are able, rest assured that the Alliance will lay Lieutenant Commander Shepard to rest with full military honors.

Please accept my sincerest condolences for your loss.

Adm. Steven HackettAlliance 5th Fleet Command

Anderson sat in the back of his skycar, numbly rehearsing the words of the letter in his hands over the neatly-folded Alliance flag and Alliance-stamped urn in his lap. God, for such a small jar it must have weighed a ton. Nevermind that it was empty.

His eyes continually wandered to the shallow, formulaic words on the flimsy paper in his hands, hoping that somehow they’d magically rearrange themselves into something less weighty than the gravitational pull of a whole damn planet before the skycar touched down.

Hackett had already sent nineteen letters just like the one in his hands to nineteen different addresses. Letters addressed to Preslies, Dravens, Tanakas and so forth. Letters only confirming what the rumor mill had already been circulating for months. Letters delivered by NCOs and junior officers with black bands around their arms as a thin show of solidarity for their losses. It had been tempting to pass this particular letter off to someone else, too, but some things just had to be done.

“We’re almost there, sir,” the driver said.

The skycar gently touched down on the street next to a neat little house with an immaculately maintained garden. Even in the dead of winter the hedges were neatly trimmed and the flower beds were freshly mulched.

The driver went out to ring the doorbell while Anderson slowly gathered himself for the news he had to deliver.

The woman who came out to the front porch to greet him after a moment was smaller than he expected. He’d never met her before, but Peggy Shepard was a legend in her own right. One of the founding mothers of the Alliance non-commissioned officer’s corp and one of the best damn sniper instructors the service ever had. Hell, her 500-meter longshot record had stood for nearly forty years and had only been broken a few years ago by Lieutenant Coats.

And she didn’t need a letter to tell her why he was here. That was obvious from the hard, steely look in her eyes that flicked to his uniform, the flag tucked under one arm, and the black band around the other. Her eyes lingered on the captain’s stars on his lapel and her hand twitched at her side, fighting the reflexive urge to salute. Old habits died hard, and habits drilled in by a lifetime of military discipline were harder to kill than most. When she looked him right in the eye, though, Anderson had to fight the urge to flinch.

Throughout his military career, Anderson had faced more threats than he cared to count, from the petty political rivalries that riddled the service right up to Saren himself. And just then he would have rather faced down Sovereign itself if it meant getting away from the look in her eyes.

She was no stranger to this ritual. A casual glimpse at the Shepard family tree told him how many of its branches had been pruned like this. But that never meant it was easy to be the bearer of this particular news.

“Ma’am,” he intoned formally. Formalities were good. They were safe. He held up the folded flag and offered it to her with both hands. But before he could so much as open his mouth to say the words that were the next part of the ritual, she held up a hand and drew in a shaky breath.

“It’s true, isn’t it? What they’ve been saying?” She asked quietly. No need to ask what they were saying.

Anderson could only nod stiffly. “I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

She quietly accepted the flag, taking the weight from him and hugging it closely to her chest. 

“The Alliance offers its sincerest condolences for your loss,” he intoned, getting back to the words of the ritual. “If there’s anything we can do for you….” He trailed off. There was nothing the Alliance could do for her that would remotely make up for the magnitude of her loss, and there was no point pretending otherwise. 

She nodded in acknowledgement of the harsh, unspoken truth that passed between them.

“I need to make arrangements,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, before turning back into her house and letting the door slam shut behind her. The large wooden door closed with a resounding thud that made him flinch with its finality. He set the urn and the letter down on the porch table next to the door and went back to the car, his duty thus discharged.

If it was a tragedy for a parent to bury their child, then it was an utter goddamn travesty for a grandparent to lower their grandchild’s casket into the ground.

The driver cleared his throat, cutting across the uncomfortable silence that filled the car. “Where to next, sir?”

