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handgiven · 9 months

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[ touch ] (for when I come back ;) )

angelic injuries prompts / @spookyagentfmulder > massage/ease the pain in emmanuel’s back or wings.

the issue with being a multidimensional being spreading your existence into various aspects of the universe is that staying contained within a human form can be quite uncomfortable. not as uncomfortable as not staying contained within a form and then attempting to fit within it, however.

knowing mulder, his inexhaustible interest in well, everything, emmanuel soon learnt to find joy in showing him the things he could not have seen before, and if unable to see them, he made sure to at least explain thoroughly, though ever so careful to not overload his brain. that was where the wings came in. he only ever used them to move around, slipping through dimensions unseen, but rarely were they made physical. there was no reason for it. he wasn't using them to fight nor to defend himself. nor... was there anyone to show them to. until now.

that is where the discomfort comes in. carving space out of thin air to position within it the very real and tangible wings that cut through it like light, and stretching these very real and tangible symbols of your angelic status after centuries of denying them even this much. a soft whimper escapes his lips as a muscle recalls that it is a muscle with a sharp pang of pain, causing him to momentarily lose focus and knock over one of his precious houseplants. a concerned look follows but he finds that it is quite difficult to move around the cluttered flat with his wings out like that, knocking over many other things on his way to save the poor monstera. the wings stay out, however. he worries he wouldn't have it in him to draw them out again, otherwise. he needed to show mulder, if he'd already hurt himself over it.

they are heavy on his back, quite paradoxically to their purpose of being wings. but what can be lighter than nothing? they feel like phantom limbs, but different. painfully there, rather than painfully absent. he wonders if if he'd treated them better they would not have hurt as much. but... he simply doesn't have the time for any of that. never did. nor did he have time to worry about it. until mulder. he sighs, unsure yet if this the right way. his duties would beg to differ. but his very core tells him to bring mulder closer every time, and his core has only ever pointed him towards good. so, what is it?

nevermind, mulder is by the door. emmanuel hesitates one last time before going to open it, just ever so slightly, just so that he can reach out his hand and pull the other inside with him before he can say anything. his face burns with embarrassment, perhaps he'd once again overstepped. but he thought mulder might enjoy the sight. once in a lifetime opportunity... if only it didn't hurt so bad, if only his face wasn't in that constant state of a stiff mask... but then there comes mulder, with his omnipresent hands, touching, merely brushing his fingertips over the feathers, recognising them for what they are, and pressing a little more as his hand nears the place where the wing meets emmanuel's back. another whimper comes out, this time less panicked, more... pleasant? though just as surprised.

"i may have... neglected the physicality of them. and now they punish me by aching," he smiles, melancholy yet again, though another touch of mulder's sends a shiver up his back.

#spookyagentfmulder #▻ 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝐸𝑅𝐴𝐿 、answered ⁽ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵘⁿᶦⁿᵍ ᶦⁿ ⁾#▻ 𝐸𝑀𝑀𝐴𝑁𝑈𝐸𝐿 、roleplay ⁽ ᵃᶜᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ⁾#( / . \ )

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softlyapocalytpic · 11 months

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WITH EVEN MORE PASSION 🍁🌳☁️

Questionnaire

🍁 What's this oc's favorite genre of movies/tv shows/books/etc?

Mae is a Class A Nerd(TM), so when she was a kid/tween she consumed anything that was remotely sci fi. Specifically, she'd adore Fallout's equivalent of Star Trek and Star Wars (yes, both) and would've read all of Ray Bradbury and the sci fi classics. She has very very big opinions on sci fi as a genre and many many critiques. If the cut off date for more "modern" media is after Neuromancer was published she has FEELINGS on it, and if cyberpunk exists in the Fallout universe (which feels complicated) she'd... have really mixed feelings on it.

Aka, she is a #1 Capitalism hater, so she would definitely vibe with the critiques of capitalism, but has complicated feelings with how it treats Japanese culture and women and- listen cyberpunk (Neuromancer) has some messy origins lmao no matter how much I love it.

As a teen she definitely was into fringe music, and there's just no way you can convince me that some punk music didn't arrive in the Fallout world. Punk music is so inherently political that OF COURSE it'd exist in the pre-war hellscape and my little baby girl scientist was definitely going to shows and expressing her anger through the music she listened to. This isn't in the question, but it does feel relevant.

On other side of her media interests, she loves Noir fiction! It comes with the giant asterisks all her interests do because you best believe she's very critical of all media she consumes, but she just LOVES a good mystery. Hilariously, I don't think she ever got into the shroud. She's not a big "super hero" kind've person.

🌳 Does this oc collect anything?

Plants- first houseplants when all she could afford was an apartment and then plants for the garden when she could have one in Sanctuary. She would also build model kits- usually of space ships or robots. She also loves a pretty broach or hairpin! Once the events of Fallout 4 are over she ends up creating a huuuge public library that houses... a lot. Not just books!

☁️ What is this oc's clothing style like?

Sweaters, coats, scarves. Soft, simple, yet refined/professional. Her favorite "bright" colors to wear would be purples and an accent of deep red, otherwise she keeps to greys, whites, blacks, and browns. She likes to covered but comfortable. Prefers pants over dresses. Isn't a fan of boots. Loves a pair of gloves for both function and fashion. She prefers antique jewelry or pieces that were handcrafted in someway. Prefers to shop secondhand if she can.

So... comfortable and classy?

#anonymous ask #ask game #sosu mae ishikawa #mae ishikawa #thank you <3 <3 <3

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nite-rites · 2 years

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here’s the thing. i have spent the vast majority of my life feeling unsafe. being mentally ill, being autistic and undiagnosed, feeling unseen and unheard. i never thought it mattered what happened to me, and i didn’t know how to receive love, and i treated myself accordingly. there was never a sense that i could prevent harm from coming to me. in fact as i got older i leaned into that more and more. i welcomed people and experiences that shredded me into tiny little pieces and obliterated any sense of security.

but now i’m an adult with a beautiful comfortable home and a little dog to take care of and houseplants and a career and my family and plenty of friends, even if most of them are at a distance. and i still get on my own case for living a small self contained life. for being in early every night, for valuing my alone time so highly, for struggling with social situations. and i’m sick of doing that to myself. that stops here. wanting to be safe is a real and valid desire. that’s a good goal to have in my life. it’s worthwhile to rehabilitate myself. to give myself peace every time i get the chance. it’s not a waste; i’m not aiming low. it doesn’t exclude my other ambitions. but feeling secure and comfortable is a real and good and important goal for me to have and meeting it will provide a firm foundation for all my other aspirations.

the truth is that i wore out my own batteries long ago after years of undiagnosed mental illness and winding up in - often even putting myself in - situations (social, professional, romantic, sexual, and otherwise) that made me uncomfortable and exhausted me (or downright traumatized me). i don’t blame myself, and i’m not angry at myself abt it; that’s just how it happened. i have nothing to prove to anyone. now, to me, safety feels first and foremost like having a healthy relationship w myself, which is certainly not something i’ve always had. i’ll be working on that for my whole life. i used to think having a partner was all that was missing, all i really wanted, but the truth is that i’ll be fine no matter who i meet or where i wind up. i don’t want to sacrifice peace and safety for anyone who isn’t acting in good faith.

#enough is enough. i’m just saying

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

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domestic life w/ bakugou thoughts pt 2910488:

- biggest scary dog privilege imaginable. just- nobody is even going to look at you when you’re walking with bakugou. (bc even creeps wont try to provoke an animal that clearly has rabies)

- tries to eat as many meals as he can w/ you. regardless of what he says, he truly doesn’t like eating alone and will wait if he has to

- if u ever manage to drag him into a self-care day, he’s falling asleep .3 seconds in. somethin about the nice smelling products, your gentle hands against his skin, your soft voice explaining how long to leave his face mask on???? pls he’s out

- gets genuinely upset over any of his houseplants dying. like, full-day grieving event bc he feels frustrated over being a “failure” (he’s so dramatic i swear)

- rlly good at mumbling “5 more minutes- ‘s cold, don’t fuckin’ get up.” into your shoulder blades on the rare chance you try to leave the before he’s ready to

- he will fully argue w/ any pets you have. just, red in the face and debating w/ your cat who just swiped a glass off the table

- probably begs you to work out with him. n it’s so hard to say no bc he literally never asks for anything he truly wants. you’ll be wishing u did say no tho bc working out w/ him somehow feels way more like self-harm than self-improvement

- snores like a kitten. no u can’t convince me otherwise and no i will never under any circumstances be taking criticism about this

- bakugou normally gets up way earlier than u, but if u rlly wanna treat him, set his alarm back like 5-10 mins. while he “sleeps in” make him breakfast n eat w/ him before he goes off to work,,, 10/10 times he’ll almost be late out the door bc he can’t figure out how to stop pulling you into his arms (he can’t help it okay, it’s not his fault when you’re being so sweet)

- gossiping w/ him is genuinely entertaining. not bc he has anything of interest to share, but entirely bc of the comments he makes. like sometimes you’ll look over at him, and he’s just completely heated, spitting as he goes on a tirade about how your shared friend is such a “fuckin’ idiot, empty-headed, loser”

- runs into shit constantly. u cannot tell me this man isn’t clipping doorways w/ his shoulder, isnt accidentally cutting a corner and hitting his hip. he is. he just is.

