#purple crabgrass

[mossmosss]

[spontaneousmusicalnumber]

Yesterday I volunteered at a pollinator event and I got a free plant! It was a pale purple coneflower, a native species I had been having a hard time getting my hands on! And it was a lovely sized plant, not a seed or even a seedling!

I'd been neglecting my garden lately but that day the weather was supposed to be nice for a bit until some rain. So I grabbed my gloves and went out, intending to just clear a bit of crabgrass out of my native perennial bed to make a spot for the new plant.

I came back to consciousness two hours later.

I stopped when I felt the first raindrop. I had worn open blisters into two fingers, other fingertips had blisters so bad I could barely type, and my forearms were scratched to shit from crabgrass and fescue. I'd cleared out about three quarters of the weeds in the bed and also expanded it by six inches all around by pulling more grass and moving the edging stones.

holy shit

ow

my garden actually grew in nicely under all the shit i let fester

[queenofdreamsandshadows]

A Short, Meaningless, Sweet story inspired by my friend.

It had started raining outside. Not that Leilani minded, she enjoyed the rain, and had her own flowers to tend to. And those flowers would need tending to tomorrow if it did not get done today, so why not enjoy the rain as she worked? It was simple, and beautiful and since it was summer it was even warm. She found herself giggling as she weeded her garden as the drops pattered on her back.

“Darling?” A sweet voice called, a voice that reminded Leilani of warm drinks and crackling fires. Of the one that was waiting for her inside this small cottage by the river. It was the voice of Salem. It seemed to flow through the rain and peirce its patter. “Are you coming inside?”

“I’m almost done!” Leilani called back with her more melodic voice, light and breezy. “I just have a bit more of the garden to weed!” She closed her eyes and looked up at the rain, letting it hit her face as she enjoyed the gentleness of natures shower.

She returned to weeding, carefully pulling out the plants that were strangling the life out of her carefully cultivated flowers. Each and every plant healthy with not a spot or bug bite on them. She loved her garden, and the plants that were in the windowboxes… as well as each and every plant in the house.

“Leilani-” Salem called with a small laugh. “It’s raining! You better come inside so you don’t get sick.”

“I woln’t get sick dear Moonlight- I’ve done this before!” She giggled as she worked. “If you really want me done faster! You can always come out and help me!”

A moment of silence, in which Leilani heard the door close. She glanced up, pure golden eye glancing towards the door which held no person but her outside of its confines. She smiled and shook her head. Salem did not enjoy the rain as much as her, and that was fine.

It was just when Leilani had finished pulling up a particularly long and knotted patch of crabgrass, that the door opened again. She blinked and looked up to see her wife, Salem striding towards her.

Salem wore a hat that had holes to allow her horns through, her own pure silver eyes watching Leilani- the krinkles at the corners of her eyes and around her perfect black lips that had formed into a smile bringing joy to the gardner’s heart.

Salem was also wearing a completely impractical raincoat that impeded all movement when one tried to kneel, which is of course what Leilani was doing, and what Salem did after a moment. Reaching for a small patch of weeds near the stone barrier of the garden.

“I see my knight in shining leather has arrived-” Leilani jested gently seeing her wife next to her, her own face breaking into an adoring smile as she watched. “Thank you.”

Salem laughed softly- before grunting as her arm couldn’t reach far enough with how she was kneeling to grab the next group of weeds. “Can’t leave my Spring out here in the rain now can I?” She asked with a small laugh, before reaching and again being impeded by her coat, this time she fell forwards along her arm into the dirt (and some of Leilani’s carefully cultivated flowers).

Leilani giggled as she helped Salem back up. She pulled the last of the weeds (the one’s that Salem had been trying to reach for) out of the dirt and threw them onto the pile. “Thank you,” She said softly. “For coming out.”

Rain gently splashed on her head and face as she looked into Salem’s silver eyes, rivulets of water starting to form on Leilani’s purple cheeks. Salem’s silver cheeks however, were completely dry.

“I’m starting to think that you enjoy seeing me fall in this coat too much,” Salem said with a small laugh. “Now my hats bent, and my best raincoat is covered in dirt!” Salem’s eyes traced Leilani with the care that they truely only showed for the elven woman. A care that Leilani had rarely seen Salem show for anything or anyone else.

“I can clean them for you,” Leilani offered in a soft voice, even she barely heard it over the patter of the rain. “If you want me too.” 

“Do we have to be having this conversation outside?” Salem asked glancing up at the sky, and looking back down quickly as the rain hits her face. “Or can we-”

“Oh right! Of course!” Leilani giggled softly wrapping an arm around Salem’s waist as she moved back inside the small cottage and carefully started to pull off Salem’s jacket, gently and carefully. Her own hands muddy but she would wash it off.

Salem for her part smiled and gently removed her hat, hanging it on the wall as she allowed Leilani to remove the jacket, before moving to the wash basin to clean her hands. “The fire’s going, after you finish with that you should dry off.”

“By the warm fire- with my loving wife in my arms?” Leilani asked with a small smile. “Even though she’ll have to deal with my wet hair, and cold hands?”

Salem laughed softly. “I’ll make us hot coco how about that?” Then turned and walked away- tail gently swaying behind her before it moved to pick up two mugs.

Leilani smiled and went to go wash the coat, finishing after a few minutes and walking back out- hanging the coat up in its proper place and taking a seat on the small loveseat near the fire, patterned in lovely flowers. Salem joined her a moment later, setting the hot coco on a small table made from a tree stump in front of them.

Leilani smiled and then gently moved to lay her head, and damp mess of purple hair in her wifes lap. Salem did not stop her though she did shiver a bit as the hair touched her legs. She sighed softly and looked down.

Thunder rumbled and the patter of rain on the roof got harder. Through one of the windows Leilani could see the rain becoming sheets, pelting down outside.

And there they sat in silence, Leilani looking out the windows and sipping her coco as Salem gently started to run her fingers through Leilani’s hair. Eventually Leilani sat up and instead leaned against Salem’s sholder, her own hair almost dry.

She pressed a kiss to Salem’s neck. “Seem’s we’re going to be inside for a while…” She said softly. “Did you have any research plans for the day?”

Salem shook her head and looked down at Leilani. “Not at all, are you cold?” Her hand reached for a throw blanket that was across the back of the loveseat, and when Leilani did not object she threw it across both of their laps.

Then Leilani kissed her, a proper kiss on the lips. Smelling the gentle scent of incense and cinnamon that her wife so often had faintly clininging to her skin. She loved this part of the evening, or day. She loved when the rains came. She loved when she had an excuse to be close to her wife, to kiss her and hold her.

Salem in return, kissed back deeply. Her eyes closing as her arms and tail wrapped around Leilani. Keeping them in a deep embrace.

[treeremovalpensacola]

Nufarm: Celero Herbicide Q-Ball Herbicide and Quincept Herbicide

If you live in Pensacola, it's just a matter of time that you have to do the inevitable and remove a tree. Tree removal service in Pensacola is a tree removal company that specializes in stump grinding, tree removal, and arborist services. They have been in business for over 10 years and have the experience and expertise to get the job done right. Fully licensed and insured, so you can rest assured that your property is in good hands. Pensacola tree service is a company that specializes in removing trees. They have been doing this for over 10 years and they are really good at it. They also do stump grinding, which means they get rid of the stump left behind after the tree is removed. They are fully licensed and insured, so you can be sure that your property is in good hands. Photo: Nufarm For Summer weed control, Nufarm has you covered. With a simple one-use rate, Q-Ball quickly eliminates crabgrass escapes and more. Quincept offers the perfect balance of power and performance to control both grass and broadleaf weeds. Plus, say goodbye to sedge with Celero, which delivers superior knockdown of yellow and purple nutsedge. Visit the Nufarm website for more herbicide solutions that bring you unique modes of action to support resistance management and deliver results that help keep lawns clean and customers happy.   The post Nufarm: Celero® Herbicide, Q-Ball™ Herbicide, and Quincept® Herbicide first appeared on Landscape Management.