“Norfolk,” he said, picking the closest Alliance base he could think of off-hand. The car began its ascent, leaving the view of the Shepard household behind.  “Drop me off at the officer’s club, and tell them to have a glass of Ardbeg 16 ready, no ice.”

Something to wash away the ashy taste of having been the one to send Peggy Shepard’s granddaughter to her empty grave.

[tenpolegardener]

Spring in the garden

Now that i have the nettles, bindweed and grass tuff removed I can lay down the tree mulch.

[systlin]

hi!! i know you probbaly get this question a lot because of how popular your post is lol, but i had a question regarding soil compaction. the soil in my yard is similar to how you described yours; extremely compacted, bends shovels. how did you go about dealing with it/restoring soil health? i know thats a super broad question but if you have any tips i'd love to hear them. thank you so much for your time :3

Mulch

Mulch

More mulch

I cannot overstate the 'mulch' part enough, really. Whatever works that you can get for cheap. Grass clippings, leaves, sign up for Chip Drop ( a service where tree trimming companies can dump wood chips on your yard for free for you to use as mulch)

Lay down a layer of damp newspaper or cardboard...amazon boxes with the tape stripped off work...and cover it with a real good thick layer of mulch.

Then you wait. Apply more mulch as it rots down. Won't hurt to throw down some blood and bone meal. A layer of compost between layers of mulch won't hurt a bit.

But aside from that, the biggest thing is time. You let the soil microbes and worms and things do their thing. They'll do the real work, so long as you feed them with all that lovely organic matter you just gave them to eat (the mulch) and maybe water a bit if it's dry now and then. Give it a year, and you'll be astounded.

After that, keep spreading mulch. It'll keep weeds down and retain moisture and keep feeding your soil.

For the part you leave lawn, don't bag your grass clippings. Leave them where they fall. Don't rake your leaves. Just run the mower over them when you mow. Don't mow your grass too short. (I realize some places have regulations about grass length, which is annoying, but don't mow your lawn super short.)

[bomberqueen17]

farm life

Am at the farm. Just gonna witter on uninterestingly about that behind the cut because I"m too tired to be interesting.

Initially we were going to make chicken sausage this week but BIL decided not to, but then when I said I was coming anyway, he decided to cut up some chickens.

In past years they've always sold out of chicken parts way before they've sold out of whole chickens. But a couple of years ago a chef friend told him there was nothing really wrong with thawing a chicken, cutting it up, and refreezing the parts, and initially we were just thawing whole chickens to cut up to grind into sausage, but we did some tests and determined that actually, no, there's really no discernible loss of quality in the parts. So now we don't sell out of chicken breasts in December anymore, but can keep bringing them to market all winter.

So this year we took the whole chickens out of the store, stopped bringing them to market, and are *only* selling the parts, and are saving the whole chickens to thaw and cut up and refreeze as parts. It's working great. It's more work, but it's more profit, and also more sales. People just don't buy whole chickens that much.

So anyway we cut up 88 chickens, and saved like 60 of the carcasses into a pair of huge stock pots. Packaged all the parts up, labeled and weighed them, then put the stock pots on to boil. Today we packaged 89 quarts of chicken stock. I was going to deep-clean the commercial kitchen, but it's not ready for the full spring treatment: we're still washing eggs in there, which means baskets full of chicken-shitty eggs are coming in and getting set on the floor. So I just cleaned and sanitized the heck out of the stuff we were using, and also the floor drain, but have held off. In April when the temps don't go below freezing at night anymore, when the vegetable washing station can move out of the eviscerating room so the egg washing can move back in there, *then* I will haul all the big equipment out and wash the whole room from the ceiling to the walls to the floors to the back of the grinder, under the mixer, under the fridge, under the freezer, all of it is getting powerwashed within an inch of its life.

But not this trip.

Next week we're making pork sausage.