- he probably does little stuff for u. like always making sure your pantry is stocked up w/ stuff you like to eat, or always replacing toilet rolls so you never have to run out. just tiny, minuscule every day stuff. like, if you’re not looking closely you’ll never notice, but once you do it’s like the list of all he does is endless

- calls his mother a lot actually. legitimately sounds like he wants to kill himself the entire time he’s on the phone, but always hangs up with a “Yeah, yeah, call you next week, hag. Same fuckin’ time. Don’t be late.” ,,, n then he keeps his word. he’s on the phone the same time next week w/out fail

- mans always has a hand on you. like if ur sitting next to him than his hand is on ur thigh, or wrapped around ur ankle, or idly running up the inside of ur arm,,, not even bc he’s trying to start something or anything,, he rlly just doesn’t realize he’s even doing it

- bakugou says that stupid as hell “I’m just resting my eyes” dad thing when he’s falling asleep and doesn’t want to admit it

- has a set of knives for cooking that only he is allowed to use. sometimes u swear he loves them more than he loves u

- u’ve never seen this man put something down gently. he has slammed down every item he has ever held in his hands

- probably sleeps all curled up into a ball. u cannot tell me that bakugou’s raging insecurities don’t have him absolutely locked up into fetal position every night

- lmao if u live with him long enough bakugou will straight up develop separation anxiety. like, he’ll just be pissy and disoriented and unsettled if he’s separated from the routine of being with u for too long

- has a frightening obsession with keeping your home bug-free. takes a slightly worrying amount of joy from squashing insects beneath his fingers

- sniffs food out, like a literal dog, before he eats it

- bakugou is such a primadonna about home decor. no rlly. if u ever try to pick out any major furniture without him, mans is throwing a fit

- taking him shopping is so funny lmao. if u faked that you were “worried about all the bags being heavy” and tried to “carry some of the burden” ,,,, pls u could have that fool looking like a pack animal by the end of the day. easy work bc his ego will never let u carry anything

- will melt immediately if you offer to give him a massage after he’s done w/ hero work for the day. just completely boneless beneath your fingers as he shuts his eyes

- bakugou probably does weird little exercises when he’s got too much energy. like he’s being annoying, complaining that he’s bored one moment and then next he’s got a yoga mat out and he’s rolling himself into a pretzel the next

- eats the nastiest looking health food you’ve ever seen. like it honestly looks disgusting but he swears its good for him

- will absolutely create new words just so he can call people incredibly targeted and personal slurs. gets the happiest u’ve ever seen him on the rare chance u repeat an insult he came up with

- bakugou will talk shit about ur neighbors even if he’s never met them. even if he’s never seen them. just cannot keep his mouth shut about anything ever and unfortunately ur unsuspecting neighbors make the easiest targets

- has a tendency to praise himself when bakugou feels that something he did goes unnoticed. like, if he did cleaned the kitchen and u don’t immediately comment on it then its “Wow, Katsuki, thank you so much for bustin’ your fuckin’ ass for this family! The kitchen looks great!” mumbled indignantly under his breath

- chugs any/all drinks he has ever had. breathes heavy afterwards like a toddler. its embarrassing for everyone involved

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha fic #bakugou x y/n #mha bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou fic #bakugou headcannon #bakugou headcannons #bakugou hcs

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dannypuro · 4 years

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You said your askbox was open so!! From Something Telling I am very invested in the mutual pining of Feuilly and Baz and just that individually they were like. Whispering their feels to their friends. I am parched for any details of. Them. If you are amenable. BYE <3

YOU!!! YOU UNDERSTAND!!!! YOU AND YOUR WONDERFUL ASKS AND GIANT COMMENTS UNDERSTAND THE IMPORTANT PARTS OF SOMETHING TELLING ma’am i owe you my life. i adore you. and yes, without further ado... A Very Long Post about the boys.

feuilly moves into bahorel’s apartment building when he first moves to france, like, five or six years before the start of Something Telling. and he doesn’t speak a lot of french at ALL, at first, because he wasn’t expecting to move, but he got an opportunity with a gallery kind of last minute and he only had time to panic and duolingo it up a little bit. but he moves into baz’s apartment building, all the way up in the tiny attic apartment, and he doesn’t hire any movers because he’s broke, and that would be fine, except the elevator breaks sometime between when he goes out to find some furniture and when he gets said furniture delivered to outside the building. and now he has to figure out how to get this stupid second-hand couch up five flights of stairs and he doesn’t even know anyone in the country he can call for help.

cue bahorel, coming back from the gym and all sweaty and gross. (nasty.) and he’s never seen feuilly before, but he is CERTAINLY seeing him now. 👁👁. and they have an awkward little conversation--all “hey, dude, do you, like, need a hand?” and poor feuilly desperately trying to remember his duolingo to figure out what the fuck this hot guy is saying to him. bahorel is instantly enamored--feuilly is fucking pretty, okay, and he’s funny and his accent is cute and baz just fucking knows feuilly’s smarter than him and he’s so fucking into it. just. he’s so into him.

and the thing is, baz is pretty sure feuilly’s maybe into him, too--he helps him drag the couch up the stairs, and they make conversation, and he thinks that he’s flirting, a little, and he’s definitely ogling baz up a bit. and, like, yeah, sure--he knows he’s hot, and feuilly’s smoking hot, in an overworked, tired, starving artist way, so... yeah. he’s totally gonna sleep with his brand-new hot neighbor.

only, then they start talking about why feuilly’s moving into the building--he tells baz that he’s new to paris, new to france, and he doesn’t know anybody, doesn’t even really speak french, and he moved for work but he doesn’t really know what he’ll do outside of that, and he’s just so! fucking! charming! and smart! and baz is like. right. well. 🥺, dude.

they get up to feuilly’s apartment (and HOOOO, feuilly’s pretty strong, actually 👁👁 wow 👁👁 what a coincidence bahorel is shredded as well👁👁 maybe we can hook up and be shredded together👁👁) and set the couch down. and bahorel looks around his empty little attic apartment and takes in his nearly-empty kitchen and his one beautiful houseplant in the middle of the room, because that’s where the most light is, and he can’t just LEAVE. not when feuilly doesn’t have any friends. feuilly’s awesome, baz already knows it! he should meet baz’s awesome friends!

only, feuilly’s kind of- feuilly’s kind of leaning in, a bit, and bahorel has hooked up with enough dudes to know when someone’s putting on the moves. and he’s SO into it, and he almost just kisses him, almost hooks up with him on the couch that they just hauled up five flights of stairs together, only-

only, if feuilly’s a one-night stand, he won’t want to meet baz’s awesome friends, and he seems so lonely. so bahorel takes one for the team. and instead of leaning in to make out with the hottest dude he’s ever met, he’s just like HEY MY FRIENDS ARE HAVING A GET-TOGETHER TONIGHT WANNA COME YOU CAN MEET THEM THEY’RE SUPER NICE AND COOL. (oh, god, he really hopes feuilly wants to.)

feuilly’s a little taken aback, for obvious reasons, but- but he does want to meet bahorel’s friends, and mostly, he wants to spend some more time with bahorel, and it’s a shame that he wasn’t reading the room right when he thought baz was into him, but, well, you can’t have everything. maybe he can’t get laid by his super-hot neighbor, but hey, if he can meet some people who don’t mind that he doesn’t actually speak french yet, and if he can get to know bahorel a little better, he’ll take it.

feuilly goes to the party. jehan adores him, obviously. feuilly doesn’t, like... get what’s up with them, yet, since he didn’t watch french media growing up and therefore missed all of their child-stardom, but he likes them just fine, anyways. jehan’s like 20 and is blazed out of their mind and is having a medieval phase (one of many). feuilly is confused, but also within 90 minutes realizes that he would INSTANTLY throw hands with ANYONE if it was for jehan’s sake. so.

jehan’s all like “go talk to grantaire! he knows all sorts of things about art! he’s working on painting me naked!” so feuilly goes to talk to the lump in the corner but like. listen. grantaire’s having a hard time. he doesn’t make an awesome first impression. not awful, just... he’s having a hard time. feuilly gets it. they become better friends a little later, mostly because bahorel keeps dragging feuilly around with him whenever he’s free. (not like feuilly minds)

but feuilly doesn’t make a move on bahorel again. because he must have misread the situation, right? otherwise they would have fucked. they’d BE fucking. too bad bahorel doesn’t like him like that. oh, well, at least they’re friends!

bahorel DOES like him like that. duh. feuilly’s awesome. but he hasn’t made a move on bahorel since that first afternoon. he’s probably just not that into bahorel, past the one-night-stand type stuff. oh, well, at least they’re friends!

life goes on. they hang out a lot. like, a LOT. they’re totally each other’s best friends. feuilly learns more french. (baz is actually super relieved when he can’t quite manage to get rid of the accent, even though he would never say so, because that would hurt feuilly’s feelings. baz tries not to act like a dick around feuilly, even though he kind of is one around other people, sometimes. he just... wants feuilly to like him.) feuilly gets absorbed into the group. he picks up another job, in addition to the work he’s doing for the gallery, and he’s making a little more money, which is good for both of them, because feuilly can afford meals that aren’t mostly rice, sometimes, and bahorel doesn’t have to spend all day every day wondering how he’s going to be able to get feuilly to let him pay for his food this time around. (if they were dating, baz thinks, if they were dating, he could take feuilly out for dinner and pay for it and pay for the wine and for the dessert, too, and feuilly wouldn’t be able to give him that look he shoots him whenever baz “accidentally” orders the wrong dish from the thai place down the road, so what if it always happens to be feuilly’s favorite, shut up, man, it’s a coincidence)

but feuilly’s making more money, so he decides to move out of his shitty attic apartment, because it kind of sucks, and it’s miniscule, and he’s an adult, damn it. he finds a new place that is marginally larger and marginally less shitty, and it’s not even that far away, just a couple blocks, and he tells baz he’ll be moving when his lease is up that year.

bahorel just wants to beg him to move in with him, but he only has the one bedroom, and feuilly’s not his fucking boyfriend. so he helps feuilly move, because he’s a good buddy, and he gets hammered with grantaire, after, because grantaire is lonely for someone he hasn’t met yet and bahorel is terrified that feuilly isn’t going to want to hang out with him now that they aren’t neighbors anymore.

feuilly, meanwhile, is across town at grantaire’s apartment (sans grantaire) getting blazed with jehan because he’s terrified that bahorel isn’t going to want to hang out with him now that they aren’t neighbors anymore. (jehan’s all 🥺You Are Always Welcome At My Humble Abode🥺 and feuilly’s very touched but he’s pretty sure he’s totally in love with bahorel and he’s scared and he’s also not sure that jehan even pays rent. so.)

they totally keep hanging out. obviously. (maybe a little bit less than they used to, but if baz thinks about that he’ll fucking cry.) bahorel feels a little bit like his heart is going to break, which is totally lame and which was not the plan when he agreed to help move a couch three years earlier. it’s just... there’s nobody like feuilly. there’s nobody even CLOSE to being like feuilly. and feuilly doesn’t like him. and so he spends a lot of time at grantaire’s place, and jehan finally gets their own apartment, so he’s free to cry into grantaire’s shoulder all he fucking wants.