[greysmassage]

Purple deadnettle weeds with purple flowers

Since most herbicide packages for field cropsĮmployed in either burndown or post emergent treatments should be sufficient toĪs always read the label and follow all directions for use of any products applied In fields that are cultivated or prepared for field crops, purple deadnettle and It may not be necessary to apply herbicide products in home garden settings due Which the crop can be planted and mulched to prevent further weed competition. After leaving such areas staleįor a few weeks, a light secondary cultivation will control additional weeds after Soils and trigger germination of other weed seeds. Or cultivation will reduce the production of seeds, facilitate the warming up of In small home gardens, tillage will likely offer the best control measure. Purple Deadnettle Control for Small Home Gardens Of Agriculture can assist with soil testing. Soil test is recommended and WVU Extension or West Virginia Department Again,įall (September) is a good time of the year to do so, followed by spring (April). Homeowners may consider reseeding any bare spots with desirable grass species. Homeowners to consider a treatment for these unwanted plants and the results will Plantains and crabgrass the following year. Time could help control other pesky summer weeds such as dandelions, white clovers, Applying an effective herbicide during that Of a pre-emergence herbicide in September and October could result in a lawn relatively Since most of these winter annuals germinate during the preceding fall, application One effective herbicide, called Q4, controls actively The options include hand-weeding or mowing small areas and chemical Bare spots left behind may allow summer annuals, such as crabgrass, to In lawns, the purple deadnettle and henbit can compete for space with desired grass Purple Deadnettle Control Purple Deadnettle Control for the Lawn There are several options to consider to address these “weeds” depending on the It is important that we protect our pollinators as theyĭo important work in the field and garden. That are getting active at this time of year are attracted to the flowers on these These flowering plants do provide an early feed source for our pollinators. Rakesh Chandran, “mild winter seasonsĪllow these weeds to get a head-start on the grass and other species.” They may be more noticeable during wintersĪccording to WVU Extension Weed Specialist Dr. Being winter annuals, they have a shallow root system and typically complete These are winter annuals and part of the mint family that are present in normal These are most likely purple deadnettle or henbit. In late March and early April, many folks notice a purple flowering plant appearing Lawn, Gardening & Pests Learning Activities.

[lunchboxpoems]

NOT EVERYTHING IS A POEM

or has a poem inside it, but god help me if I can’t find one when I empty my son’s pockets before I do the wash: one acorn, two rocks (one smooth and gray, one rough and glittering, flecked pink), a chunk of mulch, a wilted dandelion. The poem is there, I think, pressing itself against the grit or splinter or bitter yellow, but I question its mother- softness, suspicious of flowers and laundry. I swear I’ve seen poems riding my boy’s back as he runs around our weed patch of a lawn, letting crabgrass saw his ankles because killing it would mean killing the wild violets, his sister’s namesakes. I don’t dare look for poems in spring even if all the purple and green are on clearance then. Two springs ago, my son was so ill, he smelled bad-sweet, and one morning he woke shitting blood, saying my name, my name, my name. No poem kept his body from bruising purple that would fade to green, his skin a field of flowers— no, not this poem and not a poem at all. But he lived. It’s spring again and he lives. It’s spring again and his pockets are full of petals and stones.

MAGGIE SMITH  

[disasterpurplebois]

Laura Bailey was all of us this episode:

“That’s why Essek floats everywhere. He has a heart of gold!”

“I can send a message (to Molly)” x15

“Did the purple guy have an Irish accent?”

Plays Jester as the #1 Beauyasha shipper

“Shnuggle”

Bonus “always ask consent before you shnuggle” - Henry the crabgrass the consent grass the non-grab-ass-consent crabass”

“What. Happened. In the chair? The chair, Yeza”

“Lovely marshmallows that are just cozying up, shnuggling up next to each other. Marshmallows with wings... marshmallows with staffs.”

[ineffablefool]

I am very much the only person in my household who is interested in Flight Rising, and I don’t talk to anyone on there except to negotiate trades and stuff, which means that I’m going to yell about this here.

So!  I bought a very lovely five-digit back in 2018, who was extra interesting to me because he had been bred/still had descendants who were breeding.  Through a series of steps, that has evolved into me looking up and procuring active dragons descended from each of my 5/6 digits, with the purpose of using them to breed pretties to sell (i.e. keeping the line going).

I bought Halcyon and Sangar as fodder off the AH last July (I couldn’t pick/didn’t want to separate them):

They are the great-greats of the five-digit I started this with (he is my favorite old man and I love him):

Iago 💜 > Rukki > Dasos > Pine > Crabgrass > Bergamot > Eren > Orobranche > Aloe > Xerune > Aurora > Ulmo > Reagle > Zinnasaadi > Shelley > Norman > Aodhaigh > happy gaoler sibs

I’ve been working on looking up descendants for the last couple of oldies and then yesterday I realize --

Azul 💜 > Sabrina > Sage > Tashka > Ask > Pickles > Mayel > Kunzite > Pidge > Kune > Balsam > Aenyrthan > Mauro > Norman > Aodhaigh > wait

waitasec I know those first two offspring names

It turns out that these two dragons, who are descended from my favorite five-digit (and who I sometimes think of as being sort of like me and my lovely sister Hope when I take them to the coli to beat up on offbrand shoggoths, which is another way in which they are special to me) -- are also, in a freak of coincidence, descended from my favorite six-digit as well.

[pets purple babies] i love youuuu

[readbythestarlight]

c3e1

HOLY SHIT HERE WE GO

okay idk if it’s my TV of what but something about the set loots weirdly cgi?

First Sam ad!!

So far so… normal…?

Ah there we go, that’s more like it

I hope this isn’t a trend of us not actually getting at the table ads but I do love a good Sam song

Ashley my wife I have missed you so much

Oooo I want that hoodie

I NEED THE HENRY CRABGRASS SET IMMEDIATELY

Wait okay so how long after C2 are we I need to know

HERE WE GOOOOO

Apex war okay

I’m not gonna remember any of this lore but I’m loving it

Oooooo!! FIRST CHARACTER INTROS HERE WE GO!!

I haven’t even taken in the table composition yet!! There’s so much to think about!!

Will they be siblings?

Laura: light purple hair, SOFT SOUTHERN?? shy. Human? Sorcerer!! Imogen.

Marisha: GOTH GIRL AW YES. Warlock/sorcerer. Helllll yeah. Oh very goth. Played by Helena Bonham Carter in the motion picture coming summer 2027. Laudna.

Oh good, they know each other already!

DO NOT DENY MY SWEET SOUTHERN GIRL WHAT SHE WANTS

how dare

I am so in love with Imogen’s accent.

First roll! What is our magic number gonna be?

12 it is!

"Nobody knows who is on the Taldore council—" :P

Sam and Tal?? Amazing

WHAT COLOR TAL

WHAT COLOR

Hobo… rogue? I’m betting rogue.

Taliesin: he/they EARTH GENASI IVE BEEN DYING FOR A GENASI PURPLEEEEEE I CALLED IT. Barbarian?? Ashton.

Tal once again killing cosplayers with his character design

It’s a robot holy shit

Sam: F.C.G. oh my god the robot shirt really was a hint I’m dying. A CLERIC ROBOT. A SOUTHERN. ROBOT.

Court of Miracles vibes are off the charts

I love how last campaign we had one character with a southern accent for half a campaign and now we’ve got two

Spire by Fire sounds rad

Awww therapy robot who wants to fix all the broken people awww

"I can’t taste."

FRESH CUT GRAAAAASS! :D

Robby??

Guest?? In the first ep?

Okay okay

Where is Travis I want to know who Travis is going to beeeee

It’s their?? EXU characters??

Ashley: Faunnnnn! Fearne. Druid!!

Liam: Orim. Halfling fighter.