I have been taking my dose of adderall at 8am immediately before I go out to work. It's hard to judge the efficacy, actually, because I'm so busy and so rarely totally self-directed. The real test would be to have me have a day of idleness and half a dozen things I need to accomplish. But I can concretely observe that I don't get a sort of dizzy head rush when it kicks in anymore, and I don't crash around 3 or 4 pm anymore. No, instead I'm just physically exhausted at that time, but it's understandable that I would be, because despite my best efforts to work out all winter, I am in no way prepared for the amounts of heavy lifting, repetitive movements, and sheer mileage you have to walk around here.

Today I finished cleaning the kitchen and then spent a couple of hours with my trusty old pruners, helping Farmsister and Veg Man harvest pussy willows to sell at market in decorative bundles. They just chainsawed the trees off a couple inches above the ground, and then we went at them with pruners and only took the nice branches, and the rest are going through the woodchipper to be mulch. VegMan pointed out the line they'd cut back to last year: this is how you coppice willows, and you can harvest them like this every year. They were fifteen feet tall, all new growth.

Soon we'll have daffodils. Mom had too many at her house, and a couple years ago she and Dad dug up buckets and buckets of them and brought them over and we dug a trench in the hillside and tipped them in. And now they're about ready to be divided again, LOL.

We have pullet eggs too. The chickens are laying pretty well, manageable amounts. We've started packing the eggs by weight, which is a little time-consuming.

OK that's enough wittering. Have I got any photos? Hmm.

the view from the little creek down into the Quackenkill, alongside the back of the old granary. Morning, sun coming through the trees and lighting up the red-stained old siding, the neighbor's house visible at the other end of the cut.

2. A pig friend, muddy snoot questing toward the camera in the sunshine of the winter livestock barn, which has a plastic south-facing roof to let in all the light it can.

3. Farmsister, in her chainsaw chaps and safety gear, chainsawing down the pussy willows in front of the solar panels. (They measured, before they planted the little trees; they'd have to be 40 feet tall to block the light on the solar panels in any season, which I don't think a pussy willow would do, but it's still important to prune them back whether we harvest them for the catkins or not.)

That's all, happy spring. I'm so tired.

[gardening-is-punk]

Lunarpunk gardens

Okay, I'll admit I'm not on top of the whole aesthetics of the various -punk genres, but looks imo should be considered after function and ethics. SO...

I was inspired by this post and got to thinking about what a Lunarpunk garden would mean on my site.

I decided the most important part of the post was "Let me propose lunarpunk being more than just witchy aesthetics. It should be about reducing light pollution, protecting all endangered species including the ugly ones, and most of all seeing darkness as a coexisting counterpart and not something to conquer." So, that's three ideas that I can work with.

reducing light pollution: Working through this idea the same way I would evaluating an established garden in terms of layers and scale of objects in the space, at a site-level the only exterior lights are those at the front and back door. Various flying insects are very attracted to the back light, which is a normal incandescent bulb, and less are attracted to the front ones, which are green. In both cases, we never leave them on all night, but working off what several websites say about bulb color and warmth, I can swap all the bulbs for a warmer-tone LED bulbs and that would cause less issue when they are on at night. Scaling up, I'm not sure what I can do about the huge streetlight on our road, which has the most hideous white-light. Before I DO anything, I probably should dig into the city's files, since I know the bulbs were changed into those LEDs a few years ago, and maybe there was some thought put into that decision.

protecting all endangered species including the ugly ones: Given I'm looking at Lunarpunk, an obvious connection here was moths, the 'ugly' relatives of butterflies. Personally, I love moths and understand their greater ecological role compared to butterflies from a video presentation I watched a few months ago (I'll post that later). Focusing in on the "endangered" aspect, I used Xerces Society's 'Species Profile' tool to look at my state and see what moths are endangered in my area. (Side-note: I also looked at the other categories, like Bees, Beetles, etc. and nothing was specifically noted for my area, so I'm putting those categories on the backburner for ideas rn.) I identified three species of moth as endangered for my area: Diana Fritillary, Dukes' Skipper, and Early Hairstreak. The idea to then ID what plants the eggs and larvae need as host plants, what adults need for sustenance, and what mirco-climates I can make to support their life cycles.

