#mushrooms and bathmats
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take the poll, humans, mortal souls, angels, demons, and otherwise confused entities.
#tumblr polls#random polls#polls#dont question it#weird things#tumblr being tumblr#discombobulated#skeleton#ferrets#mushrooms and bathmats#Milo the octopus#I suggest you reblog this
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Indeed indeed, gimmick blogs are for chaos, screaming and the occasional accurate depiction of whatever you are.
On second thought, beware of the neon blue bathmats sold by the raccoon, they have mushrooms.
All these newer gimmick blogs care way too much about notes and popularity. I created this blog out of spite. About a week ago I created a second gimmick blog exclusively to scream into the void about one specific brand without interacting with anyone and see how long it takes for someone to notice. That's the real fun in life.
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been wondering why my frog bathmat is always in a different place when i enter the bathroom but the mushroom one stays put
fuck this rug in particular
#digi discusses#its because she can go.....under it.........#persimmon posting#i need one for mango to but hes so elusive....mango momence?
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mushroom bathmat mushroom bathmat !
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mushroom tufted bathmat
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Neighbour!Ashton
Word Count: 1862
Warnings: None
Summary: Bella gets locked out of her house when a cheeky friend from her past pops up to her assistance.
A/N: This may become a bigger story, I’m not sure what will happen. Let’s see how much people like this one! Neighbour!Ashton is not the title, its the current concept lol until I find a title. Enjoy! Let me know if you want me to continue this story line! If you wanna be tagged in other parts, let me know! (Also I tried to remove unnecessary commas! I edited the best I could)
~*~*~
Unable to get my feet under me, I slipped on the towel I’d placed on the bathroom floor instead of the bathmat and as I fell to the floor, I grabbed the towel rack for aid, and it crashed loudly beside me. Muttering curses under my breath I stood, snatching the nearest towel and wrapping it around myself.
I fumbled with the lock in the door knob, then once I finally got it open, I hurled myself into the hall. Why was I never able to do anything? All I’d wanted was a shower to wipe the thin layer of sweat I could feel over my entire body off, but I’d barely stepped in and the dogs had begun to bark and howl at something.
I crashed down the stairs, spooking Olive, our grey tabby, and I raced into the front living room. Our shih-tzu’s - a breed of small dog that should be rather chil, however ours were far from - Peekley and Mushroom were standing on the back of the couch in the bay window, heads thrown back barking as loud as they could.
“Hey!” I hollered, pulling my towel tighter around myself, “shut up!” Usually when they did this there was a person walking past with a dog or the poor paperboy. The dogs refused to stop, and I collapsed on the couch, leaning over them to pull the curtain back. Their barking was slightly valid when I saw the white mail van pull away from our house.
“Stop,” I hissed at the dogs as the van drove around the crescent. They were usually good with their barking and stopping, but sometimes they got excessive. It was ridiculous.
I pat to the front door, pulling it open, stepping into the hot summer’s day, then pulling the door shut to keep the air conditioning in. There was barely a cloud in the sky and those home during the day were doing garden work. I grinned when I saw the box on the bottom step. A few days ago I had made a large order of novels I had wanted to read on my summer break, and it seemed to have arrived. I expected it to arrive at the house’s mailbox down the road, but it was so big that they had to deliver it right to our doorstep.
Adjusting the towel around me again, I bent to pick the package up when I heard the front door click shut. I shot up, sprinting up the steps and trying to push the door open. It rattled and I cursed. Our front door had an automatic lock that could only open with a key. My dad worked for a lock company and was testing it on our door, and long story short the thing was useless.
“C’mon,” I begged, rattling the door. It refused to budge and my key was hanging on the hook by the front closet. The dogs started barking from the window, and I shouted for them to stop, the horror that it was mid-afternoon and I was stuck outside in my front garden in nothing but a towel was occupying my mind. I realized I may have left the back door unlocked, and I leapt from the porch, adjusted my towel yet again and darted down the cobblestone pathway, across the hot driveway and up the side of my house to the gate. I reached over to find the hook on the gate, then my stomach turned hollow as my fingers brushed a hard padlock fastened to the hook.
I cursed, balling my hands into fists and I stormed back to the front door. As soon as my dad got home from work I would demand he remove that lock and burn whatever prototypes his company had created. What an awful design.
My parents weren’t going to be home until that evening, and my sister was out with her friends at the amusement park. I was going to be stuck out there forever.
“Bella?”
I whirled around, grabbing the top of my towel and clutching it to my chest in protection. I stared at the person. It was Ashton. I hadn’t seen Ashton or spoken to Ashton in years. He lived across the street, and we’d grown up as best friends. We got to high school and interests changed, our lives got busier, and we started to drift apart. I missed him sometimes. Sometimes someone would remind me of him, or I’d see him when he was home from college in the dark hours of the night lit by the street lights riding his yellow trick bike in aimless circles. Sometimes I saw his posts on Instagram, or I’d simply just think about him. And I missed him.
