#mow grass

[fakedimebag]

Parking one of these in the yard to let the Jehova's witnesses know I mow grass, eat ass, raise hell, and praise Dale before they ring my doorbell.

[morganbritton132]

Dustin posts a Tiktok where it’s very clear that he was going to say something important but was instantly distracted by the snippet of conversation walking (unannounced) through his front door.

Eddie: …like when you’re a kid and you didn’t understand the concept of death so you kept putting bugs in your pockets and killing them on accident.

Steve: That’s not a universal experience, Eddie.

Eddie: Yes, it is. Everybody did that. You did that when you were a kid.

Steve: You think I was putting bugs in my clothes???

Eddie: Yes??? Just like everybody else. Back me up, Henderson

Dustin: I created habitats for bugs and kept them in my room.

Steve: That’s why your cat got eaten.

[dyrdeer]

i could write a novel about how fucked up lawn culture in the US is, but its not an individual's problem (nothing ever is). If I didn't have to cut the grass I wouldn't, they dutifully send workers out to make sure you cut your grass under penalty of up to 300+ dollars here. Doesn't matter if you're disabled or poor or just don't have the time. Doesn't matter that you weren't responsible for planting invasive grass that grows longer than the government deems "safe". They'll tell you to mow it to keep ticks away but don't care about all the other native species and pollinators that it also displaces. They ignore you if you point out all the publicly owned land thats overgrown because they can't make money from forcing themselves to mow. Its not about safety, its about hegemony, aesthetics, and oppression of poor/disabled people. In my opinion, as well as others', we need to move towards killing our lawns and replacing this shit with native flowers and plants - however a lot of these personal pollinator gardens are cut down by the city as well because most grow over 9 inches. We need to make a huge, sustained push to not have to mow our lawns and im not fucking kidding

[lotrmusical]

here's a poll. what are everyone's takes on this frodo moment in fellowship

'He wished with all his heart that he was back [at Bag End] and in those days, mowing the lawn, or pottering among the flowers, and that he had never heard of Moria, or mithril - or the Ring.'

[darkwood-sleddog]

Just a girl and her wildflower “lawn”.

[mintytrifecta]

Kingdom Hearts 3 Tarte Aux Fruit: RECREATED

[lununnunna]

i am but one of the universe's ocs that gets put through the wringer for entertainment

[mistriavalley]

I'm waiting to update Stardew on my switch so I can play 1.6 on the plane🥳

[hibernating-stag]

I can hear someone mowing their lawn... I swear to all that is holy if my father is mowing the lawn both just as the grass is starting to turn green and look nice again AND on the one day I specifically said I have to do our laundry I will end up On The News

[theultimateultimateweapon]

Sometimes your lawnmower just has a loooot of personality

[hit-with-rock]

I think that eating culvers while driving through snow is maybe the most midwestern activity you can do, followed closely by eating culvers while driving through a tornado warning

[toxooz]

Reminder 4 me to draw Ollie mowin his lawn when im able to

[ceruleanseacreations]

Rotom mow ✨💚🍃

[sunnystarr]

[weepingfoxfury]

The Sunday easy listening man on the radio starts with Elton John and 'Daniel' before the next singer declares 'The Sun Has Got His Hat On.' Adverts, adverts, adverts insist you have a need for car insurance, care in the home and getting yourself to your local garden centre as the BBQ stuff is on sale. The Emerald Isle, being as wet as it is, no doubt there's rust treatment free with every BBQ purchase.

Astonishingly, there is indeed sunshine, so 'The umbrella' will not be fought over today. No Mow May is being encouraged and yet my friend (who has quite some mower collection) insists on giving all his roaring monsters an outing. I am updated hourly with scenes of grassy carnage.

'The Garden of Eden' sung by Frankie Vaughan queries whether a beautiful woman could simply be left there. Could you leave her? In that Garden of Eden? Only if she has no mower to hand!