Diana Fritillary (Speyeria diana) "As a forest-dependent species, threats to the Diana fritillary come mainly from forest management: logging operations and pest control... There is one flight from June to September. Males emerge before females and patrol within the forest. Females lay eggs later in the flight period, mainly August, walking along the ground and attaching eggs singly to twigs and dead leaves. As with other Speyeria species, the caterpillars hatch and hibernate without feeding. They emerge in spring to feed on the leaves and flowers of various species of violets. Adults feed on nectar from a variety of plants, including milkweeds (Asclepias sp.), ironweed (Vernonia sp.), and red clover (Trifolium pratense). Males will also drink fluids from dung...Habitats for the Diana fritillary are the edges and openings in moist, rich mountain forests. They will also use pastures, shrublands, and fields for nectaring but will only breed if there is a suitable forest margin. Larval hostplants are various species of violets (Viola sp.)" (quotes from Xerces Society).

So, this species wants a forest edge, which my neighborhood is certainly not; however, I have a decent handful of trees which I mulch using unprocessed leaf litter and stems over the winter, and this provides a decent base for supporting any number of species in my site. I also have lots of self-sown viola in the lawn and beds, which I greatly enjoy not only for their tiny and delicate looking flowers, but also the fulsome heart-shaped leaves the rest of the summer and autumn. I have two Swamp Milkweeds planted, and I'll consider more species as space and needs arise. So far, off to a good start.

Dukes' Skipper (Euphyes dukesi) "It can be found in a variety of moist habitats with long grass, such as marshes or ditches, but the primary habitat is patches of sedge—its main larval host plant—in forested swamps. Dukes’ skipper deserves conservation efforts wherever it is found. Its forested wetland habitat should be protected from drainage, logging, and spraying...In the mid-south, there are two between June and September... Adults visit open wetlands to drink nectar from flowers such as pickerelweed (Pontederia sp.), sneezeweed (Helenium sp.), hibiscus (Hibiscus sp.), and blue mistflower (Conoclinium sp.)...Dukes’ skipper can be found in a variety of moist habitats with long grass, such as marshes or ditches, but the primary habitat is sedge patches in forested swamps. Larval hostplants are sedges, including hairy sedge (Carex lacustris) and shoreline sedge (Carex hyalinolepis)" (Xerces Society).

Again, not a habitat that is immediate to my site. The good news is that I'm already starting several Swamp Hibiscus from seed this year for various spots, and I've been looking more into sedges for a couple wet spots. In particular, I want to run an open pipe from the AC drip into a spot where I removed a non-native 'hibiscus' this winter after some damage. I could feasibly do a few sedges around the Swamp Hibiscus. I doubt I would get a breeding population on my own, but if it becomes an effective use of the water, this might be a technique that I can demonstrate to others in the neighborhood - and again, it's a good habit for several species besides the Skipper.

Early Hairstreak (Erora laeta) "The habitat is mature deciduous and mixed woods containing its host plants, American beech and beaked hazelnut. As a forest-dependent species, both logging activities and pest control spraying are possible threats...There are usually one flight (May – mid-June) in the north and two flights (mid-April – mid-May and late- June – July) in the east. Rarely, a partial third flight (late-August – early-September) in the southern Appalachians. Males perch in treetops on ridges and hilltops to watch for females. Adults nectar on fleabane (Erigeron sp.), oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare), and steeplebush (Spiraea tomentosa) Early Hairstreaks spend a considerable part of their life in the canopy. Some observers note that adults visit moist ground in the morning (for example, along dirt roads) before returning to the canopy in the afternoon. Eggs are laid singly on the hostplant fruit. Caterpillars feed on nuts, initially the husk in early instars and later boring inside. Most of the year is spent as pupae, probably in the leaf litter" (Xerces Society).