I have some mixed feelings of having pre-established characters, just because I like the fully clean slate? Not a complaint though!

Robbie: Dorian. Bard. Air genasi heck yeah gettin’ all that genasi rep.

So is Robbieeeee like a guest or is he now part of the main cast because this feels like cast and I have some Mixed Feelings

Where is TRAVIS?

Wait wait wait aren’t Orym and Dorian dating?

Ooo please tell me this has to do with Travis

Uhhhh??

Travis? Where is? Travis?

Where?? Is Travis??

IM NOT GONNA BE SEE TRAVIS’ NEW CHARACTER BEFORE I HAVE TO GO TO BED

THERE HE IS oh thank god

oh my god I literally told my sister that I hoped he played an old man and he is IM CRYING

I love that so far the party alignment feels like it’s leaning towards chaotic stupid

"Eldritch blahst"

Traviiiiiiis!

Travis: Sir Bertrand Bell. A fighter. Highest intelligent of the group. I fucking love him.

OH MY GOD Sam and his gas can I’m wheezing

I’m calling it: Travis is a gambler in over his head who needs protection

Made it to break now I gotta go to bed but I’m so excited for this

"Motley crew" is 10000% right

Oh Ashton def has people after him xD

"Fair. *I* would know but."

Lord Estoros

Also I’m so fascinated by a character introduction also being like the first hook of the show

Mmmm they’re sus of Bertrand and tbh so am I

Leave Fresh Cut Grass alone about their name

Former Associate ooooo

Aww

Tragic Backstory right out of the gate?? Damn.

Y’all stop pestering the poor baby

Also if this is what Sam is willing to share episode one imagine how much worse is the actual backstory going to be

Oh fuck we’re getting into the "does this Unit have a Soul?" feels SAM IM NOT READY FOR THIS

Whitestone???

So Laudna right. Undead?

Ashton just being like "just go with it buddy live a little"

6 gold oh no xD

By the way I’d marry Ferne

Okay so the telepathy huh what’s that

The MOOD lighting

Okay okay what’s up with her I need to know

Strange things, huh?

Awww. Okay I like Dorian

Oh poor Dorian awww xD

Ferne is my WIFE

TWO mindreaders??

RIP to Ashton’s purse

The very clean one?? Dorian??

FCG stop you’re so sweet

Bertrand don’t get their hopes up

Travis is playing such a lying liar

I want this Lord Whoever to be a vampire and idk why

I want it

Please I’m such trash for vampires give it to me

He’s SO a vampire right?? Right??

DAMN

I wanted a vampire

Unless it’s a vampire orc

“This campaign is about silver foxes ONLY” god I hope so

God I’ve missed them

[the-punslinger]

Critical Role Quotes and Memorable Moments - Campaign 2 (72/?)

The introduction of Henry Crabgrass Jester: "Now I know why Essek levitates everywhere." Liam: "Maybe vegetarians are the real predators."

Beau: "What are we gonna do with your family?" Veth: "We'll figure that out later."

Jester: “Did the purple guy have Irish accent? Sam: “Or, like, a sort of a vague Irish accent, hard to place? Travis: “Hit or miss, come and goes?” Taliesin: “I thought we got this all out of our system before the camera was rolling.” Sam: “Or like an American accent, but who had a relative or who had spent some time in Ireland.” Travis: “Or had just drank a bunch of Guinness.” Liam [with an accent]: “Hello Taliesin, we’re your friends. We’ve met.” Taliesin: “I thought I'd given everyone an opportunity to really, really use all their best material.” Liam: “No, I think we only got about 60% out.”

Sam [as Henry Crabgrass]: "Henry Crabgrass says: Always ask consent before you schnuggle!"

Yasha: “Okay, so, since I see that Beau is grappled, I'm going to try and cut off the pincer from the lobstrosity.”

Matt: “As you turn this way, the shield blasts off this burst of arcane force damage, and you watch as faint shadows of something just disappears. The rest of you see, firing out of the fog, a rain of calamari chunks.” Beau: “We're going to eat good tonight.” Taliesin: “Yasha, was that you?”

The T-rex on the boat scene

Jester: "I'm going to hold Guiding Bolt until I can see an enemy" Marisha: "Until you can sea anemone."

Jester [missing Avantika]: "She's very hard to hit." Sam: "She wasn't for Fjord!"

Marisha [on Avantika]: "How is she dead and awesome?" Liam: "She's French." Liam: "So yeah Travis, could your origin story leave us alone?"

[Fjord taking and inspecting Avantika’s rapier] DM: “It’s just a plain rapier.” Caduceus: "I think the power was inside her all along"

Liam: “Caleb's got his hot chocolate just on one finger. And he's just reliving his Sea rex moment going like [makes T-rex motions]”

[dr-divinae]

Spirit Guide Session

Welcome to your Shamanic Healing Journey experience where you'll be introduced to your Spirit Guides for the second time tonight!! Yeah, I used GoogleNotes for your Spirit Guide Sessions and lost all of my work but I'm not terribly off track I had wrote some of le. Details down via Grimoire for ShamanicChanneling

@cosmic-badlarry

Thank you so much 💖 for joining me this evening 💞 or should I correct myself and say late evening 🌃 night!!

I'm noticing the moon right now 😹

First Quarter Moon 🌜 in ♉⚡💜 When the moon is in Taurus we are motivated by a place of serenity, security, peace, and comfort.🌺⚡Tonight, this evening my dear Gemini child you are going to meet your most active🍂 Spirit Guides...I just pulled some Oracle Cards from multiple decks and based on their Chakra balancing and literal meaning you've got a lot of 🌸Spirit Guides in the 💙fifth Chakra💙 or the 💎Vishudha❄️, and right away we know that that's the 🗣️throat Chakra🗣️💫

And the throat Chakra represents: All sound, Vibration , Communication, Self-expression, Listening, Speaking, Writing

This to me tells me that there could be something related to yourself in the mentioned areas of voice , or vibration?

Or perhaps it's a hint of who your Spiritual Guardians are and what your Spirit Guides gifts are as far as communication goes because that's another vibe I strongly get as a result of this card pulling set.

On my Oracle Card I can tell it's Gabriel's horn... So dear Gemini 💞💖 your first Spirit Guide that's showing up today is Archangel Gabriel as he is also associated with the fifth Chakra as well. Due to his communication link in literally each and every story we ever heard of him .. and he's even known to wear this blue which actually relates to the Chakra I am speaking on so much now ,

now now I'm going to get comfortably numb 😂😂😅 no drugs needed just my regular medical medication 😭dont tell them your dr is now! It's just that I'm ready to do the most in depth part of this Shamanic Session which you've paid for ... I just need to relax , I'm listening 🎧 to a specific type of binaural beats music 🎶 that allow me to channel your most Active 🍂 Spiritual Guardians hopefully I'll really connect with your Spirit Guide ☺️ here we go it's 12: 36 now wow long process🍂💫🌜 but worth it no?

When i begin typing again it will all be channeled information all from your Special shamanic experience with your Spirit Guide.. see you there in the channel 😎...

Hello 👋 Gemini 😁 I'm glad that you have made this choice to finally meet the voice behind all of the synchronicity 🏵️ in your life🍂🍁 to meet the real reason we have met this evening and I'm glad and honored to introduce you to your Spirit Guide🏵️🌸💐

Your most active and current Spirit Guide is a Greek Goddess from this tale I'm about to share and although she's been cursed by Juno and lost her voice somewhat; She is able to repeat sentences, fragments and makes a whole lot of sense when I have her communicate with your higher self 😅 because when I first found out through this Shanic experience that your Spirit Guide is sort of speechless I was lol pretty depressed. About the direction of this Shamanic Healing Journeys for you but going forward I did find the magical method to communicate with the ever forever silenced echos of your Greek. Spirit Guide.

And it's 1:17AM EST Did you guess your Spirit Guide 🏵️ yet? No...