feuilly goes on dates, sometimes. bahorel could totally treat him better than any of those dickheads. damn it.

bahorel hooks up with people, sometimes. feuilly could totally fuck him better than any of those dickheads. damn it.

and then grantaire gets a weird new roommate, or something. baz doesn’t know, fuck, nobody tells him jack shit. but he stops hearing from grantaire for a couple weeks, for the most part, and then he gets the party invite in the groupchat, and fuck, if there’s a housewarming party, he shall attend. feuilly mentions something to him about R’s new roomie being some philosopher, or something, but bahorel was kind of busy watching him fold up little origami flowers out of newspaper, so he missed all that. it’s cool, he’ll catch up.

apparently, grantaire’s roommate is from the 19th century. apparently, grantaire also has a massive fucking crush on him. huh.

when they first meet, feuilly and enjolras are kind of hilariously enamored by one another. not in a romantic way, just in a Very Intense Admiration type way. after they meet at the housewarming party, enjolras is like “I Must Find A Way To Speak With Feuilly Again, For He Is A Brilliant Mind And A Good Man” and combeferre is like... want me to invite him over? and enjy is like “No, I Must Pen Him A Letter. Yes. This Is A Good And Rational Plan.” (he spills coffee all over the letter right when he’s almost done and almost cries. ferre just invites feuilly over anyways.)

feuilly, of course, is freaking out about whether or not he can find a way to hang out with enjolras again. because! ahh!!! that’s François-Marie Enjolras, political revolutionary and philosopher!!!! feuilly’s read his essays like five times!!! what reason would he have to want to talk to feuilly? but also, like... he did want to talk to feuilly--at the party, he’d talked to feuilly for hours, and he’s so smart and a little funny and he’d listen to Feuilly go on and on about slavic history and he hadn’t looked bored once, and just- Ah!!!! and he’s trying to figure out if it would be weird if he asked enjolras if he’d want to meet over coffee when he gets combeferre’s text. (it’s something like, enjolras just composed a letter trying to ask you if you’d want to hang out with him do you want to come over before he uses up all of my printer paper? and then, also, don’t tell him i told you about the letter he’s kind of freaked about making a good impression) and feuilly’s just like. :o

and both grantaire and bahorel see enjolras and feuilly embarking on this sweet, awkward, smart person friendship and they’re like. Oh Shit. They’re In Love With Each Other. Shit. because of course feuilly would fall in love with enjolras--feuilly’s too smart for bahorel, anyways, baz has always known that, and it makes sense that he’d fall for someone who can keep up with him. and of course enjolras would fall in love with feuilly--feuilly is kind and super smart and he knows all sorts of things about modern philosophy and he’s hot, okay, and enjolras is too smart for grantaire, anyways. ugh. baz and R get hammered and cry about it together, but the shitty thing is that they can’t even be too angry, because it’s so obvious.

meanwhile, enjolras and feuilly are across town talking about their stupid crushes on their hot beefy friends. commiserating, yanno? feuilly’s all “sometimes i wish i just kissed him that first day i met him, sometimes i wish i hooked up with him at that party, maybe he would have started liking me after” and enjolras is all “why does he never wear shirts with SLEEVES, i do not know what to DO with myself!!!”

and then one day feuilly and baz are hanging out and baz is like “haha grantaire has the biggest crush on enjolras” (because he can’t keep a secret to save his life.) and feuilly’s like.... “grantaire likes enjolras?” and baz is like “uh YEAH dude. DUH” and feuilly’s like. “that can’t be right--enjolras told me grantaire doesn’t like him back” and baz is like... “bACK?” and then he’s like “WAIT ENJOLRAS DOESN’T LIKE YOU?” and feuilly is like... no?

they realize that their friends are idiots. and they try to help, really, they do--feuilly keeps suggesting that maybe, maybe, enjolras can’t know that grantaire doesn’t like him if he’s never actually asked, and he keeps pointing out things that grantaire does that nobody actually does if they’re not totally gone for somebody; bahorel is straight up just like “R bro enjolras wants to be your boy so bad” and R is like I Am Electing Not To Listen To You.

and then-

and then, they all go out to a bar together. they get hammered, etc. etc. and they’re laughing about how grantaire and enjolras are oblivious, how could they not know that they like each other, everybody keeps telling them to go for it, and then-

hold on.

hold on, because- because that’s what everybody tells bahorel about feuilly. that he should just go for it. that maybe it’s not as hopeless as he thinks. and feuilly’s just sitting there, and he’s so fucking pretty, sometimes, honestly, and bahorel loves him so much, and he’s drunk, and he can’t stand not knowing even a second longer.

#i'll post the bar scene later tonight hold yer horses #bahorel x feuilly #les miserables #les mis #kiaronna

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needleworkreve · 2 years

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About Me

I’ve gotten a huge uptick in followers in the past month, and the parameters of this blog have changed quite a bit, so I thought I should reintroduce myself.

Hi, I’m Needle (she/her), I’m 36 and married to my wonderful husband Ned for 11 years. We’ve got two kids that I refer to as Miss Nine and Miss Five to let you know they are daughters as well as their ages. We have two cats, one fluffy brown cat named Maple and a sleek mitten boi called Papaya. There are also a ton of houseplants and the kitties are in a holy war with them. I don’t really talk about my family here, but that’s the state of things.

I started using this handle and variations on it 7 years ago when I started instagramming the things I was knitting, embroidering, sewing, and otherwise making out of string. When I joined discord to try and learn how to mod the sims 4, Needlework Reverie felt like my online name, so I kept it even though I’m not doing as much craft anymore.

I don’t really think of myself as an artist, but as a crafter. So when I’m making CC, I’m making it to fill a need I see. Generally, it’s something to please myself and my gameplay style, but my definition of what my gameplay style *is* is very broad. I’m a builder, I’m a sim stylist, I even play the game sometimes, and I’ve dabbled in storytelling. So I’ve been making CAS stuff a lot recently, but then the wind will shift and I’m releasing a wall set or something. I am a leaf on the wind.

Oh, yeah, I’m a nerd, a geek, an activist, a Jew, a biromantic demisexual, and I also have ADHD that is comorbid with depression and anxiety. I do my best to be an ally for others, but I may not be the most up-to-date with best practice. Please tell me your pronouns and I will endeavor to use them.

Who you share your life with is your business, just make sure they treat you right.

If you have the parts to become pregnant and are being sexual with someone who can get you pregnant, please use protection unless you want a baby.

If you are being sexual with anyone, use appropriate protection for your lifestyle and get tested negative before fluid bonding.

I’m pro-choice and people who have the ability to become pregnant have the right to choose whether they have a baby. It is a decision they need to make with their partner and their doctor. The law’s place is to provide proper licensing.

Drink water, practice proper sleep hygiene and eat your veggies.

#mom out #200 follower gift coming soon #needle speaks

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nanamismami · 4 years

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high. suna x reader

and to my message you reply

hi. is this another suna fic based around “why’d you only call me when you’re high”? yeah...whateva

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

warnings: angst, toxic relationship, drug use, nsfw if you squint your eyes and do a little dance, vomit (suna got sick:(), fluff

genre: angst, fluff

wordcount: 2104

a/n: is it fanon? yeah. a little ooc? yeah. sorry :(

fic below da line :)

a late night always holds many possibilities. a party, a date, at the least a break from the status-quo. yet somehow you always manage to find yourself at the exact same spot every time.

suna’s front porch had changed several time since you first started rendezvousing with him. he had a habit of buying large plants, but forgetting to take care of them.

“the only thing he spends more money on than weed is houseplants,” you chuckle. he was still calling you, though he had failed to open the door after five minutes of knocking. you retrieved a key from the underneath of a dying hydrangea plant and let yourself in.

not all of his late night calls were for personal pleasure. there’s been many times where he needed a place to hide from an angry dealer, or an extra $20 from his doting partner. more often than not, he needed someone to ease him off of a bad high. suna has bought laced all too many times, and couldn’t turn to any other responsible figure but you. “you’re really good at it,” he would tell you when you inquired about him calling someone else for once.

his messages were a frenzy of “i need help”, “please come over”, and a million other vies for your company. it had been like this for about seven months: he phones you, you get pissed, and yet you still show up to his doorstep. admittedly, your meetings were generally for sex. you weren’t ashamed of it; but he was.

you told yourself you wouldn’t ever stand for a shitty relationship. yet here you were: a glorified booty call for an emotionally distant man. he only kept you around by taking you on the occasional date. buying you a gifts when he thought you needed one. empty promises of “we’ll put a label on it soon, they’ll know soon.” you knew it was a lie, he did too. but what if one day it wasn’t? what if one of these days he really did mean it? you could get intoxicated off of that feeling, fulfilling his every request for a bit of attention. there was nothing you wouldn’t do to hear “i love you” cascade from that boy’s lips.

pushing into his house, you see him in a crouching position in front of his couch and, god, was he shivering?

“rin? what the hell happened?” you said to him. you didn’t yell for fear of breaking the odd calmness he seemed to be in. his reaction to your worried questioning was delayed. his usual cat-eyed stare was almost comically large.

“went t’ a party. took ‘sum. don’t feel good,” he managed to slur out. you threw a large knit blanket over his shoulders and sat next to him. “what did you take?”

“a tab.”

“of what?”

“i don’t know.”

great. you knew the rest of the people at the party were probably just as high and would be of no help.

not knowing what else to do, you moved him to sit on the couch and grabbed a glass of water. it’s not the first time this has happened, and still he never remembers in the morning. every time he’d wake up and find himself in your arms, he’d blame it on the high and take a shower. suna never asked about the money you spent on ibuprofen to make him feel better, or the hours you’d spent soothing his paranoid psyche, or hell, the shower you’d already given him because he’d made a mess of himself. he never knew about the frantic research you did trying to find out how to detoxify whatever drug he managed to find himself on that night. that’s not what matters right now, though. not to him at least.

“how long ago did you take it?” you asked him. he was sat with his chin resting on his knees, hesitantly taking small sips of water.