I'm realizing now that the reason these three species are threatened so much is that their habitat is decidedly not urban or adaptable to the swathes of monocultures that have swallowed my area. I don't have any Beech or Hazel nut yet, but I do have some beechnuts sown in a pot, that I picked off the path in a local park. If those germinate, I can probably keep some in pots and maybe get one in the ground depending on the circumstances this summer. I don't have any of the nectar plants, except the fleabane which randomly pops as a volunteer ( a "weed" to those more judgmental about pioneer-recovery species), and I can look into Steeplebush seeds, since they do look gorgeous and I can probably sell the more reluctant in my household on that factor.

seeing darkness as a coexisting counterpart and not something to conquer

This one is a bit tougher to work with outside of my own praxis, specifically in convincing others visually through my site. Honestly, I think the best way to suggest this visually is in using plants that are either dark foliaged (I have a ninebark and planning on some corn that fit this bill) or silver foliaged/white flowering ( a garden sage I have in a pot and the sown buttonbush, maybe). In daytime, I'm hoping to focus a lot on bright masses of color paired with bright hardscape, like the existing white accents and planned turquoise painted pots. The dark foliage are native plants; the ninebark is a replacement for the awful barberries I spent hours hacking out, and the corn is "Flor de Rio" a burgundy-colored popcorn variety. Those alone I hope are visually different enough to catch people's interest, but I know a lot of people take walks in my neighborhood in the evening, at dusk or after dark. The white flowers and silver foliage might actually benefit from the harsh streetlight, here, shining out from the muted greens and darker foliage.

The easiest way to try and further this point is naturally to talk to people about the idea, but I think this visual communication/demonstration could serve as the backbone of those potential conversations.

further thoughts

Lunarpunk isn't a genre I've really worked with before, but I hope this interpretation of the idea (a dark/hidden counterpart to the more well known Solarpunk ethos) can meaningfully help people reconsider their biases about visibility and usefulness, and of course provide support to various critters in the area.

[tomorrowsgardennc]

flower update // october 28th 2024

we actually did all this work yesterday, but it took every last spoon hubs and i had to do it. so i post today what we (finally) did!

we dug holes. a lot of them. but look at the difference here:

clay on the left, which is the entire yard. but ACTUAL SOIL on the right, where a bradford pear tree was when we first moved in and fell down within a month of moving in lmao. it was huge and shaded the entire front yard. i do miss it. but of course it fell down right after we bought the house. that was 2016, and the trunk was not removed but chopped up and decomposed in place. and this was the result.

the best damn soil in the entire front yard.

hubs was a sweetheart and knows my fight on finding good soil and he said he would dig up every last grain of it and put it wherever i meeded LMAO! but instead the flower we planted there will be the best damn flower out of all of them. speaking of all of them...

ta-daaaaa!! all but the cacti are in the ground!! we had to draw a line somewhere because we were both getting tired so i said the cacti can be the ones to wait. but here is the final list:

white rose of sharon (hibiscus)

purple/pink hydrangea (dwarf)

pink butterfly bush (dwarf)

spanish lavender 

false sunflower (native)

spotted bee balm (native)

prickly pear cactus (edible)

now that they are all in their final homes i'm thinking of getting a couple more spanish lavender and false sunflowers... just to scatter them about more. OH and that massive gap that keep bugging me near the right side 😤 is actually where the water line from the city leads to the house. no plants, no raised beds, nothing will go over that line. not just because it's smart but because it's old and needs replaced and costs 8 grand to do so... ain't nobody got money for that. cheaper to just never cover it and when it leaks to pay for a patch. even get a discount if i pre-dig the leak area 🫠 only happened twice so far... didn't want to jinx it by putting an amazing flower over the line.