Name: Echo

Origin: Latin

Meaning:reflected sound

Echo as a girl's name is of Latin and Greek origin meaning "reflected sound". In mythology, Echo was a nymph who loved Narcissus and faded away until only her voice was left behind.

In Greek mythology, Echo (/ˈɛkoʊ/; Greek: Ἠχώ, Ēkhō, "echo",[3] from ἦχος (ēchos), "sound"[4]) was an Oread who resided on Mount Cithaeron.[5] Zeus loved consorting with beautiful nymphs and often visited them on Earth. Eventually, Zeus's wife, Hera, became suspicious, and came from Mount Olympus in an attempt to catch Zeus with the nymphs. Echo, by trying to protect Zeus (as he had ordered her to do), endured Hera's wrath, and Hera made her only able to speak the last words spoken to her. So when Echo met Narcissus and fell in love with him, she was unable to tell him how she felt and was forced to watch him as he fell in love with himself.

In Metamorphoses (8 AD), the poet Ovid tells of Juno (Hera in Greek mythology) and the jealousy she felt over her husband Jupiter's (Zeus in Greek mythology) many affairs. Though vigilant, whenever she was about to catch him, Echo distracted her with lengthy conversations. When at last Juno realized the truth, she cursed Echo. From that moment on, the once loquacious nymph could only repeat the most recently spoken words of another person.

Abode/Residential: Mount Cathaeron

Parents: Ouranos

Siblings: Nymphs

Children: Lynx and Lambe

Consort: Pan and Narcissus

Symbol: Crabgrass, Hemlock , the Skunk

Colors: Black, White, Blue, and Purple

The myth of the goddess is told in Book III of the Metamorphoses, and tells the story of a "talkative nymph" whom the goddess Venus admires for her magnificent voice and song. When she tricks Juno into believing that her husband, Jupiter, was in the city, Juno curses Echo by making her able to only finish a sentence not started, and unable to say anything on her own. "Yet a chatterbox, had no other use of speech than she has now, that she could repeat only the last words out of many." This is the explanation of the aural effect which was named after her.[1]

Sometime after being cursed, Echo spied a young man, Narcissus, while he was out hunting deer with his companions. She immediately fell in love with him and, infatuated, followed quietly. The more she looked at the young man, the more she longed for him. Though she wished with all her heart to call out to Narcissus, Juno's curse prevented her.[2]

During the hunt, Narcissus became separated from his companions and called out, ‘is anyone there,’ and heard the nymph repeat his words. Startled, Narcissus answered the voice, ‘come here,’ only to be told the same. When Narcissus saw that nobody had emerged from the glade, he concluded that the owner of the voice must be running away from him and called out again. Finally, he shouted, "This way, we must come together." Taking this to be a reciprocation of her love, Echo concurred ecstatically, "We must come together!"[3]

In her delight, Echo rushed to Narcissus ready to throw her arms around her beloved. Narcissus, however, was appalled and, spurning her, exclaimed, ‘Hands off! May I die before you enjoy my body.’ All Echo could whisper in reply was, ‘enjoy my body’ and having done so she fled, scorned, humiliated, and shamed.[4]

Despite the harshness of his rejection, Echo's love for Narcissus only grew.[5] When Narcissus died, wasting away before his own reflection, consumed by a love that could not be, Echo mourned over his body. When Narcissus, looking one last time into the pool uttered, "Oh marvellous boy, I loved you in vain, farewell", Echo too chorused, "Farewell."[6]

What's Hemlock?

Poison hemlock (Conium maculatum) is a poisonous invasive weed that has caused many accidental deaths because of its resemblance to carrots, including the wild carrot (Queen Anne’s lace). The poisonous agents in the plant are volatile alkaloids, and they are found in every part of the plant. In addition to causing death when ingested, the plant also causes a miserable dermatitis in sensitive people upon contact with skin. Socrates drank the juice of this notorious plant to commit suicide, and ancient Greeks used it to poison their enemies and political prisoners. North American Natives dipped their arrowheads in hemlock to make sure every hit was fatal.

.........TO MOST DEFINITELY BE CONTINUED

Having technical difficulties as far as uploading and sharing this channeled session of Shamanic Healing so @cosmic-badlarry just pleeease hold on

Anybody who's interested inbox me

I can tell you who your Spirit Guide is not a problem just need to get a small fee 😊 and speak to you for a quick second of does not take long at all that part . . But my part of doing channeling does take it m afraid hours. This case I'm doing now omg I've been working since 11:33PM EST NOW ITS 5:44 EST

[nochiquinn]

exandria unlimited episode 3: g l o r i o u s

I am late because we were watching Time Machine but BRAIDS MATT

ash hole mesa

I really like the purple beads in aabria's hair, they look v nice.

dariax has a mullet

roll for hair care

oh NO

NARC MCGRATH

oh matt's wearing the teashirt

fearne has every ribbon on the continent

oh NO

is dariax a warlock now, I don't know how this works

DID HE JUST SEXY NO JUTSU

TRACY LIVES

oh one of Those Women

henry crabgrass says consent

seeing fearne be hard-nosed made me realize who she makes me think of

it's liara but as the shadow broker

The Mom Yank

see I'm over here thinking the Feral Darts from Zootopia

matt consciously choosing to just sound like dariax sounding like a gross old dwarf

oh NO I almost missed gilmore

"I just start crying" same

NO where is the purple man

you cannot tease gilmore and then not deliver gilmore

opal

oh just drop keyleth's name

[pounds fists on table] gilmore giLMORE

GILMORE

liam's face

ashley's face

"he's in his sixties but fine as hell" correct

am I about to have to do a secondhand embarassment lap around my house

oh no I'm feeling things

mala: Gilmore's like "oh dear, its again"

liam's face is causing me pain

dariax: [crown] gilmore: [internal screaming]

cool I hate every moment of this

every time aabria does the "[blink] [wide eyes]" reaction I gain a year of life

is it allura? it's probably allura.

don't give it to yussa, he can't be trusted

dwarf backpack DWARF BACKPACK

I didn't realize it until something aabria retweeted, but she very much is done up in gilmore aesthetic isn't she

"am I old? no, it's not me, it's him"

dariax is killing me with the finger guns

mala: Gilmore like Allura, has Vox Machina syndrome which is when you see any group of chaotic idiots, you inexplicably like them no matter how many problems they show up with there is no known cure

the way I wheezed at the way matt said "no"

"don't you lie to me you beautiful boy"

"I had a quincinera!"

Naked and Afraid

"with a q, because I hate you" crwby naming qrow branwen

bring gilmore BRING GILMORE

(there's no way they bring gilmore)

I have actually hurt myself laughing, dear god

"I have never been able to resist a pretty face" liam: 8D

"I was going to steal it" I love her

I really enjoy the little chevrons under aabria's eyes

real laura? real laura!

I want the mugs but if I bring more coffee cups into this house I WILL be evicted

I missed her

okay the comic book panels are wonderful

oh cool critrecap animated will be pretty much my entire knowledge of Mighty Nein Ocean Adventures

somewhere vex is screaming

"I'm not your friend" daMN

"there's a sad dog thing happening"

ahhh yes, the Poor Experience

I miss grog

oh no I love her

"I did it to myself!!"

opal leveraging dariax against inanna

"cool whip" get out

"sometimes you can use both kinds together" matthew also get out

aabria dragging aimee out by the bun

liam stop staring into the camera we all heard you you dork

ashley: "deck of many things!" aabria: "no!"

sherri unhinging her jaw to eat the deck of many things

cuthbert is absolutely going to die

"I'm still on the clock so I'm not gonna interact with that"

fsldfjs is matt doing coconut hoofbeats

cuthbert is 100% dead

dorian: we might need to use it orym: ??? ? ??