But mostly I tried to push that missing feeling away. Tried to pretend it didn’t exist.
“Hi,” I said quietly, staring at him. He was the same as the last time we spoke, which was at our high school graduation and our mothers demanded a picture of the two of us together. He still wore dark jeans and ripped band tees. He still wore black converse. Still had those pretty hazel eyes I knew every girl gushed over. He was a little older, had a couple of tattoos, but he was still recognizable as my old Ashton.
“You okay?”
Mm, he still also had that cheeky grin.
His eyes roamed up and down me, and I felt briefly violated before realizing he wasn’t looking at me in a way that meant he wanted to rip my towel off. He was being his usual cheeky self, and was probably very concerned why I was out in the street in my towel.
“It’s a whole thing,” I told him, “but my dad’s stupid lock locked me out of the house.”
“Ah,” he nodded. I nodded in return because I felt awkward, and a silence fell between us.
“Why don’t you come over to my place until your parents get home,” he offered.
I raised my eyebrow, “are you sure?”
“Of course. You’re family.”
“Thanks.”
I adjusted my towel again, and took the steps slowly. Ashton scooped up my large box of books and quirked his eyebrow at me as he tucked it behind a planter on my porch.
“Books?”
I smiled, “of course!” He chuckled as we made our way across the street to his house.
“The water droplets on your shoulders sparkling in the sun are very pretty, Bella,” he said as we walked up his front porch and he opened the door for me to step through.
“Oh,” I said as he pulled the door shut, feeling off guard, “um, thank you.”
He flashed another smile before calling out to his mum, “Bella’s over!”
Ms. Irwin appeared from the kitchen with wide eyes, “Bella?”
I wondered when the last time was that Ashton and I stepped through the Irwin’s front door like this.
“Hi Ms. Irwin,” I waved, my face flushing.
She beamed, “hi, Sweetheart. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I nodded, “you?”
She just nodded and said, “you two be good,” before disappearing again.
Ashton rolled his eyes with a grin before putting a hand on my back between my shoulder blades and guided me towards the stairs. As we climbed, I looked at the photographs that lined the wall of Ashton and his little sister and brother. There were photos that had been hanging there for as long as I could remember, but some, like school photos, now showed them as older kids, Ashton as an adult.
There was one photo that made my heart stutter. It was Ashton and I when we were about six. We were at the zoo, sitting on a bench laughing, my head on his shoulder, his head against mine. We each held a melting popsicle, the red and pink syrup all over our hands, around our mouths and on our chins. I don’t think a photo has been taken of me where I’ve looked that happy since.
“I love this photo.” I pointed it out.
“Yeah,” Ashton who had been at the top of the stairs, hopped down the last few to join me, “that was a fun
day.”
We looked at it for a moment, then continued to Ashton’s room. I laughed when I entered.
“What?” He asked, rummaging around his closet.
“Ashton, it looks the same!” I wandered around the room. The room itself was painted a dark blue. Ashton’s bed was unmade, clothes were in piles on the floor. He had a desk, where his laptop sat, and in one corner his drum kit, the other a black bean bag chair. Knick knacks and odd belongings sat on shelves and in odd spaces on the floor.
“Like yours doesn’t?” He grinned, passing me one of his t-shirts.
“Okay,” I laughed, “it might be.” My room was still purple and green. The doll house my dad had made me that I made Ashton play with me numerous times still sat on its shelf. I still had fragments of LEGO upon my shelves. My books cluttered every corner. Posters from movies and musicians covered my walls.
He chuckled, moving to his drawer and rummaging around. I pulled on his shirt, a Guns N Roses shirt with minimal holes, and pulled it down as far as it could go. Ashton passed me a pair of boxers, and sat at his desk as I pulled them on and ditched my towel on his floor.
I felt better now I wore clothes and stepped over to him. Folding my arms across my chest, I leant over his shoulder to see what he was doing. A message appeared on the screen once he’d logged in, and he clicked it.
_dirtycliffo: log in!
I grinned, “Ashton, is that Michael?” I hadn’t talked to our old friends in a long time.
“Yes,” he frowned, typing back.
weeniebeanie: no
I suddenly exploded with laughter, clutching at my stomach. Then I leant over his shoulder so I could see his face.
“You still have your screen names from eighth grade?”
“Yes,” Ashton grumbled. He was avoiding looking at me, but I could see in his eyes he was smiling.
weeniebeanie: i hate that game
_dirtycliffo: c’mon. Luke n cal also suck
bread: heyy
“You still act like you're in grade eight too,” I laughed, resting my chin on Ashton’s shoulder as he logged into the game.
