#radish patch kid

[underground-boss-clay]

Clay dear my dash appears to be buzzing with a lot of out of context chaos and I believe I'm having a bit of trouble followi-

Oh-

...A relative in Alola?

Fuckin' Palkia swallow me now--

Yes Burgh, I have a niece 'n Alola. Her name's Hapu, an' she became the Kahuna of Poni Island... two years ago? Somethin' like that.

I thought I told people bout her, but uh... apparently not.

[fox-bright]

Just heard this evening that a teacher friend of mine is making a thousand dollars less a month this year. This friend has two teenagers! I only found out because I messaged to ask if they wanted me to start any tomato plants for them when I start my own, as it's easy for me to get a half-dozen going for someone else when I'm doing fifty for myself.

They've been gardening since they were a child, and they said, they know that having the garden can really ease the crunch--that things have been very difficult--but that they haven't known how they'll be able to afford to get enough plants to really make a difference.

So yeah, starting tomatoes. They asked for fifteen plants--but I've seen their space and I know I can show them how to have thirty in it. And four or five varieties of peppers, and two kinds of summer squash, and maybe some butternuts that will keep into the winter, and beans, lots of bush beans both for dry and fresh eating, and I told them how to run strings from the roof of their porch into their herb patch so that they can get some pole beans going, too. And I must still have a packet of kale I can just give them. And I'll do ten or fifteen basils so they can make and freeze pesto. Can't do bulb onions, I haven't found any day-neutral ones that play nicely here yet, but can do bunching ones. And if they'll take 'em, a bunch of Asian vegetables--bok choy, gai lan, perilla, shungiku. And if I can remember, I'll tell them to stop off at the local extension office and pick through the free seeds bin for radishes and carrots and lettuce.

Make no mistake, this is rage I'm acting out right now. I'm pissed as hell. Working full time for a school and having trouble keeping their kids' bellies full. Goddamn ridiculous excuse for a society is this.

[kariachi]

Some commission fic for a @thenixkat!! Team Skull stays together, gets a more community-oriented future, and more approval than they ever dreamed.

~~

There was nothing that made Po Town the closest thing to paradise quite like the scent you woke up to in the morning. Those rich bastards they’d driven off had known how to pick a spot for their little gated community, where the salty smell of the ocean came from all around you alongside the aroma of the fruits and flowers of the jungle. Better than coffee, better than breakfast, with an undercurrent of flotsam that most of the others would never appreciate like those who’d gone through the trouble of Wimpod did. Not enough to wake you up, but to push any troubles away as you got your feet back under you.

Between that and waking up in a pile of his bug-types, everyone but Masquerain sharing the role of pillow with each other, even at his worst Guzma had never been able to hold a temper for the first hour of the morning.

Never in his life had he been the first person awake, and everyone else had adapted around him such that when he finally made his way downstairs, pokemon fanning out like a security team, there was food and coffee still waiting in the empty kitchen. Plumeria’s work, of course- he had no idea how a Crobat owner could get up so early in the morning- and he couldn’t help a small, expectant smile as he went around getting his team fed. Only ever once they were set did he grab his own meal out of the oven, leaning back against a counter to dig in. It wasn’t the best ever served on Ula-Ula- eggs made overcooked by the time waiting, a canned hash that needed some more pepper and maybe a bit of radish - but good enough to start a morning on. Especially with a warm mug of coffee. Plumeria made a mean coffee, and he didn’t know what beans it was she grabbed but a cup took you by the hair and slammed you into wakefulness like your face against a countertop.

Needless to say, by the time he’d drained the mug, rubbery eggs or no, he was usually ready to knock the day into submission.

Golisopod was ready almost before he was, those Wimpod ‘eat fast or die’ instincts never quite going away, and Guzma waited with arms crossed for the others to finish up as well. Even a year after the whole mess with the wormholes there were plenty of people in Alola who would’ve quailed to see him looming like that, but his pokemon merely looked up to assure it was just the lot of them there and continued with their meal like it was nothing. Of them Pinsir always took the longest by far, happy to kick back and savor the food in front of it for ages given the chance. Guzma just rolled his eyes at it, like every morning since it’s capture, safe in the knowledge they all knew it wasn’t serious, and patted it between the horns before snatching up Golisopod, Scizor, and Masquerain’s bowls. The days of pressing it to finish up were long past, it would catch up with them later.