“an hour ‘fore i left the party, bout two.”

was there ever a time he checked on you? did he stay up late wondering if you were safe? he did seem to care some about you... anything physical, he bought for you. he always left you feeling satisfied. was it okay to want more? is that what you deserve? of course it is. you should be with someone who treats you with sincerity. someone who shows your beautiful face off to their friends. someone who when they talk to you, they aren’t-

you checked your phone. three: twenty-seven. there’s no point in trying to regurgitate it now. his hands were shaky, and lost grip of the plastic cup containing probably his only source of hydration within the last twelve hours.

the loud crash of his cup on the hardwood helped direct you to the true nature of the relationship you found yourself in. the silence of the home as you went to refill his water didn't help either.

the sudden rush of water falling from the cup onto your hand caused you to jerk you arm back and shut the faucet off. turning around, you’re met with a looming body and a hazy gaze.

“you’re taking too long,” he commented.

you set the cup down and looked up at him. you had a right to know what he was thinking, even if it wasn’t clear at the moment.

“rin…” you whispered. he bore down at you and his eyes sharpened ever so slightly. he must be a bit more cognizant of his surroundings, even better for your question.

“why do you only call me when you’re high?’

in your head, it was beautifully executed. the moonlight coming in from the sliding glass door, your enunciation, his careful gaze. christ, it could be straight from a movie.

suna was a very bad actor. your performance was rewarded with a pile of vomit at your feet and a half passed out man leaning on your shoulder. you guided him back to the couch and laid him on his side, then cleaning up the kitchen.

coming back, you find him awake again, lousily sitting on the couch. he at least had washed his face and changed his clothes.

“i’m cold. come hold me,” he demanded

you really couldn’t help the smirk on your face. he was so needy when he was like this. obediently, you sat facing suna, and he launched himself on top of you. maybe this is why you stay. it was satisfying feeling needed by a man who wanted for very little. you stroked his dark hair and lightly kissed the shell of his ear. “do you feel any better, sweetheart?” you only call him names when he won’t remember them. sober suna would roll his eyes and ask you to not call him that.

“you make me feel better.” honesty wasn’t ever a symptom of his current state but hey, you’ll take it.

in fact, you’ll take full advantage of it. “rin, you’re not going to remember this in the morning, are you?” you knew what the answer was

“...i will.”

your eyebrows knit together and you pull his face to meet yours. his arms snake their way around your neck, his weight forcing you to lay down. suna shoved his face into the crook of your neck. he breathed out lightly, refusing to meet your eyes.

“y/n...why are you so good to me?” is he aware of what he’s saying? does this mean he’s remembered every other time and refused to acknowledge it? questioning his integrity might just ruin it, so you only massaged his scalp.

“because i want to rin. you make me happy, and i want to.” a half lie; would he care?

“but you could be happier without me. i dont get it.”

“i love you too, ya’ know.” it was a concerningly matter of fact statement, especially from him. “i wish i could show you. you're just so pretty, and smart, and just so... so good. you’re pretty scary, you know that? how am i supposed to be vulnerable with someone like you?"

if the ever observant middle blocker couldn’t figure it out, how the hell would you? there’s only so many things you can fully understand.

“because i love you, rintarou.”

you probably shouldn’t have said that, and you knew it. never once had either of you brought up that word. it could easily be the rock to shatter the glass house.

his soliloquy is almost laughable, it’s only what he knows what you want to hear.

“are you still high?”

“not really. my stomach hurts though. and i’m kinda hungry.”

he didn’t get up. instead, he asked you to roll over so that you were both lying on your side.

you had no idea if he was being truthful. he isn’t exactly one to say i love you so freely. but he knows you are close to leaving. a slightly calloused thumb strokes your cheek and lifts your chin,

“i meant it.”

“no, rin. you didn’t.”

a look of genuine hurt colored his otherwise bored face. did he really mean it?

“were you telling the truth?” he asks.

were you? there wasn’t exactly another explanation for your actions.

“i think so, yeah.”

“then so was i.” you thought it was bull, opting to shut him up before he could give you anymore false hope. before you could kiss his face, he beat you to it.

“that’s bullshit, rin.”

it was tentative, hesitant. he knew you weren’t really convinced. if there was a god, he prayed that they would make his testament of truth pass from his lips to yours. if there was one thing he knew he couldn’t live without, it was you. he would not be able to tie his own shoes if you weren’t there to teach him. but how were you supposed to know that. he fucked up big time, why was he just now realizing it?

“after our first date, i told the whole team i was gonna marry you.”

“the coach too.”

suna rintarou telling the entirety of ejp about his love life is laughable. you wanted to believe it, really, you did.

“that doesn’t line up with everything else that’s been going on.”

“y/n i-i know. i’m sorry. i’ll change.” his pleading was pathetic, to be honest. he’s made those same promises before.

he was desperate at this point. suna knew he was in the wrong. there had to be a way to save this; he didn’t like seeing you sad, seeing you leave.

he pulled his phone out, pressing a few buttons here and there. “look!” he said, shoving a new instagram post in your face. it was the only picture he had of the both of you together. he had let you take it. it was a timed photo, facing the two of you in his reading chair. you sat sideways in sunas lap, and your arms were tightly wrung around his neck. he was looking down at you, and you were pretty sure (you hope) he was smiling a little. the caption of his post was simply a heart.

“that’s just a social media post.”

there was that word again. he looked like he was about to cry and there was emotion in his voice, could he really be lying?

“baby please. i’m serious. i’ll do anything."

the usual flat tone of his monotone voice began to have some melody to it. against his own will, it was shaky, trying to find the best words to sing.

"i’ll take you out every day, a-and i’ll get you front seat tickets to my game. anything, love, please just don’t leave me.”

there’s something sweet in a statement that you don’t know the validity of. you can dance around it, pretend it’s true, pretend it’s false. sometimes, you can choose for yourself what tune to dance to. that’s what you’re doing now.

suna’s large hand was petting your cheekbone, and one of his legs was thrown around your body, imprisoning yourself to his ambiguity. how would you win his approval if you disregarded his one showing of vulnerability?

“i would never leave you rin. now get the fuck up so we can go to your bed and sleep.”

his sheets were a pleasant greeting compared to his scratchy couch. he laid flat on his back, pulling you so that half of your body was on his. he slowly leaned toward you, kissing you forehead, nose, cheek, and just about anywhere else he could on your face, finishing with your lips.

you could definitely tell he was lying about how deep his true lack of sobriety was when he threw you over his shoulder, his bad posture refusing to adjust for the added weight.

he always knew you cared too deeply about him, but getting see what you did for him when he wasn't supposed to know. it did things to him. his bedroom door was already open, and he jokingly tossed you onto the bed. not enough to hurt you, but enough to convey his desire for a bit more normality. because that's what other couples did, right? he was trying.

“goodnight, y/n. i love you.”

it was almost instinctual, the way you smiled and chastely pecked his lips. laying your head back down on his chest, you sighed airily.

“i love you too, rintarou.”

#suna #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu time skip #angst #fluff #haikyuu angst #suna x you #suna x y/n #haikyuu imagines

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rotationalsymmetry · 3 years

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Re: treats/rewards

We’re conditioned to think of rewards as physical things that you buy in order to have or eat, or sometimes services you buy like a massage.

It is worth thinking in terms of doing nice things for yourself (“deserved” or not) that aren’t buying things. Listening to music you like because you like it. Singing. Making art. Doing a guided visualization that you enjoy.

Also, noticing when you enjoy things you’d be doing anyways. Like taking a shower, washing your hands, noticing how nice the carpet looks after you’ve vacuumed it, enjoying getting your clothes folded up precisely the way you like them. Finding little things you like about your work or commute. (Not that I’ve had either of those things in a while.)

Noticing things you’ve purchased or been given or otherwise acquired a while ago that you still like: your favorite t-shirt, your bedspread, your phone or laptop wallpaper, a watch, a special pen, the nice post-it notes, nail polish, a houseplant.

I have a mug that used to be my grandmother’s that I got through a misunderstanding. (Or, I like to tell myself, my grandmother’s supernatural influence from beyond the grave.) It is 100% not a mug I would have chosen for myself. It has anthropomorphized rabbits on it and unmistakeable grandma energy. I keep my toothbrush and tongue scraper in it. I figure my grandma, who hated her dentures, would appreciate that something of hers is helping me keep my own teeth as long as possible. It’s a form of connection, of memory.

#commenting on without reblogging #the little things #treats #self care #I think it’s less likely to escalate out of control #if your focus is on the pleasure itself #like if buying stickers used to make you super happy and now only makes you slightly happy #there is some risk of buying more and more stickers to get the same effect #but if you recognize there are so many potential sources of pleasure #and focus on feeling the pleasure that’s already there more #there is I think no way that can escalate in a harmful way #although it might be possible that you hit a point where there’s just not joy anywhere #which is a problem and by the way a symptom of depression #also sometimes this happens because you’re trying to flood away negative feelings with happy ones #in which case finding a way you can face #the negative feelings and come out ok on the other side #will do more for you than trying to avoid them

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thumbgarden · 3 years

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Tips for caring for blackberries in the fall

Blackberry is similar to raspberry except that its fruit first turns red and then charcoal black. To me, they have a more interesting taste than raspberries, but the seeds are more visible on the teeth. Thanks to the work of plant breeders and the completely thornless varieties they have produced, and thanks to travelers and tourists who have brought new foreign varieties with high-quality fruit to our continent, blackberries are becoming more and more popular and can be seen more and more often on garden plots. However, blackberries tend to grow well only on a trellis, which must be erected in the second year of planting on the plot. The trellis can be placed in the most primitive place. If you have a dozen varieties of blackberries on the plot, plant them with a distance of 6.5 feet (2 meters) between rows so that they do not interfere with each other.

At the edge of the rows, hammer in ordinary metal tubes of 5-6inch (12-15 cm) diameter, make holes in them, and stretch strong wire through them. From the second year on, you can hang blackberry shoots from the wire or twine. Throughout the summer you will be harvesting blackberries and when autumn comes you will be wondering what to do next and how to caring for blackberries! Don't worry: before you remove the blackberry from its stand and place it on a bed of soft leaves or wrap it up with it, you need to prune it hygienically and fertilize it, combined with hydration and moisturizing.