The Emerald Isle has sit on mowers like you wouldn't believe. No matter the size of the garden ... postage stamp or park ... round and round they go. I've watched people drive them along the road. One particular gentleman had a bright yellow one (most here are orange or green) ... he tortoised his way past me as I walked my dog one day ... gaily waving to all and sundry ... who knows where he was headed? Maybe he's still out there on the road somewhere.

Ach well ... time for more coffee ... and maybe I'll pull out my old stripey deckchair. The dogs may even let me have it to myself. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday ... crows, bees and a multitude of birds and currently (phew!) not a mower to be heard ...

[arathejedi394]

you didn't ask for this but you deserve it

Bucky’s memories get hazy quickly. He remembers getting halfway through the bottle of tequila and not stopping, hearing Weasel say something about a half-pint and no more, and now Weasel’s got his phone and is squinting at it.

“Who do I call?”

“Ghost Busters!” Bucky sings, waving his metal hand absently.

“No, for you to get home, who do I call?”

“Becks,” Bucky mutters. “Becca. Rebecca. Becky. Becky who tol’ me not t’a date a fuckin’ stripper an’ then I wen’ an’ did i’ anyways,” he mutters into the bottle, before tipping it back and getting nothing. He squints into it upside down, then drops it onto the counter and sighs. “I should’a fuckin’ listened, Weasel. My sister’s smart. She’s smarter than me for sure.”

“Becky,” Weasel mutters. “Ah!”

Bucky starts thunking his head on the counter. “Why am I so stupid?” he asks. “Why didn’t I fucking call him?”

“Yeah, hi, Becky? Sorry, Becca. Sorry, I will never again call you Becky, I swear on my mother’s grave. Oh, yeah, my name’s Weasel, I’m a bartender at Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children. Yeah, Weasel. School for Wayward Children, right. Benny knows where it is. Ye– Yes, Weasel as in Chicken Arms Weasel, whatever. Listen, I got one Winter Soldier here who needs a ride home ASAP, your honor.” 

Bucky double-checks the bottle in his hands, just in case there’s any left.

“Oh, he’s toast,” Weasel adds, taking the empty bottle from Bucky’s limp fingers. “He’s not alcohol poisoning toast, I’m very careful about how drunk I let my patrons get, but his ass is grass and it’s about to get mowed. He’s gonna have a hangover for a week, maybe. Anyway, I’m cutting him off because he will get alcohol poisoning if he has anymore, and he is a depressing drunk these days, so can you come get him? Yeah, he’s been all maudlin and sad eyes for the past three hours, it’s ruining the atmosphere. He’s like a drowned kitten. If I have to give him another napkin to blow his nose I’m gonna blow his head off instead.” Weasel’s quiet for a second, then nods. “Great. Thanks.”

Weasel then gives Bucky back his phone and a pat on the shoulder. “Becca said she’ll be here in half an hour,” he says. “But you’re officially cut off, big guy. No more until next week, okay? If I see your maudlin, deadbeat dad ass back in here before then, I’m turning you out so your liver can recover and you can leave a few spare pennies to the kid you’re not allowed to be a dad to in five years.”

“I’m a dad,” Bucky mumbles.

“Happy Father’s Day,” Weasel says sympathetically. 

“I’m a dad and my ex is too pissed at me to let me be a dad,” Bucky bemoans. “‘Cause he thinks I tried to get out of our relationship by lying about my little sister gettin’ abducted by aliens… What a fucking world.”

“Jesus, are you the Winter Soldier or the Spring Meltdown?” Weasel asks.

“Ha-ha,” Bucky mutters. “Fuck… I let ‘im slip through my fingers, Weasel. He jus’… slipped away…”

“You can’t win everything, buddy.”

“I should’ve just called him!” Bucky says again, thunking his forehead on the bar. “I was so obsessed with bringin’ back Benny an’ Ma – I – I should’ve called him.”

“You didn’t know,” Weasel says, patting his shoulder.