“A’ight, you know the drill! Go get some work done!” He waved Scizor and Masquerain off towards the door, an order they followed with pleasant buzzing, not even bothering with Golisopod. It would, as always, wait for him to toss all the dishes in the sink before following him out into the morning sunshine like a shadow.

He hated to admit it, but Po Town did look better anymore. Patches of wildflowers, ferns, and little saplings were popping up in the lawns now that the junk that’d covered them had been scrapped, portions of the town’s walls torn down. Cleared streets and hosed buildings let the graffiti pop harder than it had since they’d first arrived. That was pretty much the only reason for the cobblestones anymore was to display their work, otherwise he’d have probably torn them up by then too. Really the worst part was they were all happier for it. That those kids had been right when they’d suggested they might feel better if they weren’t living in squalor. Two of his crew at that very moment were strewn out on the left lawn, chatting at each other, and somebody was using a flashlight to navigate the next house on the right. Meanwhile another pair were practicing their battling on the field they’d built in the right yard- Haunter vs Fomantis.

“Morning Boss,” one of the lounging pair called, both throwing grins his way. The battlers, Guzma noted with pride, kept their attention on their battle, no longer tending towards distraction. He threw a wave and something between a smile and a smirk the first pair’s way, not even bothering to point out that he technically wasn’t their boss anymore. It was a habit they refused to break, insisting that even if they technically weren't a gang, he was still in charge. They also had insisted, now that they weren���t ‘Team Skull’, on being called the Skull Grunts instead- giving the too earnest and amusing explanation that everyone called them that as a collective anyway so why not continue to wear it like the badge of honor it was.

There’d been no arguing the idea. Not and winning at least.

“Garish, there’s dishes in the sink, get ‘em before you head out.”  With a nod the youth climbed to his feet, throwing Guzma and Golisopod both salutes as their paths crossed on the walkway.

“On it, Boss! Mess won’t know what hit it!” Guzma couldn’t help his smirk sliding into a small grin.

“Damn right it won’t!” The other grunt- Peni- flashed a wider grin as well as they passed, digging through a bag as man and pokemon both made their way down the long walk to the road, one eye on the battlers. They weren’t doing bad, and probably somebody- probably him- was unfortunately going to have to thank Hala for their lessons. It was worse than having to thank Nanu for helping Chie with her ‘Pickup team of Meowth’ plan. At least he just let stuff like that lie, didn’t try to make it a whole thing. But some matters couldn’t be helped, he'd learned.

Guzma didn’t even flinch as a Golbat flashed by him in a blur just before he could step onto the road proper, leaving his Skull emblem swinging and a manapua in his hand as if he hadn’t literally just eaten. The occurrence had become more common the more stable their situation had gotten. Before that it had been normal for him to work himself into a frenzy, forget his meals. Even when he did remember, they didn’t always have enough to all eat their fill, and it was his responsibility more than anyone’s to make sure the grunts were taken care of.

The Champion kid had used some foreign term once, said it meant something about ‘those with power gotta help those without’, and it had felt about right. As much as he wanted a good life for himself, he wanted it for Plumeria and the grunts too. If that had meant maybe skipping a few meals so the younger set got bigger shares, well, it hadn’t been that much of a loss. He was a big man, he could go find something for himself. Lesser things, normally, but still. And there had only been so much even Plumeria could argue, when funds were low and they struggled to even make meals at times. As boss and as cook more often than not, his word on the matter had been law.

Then, as time had gone by, the grunts had been able to get more funds together. After everything that had happened with the Aether Foundation and the wormholes- fuck did he still shiver to think about that damn wormhole- people had vouched for them. Vouched for Guzma and Plumeria and everybody. Not many, no, but enough and with enough clout that so long as she didn’t start too much shit Plumeria could go out and get as many profits in as her team could have battles in a day. The others could go out and get part-time work. They’d even been able to sell off shit from around Po Town that nobody was using without getting people breathing down their necks. They’d been able to get better generators they could fuel with Charjabug power rather than gas, fix up some of the less decorative and more structural issues with some of the buildings, get one of Okazaki’s cousins out to handle some plumbing problems none of them had known how to fix.