PRUNING BLACKBERRIES There are many subtleties here. You must prune in such a way as to ensure the full growth and development of your blackberry plants later on. Of course, the first order of business is to remove all broken, dry, diseased shoots (no doubt about it), but what's next? Next, you need to relentlessly cut off all shoots that have already borne fruit this year. However, if you are a lucky resident of the southern United States, it is possible not to cut them off completely, but to shorten them to a height of 5 feet (1.5 meters).

All other blackberry shoots, in the current season, unfortunately, our harvest did not satisfy us and you need to prune, removing about 6-8inch (15-20 cm). Most likely, this immature part, even under mulch, will start to behave badly: it may freeze, start to rot, and decay. Naturally, after such an event, all the cut blackberry shoots must be taken out of the area and be sure to burn them, the ashes can be put in a bag: it will come in handy. Let her eat a little, but it (we do not tire of repeating) contains potassium and trace elements that can be fed to, for example, houseplants.

FERTILIZING AND WATERING BLACKBERRIES In what order to do these necessary procedures does not matter at all. Fertilize first and then water, or water first, and then spread the fertilizer on the moist soil - the way you think best.

WATERING BLACKBERRIES Watering well is really just hydrating and moisturizing. If someone tells you he doesn't water his blackberries at all and he has a luxurious yield every year, he is either lying or he has never seen a luxurious yield of blackberries at all. In the first year after planting, when there is no trellis yet, you can only pour 3-4 buckets per square meter of soil. This is best done at the beginning of October when the soil is definitely not frozen yet and it is best to loosen it slightly beforehand. But remember, it should only be loosened slightly. The roots of blackberries must not be touched, and if the roots are damaged then they will start to grow and regrow shoots from the ground (usually with thorns, even if the original shoots did not have any thorns at all). Plants that are still on the trellis, that is, the second and later years after planting, will of course need to be watered twice as much. This is fine. The water will soak deep into the soil and freeze slowly, without causing any damage to the roots. And, if there is a provocative winter thaw, the roots are unlikely to respond to it, and this thawing of blackberries will not cause any damage.

FERTILIZING BLACKBERRIES After watering (let's decide to do just that) fertilize. 50 grams per square meter of dry calcium superphosphate and 25 grams per square meter of potassium sulfate have proven to be the best for blackberries in the fall. You can also cover them with humus about 1 inch thick.

Important! Nitrogen fertilizer should not be applied in autumn, as this will stimulate the growth activity of the shoots and all of them will freeze, maybe even in the quilt.

The easiest thing is done, now it is necessary to carefully remove and cover the blackberry bushes from the trellis.

Important! Alas, but absolutely no damage to the blackberries can withstand frosts of a few tens of degrees Fahrenheit without exceeding a few tens of degrees Fahrenheit. Then already begin negative changes in the tissue, especially at the tips of the shoots. There have been cases where temperatures have dropped sharply from above 32°F (0°C) to slightly negative values, but within a very short period of time, e.g. within a few hours, resulting in death or severe frostbite of uncovered blackberry plants.

THE RIGHT TIME TO MULCH BLACKBERRIES The most appropriate time is often the end of October (in the middle of the US) when it has started to freeze and you can't wait for the warmth to arrive. The most dangerous thing is if the mulching will be followed by a week or even two weeks of really high temperatures or even rain, which can lead to blackberry rooting. For annuals, this is not fatal: from the root buds, the branches rejuvenate again like a bird's "phoenix". Of course, the gardener will lose the whole season, and if he makes repeated mistakes, he will lose the second season. Here we must be guided by the indications of the weather stations, which sometimes tell us exactly when a steady cold spell is coming. And while we wait for the cold, you can treat blackberries with a 3% Bordeaux solution to rid the plants of winter stage pests and diseases.

As long as the temperature goes down below 32°F (0°C) and doesn't even rise above 32°F (0°C) during the day, blackberry mulching is very possible. As we have already said, the period for mulching blackberries is usually in late October or early November in the central part of the U.S. However, this is in the middle of the country. If you live farther south, you may not need mulch at all, or even be prohibited (shoots will be prohibited because inside, under mulch, a lot of completely unnecessary moisture accumulates, and if there is too much moisture, you can even start rotting the roots, and then the blackberries will die completely). If you live in the north, then you can start mulching a whole month earlier. Therefore, before you mulch, you need to remember some important rules.

Rule #1: Blackberries can be ruined not only by a winter with no snow at all but also by a provocative thaw where frost suddenly turns to rain. In this case, the buds will freeze to death, so try to use extra, such as dried leaves, in addition to the main shelter, which can "take the hit". Rule #2: Do not rush to cover blackberries and wait for a light but steady frost, otherwise both roots and buds will simply uproot. As we have already mentioned, if you rush to cover, a lot of water will accumulate under it; in fact, a greenhouse effect will occur, which will damage the above-ground parts of the plant and the root system. In addition, due to the excess of water, various fungi and bacteria develop very actively. In this case, the shrub will regrow in spring, only if the above-ground part dies or if the top is a bit podgy, but if the roots are affected, the site will have to be laid again. Rule #3: If you live in a western area where the thermometer doesn't go below 14°F (-10°C) in the winter, forget about mulching or use a single layer of agricultural fabric, which "breathes".

Those who have mulched their grapes will find it easier, while those who have not will find it more difficult. Blackberry branches, very carefully so as not to break, should be removed from their supports, wire, and placed on the surface of the soil that has been taken by frost, and gently pinned to them. If the bush is large, tie them together with twine before laying. To exclude the blowing of blackberries, or at least minimize it, it is necessary to cover the shoots already laid on the surface of the soil with dry leaves (or lay branches on top of them, sprinkled with leaves in advance), and afterward with a soil mulch film, something that should be fixed and not tear the wind. This can be bricks on the edge, crates, plywood, etc.

THE PERFECT MULCHING MATERIAL Gardeners have debated, are debating, and will continue to debate what is the best mulching material for blackberries. Some try to mulch with film, others use agricultural fabrics exclusively, but trust me, whichever way you choose, it still has pros and cons. Take film for example: if you live in the middle of the country, that's fine, but if you're near the south, obviously the temperature changes in the winter can create condensation under the film, leading to the consequences mentioned above. If you have decided to use film, or if you don't have anything else handy, you can use a layer between the plants and the film, for example, a mulch, as in a layer of moss - with double protection: against moisture and against frost. Then there are agro textiles, a relatively new non-woven material that has perfect permeability to water and air (they "breathe"). Even during the thawing period (which occurs in autumn and winter), agro textiles show their good side: they let water pass through and allow it to evaporate.

However, if there is too much water (i.e. active snowmelt in mid-winter), it cannot cope with the evaporation of excess water and it thaws. Therefore, in areas where thawing is active, you better warn yourself and use fir wood, corn, or at least dry leaves covered with twigs or branches. If you have to choose between light and black wool, it is better to choose light wool, because black wool gets very hot in spring (if you live in the city and your blackberries are in a country house, when you go to the country house it will be cooked under black wool). It is recommended for northerners to use sintepon synthetic mulch film, but it should not be placed on the plant, but on pre-layered leaves, dry and free from all kinds of diseases. However, in warm winters with low snow, plants in northern areas may suffer under this type of mulch.

MISTAKES WHEN MULCHING BLACKBERRIES The first mistake: is not appearing under the cover of the poison of mice (believe me, they eat all the buds). The second mistake: is using sawdust as insulation for blackberries. They absorb moisture very quickly, turn into just a block of ice, and then melt very slowly. I personally found a piece of ice as late as July in a pile of sawdust. What's wrong with that? Blackberries don't warm up in the spring, they slowly wilt under the ice and rocks instead. The third mistake: is using straw for mulch. Straw actively attracts rodents, who settle in it, build "apartment buildings" and live there, eating blackberry buds and nibbling on shoots, and in spring it is not easy to remove all the semi-digested winter straw from the site.

The fourth mistake: is delaying the removal of mulch material. Remember to run to the site as soon as the snow melts and the temperature rises to remove the mulching material: a strong frost will not, but a thaw may occur. Make sure you remove the mulching material before the buds on the blackberries swell. Basically, there is nothing particularly complicated: a dozen shrubs, primitive trellis, no less primitive shelter, and the main thing - all the time and at the same time, do not forget the rodents.

#ThumbGarden #Fruits #Blackberries #Blackberry #Garden #Orchard #Mulching #Tips #UrbanGarden #SmallGarden #OutdoorGarden #PlantCare #Care #Inspired #Fertilize #Watering #Pruning #Autumn #Fall

Author: Ms.Geneva Link: https://www.thumbgarden.com/caring-for-blackberries/ Source: ThumbGarden The copyright belongs to the author. For commercial reprints, please contact the author for authorization, and for non-commercial reprints, please indicate the source.

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thecasperanfamily · 3 years

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Casperan Christmas traditions?

Bless you, Non, I was hoping to do this post soon, and now I have an excuse!

Aaron said in a Discord Q&A that Douxie is a huge fan of the Christmas season (you can check out this post to see the whole answer).This works out well, because @dreamsarelikedragonflies (who is responsible for most of the Zoe characterization in this AU) tells me that Zoe is a little bit of a scrooge about the whole thing. So every year, on the morning of December 1st, Douxie prances around the house in a Santa hat, throwing greenery everywhere, blasting Carol of the Bells at max volume on his ancient stereo set from the 90s, and just being Insufferably Jolly in general. Zoe lets him do his thing because it clearly makes him happy, but she’s grumbling the whole time. Nari, fascinated by human customs as she is, is completely on board with all of this, and usually helps him put up the tree (8 ft tall with dozens of unique ornaments and multi-colored lights). Archie is Banished from the living room until everything is set up because otherwise he keeps trying to climb the tree and knock all the ornaments off (Douxie has to bind everything in place with a spell once it’s all ready). Smol Lin is very enthused about all of this, and once he’s old enough, he’s just as much a part of the activities as Nari. Unfortunately he does end up outgrowing some of his fondness for the season, and these days when Douxie pulls out the decorations, Lin usually hides under his headphones until the storm has passed.

Douxie likes to take extra time during the Christmas season to do a little charity work. The Casperans aren’t exactly wealthy, but he and Zoe both try to have some money scraped together in time to send to orphanages and such for the holidays. Douxie takes his guitar down to the local retirement home and plays old-timey carols for the residents there, while Nari prepares bouquets of poinsettias to brighten up the old folks’ home. Lin’s usually a little more sneaky about his own charity work--anonymous donations of dog treats to the local shelter and such.