another important line: what will eventually be the white split rail fence that goes behind these babies!! probably won't be until spring market sales when we can do it. but fences can go in whenever - perennial plants needs to go in now!

another to-do list item for later is the ground cover. we decided yesterday between digging holes to have a mix of wild violets and false strawberries. they're already covering about 20%ish of the front anyway... but next spring ill collect wild violet seeds from the back yard and spread in the front, and i'll buy more false strawberry plants. the wild bunnies adore the false strawberries, and that was enough to sell hubs into the idea. he wants to feed nature, too, and as naturally as possible. since we already have some growing in this area i will not be laying down mulch. just gotta kill the grass every time it starts to get tall.

[smidnite]

I realize I've been very slack about posting what's going on at home, in terms of writing, but here's a recap:

I was enjoying writing a roundrobin with @winterspiderpurrs and @illogicalkat , but was losing steam because my job wears me tf out and I rarely have braincells left.

I've been working on the sides of my house, getting fill dirt and grading the side of the house, covering the exposed foundation. Y'all, that took SO MUCH fill dirt, but at least I got it for free. There's a couple in a house a few blocks from me with a sign that says "FREE FILL DIRT!" Hell yeah, I took advantage. I don't pay for what I can get for free with a little (or a LOT) of work.

While I was taking care of the grading, I was also pulling up an EGREGIOUS amount of roots from some invasive bush/ tree. The roots of which may have been responsible for getting into my clay pipes (this house was built in 1968). My dad came over with his sawzaw and together we cut down the tree. A few weeks later (as my energy allowed) I went digging down as far as could, uprooting as much as I could, before filling back in.

That said, I also, over a period of time, purchased some landscaping bricks for hella cheap, so when I finished doing the grading, I was able to cover with plastic and lay down the bricks. I'm hoping to be able to get some mulch in the new few weeks.

During all that came the sudden IKYFL on my discovery two weeks before her potential due date that one of my cats, Cardamom, was pregnant. Lil' heifer looked like a bowling pin.

She had her babies on September 30th, and the kittens are now a month and a half years old and are incredibly SPEEDY little disasters.

I purchased this house in February using the maximum amount of my retirement fund allowed, because who's going to be retiring in this economy? But what I learned is that in bundling your homeowners insurance and township taxes in with your mortgage, they are ESTIMATING the taxes. My mortgage went up a whole $300 this past millage. Which means that until I get my tax return next year, I'm going to be late on my mortgage.

Someone ran over my mailbox, smashing the crap out of it. That was $100+ that I didn't want to spend but had no choice. Yes, I COULD have taken the receipts to my insurance agent and been reimbursed, but in the long run that would raise my premium. NOPE.

And finally, I haven't been able to cook because this past Wednesday, I turned a breaker off to take out the old dishwasher that came with the house, and that Whirlpool was 20+ years old. I figured I couldn't be that hard, because in theory, it isnt.

I WAS WRONG. The biggest issue was the previous owner putting new flooring on top of the old, and AROUND the installed dishwasher. I couldn't just slide it out, so I had the dubious joy of breaking out the sawzaw again, and cutting my countertop to lift it like a car hood and get the dishwasher out.

The second hurdle was AGE. Because of the age difference in the appliances, the locations of where things are connected is different, and WHAT they're connected with is a bit different. Or, in the case of the wires, they're the same, but the length was too short.

By that evening, I was very defeated and disappointed, knowing that I was going to have to spend money I didn't have. But after sleeping on it, my brain reminded me that I am a SCAVENGER, and I DO NOT pay for things I can get for FREE!

I've been cannibalizing parts from the old dishwasher, and hopefully I'll have everything up and running by the end of the night. I've been up since 5am, and I've done two loads of laundry, cleaned the living room, and cleared off my dresser--I still have moving boxes to sort through.

I KNOW I'll pass out before 10pm, and it's noon now.

TIME TO GET TO WORK.