I am absolutely waiting for the cart to just get pincushioned with swords

and I feel laura bailey's influence in this chili's tonight

I KNEW that's what he was gonna do and it was STILL amazing

a literal wizard van

no stinger? :(

[taiblogcomics]

Just Deserts

Hey there, taunts to your editor. Well, I'm almost out of regular issues of My Little Pony. "So soon?" you ask. Yeah, that's how these things go. But we're not quite done visiting Equestria this month! We'll see more ponies, don't you worry. it just won't be this current storyline, which isn't finished yet. And speaking of this current storyline...

Here's the cover:

No, Tempest. From your perspective, maybe there's singing. But to us readers, there's only lyrics. It's poems at best. We can't hear the music, there's no known meter or rhythm, no included CD or link to an MP3. There aren't even guitar tabs. As has been pointed out many times, music in comics just doesn't work. In fact, when we get to it, I will probably skim over it at most. More importantly, though, here's a good look at our other cast members, for those only reading these blog entries. Dust Devil's the brown and grey one way on the end, then Crystal is the purple-haired kelpie next. Following her is Cactus Rose, and Medley Brook is the splashy-looking blue kelpie. Marini still has yet to make a cover debut, though.

So last time, it was revealed that Zecora has been seeking her own magic since youth, and her devotion to it kind of ruined her potential friendships. Meanwhile in the present, a grootslang (which is a real monster, I found it in my Pathfinder Bestiaries) has been wreaking havoc all over the Farasi Coast, so both Applejack's and Marini's groups are headed into a perilous desert to check it out. Thankfully it's not a perilous dessert, or they'd regret not having Pinkie Pie with them.

Anyway, we begin with a flashback showing Zecora and her friends being huge nerds and LARPing. Zecora's the DM, and the rest are a thief, mage, druid, barbarian, and knight (based on the order I mentioned them on the cover). Unfortunately, the group can't agree on a course of action and descends into in-fighting. This is related to the present predicament because they were arguing about a desert, and it's a good thing it was just a pretend desert because they'd never get through a real one. So anyway, they're now trekking through a for-reals desert. Ah, irony. It might be even a stronger force than friendship~

Turns out both Marini and Zecora are thinking about the same incident. The pair of them end up apologising to each other, repairing their friendship slightly. The group quickly comes across a gorge, which Applejack didn't have a plan to cross. Cactus Rose decides to step up, becoming relevant to the comic for the first time. Turns out her specific abada magic is being able to talk to plants. This is kind of an underwhelming power, and it figures why she hasn't factored into the comic much until now. Anyway, Henry Crabgrass here tells her that there's a bridge further up the gorge. This seems like a problem that could've solved itself~

After some delightful banter between Crystal and Tempest Shadow, the trek continues northward towards this rumoured bridge. And while they do find the bridge, there's a roc blocking it. No, not a stone, but a giant bird. Tempest offers to use her magic to blow the roc up (Crystal encourages this), but Dust Devil steps in. Their friendly demeanor gets through, and the roc explains that she got trapped in this valley while looking for food. There's not enough headwind to get airborne, so she's pretty much been blocking the bridge out of spite. You know, I can respect that.

So Dust Devil takes off like they're the Flash and begins creating a super-speed funnel to generate lift. This does manage to get the roc airborne, but Dust Devil is not actually the Flash and does not have a Speed Force to compensate. So their attempt to stop afterwards causes them to stumble and go flying. Crystal leaps into action and uses her ice magic to create a big slide to catch Dust Devil and crash them safely into a pile of snow. Just because she's a bitter, wretched sort of kelpie doesn't mean she doesn't care about her friends, you know.

Once again, the trek continues, but suddenly Crystal collapses. She used more ice than she should have, and now she's all dried out and gross-looking. Kelpies need a water source (even an internal one) or they quickly expire. Out in a desert, though, there's not much to go on. Cactus Rose talks to some nearby cacti, and they're willing to share their water in exchange for a song. It's so very boring out in the desert, after all. Medley Brook leaps on the chance, and the promised musical sequence begins. It goes on for several pages~

The song has a dual purpose: in addition to encouraging the cacti to refuel Crystal, it also lets Zecora and Marini work through their issues. Even Crystal apologises for her bullying. So now that everything's nice again, it's time to shake things up. The grootslang suddenly leaps out of a sand dune, and the ponies scatter.

Spotting the temple they were seeking, most of them head towards that. While they're in there, Tempest and Rockhoof volunteer to stay behind and distract the grootslang long enough for the rest to find out what they need to know. Inside the temple, though, everypony's very shocked to discover... the Tree of Harmony?? And also, the end of the comic!

That’s all the story I have for you right now, but allow me to make a prediction. It’s pretty evident where this is going, isn’t it? Like, if you actually read the issue, Zecora comments on Marini’s honesty, Tempest notes loyalty as one of Crystal’s traits... Dust Devil (who is apparently non-binary and has been using they/them pronouns the whole issue) displays kindness towards the roc, while Cactus Rose generously offers a song to the cacti. And it’s Medley Brook, the silliest one, who leads the song. Hmm, those traits seem familiar, don’t they~? Just mull that thought over for a bit until we get the next issue~

Meanwhile, as for our next issue, we’re not done with magical talking horses... or their adventures with giant transforming robots~

[vacantavern]

“Nothing grows in my back yard” (Original short horror story)

Nothing ever grows in my back yard. Every time I try to plant something, even though I care for it meticulously, it soon withers and dies. No matter what plant, flower, or tree, they all die. Even the grass dies, sickly yellow patches interspersed with thick weeds covering the entirety of the yard. The stress of it all was beginning to get to me after so long. I loved to garden. It was one of my favorite past times, and helped me deal with the horrendous anxiety of living alone. But my yard was starting to make me think I just did not have the green thumb necessary to do it. I considered giving up on it so many times, but something always brought me back and had me trying again.

Thats how I found myself yanking the weeds that had grown back for the umpteenth time every Sunday afternoon, instead of relaxing like everyone else. There was one weed in particular that bothered me to no end. It looked like a small tree, surrounded by tall crabgrass. The tree-like weed had a waxy, whiteish stem. The branches grew in strange, sharp angles, with small, red leaves sprouting from the ends.

It usually grew up to my shoulders before I had a chance to yank it out. But no matter how many times I pulled it, it always grew back. Finally, after many months of battle, it had grown too big for me to pull out. Its trunk thickened to a point I couldn’t fit my hands around it. The thin, angular branches stretched higher than my roof. After that I reluctantly gave up and let it be. The rest of the yard was more concerning anyway.

I thought perhaps my soil was bad, so I started doing research on how to restore it. For an entire summer, I worked to bring my yard back to life. And it seemed to be working; the new grass was growing in, the trees and rose bushes I planted were taking root. Even the tree weed looked to be finally dying, its tall branches now drooped down, and the stark white of the trunk had turned a sickly grey. I praised my lucky stars. Though of course, this wonderful luck lasted all of two months.

It was on a brisk, Fall afternoon. After coming home from a very long work day, I went to check the progress of my yard. As soon as I rounded the hall corner and the double sliding glass doors came into view, I froze. I was rooted to the spot, my mouth hanging agape as I stared with wide eyed horror at my yard. Everything was dead. My roses, shriveled and brown, littered the ground around the bush, along with all its leaves. Only dead sticks remained, reaching up to the sky in a desperate, yet futile attempt to live.

The grass had turned a sick yellow color, crinkled and dry, devoid of life. The young trees I had planted were completely uprooted, as if a hurricane had hit them and pulled them from the earth. Each one lay on their sides, roots flailing uselessly in the breeze next to small craters in the ground where they had once been standing. Shock and disbelief had my blood running cold, then hot. How had this happened in less than a day? It was impossible. Unless someone poisoned all of it, maybe. Just as my mind began racing over who the culprit could be, I spotted something stark white in my periphery.