Bucky drops his head onto the countertop and groans. 

“Hey,” somebody next to him, a fella with a real ugly mug, says. “They already added you back to the Dead Pool. You gonna croak? You look like you’re about to croak. ‘Cause I could really use the money, yannow?”

“Fuck off, Wade!” Weasel says. “The man’s a brand new father of a seven-year-old he didn’t know existed until today!”

“Gee, thanks, tell everybody why don’t you,” Bucky says, muffled by the countertop. “Put it on a billboard, Bucky Barnes has a kid he dudn’t get to be a dad to. Maybe I’ll win an award for worst father ever.”

“That’ll break your heart,” Wade, supposedly, says. “Wow. Is it worse to be the brand new dad of a seven-year-old you never knew about or a two-year-old you never knew about?”

“You don’t have a two-year-old,” Weasel says, confused.

“I don’t,” Wade confirms. “I’m talking about Mopey, would he rather the kid be two or seven.”

“Two!” Bucky says, sitting up and throwing up three declarative fingers. Weasel folds one of them. “Two,” Bucky repeats, blinking. 

“Yeah, that is less time missed,” Wade says. “No brainer, I guess. Well, either way, you still don’t have your OG left arm and Steve was still a stripper.”

Bucky cocks his head at Wade. “Huh?”

“Ignore him, he’ll only confuse you,” Weasel says quickly.

“We’re living in a simulation,” Wade whispers to Bucky. “A virtual world created only by using the English language and your imagination! There’s no pictures, just words! And we’re all being puppeteered around a mental stage by a keyboard and a mouse, all to the whims of an unfeeling god who likes keeping you –” he pokes Bucky in the chest and Bucky looks down in confusion before meeting Wade’s gaze again, “– in the dark about how many children you may or may not have!”

“I have more children?” Bucky whispers in horror.

“No, no, sorry, not right now,” Wade says, patting his arm. “You just got the one for now.”

“Good,” Bucky says, nodding in relief.

“And to be more clear,” Wade carries on, “you should know that our God is not the God from the Supernatural canon. His name’s Chuck, he’s an okay guy. But he’s also fictional, so there’s probably another god like the one we have above his universe.”

“G-d’s name is Chuck?” Bucky whispers in confusion.

“Well, and I suppose our God’s not an unfeeling god, exactly,” Wade continues without answering Bucky’s query. “Just bored, probably. And possibly an insomniac. But!” Wade adds with a grin. “Speaking of God. If I had a nickel for every time our God gave you a son and didn’t tell you about it until way later, I’d have two and a half nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice plus almost a third time.”

“You’re gonna give me a headache,” Bucky says, turning away. “G-d’s nah real or he’s a lady. Wait.” He turns back. “Two an’ a half nickels?”

“Two and a half nickels,” Wade confirms, showing Bucky between his fingers two whole nickels and a third cut neatly in half.

“How much is half a nickel worth?” Bucky whispers. “Why do you have two and a half nickels?”

“Well, there’s a nickel for you not knowing the kid ever existed until you meet them post-birth,” Wade says, “and that’s happened twice so far,” he drops the two whole nickels onto the bartop. “But there’s a half a nickel,” he continues, holding the half of a nickel up now, “for the time you did know the kid existed, you just didn’t know if it was a boy or girl and for some reason you couldn’t make it to the birth. I think you were in Siberia chasing a cannibal or something.” 

Bucky nods, trying very hard to follow along.

“And I guess,” Wade continues, “you could count the time you got him pregnant but the two of you insisted you were not in love with each other until the baby was born as a negative nickel, because you knew the entire time and still didn’t really get to be a dad until after you got back together with Steve. So, really, one and a half nickels if you do the math.”

Bucky blinks at the nickels. There’s one whole nickel, one half of a nickel. He double checks. One nickel, one half a nickel. “There were definitely two whole nickels,” he mutters.