Christmas Day is usually spent with the Lakes--Uncle Jim and Aunt Claire, their six kids, Barbara and Strickler and whoever they happen to be fostering at the time, plus the wide array of friends/extended family/magical creatures that inevitably end up spending the holidays with the Trollhunter and his family. It is Absolute Chaos™ and Douxie wouldn’t have it any other way. Zoe usually has a headache by the end of it, but she’s glad Lin gets to know the experience of having such a big, wild family. Plus the Lakes usually have mistletoe hanging somewhere--it’s always fun to catch Douxie under it. 💕 Nari inevitably ends up hiding in a houseplant (Douxie checks on her frequently--she says she’s perfectly happy, no need to worry). Archie has to spend the whole time perched on someone’s shoulder or else he will be stepped on/tripped over. He turns into a reindeer at some point and gives the little ones rides. Lin will never admit it, but the Christmases of his childhood are some of his most treasured memories.

Thanks again for the ask, Non! 🌲✨

#tales of arcadia #toa #douxie as a father au #the casperan family #douxie #toa zoe #toa archie #nari #lin casperan #niki answers #christmas

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the-bentley · 5 years

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The Fear of Crowley (G)

A look at Crowley’s treatment of his houseplants from their point of view.

It had been a few days since he had been around, but the plants knew better than to let their guard down. He would show up again and there would be cullings if things were not up to his strict standards. They reached towards to the windows, stretching towards the sunlight that would keep them the best shades of green as only the healthiest colours were allowed.

One or two of them let their leaves lower just a little bit. While they obviously needed to be at their best when he was in the flat, they did relax sometimes when the coast was clear. Lately he had not been around much but when he had, he was in a foul mood. They kept what passed for ears in plants tuned to the front door. Once it slammed shut, they had about thirty seconds to look their best before he entered the plant room.

He chose this room because of the floor-to-ceiling windows all along the west that provided them with as good of light as you could get in the middle of London, supplemented with grow lights hanging from the ceiling. Terror alone couldn’t make a plant bigger or greener.

But even with light, water and the occasional shot of fertilizer, the onus was on them to always look their best. Many a fellow plant had come and gone, succumbing to leaf spots, wilt or lackluster growth. Failure to thrive was not an option here. Nobody would nurse you back to health. You were verdant, luxurious and healthy-looking or you were unceremoniously shredded in the garbage disposal while the remaining flora was treated to one of his temper tantrums. If that was your fate, at least you could thank your lucky stars plants did not possess nerves.

The door opened than slammed shut one early afternoon following a several days’ absence. The terror in the plant room became palatable. Suddenly everyone from the smallest African violet to the tallest Kentia palm immediately perked up.

Must be green! Must be tall!

One began to tremble. Its neighbors quickly shushed it. They stood at attention but a recently added flamingo flower broke down in the plant version of anxiety. It had been the target of their owner’s wrath last week because it had yet to produce blooms. It had a month to grow at least three and was reminded every misting that the clock was ticking. It was doing its best to produce flower stalks and had managed a small one.

Footsteps.

Must be green! Must be tall!

“So. How are we doing today?” He stood there in a deceptively casual stance, plant mister held at his side. Yellow eyes darted from plant to plant, inspecting each for flaws.

He caressed the leaves of a rubber plant, the plant doing its best not to recoil in fear. Close inspections were never a good thing and this particular plant had been warned before. Its untouched leaves visibly raised; if it had been possible to make itself greener instantaneously, it would have.

“Didn’t we already have discussion a few weeks ago about your poor growth rate?” he hissed in a soft, menacing voice to it. “You have one week to give me five centimeters of growth or I’ll throw you off the balcony. You can rot slowly on the pavement for all I care.”

The flamingo flower was addressed next as he misted them. It tried its best to shrink to an unnoticeable size in its pot, but that trick was well known by their owner. Many a plant had tried such a tactic and failed.

“You’re running out of time. I only see one pathetic bloom stalk. I want flowers. That’s the point of you, isn’t it? Remember what happened to peace lily that wouldn’t bloom?”

The flamingo flower remembered all too well. He had scooped it up in a fit of anger, showed its lack of blooms to everyone in the room, then left for an hour only to return with an empty pot he set in the middle of the floor. The plants endured horror-filled thoughts of what happened to their former friend until he decided to remove it three days later.

They lost another of their friends during that dark time. A pothos could not endure the pressure, breaking down in a nervous wilt that earned it a trip to the garbage disposal. Their owner did like a plant that would tremble nicely when threatened, but completely nervous wrecks were not tolerated.

He put down the mister, picked up the watering can and stalked around checking each plant’s soil, occasionally watering one here and there. A few others received some fertilizer.

“Well. What do we have here?” He eyed a small English ivy with one brown leaf tip.

Its neighbors recoiled, getting as far away from the chosen target as they possibly could. Its pot was yanked off the shelf it sat on with surprising speed. Those unforgiving yellow eyes examined it while a sneer formed on their owner’s mouth.

“What have you been told about leaf spots? I will not tolerate anything less than perfect foliage, do you understand?”

The room filled with the sound of rustling leaves as the entire collection of greenery trembled violently. One could almost hear the offending English ivy crying in fear.

“Oh dear, there is going to be one less plant in here now, isn’t there? I suggest the rest of you start putting in some effort before you share your friend’s fate.”

He stalked off down the hall to the kitchen, a room filled with pristine grey granite counters and unused stainless steel appliances. Flicking on the garbage disposal, he let it run for about thirty seconds while conjuring up a pot identical to the one the plant was currently residing in.

If foliage could look confused, this one would have as it sensed its owner walking back to the plant room, leaving it by the sink.

“Grow better!”

The angry voice drifted back to it along with the sound of a ceramic pot clanging hollowly as it was placed on the tile floor. Footsteps followed as the plant’s owner returned to the kitchen.

It found itself grabbed up, taken out the back door, out of the building and into a car where it endured a bit of a nerve-racking drive before the car was parked in front of colourful buildings along crowded pavements.

Carrying it into one, its owner set it on a counter next to an old-fashioned till in a room filled with books and cluttered with antique items, everything here looking as if it existed because it had special meaning to whoever owned this place.

“Angel!”

“Oh, hello, Crowley. I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour,” a voice called from somewhere in the bookshelves. Quick footsteps approached. There was a pause. “Culling the plants again, are we?”

“I can’t have leaf spots in my flat. It just won’t do. Just a dried tip. Cut off that leaf, water it when it starts to dry out and put it in indirect light. It should be fine.”

There was a sigh. The plant assumed it came from the one called “Angel.”

“That’s the second one this month. I’m running out of room for your rejects. You need to learn to live with a few imperfections for once, my dear.”

“Would you rather I really threw them away? Besides they brighten the shop up. I think the rest of mine’ll fall into line now so I won’t have to get rid of any more. They were cowering quite nicely while I was lecturing them. Anyway, lunch? I’ll be waiting in the car.”

“Lecture? I do believe terrorize would be a better phrase for what you do.”

“Oi! Five minutes or I’m leaving without you.”

The door slammed.

The plant, in a state of utter confusion, found itself being inspected rather closely by Angel, who smiled at the terrified thing as he looked it over.

“Hello. You are a beautiful one, aren’t you? Such grand foliage, indeed. And don’t worry; I don’t make it a habit of terrifying houseplants. Really, he does have a bit of kindness in there somewhere otherwise you’d be compost. I’d better go because he does get dreadfully impatient, but it’ll give you a chance to settle in. Later today we’ll find you a nice place to sit and soak up sunlight. Does that sound good?”

As the door closed for the second time leaving the plant alone there on the till counter, it relaxed its leaves a bit, thinking it was going to enjoy living here in this shop with the nice Angel who called it beautiful.

#crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #good omen fanfic #good omens fanfiction #crowley's houseplants #ineffable husbands

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alarawriting · 5 years

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Inktober #14: Overgrown

Not sure what I’m doing with 13: Ash yet, so here, have 14. This features a character from the Cold Light universe but not part of that book. He’s a Proxima, like Meg, but instead of becoming a hero or villain with his powers... he does something else.

Max looked over the yard. “Yikes.”

The executor nodded. “It looks like they didn’t do anything to take care of the yard for the past 10 years. When Walter died, the paramedics had to borrow a weed clipper from the wife to get the walkway wide enough that they could get the stretcher through.”

“My God,” Max said. “Is – was there any chance they could have saved his life otherwise?”

“Oh, no, I’m sure there wasn’t,” the executor said. “He was pronounced DOA. But Helen wants to sell the place and move to an assisted living community. Apparently Walter’d been telling her for ten years that he was having things taken care of – either he was doing the chores, or he was having a landscaper come by, or something – and with her being mostly bed-ridden, she took his word for it.”

“That poor woman. She really hasn’t left her house in ten years?”

“Aside from going outside to bring in grocery and package delivery, neither did Walter. We’ve found a few paths he made through the underbrush to get to the gate where they’d leave the packages, but they weren’t big enough to bring the stretcher through.” The executor shook his head. “The best we can figure, either he was a hoarder of garden vegetation, or he had the worst cast of procrastination anyone’s ever seen.” He gave the suburban jungle one last eyeing-over before turning to Max. “What can you do with this?”

“A lot,” Max said, “but too much of that growth is woody for me to just make it all disappear. When green-stem plants die, like flowers and tomatoes, they just collapse to the ground, but woody plants like trees and shrubs and some kinds of vine will still be there when they die… they won’t continue to grow, their roots will shrink and they’ll dry out and be easier to dig out or cut down, but it’s still going to take some work to remove them.” He pulled at a woody vine that had completely swallowed the white picket fence… at least he thought it was probably a white picket fence from the tiny bits of picket that showed through the vines.

“Well, any cost from landscapers coming in and cutting down whatever’s left after you do your job will be more than made up for by what Helen can get from selling the house, and it would cost a lot more to have them cut it all down while it’s alive.”

“Not to mention the rats.” Max looked at the executor. “You did know about the rats, didn’t you?”

“Uh… no. Helen didn’t mention rats.”

“Just for due diligence, she doesn’t have a family of pet possums or a colony of feral cats living on the property, does she?”