I shot my gaze over to the tree weed. It had doubled, maybe tripled in size. It stood at least twenty feet high now. Its white trunk probably stretched the width of three people standing side by side. Long, shark branches shot out everywhere. Thick, dark maroon leaves hung off the tips. Along the tree ran thousands of small red and purple veins that looked eerily like a human circulatory system. I glanced down to see the roots had grown so large they breached the surface of the soil halfway across the yard.

Unable to comprehend what I was seeing, and not able to deal with the stress anymore, I went back inside, slamming the door shut behind me with a distressed growl. Later that night I searched online for any possible answer, finding none. I thought of calling a professional out. Even though it might be costly, maybe they could shed some light on the situation. I toyed with that idea for the rest of the night, but frankly, I was too tired to do anything about it. I was just done with my yard. I had been working so hard to fix it for so long, I just felt like giving up at that point.

The following day I cupped my hand over the side of my face, blocking the yard from view as I walked past the sliding glass doors to get breakfast. I was so upset that I couldn’t even handle seeing it in my periphery. In the middle of my delicious soggy cereal meal, a knock sounded at my door. The knock sounded two more times in quick succession on my way to get it. “I’m coming!” I shouted. Swinging the door open a little rougher than I intended, I glared at my neighbor, Leslie, standing there, fist raised for yet another knock.

She smiled wanly and lowered her hand. “Hi, sorry to bother you. I know its early...But do you know where Hunter is?” Her voice contained thinly veiled panic. Hunter was Leslie’s ten year old son. Her very annoying ten year old son. He, like any normal child, always played in their front yard with his friends. They always yelled so loudly I could hear them from my bedroom. One time the kid even put a hockey puck through my window. I constantly had to remind myself of the fact he was only a kid when my temper flared at him.

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him. Is everything alright?” Concern replaced my earlier irritation. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Her hair was sat in a tangled mat on her head. She looked like hell. Her kid was missing? I began mentally preparing to get ready to join a search. “He went out to play with his new baseball gear yesterday evening and didn’t come back. I called him in for dinner and he didn’t answer. I searched the whole neighborhood and I couldn’t find him. I don’t know what to d-do!” Tears began flowing down her face as she spoke, her arms gesturing wildly as her panic rose closer to the surface.

I glanced behind her to see her husband knocking on the doors of the other neighbor’s houses. “I came home from work at six yesterday and I didn’t see anything. Have you called the police?” She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “Yes, they’re going around searching too. If in 24 hours we still can’t find him, they’ll put out a missing person’s report.” She broke out into sobs then. “Alright, give me ten minutes. I’ll help.” I said, placing my hands on her shoulders in a vain attempt to calm her. She thanked me through bleary eyes before I shut the door and quickly threw on my clothes.

The search went on all day and for part of the night. We recruited quite a few other concerned neighbors on the search as well. People were driving slowly down the streets, calling Hunter’s name out of their car windows. We canvased the nearby parks while the police searched inside the schools. Hunter was nowhere to be found.

Days, then months passed, and there was still no sign of the boy. Hunter’s photo haunted me from every street post. The police investigation was going nowhere. And after a while, the police stopped looking for a living child, and began searching for a body. I spent my days off consoling Leslie and helping in the search. I was exhausted, but if there was a chance to find Hunter alive, I wasn’t going to give up. He was just a child. Even though my own hope that they would find the kid alive had dwindled over the past month, I would still help. One morning, as I trudged to the kitchen in a daze, sleep deprivation causing me to drag my feet, a flash of white caught my eye through my sliding glass doors.

Through all that had happened, I had completely forgotten about my dead yard. I hesitated to look, fearing the sight might upset me again. I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever though, so I turned with a sigh to gaze upon my lifeless yard. It was the same as it had been months ago, everything shriveled and dead, brown, yellow and a stark white tree dominating the space. It did not upset me as much this time though.

Perhaps it was because I had bigger problems now, more upsetting problems. I studied my yard for a few long moments. I don’t know what drove me, but for some reason I felt compelled to go outside. I slipped my feet into my sandals and slid the door open. The deadened grass crunched beneath my feet. My blood turned to ice, dread pooling in my gut as I approached the sickly tree weed.

The silence of the yard was almost like a vacuum, sucking in sound as it was made. I came to a stop a few feet in front of the tree. The red and purple veins had thickened noticeably. They seemed to pulse and quiver up close. All the hair on my body stood on end as I looked up to study the branches that reached high into the sky. I don’t know how I missed it that first day. It stood out so clearly now. I gasped in panicked breaths as my eyes locked on something high up in the tree, surrounded by large, deep maroon leaves. My eyes burned, my chest tightened. Because there, tangled in the high branches, was a baseball.

[pommedelamer]

art of the pen

a/n: soo uhh it’s been a while. here’s a couple pages worth of a story idea I had, as well as my character design that inspired it! this is. extremely rough but I figured that I should get something up. hhhh I was considering turning this into a formal book with actual developed characters and plot advancement (oh god saying that gives me anxiety) but I don’t know if the content I have so far is very promising. lmk what y'all think lol

//

Character Description: This character is a young female writer. When the novel she has poured her life’s work into is denounced by publishers, she withdraws to a foreign country in attempts to kindle the flames of a new life and reignite her passion for writing. Rejection, coupled with extreme loneliness, causes her to sink into depression. She wanders aimlessly through her new remote town in search of a sense of community. She comes across this in the last place she expected when she discovers that the decrepit building in which she temporarily resides is inhabited by a troop of eccentric underground journalists. Alongside her intrepid neighbors, she tears into the controversies and secrets woven into the fabric of her town and writes like she never has before.

//

The sun peeked through the gaps in the verdant canopy above, but my journal pages were still mostly barren. My pen always seemed to still a few sentences in, flailing like a line unable to lure in a bite. I flipped back to the cover, sluggish in the evening heat. It was adorned with pressed indigo flowers on a cream-colored background. Some of the pigment in the flowers had escaped under the pressure, and each blossom was framed with a deep purple halo. The wind sent the pages tumbling in a delicate fan, and suddenly I was a vandal, a delinquent with the gall to tarnish such beauty with the aftershocks of a passion that had run its course.

A cloud crossed over the sun and the forest floor seemed to close itself off, a flourishing ecosystem in which I was a parasite, leeching off its natural resources to fuel my own unavailing pursuits. I felt the crabgrass clawing at the soles of my feet as I reread the fruits of my two hours. Oh. My breath thickened in my throat and the canopy of branches above shifted in the wind. I suddenly felt compelled to trek back to the little corner market and seek forgiveness for the heinous crimes I’d committed inside the lovely journal with the flowers festooned across the front. And then I’d make a pit stop back at my publisher’s to apologize for my persistence with that novel I’d probably packed with even more of my insufferable delusions. My pen felt leaden and foreign in my hand, and I let it fall to the forest floor in penitence.

I stood up and saw that a thicket of scraggly trees was eyeing me curiously. It could just be a hobby, I told them. They remained steadfast, bony limbs still contorted in thorny skepticism. I didn’t quite know what they sought from me, but I wanted to oblige them. Something to unwind with in the afternoons. The forest was drawing further and further away from me, the thrushes and jays flocking in the leaves of a far-off pine tree, the wind gently guiding the little saplings away on their scrawny legs. A shadow crossed over my bones, and I knew that it was a lie. I wanted to crawl out of the skeleton that had confidently put pen to paper every morning and leave the remnants to disintegrate on the forest floor. I scooped up the marred pages of the little journal and tucked it away. Just something to pass the time. If that.

                                                         ❋❋❋

The town had fully transformed itself when I crossed onto Washington Street. The daytime freshness had long since evaporated from the air, a numbing sense of finality sliding into its place, a reflective epilogue on the day passed. The possibility that I’d felt on my trek to the market that very morning remained in the air, and, silhouetted against the cloak of night, it was mystifying and beckoned me through the alleyways and over the crosswalks. In spite of my spirits, my eyes were dazzled with it. I watched as my shadow, elongated by the streetlamps, tapered off into drains and crept up the sides of buildings, beguiling the eye with its disappearances and reappearances.