“Here,” he said, passing me a headset that was on his deck, “listen in.”
I twisted the headphones so we could both hear and Ashton could use the mic.
“Good, you’re here,” came Michael’s static filled voice.
“Yeah,” Ashton sighed, “but it’s not just me here.”
“Oh?” Calum’s voice came. It occurred to me that even though I wasn’t as close to them as I was Ashton, I kind of missed them too.
“Yeah. Bella-Wella is here too,” he replied, calling me my grade school name.
“Stop,” I laughed, nudging him, and he grinned.
“So it’s just like old times? Hey, Bella.”
“Hey,” I called back, and the boys started their game, talking about weapons and strategies. And I listened along. Just like old times.
#ashtonirwin#ashton irwin blurb#neighbour!ashton#5sos blurb#one shot#5sos one shot#ashton irwin one shot#bestfriend!ashton
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Old plastic bags can be woven similarly to old clothes into bathmats, rugs, and even sleeping pads for the homeless! Baskets too. Basically plastic yarn to knit, crochet, or finger crochet with if you tie it together properly!
Old plastic can be turned into ecobricks at home and used to build benches, raised garden beds, and you can donate them to a collection center for projects of their choosing (as long as they meet the cleanliness and density specifications on the Ecobrick website)!
Old logs can be seeded with mushroom spawn to grow edible mushrooms for 5-8 years (ish) depending on the variety, and the mycelium will break the logs down into compost to use in your garden bed by the end of the log’s life.
Plastic bottles can be turned into self-watering planters with just a bit of twine or yarn! There’s directions when you google it.
That’s all I got off the top of my head but I’d love to hear more if anyone’s got any!
Lately I've been pleased whenever I find a way to make use of something that would otherwise get thrown away; for instance, I learned that you can use scrunched-up aluminium foil to scrub pans and pots, instead of that ball of wire you can buy!
The walnuts that you can't completely clean out of shells, are a great bird snack, who can get their beaks in there. Fruit that is starting to go bad/already has gone bad, is a great food for butterflies. Any food that's starting to get rotten can be a great addition to a compost pile and a snack for any worm. Citrus peels can be used to infuse vinegar to make nice-smelling cleaning solution. Or they can be made into sugared candy! Lemon slices that make a great winter decoration, can be used as a halloween decoration later when they turn black. Any small carboard box you have can be used for organizing, and if you have a big one, you can put a wooden board on it and create a little shelf to put plants on! An old cracked aquarium can be used as a little greenhouse, or an extra shelf on top of a surface. Old newspapers and old clothing can be cut into strips or tubes, and weaved into baskets. Old paper egg cartons can be soaked, blended and then turned into paper. Any plastic container can get a hole at the bottom and grow a plant in it.
Please tell me more things that you know how to reuse that would otherwise just be thrown away! I want more of this knowledge.
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week
Monday: im a slave 2 money / when will i die
Tuesday: gardening with Jason. It is awesome. He let me prune rhododendrons (mysterious maddenii). It was cool cuz I’ve never pruned anything before! Except the time I pruned Julia’s bonsai tree with 0 knowledge of what I was doing. Maria and I tamped the path, which was an excellent arm workout. I would like to tamp things every day for the workout. But I do not think that is needed. Ha.
I need to start packing lunch cuz I returned home (after stopping at grocery and library (my holds were ready)) and felt super lightheaded. ggggguhhhhhhh
For dinner I had a head of broccoli, rice, and some preservative-heavy fish balls. I am starting to feel very conscious of preservative-heavy items. I should’ve bought tofu instead. I also ate the remainder of my oatmeal cookie dough. And walnuts. And a bit of cheese. This morning I had a fried egg and some mushrooms. And cheese. Ok I am not eating enough. I need to eat more.
Wednesday: gardening with Jason. It is still awesome. One awesome thing is that Jason is constantly dispensing knowledge. Maria had to prune a hydrangea, and Jason called me over to listen to his explanation too. YES. THANK YOU. Also there was ice cream today. HURRAY! I love ice cream.
I had a headache yesterday and I had a headache this morning. I am either dehydrated or hungry? ugh
Finished Michel Gondry’s The We and the I, listened to WQXR all day, and then Young MC’s Stone Cold Rhymin’. And now back to WQXR. It’s bedtime.
Thursday: gardening
Friday: SO HYPED
it’s never good to be hyped but we’ll see
Edit: Sonoma Hort was nice. Like the backyard I had wished I had as a child. In fact, I would love to make that the basis of a VR thing.
Saturday: bought a new bathmat (old one is truly done), did some watercolor at bot garden, returned home, went to dinner with cow and potato, then dessert at kowloon tong, all the while laughing at nothing / thicc toast
Sunday: biked to Filoli ate a salad and a pint of ice cream (balance is key) upon returning home. now i sleep.
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