“Not once we got through PEMDAS.”

“You said one kid,” Bucky says with a heavy frown, holding up a finger. “I have one kid.”

“For you, right now, right here, yes,” Wade confirms. “Elsewhere, elsewhen, approximately one year and two months from this moment shared between us? It depends.”

“What?” Bucky says. “Never mind. I’m too drunk for this.”

“In the timeline with that half-nickel, God overcompensated and gave you seventeen children!” Wade adds, slapping Bucky on the back. “Eighteen if the first one had lived.”

Bucky chokes on nothing. “Eighteen? Am I allergic to condoms or something?”

“No, no, just monogamous, so instead you had four vasectomies but they all reversed themselves,” Wade answers.

Bucky blinks at him. “My – my bits put themselves back together?”

“Yep,” Wade says. “The first time it happened, you had to sleep on the couch until the doc proved he had clipped your wings! The second time, you just got yelled at. Third time? He said God must really want your family tree to flourish. Fourth time, y’all just gave up and waited for menopause.”

Bucky just stares blankly at Wade.

“Don’t worry about it, there’s no super soldier serum in this universe because we crossed over from Marvel to Supernatural, so if you get a vasectomy now, it won’t reverse itself. But don’t get a vasectomy,” Wade adds quickly. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Bucky repeats, confused. “I need one in the future?”

“Yes, you and Steve will decide to cap the spigot later on,” Wade says, then turns as Weasel passes them. “Weasel, I would like a Blow Job, please.”

“What?” Bucky says, blinking hard. “Steve an’… Cap the what?”

“I hate you and stop filling the man’s head with nonsense about your Goddamn nickels,” Weasel says, but goes to make a Blow Job.

“I hate him, too, I think,” Bucky mutters. “How many nickels did he have? Why does G-d give him nickels?”

“Break a leg with Steve and Eli,” Wade says, clapping Bucky on the shoulder again. “I have it on good authority that you won’t be in the pits forever.”

Bucky laughs, then falls over the countertop again busting his sides laughing.

“What?” Wade says.

“Buddy,” Bucky mutters as he sits up again. “I sold my soul. I do literally have eternity in the pits to look forward to. I only got five years left an’ I’mma spend ‘em knowing I have a son but not being able to do damn thing about it.”

“Haven’t you seen the Parent Trap?” Wade asks. “You don’t need to lift a finger. Just stand still and be a good dad to Eli. Right?”

“Right,” Bucky says, not sure he agrees. “Who’s Eli?”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Barnes!” Wade bids.

“I don’t even know you,” Bucky says as he walks away. “Wait a second!”

Wade comes back, leaning on the counter. “Are you, in fact, going to croak it? Because I need to get my bet in. I mean, I know you’re gonna die in your sleep at like 93, but are you gonna croak?”

“How do you know his name’s Steve?” Bucky asks, bewildered.

“Who?” Wade asks.

“The guy who had my kid,” Bucky says. “How do you know his name’s Steve?”

“I scrolled up,” Wade answers.

“What?” Bucky says.

“Now I’m scrolling away,” Wade tells him, patting him on the shoulder before leaving.

Weasel comes back, holding the finished blowjob. “Are you serious?” he says, looking around. “Again?”

“Huh?” Bucky says, blinking slowly.

“He keeps ordering blowjobs and then walking away before I can give them to him!” Weasel snaps. “He only does it so he can say, I would like a blowjob please! Pisses me off.”

Weasel downs the blowjob, grimacing. Bucky puts his head back down on the counter, resting his eyes against the lights. He’s light-headed and the room is spinning, but if he keeps his eyes closed, it feels less like he’s on deck in the middle of a hurricane. Steve’s pretty face swims in his mind alongside the face of Bucky’s kid that he had without telling him. His drunken thoughts prod along daydreams of a world where he’d told Steve the real truth no matter how crazy it sounded and Steve had believed him and then he’d gotten to be there for his kid the whole time.