I arrived at my complex and allowed myself a moment to take it in at nighttime for the first time. Unlike some of the buildings that retained their daytime charm in the dark, 42 Washington Street took on an air of its own. The streetlamps threw long, delicate shadows over the siding, and the balconies seemed to withdraw back into the wall for the night.

I fumbled with my keys and let myself in. I was immediately enveloped with cool air that seemed awfully artificial, if the sputtering air conditioner on the far wall was any indication. The lobby had also fully adopted the nighttime guise, the broad armchairs appearing to purposefully hold their poses in the dark, as if they had once been dancing. Even the idyllic watercolor gondola painting mounted on the wall behind the front desk had shifted in the night, now depicting rafts traversing the inky river Styx.

“Your first night at 42 Washington, I assume?”

It took me a moment to locate the speaker, tracing over the corners of the room that the moonlight had claimed. It was only when I stepped back and observed the room again, allowing my gaze to slip beyond the cool puddles of light on the wooden armrests and coffee table, that I found the source.

Completely submerged in shadow, a man was reclining on a velvet armchair. Even entirely cloaked in dark, I could tell that he was incredibly tall, almost larger than life. One of his legs draped over the side of the chair, and his foot still managed to touch the ground. His left hand curved over the other arm of the chair, spanning the entire width. He wore a plain button up, the hem of which fanned out onto the chair. I saw an object on his lap that I recognized from my own fruitless pursuits, as a journal. His was almost bursting at the seams, the binding probably beginning to fray under the stress. I saw movement inside the shadow that overtook half the man’s face, swallowing up his likeness so that his features were still up to my imagination.

“It’s a completely different place in the dark, all transformed and the like. One might say we have two buildings for the price of one. It’s a bit of a joke around here.” He spoke as if he were scribbling on a page, the drawl of his voice trying desperately to align itself with the words in his head – as if I’d walked in on him in the middle of constructing his own universe and it hadn’t quite stopped for me. My eyes fell on the fountain pen dangling between his fingers that I’d dismissed as a cigarette, and I realized that was exactly what he had been doing. “But it’s best to keep it between us. If the landlord catches on, you can expect rent to double in price. All the apartments are the same around here, and the landlords are no different. They’ll take anything they can get.” He laughed faintly, and the shadow shortened as if the man had tipped his head back, lost in thought. There was a brief silence, during which I realized I hadn’t yet uttered a single word. “Are you a writer too, then?”

The question was wholly disarming, catching me right between the ribs. I hoped that the night would obscure the rivers of uncertainty it sent ghosting over my skin and coursing through my veins. My heartbeat rattled against my ribcage as I willed myself to respond.

“I’ve dabbled in it. So one might say I am, but ... no, I suppose I’m not, by definition, anyway.” I was again grateful for the anonymity the night provided, for my voice was telling a story of its own, one that I’d recently established was no longer mine. “What might give you that impression?”

The man shifted forwards, the contours of his face revealing themselves inside the beam of moonlight that fell at his feet. I rushed to dismantle the collage of shadowed features I’d loosely fabricated in my head, although it was not far off from what the moonlight illuminated before my eyes. I observed that, for as much as he liked to talk about it, the man’s face was not like 42 Washington Street. “We have a certain look about us, I s’pose.”

My hands wrung behind my back as he propped his elbows on his knees. I couldn’t help but wonder what else he’d detected during this shadowed analysis. I was sure the distress his question had instilled in me had not gone unnoticed, but he did not question it. He did not question me, and I did not question him.

The man skimmed through the pages of the teeming journal and produced a piece of brown paper that, from the looks of it, had been folded up to four times. “If I’m right in my assessments and you’re interested, there’s a group of us around here. I think we’d all be open to more writers in a town like this.” He placed the paper in my palm, and I nodded.

I unfurled the paper and scanned it quickly as I walked.  I was already halfway down the hall when a blank space on the flyer piqued my curiosity. “Excuse me, sir, the address-- it seems to be missing?”

But the enormous man had already eased back in the armchair, hands closing around the journal as the shadows overtook him once more. “It does have the feel of a haunted house around here, doesn’t it?” He mumbled into the dark.

*~to be continued~* 

feedback would be appreciated :)

[tisfan]

Suburban Warfare

Square: S1 - mutual appreciation society ( @tisfan ) Square: S3 - Day in the Life ( @monobuu ) Warning: unadulterated fluff, suburban life, Home Owners Association Pairing: Tony/Bruce Summary: When the HOA makes his neighbor take down his adorable little garden gnomes, Tony sets out a plan of revenge, involving flying… robotic… flamingoes. Who said suburban living was boring? Word Count: 2,215 Link: A03 for @tonystarkbingo

Tony Stark hadn’t actually seen his neighbor for the first six months or so after moving into Lighthouse Crossings.

Tony’s house was the one on the end, so he only shared the one wall with his neighbor -- Mr. Banner, according to the package that Tony had once gotten by accident. He’d dropped it off at Banner’s porch and rang the bell, but got no answer. So, Tony had left the box there and hoped that the stories about being able to leave your front door unlocked were true.

Rhodey kept saying that living out in the middle of nowhere was going to be good for Tony, but Tony wasn’t so sure. However, with steady access to Amazon Prime and a really nicely remodeled shop in what had once been a double garage, Tony was managing. Mostly.

He hadn’t seen his neighbor, that much was true, although sometimes Tony could hear him moving around in his own house. He drove an enormous, bright green Jeep that was usually parked in the drive, same as Tony’s Audi.

Tony wondered what Banner was keeping in his garage, since it wasn’t his car. It wasn’t that unusual, though. He’d noticed of his up and down the street neighbors, that only about ten percent of them used the garage for actual car storage.

So, he’d never actually seen his neighbor.

But what he had seen was his neighbor’s lawn ornaments.

(more below the cut)

It started as just one; a little garden gnome wearing a pointy hat, and -- Tony actually had to walk up Banner’s driveway to peer at it more closely -- a Star Trek uniform.

“Beam me up, Scotty,” Tony said, patting his neighbor’s wall. “You are my new best friend, if I ever meet you.”

A few weeks later, the Star Trek redshirt gnome was joined by two science officers.

A week after that, Tony noticed that there were now four gnomes, and they’d been redistributed so that Red Shirt Gnome was dead, there was a science officer inspecting the dead gnome, and a yellow shirted gnome screaming at the skies.

“Khaaaaan!” Tony muttered.

A week after that, a communications officer gnome sat on the front porch, delicate little porcelain legs crossed as she talked into a device attached to her head.

A month or so and Tony found a shop in town (he walked by it all the time on the way to the hardware store, but this time he’d actually stopped in and looked.) that sold lawn ornaments. He looked over the stock and picked out a good sized lawn crocodile, which he added to his own lawn, only inches away from Banner’s lawn.

Two days later, he was delighted to go out in the morning and discover that the entire Gnome-Away team was gathered on the edge of Banner’s yard, inspecting the croc.

A day after that, the croc “ate” one of the Away Team.

It progressed like that.

Tony still hadn’t met the neighbor. But he was nursing just a little bit of a lawn decoration crush.

Dear Mr. Stark,

It has come to our attention that you are in violation of Community Guideline 102.a.ii, specifically:

It is the duty of all members of the community to keep their lawns neat and tidy, so as not to lower curb appeal for the neighborhood.

The board is giving you ten (10) business days to comply without our requests, or the board will have the lawn tidied, and bill you for any corrections.

Further non-compliance will be met with a $25-per-day fee after the specified ten (10) business days are up to be collected with your monthly Home Owners Association Fees.

If you would like to appeal this decision, the board will hear your complaints on the second Tuesday of the month, at our bi-monthly meeting.