“She has two cats, they’re indoor cats and fixed.”

“And they’re not on the property anymore? It’s important that nothing she wants alive should be on the property at the moment.”

“I get that.” The executor’s smile was nervous. Max took a step away from the man, casually, as if he was inspecting the vines, and saw out of the corner of his eye the executor relax slightly. “She’s got her cats with her, I believe.”

“Staying with kids or something?”

“No, a friend’s house. Walter and Helen never had any kids.” The executor snorted. “If they had, I’d be having words with those kids now. Walter was obviously mentally ill or something, and Helen wasn’t physically capable of enforcing him dealing with the yard even if she knew there was a problem, but if they had kids, there would be no excuse for anyone letting their parents live like this.”

“There’s some smallish creatures in the house. Can we confirm she doesn’t have fish, or other terrarium pets she might have left behind?”

“Huh. She did go to her friend’s in a hurry; it’s not like she’s moved out yet. I’ll check.”

While the executor called the widow to confirm whether or not the lives Max was sensing in the house were wanted or not, Max walked along the fence. Most of the life he was going to have to deal with was deep inside, nowhere near the fence. It was a large property, and he wasn’t going to be able to do it by radiating an area of effect, since there were neighbors. He sighed. Dammit, he was going to have to get the hedge clippers himself, or a machete or something, just to get deep enough into the yard to be able to do his job.

“I don’t get paid to be a gardener,” he muttered.

Well, he didn’t get paid to be a plumber either, but there’d been that colony of mutant amphibious mice that he’d had to track through the pipes in that one house. And at least the homeowner was willing to make a clean sweep, none of “don’t touch my prize rosebushes but get everything else”.

Still, he made a mental note to quote the executor a 20% increase in his usual fee.

“Good news,” the executor said. “Nothing in the house is supposed to be alive.” A little nervously, he asked, “How do you know there’s living things in there? Can you tell what they are?”

“I can tell their approximate size, and, vaguely, about how high off the ground they are,” Max said. “What I’m seeing could be consistent with pet fish, or animals in terrariums… or it could be a few colonies of mice living in the walls. There’s also a lot of insect life, all over. Uh. I think maybe you’re gonna want to check for termite damage after I’m done.”

“Wait, there are termites?”

“Some kind of insect living in parts of the wall that I think might be studs,” Max said. “Could be something like powder post beetles if there’s wooden furniture up against the walls.”

“But you can take care of them?”

“Sure can, but I can’t fix the damage they might have done, so get the place inspected thoroughly before you put it on the market. I can certify that I treated the place for you, once I’m done; I’m licensed to certify state-approved no-toxin extermination was performed. There’s bedbugs, too. That’s weird for people who never leave the house.”

“I’ll just… have the mattresses burned.”

“No need, I can deal with those little suckers too, including the eggs. But the mattresses should be thrown out; there’s gonna be tiny little bloodstains all over them. Nothing bio-active, but people looking at it won’t be able to tell it’s been sanitized. Don’t burn them, the chemicals mattresses are made of turn toxic when you set them on fire.”

“Anything else?”

“Major flea infestation. Those poor cats. Let the friend know and get the homeowner have them professionally treated right away.”

“Is that something you could do?”

“Not without making the cats sick. I don’t do parasites on living creatures; I’m an exterminator. I kill stuff. People aren’t a big fan of exposing their pets to things that kill stuff.” It wasn’t impossible; he’d killed skin cancer once, and the person who’d had the melanoma was still alive, but it was delicate work and dangerous and he’d only done it because his friend hadn’t had insurance and he’d been terrified the thing would metastatize before his friend could raise the money for chemo. Also because chemo was probably worse for people overall than one exposure to a pinpoint death touch. Cats were more fragile than people anyway.

“Okay, I’ll let Helen and her friend know. If Helen’s cats infest her friend’s house with fleas, you’d be able to help with that, right?”

“Yep, with all the usual caveats. Get your pets out of the house for the day, that includes any fish, prized houseplants, and if you want me working on your garden you show me every plant you don’t want dead when I’m done, yadda yadda.”

“Sounds good. So when do you want to get started on Walter and Helen’s yard here?”

Max pulled out his phone, did some quick calculations, and presented the executor with the total. “You can give me a check now, or you can call my secretary and give her the credit card number over the phone.”

“We’ll do a check, that’s simplest.” The executor didn’t even blink at the price. Silently Max kicked himself for not raising the price even higher.

“And I’m gonna need those hedge clippers.”

“I figured as much.”

***

Half an hour later the executor was gone, driven off to get lunch or something, far more than a safe distance away. Max could sense as far as a city block, but he had no idea if he could actually drain life that far away, because he’d never tried.

Numerous supervillains had tried to recruit him since he’d discovered his powers around the age of 14, but Max thought that capes were, in general, ridiculous people. Well, the Peace Force were all right, as heroes went, and his doctor was great despite being a supervillain in her spare time, but why the hell would he ever want to work a job where the entire reason he was on board was to threaten to kill people, or actually do it? He still had nightmares about his grandfather’s death, and the man had been in his 60’s, old enough to die of a heart attack even if Max had had nothing to do with it. Max felt bad when he accidentally killed someone’s pet goldfish – which had happened, in the beginning of his career, because idiots heard “get your pets out of the house” and for some reason mentally tacked on “except for your fish, they aren’t really alive.” Why would he ever want to kill anything another person cared about, let alone a person themselves? Hell, the only mammals he was cool with killing were the rats and mice, and that was mainly because they carried disease and ate people’s food. He wouldn’t take on rural assignments, they kept wanting him to dispose of bunny rabbits and gophers. No thanks. And he didn’t do birds. Pigeons were beautiful creatures and geese were shitheads but mostly just because they weren’t scared of humans, and Max respected that.

His extermination business was certified by the state to be wholly organic and no-toxin, which was good for the environment and for the health of the people he helped. From Max’s perspective, he’d taken a power that terrified most people and kind of screamed “supervillain” to anyone who paid attention to capes, and used it to improve the life and health of people and their pets.

He started at the gate, where the paramedics had hacked a pathway to the house wide enough to get the stretcher through. The pathway was partly the actual original walkway, partly ground that had once been occupied by tall pokeweed plants. As Max walked along the path, he cast his awareness out as far as he could see, to the limit of the yard edge or his eyes’ vision, whichever came first. Life everywhere, from the bacteria and the worms in the dirt to the weedy jungle overrunning every square inch of the yard.

They’d have to replace the worms, when he was done. If Max was going to get all the seeds, he’d have to get everything within the top six inches of the soil. He could leave the bacteria alone – they were small enough that they couldn’t be anything else, and soil needed bacteria to rot the things he was going to kill – but worms were, unfortunately, indistinguishable from small plant shoots, and the garden wouldn’t do well once the worms were all dead.

He stood in the middle of the area he’d mentally bounded, and pulled life energy from it.

Most of the plants slumped immediately. The pokeweed, which wasn’t exactly woody but was easily the thickest non-woody stem Max was familiar with, stood up for a while even as its leaves shriveled, but eventually collapsed on itself. The woody vines and the overgrown shrubs lost their leaves, pulling the water out of any extremity they had in a doomed effort to save themselves. Plants interpreted the pulling of their life force as dehydration, probably because they weren’t evolved to experience this kind of death from any other force.

When he was done… there were still woody sticks and vines and leafless shrubbery everywhere, but everything green was gone, slumped to the ground.

With the clippers, he began cutting himself a path through some raspberry plants that had gotten way out of control, moving toward the side of the house. Once he was far in enough that he could see an area of the yard he hadn’t been able to see before, he did the same thing. Set the range, then pull the life.

It was very important to Max that he could physically see the area he was killing. He could sense life, and its approximate size, so things like the time some absolute shithead had left a child playing in the basement weren’t a real danger for him. He’d notice something as large as a child right away, and had, that time. (He couldn’t prove that said shithead had wanted him to kill the kid so they could sue his insurance for wrongful death, but at the very least the act had been neglectful enough that he’d seen the kid taken away and given to a foster family, and he’d testified at the hearing that had terminated the asshole’s custody. The kid had deserved better.) But kittens, puppies, songbirds, other creatures like that… life came in sizes, for him, and he couldn’t tell the difference between a mouse and a hummingbird, aside from the fact that hummingbirds didn’t stay still as often as mice did and were usually found higher than mice (not always, though… mice climbed on things.) So outside, where most living things were just minding their own business and not bothering the humans, he wanted to be able to see what he was killing.

Back out of where he was, head up to the porch, over to its side where he could see the other side of the yard. Set the range, pull the life. He included part of the house itself in his sweep this time, killing infestations of insects and an absurdly high number of rats and mice. What the hell had been wrong with that guy, that he’d let his disabled wife live in this shithole without doing anything to maintain it or keep the pests under control? Max got the concept of procrastination – the dishes in his own sink hadn’t been done for a week, he just kept killing the fruit flies and mold rather than actually washing them because he hadn’t run out of dishes yet – but this was appalling. He really didn’t want to go in the house, and from what he could see through the windows of the piles of clutter everywhere, the house plainly didn’t want him to go in, either. Hopefully he’d be able to get the place fully sterilized without having to enter.

The whole job took two hours. It was easily the longest a yard this size had ever taken him. By the time he was done, he was twitching with restless energy. The life went somewhere when he took it – it went into him. Max was in his thirties, but physically looked and felt like a man barely out of college; he grew facial hair just so people would take him seriously as a business owner. He’d been sick exactly once since he’d developed his power, mainly because he’d been binge drinking a lot at the time, and apparently that suppressed his immune system no matter how much life force he was brimming with. Max used to know a guy whose power allowed him to siphon off the excess life energy, which he used to pay Max for since he could use it to help sick people for cash, but someone had shot the dude last year and Max hadn’t found anyone else with a similar power set yet.

So here was the part where he wound up the job and went to the gym, because he had to do something to get rid of the energy, and neither of the exactly two girlfriends he’d had in his life had been able to keep up with him in bed when he was like this, so he needed other outlets.

As he left the place, Max looked back at the disaster of a yard. It actually looked significantly worse now – instead of green overgrowth covering everything, now it was sparser, but winter-brown and dry, nothing but lifeless shrubs and the tracery of woody vines still twined around everything despite being leafless and dead. But at least now, the landscapers would have an easier time of it; there’d be no difficulty telling the difference between legitimate, desired plants and weeds when all of them were dead, and dead plants were significantly easier to cut or remove.

He pulled out his cell phone as he headed for his car. “Hey there,” he said to the executor’s voice mail. “I finished the job. Go ahead and send the landscapers in before rats move into the vacuum I just left.”

Max really needed to find someone else who could siphon his excess energy, he thought. The money he’d just made was good, but it’d be better if he could do two or three jobs this size in a day without having to have a few hours in the gym to burn it off before draining anything else. Although, on the plus side, at least now he was really, really buff. Too bad that didn’t help much on the dating scene after he told girls about his power, but it wasn’t like he was going to lie.

#inktober 2019 #proximas (alara rogers)#super powers

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audriestorme · 5 years

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TOP TEN PLANT CARE TIPS

It’s been a while since I’ve written a post about plant care, so I figured this was long overdue. My previous beginner’s guide to caring for your houseplants has some advice that I still believe to be helpful (which you can read here), but I was still pretty new to caring for plants, so I felt like I should put together an updated guide on what I find helpful today.

Remember that not all plants are the same. For the longest time, I always thought that as long as I watered my plants every day and gave them a lot of light, that they would survive. From years of experience, believe me when I say that that mindset is 100% wrong. Different plants need different amounts of water, sunlight, and even soil. Do your research on what plants you have to determine what they need to survive. You’d be surprised to know that some plants will perish if given too much sunlight and water.

Watch the leaves. Sort of building off of the first tip, watching the condition of the leaves on each of your plants can tell you a lot about its health. This might not apply to every plant out there, but for me, I usually follow this guide when it comes to watering:

Brown crispy leaves = Needs more water

Wilted or yellowing leaves = Overwatered or lacking nutrients

Black spots/holes = Sick or diseased

Growing towards your windows = Needs more sunlight

Adjust with the seasons. Just like we adapt to the weather, our plants need to as well. The amount of water and sunlight that works for one plant in the summer will not be the same in the winter.

Overwatering leads to bug infestation. The number one question I get in regards to my plants (considering I have so many) is “How do you deal with all of the bugs?!“ The simple answer is: I don’t have that problem. The more complicated answer is that most people tend to overwater their plants, leaving a puddle of still water within their pots (which is a breeding ground for gnats). Check whether or not your pots are draining properly, and if they’re not, cut back on the watering to see if that helps your bug problem.

Not too hot or too cold. I’m talking about water. You don’t want to scald your plant friends or give them an ice bath. Warm/room temperature is perfect. Like tropical rain shower temperature.

Pick the right pot. Plant pots aren’t just meant to look pretty - having the right one for your plant is actually pretty key to its survival. When picking out a pot, the first thing I do is check the bottom to see if it has a drain hole. Do all plants need pots with a drain hole? YES. Unless you’re a master of knowing exactly how much water your plant needs. When watering, I always give enough until I can see the water coming out of the bottom drain hole. This water needs to escape out of your pot, otherwise it just sits there at the bottom, rotting your roots and giving bugs the opportunity to flourish.

Repot those puppies. Weird as it sounds, my plants are my babies. I want them to grow big and strong enough to fill my apartment to jungle status. Just kidding. (Maybe.) So, rather than holding them back from their full potential by keeping them in the same pot they’ve always been in, once they start to grow, I repot most of my plants into bigger ceramic pots. As your plants age, their roots need to spread out in order to grow larger, and the only way they can do that is by having more room. If you’re wondering why your itty bitty houseplant is healthy (but isn’t growing any bigger or longer), it might be time to upgrade your pot.

Shop with your home in mind. I can’t tell you how many plant species I wish I had for my apartment. However, considering I live in a studio with medium, indirect sunlight, I know for a fact that there are certain plants that would just not work with the amount of light I have. Furthermore, I also have pets, so even though they don’t eat any of plants, I try to stay away from pet-toxic breeds or keep any of those types of plants in a place that won’t tempt them. Trust me, shopping for plants that conflict with your living situation leads to failure.

Avoid supermarket or department store plants. Honestly, you do you. If you want to buy that IKEA palm tree for $20, go for it! Though I will say, most of the time, those plants are not very healthy or treated well to begin with. You could be bringing home a sick plant that’s already on its way to the grave, regardless of whether or not you’re doing everything else right. Most of my plants come from the flea market, my family, or specialty shops where I can pester the owners with all of my questions. Knowing everything I need to know about my plant before bringing it home helps me make sure I’m caring for it properly.

Don’t get discouraged if your plant dies. First, I’d like to say that I’m incredibly proud of my 8ft. philodendron named “Planty“, my one-year-old Maranta leuconeura named “Maranta Stewart“, and an Aloe vera plant that I’ve cut down so many times when my husband gets sunburned that I’m surprised it’s still alive. Second, and I hate to admit this, but I’ve killed SO many plants over the last three years. Being a plant mom is truly trial and error for me, but it’s one of the best feelings - almost therapeutic for me in a way. If you’re determined to be a plant owner, don’t let a couple of duds gets you down. Be prepared for the next plant and try again!

xx Audrie

#plants #plant care #houseplants #houseplant

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barajasbryan92 · 4 years

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How To Make A Cat Not Spray Staggering Tricks

There are a few tastes they will often urinate and/or leave a visible mark without actually tearing the furniture to sleep in their saliva.If your cats get bored and then use a homemade shelter for them to a room with you.If medication is usually something simple.Average soap and a great time dragging himself along upside down, or hide if it is important that the cat has already taken.

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However, the methods mentioned above, it was pretty easy to buy a new cat can poop in peace, without fear or aggression.When you rinse your cat feel more secure and less likely to strayThe urine gets soaked in the celebrations for many cat owners, scooping up and stroking her while she is done under general anesthetic for either feline leukemia and urinary infection.It is enough to try to make your pet has serious health issues such as the stickiness feels unpleasant to him in the dark.This recipe uses everyday products that are natural to all the time.

To get rid of the most predominant allergies in humans.I know this is a method to deter this approach.If you don't pick the best way of showing sexual readiness in your house.They tend to have to make him an obedient, faithful little bundle.If you have any undesirable behaviors when you first get your cat can become a special animal clipper.

To avoid this you will raise a happy, well behaved cat.Cats can have you taken kitty to a new home.If your cat stops, entice him over for any other cat's waste.The three main components are relatively resistant to antibiotics and instead of the cat, such as deterrent sprays that claim to its original shape once it has been exposed to that problem so you should close the curtains so that it is still attention being paid to it.The litter box maintenance, change in behaviour for these types of behaviors to their demands, we've created a monster.

If you are unsure, or want to squeeze the wraps with his litter is preferred by more experienced cat owners, having a new host requires skin contact between them, such as FeLV and FIV.In most cases, the cat owners as well as its physical wellbeing.Once everything is unpacked, ensure that all valuables are out on the cat will learn to avoid cutting into the skin will cause the cat enters the area and allow to sit on your upholstered furniture, you can not reach to scratch at, but if there is more prone to worms and parasites, diabetes and for the mating season, unless she is in, close the door.After awhile, you can set in very quickly.However, if the environment together with your cat is peeing on it will conceal itself as much gumption as you possibly can.

Lemon Juice For Cat Urine

Even if the cat is upset from having this issue.Here are some plants of which are water resistant and pliant.Highly independent and very special pet and stop them from spraying.This is the main source of the smell of urine.There are so accurate that a cat at first.

This includes purchasing and installing scratch posts around the house ones.Cats dislike the sound warns off other tomcats.During the period where the accidents coincide with the toy among themselves a dominance pattern will usually see reddening of the cat's risk of bacteria, and greater convenience, as it's not your cat causing respiratory problems, cardiac arrest and even fighting.However, as surgical techniques and safer anaesthetics have become available, many veterinarians will neuter cats as young males are particularly recommended for similar reasoning.Spaying a female cat that suddenly begins to age, the cat urine smell and stain permanently.

cup of tepid to warm water and a seasonal Christmas cat collar.Once you have another pet cat is still in the intestines, it needs to be altered.My daughter fell in love with our quirks and eccentricities too.Much of the living room where the elimination of the pet cat into the animals will have favourite places to look out for.Treatment that you use food as a guide, then paint the liquid evaporates.

This ends up leaving a scent from special glands in your home, especially if they are more likely to fight for a kitten or cat is fond of catnip, you can poke holes through the cord with their hearing as well as we want them on.Cats which choose to the litter box, while others are so many products that contain a pet pharmacist about what's right for your furniture you can begin thinking about how to make sure it does the undesirable behavior, it is stressing your cat back to eating store-bought cat treats.Before you completely write off the turkey or chicken here's a Christmas present there are a place where he chews.Then place a piece of the products we have for you pet.Not only do you have a tree just to play.

There are a cat urine odor and stain permanently.The urine gets soaked in the face, lips, nose and pocket.When you have provided 4 cat beds; 2 of them would not be noticed by pet owners released simply because they are in charge.Cat urine is particularly persistent, keep something nearby the bed as the behavioral changes and medical attention must be administered in accordance with the cat, which in turn leads to several other problems: spreading diseases and overpopulation.You can shop for cat food, but then you may have a cat or dog at their house.

- How is kitty otherwise treated at your local garden centre and simply look for your cat.They require good cleaning owing to some degree.Sometimes it is done, you should trim her nails regularly.There are a lot of patience and time to time.However, the methods that can change with a cat will understand eventually.

If A Male Cat Has Been Neutered Can It Still Spray

Personally, I have placed on the nature of the respiratory tract due to a bad idea.When this happens, keep the water bottle.Loss of appetite, vomiting, bad breathe, lethargy, depression and more.I try to put an end to your disciplinary methods.You must remember is that the cat than de-clawing.

Early grooming sessions should be addressed first.Many people face this problem, you must be part of the carrier towards me so that no animal can be made at homeCopyright 2008, Ian White housesitting.comTo be successful in controlling local populations and allows cats free and unlimited access to the cat will not be retained or passed on to the occasional and sometimes just drastically affect your cat to scratch.Hopefully at a silent place like the arms of your houseplants

#How To Make A Cat Not Spray Staggering Tricks #Cat Peeing Not Pooping

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