Sincerely

Whitney Frost

The first time Tony met his neighbor, a man with an unbelievable amount of fluffy hair, a square jaw, and a hideous purple shirt was dumping two garden gnomes (communications officer and the original Red Shirt) into his trash can, and then stood there, staring at the plastic container like it was a open grave.

Tony shoved his feet into a pair of slippers and hurried out the door, still in his pyjama pants (with flamingos on them, because Tony loved him some ridiculous pyjamas), coffee mug in one hand. “No, no, no, wait, what, what are you doing?”

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a rumpled copy of the same letter Tony had received and promptly ignored. His yard was neat and tidy. There wasn’t trash in it, he had his lawn cut regularly by the Parker kid down the street. The flower beds had actual flowers in them. He was fine.

“HOA says my gnomes are tacky,” Banner said. “They’re going to fine me.”

“There’s nothing in the HOA rules about lawn gnomes,” Tony said. “I checked. You’re fine. I like your lawn gnomes.”

“Well, someone doesn’t, because Whit said there were a number of complaints,” Banner said.

“Zero is a number,” Tony muttered. “Look, I’m on your side here-- my name’s Tony, by the way, nice to meet you--”

“Bruce.”

“--so let’s just go to the HOA meeting and appeal.”

Bruce gave him a little half-tipped up smile. “You think so?”

“I know so--” Tony reached into the trash and pulled out the two gnomes. Nothing seemed to be broken. A little paint on Red Shirt’s hat, good as new. “I like these guys-- I’ve… my lawn croc-- you know. It’s been fun.”

Bruce was smiling, a little shy, ducking his chin. But he was also nodding along. “Yeah, I-- it’s nice to meet you, Tony.”

“Bruce, Bruce, check it out,” Tony said. He waved the remote at his neighbor, noting again, for the record, that Bruce was absolutely adorable in an absent minded professor sort of way. Even if he insisted on wearing purple cardigans. He was, in fact, both absent-minded and a professor, so it was just professional courtesy that Tony was noticing, and the fact that he wanted to see if Bruce’s mouth was as kissable as it looked, that was just bonus, right?

Besides, no one had to know that he was crushing on his neighbor.

“What are you--” Bruce ducked as one of the flamingoes got a little close to his head.

“Flying lawn decorations,” Tony said. “They’re not against the rules, I checked.”

Bruce spun around in a slow circle. There were an even dozen of the things, zooming around in patterns above Tony’s lawn. “This is amazing, did you make these?”

“Well, yeah,” Tony sad. “I mean, they don’t even sell this sort of thing in skymall.”

“How?”

“Well, I started with some roombas, and then hacked their algorithms,” Tony said. “Built the core around them, and utilized some of Stark Industries old flying car tech. We never could get approval for the repulser technology, and Dad gave it up as a bad idea. The lift just wasn’t there for a passenger compartment. But these guys, they weigh less than ten pounds each, so it’s pretty easy. They’re confined to the yard, and when they need to recharge, they go right to their stations behind the house.”

“That’s cool,” Bruce said, tipping his head up to watch.

“Perfectly safe. Perfectly within the rules,” Tony said. After the emergency session in which the HOA had decided that lawn statuary of any sort was against the rules, and both Tony and Bruce had been hit with enormous fines (Tony had offered to cover Bruce’s fines, but Bruce had just blown him off) Tony had been trying, deliberately, to get on Frost’s nerves. “They’re not statues. And when they’re charging, they’re out of sight, and so not lowering the curb appeal.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully, still watching one particular flamingo making patrols around Tony’s yard. “I think you underestimate Whitney Frost.”

“We shall see,” Tony said. He felt pretty good about it. Besides, the flamingos were pretty cool, no matter what.

“Hey, hey, Tony-- Tony will you wait up?” Bruce came shuffling down the sidewalk from the Clubhouse, after the Homeowners Association meeting.

“Yeah, what? Oh, oh, sorry, Bruce, that just makes me so angry, there was nothing specific in the bylaws about lawn ornaments, Frost just has a boner for making people do what she wants. She doesn’t want residents, she wants fucking clones.” Tony hitched in a breath, getting ready to go full on rant, but the look on Bruce’s face pulled him up short. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just have to work on not getting angry,” Bruce said. “I have poor impulse control when I’m angry, and after so many years, I’ve finally learned that toxic anger doesn’t help anyone.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Tony said. “Look, you want to go out and get a burger and a beer or something? I just-- did you see that, she just--”

“Railroaded the board into doing what she wants, I know. She’s done it before. There’s only three of them, and Parker Robbins does whatever she says, so-- no one wants to be on her bad side,” Bruce told him. “I could have told you that.”

Which was Bruce’s way of saying he had told Tony that. And that Tony hadn’t listened. Usually, Tony had discovered that a firm, no nonsense attitude, a big smile, and a reasonable argument worked.

Frost had, when confronted with the idea that lawn gnomes weren’t specifically forbidden by the bylaws, had gotten the other board members to change the damn bylaws at the fucking meeting.

Bylaws took only a quorum vote of the board members to change, and didn’t have to have any sort of discussion or study before hand.

“If Frost wanted us to all have to grow orange crabgrass in our yards, she could just decide that?” Tony demanded of the air. “How is that-- that is too much power for someone to have. These are our homes.”

“You can only turn over a board decision with at least fifty percent of the owners showing up for a vote. No one can do that. Even when she decides to raise the homeowners’ dues, we can only get about thirty heads of household to show up to the damn meeting,” Bruce said. “A beer and burger date sounds great.” He slanted his eyes at Tony.

“Is it a date? I mean, not that I have a problem-- I mean, I haven’t… did you--” Tony stammered.

“You’re adorable when you get all muddled up,” Bruce said. He was a big guy, but soft, somehow. Like a teddy bear. He put an arm around Tony’s shoulders and Tony just wanted to kick back, curl up, and stay safe there. “I’m saying, if you want it to be a date, I’m not adverse to the idea of dating.”

“It’s a date,” Tony said, firmly. “Absolutely.”

“What are you doing?”

“Finding a loophole,” Tony said. The home owners association documents were a huge, over 200 page, held together with a binder clip piece of bullshit that Tony had signed before getting the mortgage for his home.

He’d read through them, because he always read everything that he signed, no matter how tedious. But the addendum to the HOAdocs had not been included.

Which showed a gradual increase in the amount of power that had consolidated into the board.

“Is it working?”

“Actually, yes,” Tony said, looking up with a beatific grin. “How do you feel about some neighborhood involvement.”

“Huh?”

“Change the system from within,” Tony said. “Look, there are actually seven board positions--” Tony traced a line down the page. “And they’re filled entirely by volunteers.”

“Frost only has three people on--”

“I know. No one has volunteered in years. So it’s just Frost and her cronie, and Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, who’ve been on the board since the neighborhood was first build up,” Tony said. “There’s a sad lack of leadership these days. Frost controls the vote, because in the case of a tie, she gets to decide.”

“So--”

“I’m saying we volunteer, my darling,” Tony said, batting his eyelashes at his boyfriend.

“Us. Volunteer.”

“To be on the board,” Tony clarified. “That gives the board six votes total. And I already talked May Parker into it.” Parker had a kid, a nephew about four years old, and she’d gone up against Frost a few times too for things like sidewalk chalk and Big Wheels bikes. Which made for seven votes total.

“You think Jack or Stan will back anything we suggest?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “But what else can we do, aside from conform to Frost’s expectations. We can’t let her win, Bruce.”

“I wasn’t aware that this was a war,” Bruce pointed out, mildly.

“Look, the board positions are only open at the annual meeting. This meeting. So, if it doesn’t work out, we’re only doing it for a year. How bad can it be?”

“I’m quite positive we will regret this,” Bruce said.

“Oh, come on, Bruce, this is an excellent outlet for your anger issues, there’s something here to get angry about! Use your powers for good.”

Bruce pulled Tony into an embrace and kissed him several times until Tony relented and relaxed. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’m always angry.”