It was somewhere between that last one and the decision to demolish the two houses next to the Pokecenter they’d started sneaking Guzma food. Well, not so much sneaking as alternating between insisting on making (comparatively) big meals for the group where he just so happened to get a large serving and just shoving food items at him and running. He’d been incredibly confused, and incredibly concerned, and Plumeria still laughed at him for having to be told the grunts were paying him back. For giving them a place to stay, a family they could rely on, confidence and acknowledgement, for taking care of them as best he was able, failures and all.

There’d been no way he could tell them to their faces that he appreciated it, that they were giving him more than he deserved, no matter how many times Hala tried to talk him through his issues. But, he’d stopped pushing back when he realized, never refused an offer of food, and gone up a few pant sizes for it. It seemed to be enough for them, always grinning when he cleaned his plate and complimenting his new clothes despite their cutting into the still-tight budget.

Someday, it was on a list somewhere in his room, he was going to find a way to let them know exactly how proud he was of them. Not that day, but it would happen. For now, they would have to make do with nods, smiles, and pats on the head from Scizor and Golisopod.

Scizor and Golisopod had given out so many pats in the last year.

The latter gave a gurgling chitter as they turned for the nearest building on their left. Out of all the buildings in Po Town, this one was the smallest- focused more on yard space than maximizing useless rooms, probably some sort of guesthouse before they showed up. So, no one so far had felt any guilt for not tearing it down like the ones between itself and the Pokecenter. Utility buildings were always good to have- or so Nanu had suggested, not that Guzma had let anyone know it had been the Kahuna’s idea first- and they’d since converted it into a nursery and storage.

“Yo,” Guzma called around a mouth full of Finneon and sweet potato as he stepped in, leaving Golisopod outside. There was no answer, which meant Kaleo was probably out working on getting that fence he and his Drowzee’d torn down put back up out in the jungle. With full acceptance that he and his pokemon could take care of themselves, Guzma took a quick walk through the front rooms. Tables worth of chilis, melons, and daikon were sprouting in the kitchen, healthy looking so far. A homemade trough in what used to be a dining room was still loaded down with Paras eggs and mushroom spawn. He hadn’t kept track of what species they were mixing them with, had hardly managed to keep up with Taro’s ramblings when the kid had rushed back from running deliveries for restaurants on Akala.

He’d heard ‘edible mushrooms’, ‘Paras’, and ‘Boss we have to try’, looked into those earnest eyes, and just announced that the test would be coming out of Taro’s pocket money and that if it failed the Paras were his problem. The kid had whooped, thanked Guzma profusely, and ever since had spent his afternoons helping in the nursery.

Trusting that the kids had everything under control there, and giving a pleased nod to see little, tiny mushrooms poking out of the substrate, Guzma turned toward the living room, stepping over the gate with a whistle and a smirk.

“How you little monsters doin’?” The entire room had been turned over to what he would with a massive grin call a small army of Charjabug. Well, fifteen Charjabug. And only four Grubbin. They still didn’t know exactly what had happened to Bonecruncher, but they were pretty sure he’d set up in the walls of the house across the street. Nobody’d been able to lure him back out yet, and probably wouldn’t until he’d brought it tumbling down on top of himself. The rest of the army though, at least the ones that weren’t dragging their little nubbins about evolving, it didn’t matter that they didn’t look up when addressed, or really make any sign that they knew about anything but the big pile of compost they were chewing on.

Those fifteen Charjabug carried the electrical needs of Po Town on their backs. Didn’t even struggle with it. Guzma’d never thought he could love bug pokemon more, but they’d proven him wrong, as the type always did. Two Charjabug a day could keep the generators that kept the lights on in the big house, the nursery, and Pokecenter going well enough. At least, as long as they didn’t leave lights on when they didn’t need them, or use too many electronics in one day. There’d be more wriggle room as their army expanded, but for the time being they managed well enough. Certainly better than they had before, though the bar was pretty damn low.

Squatting, he munched away at his second breakfast, watching them feast fondly, checking for signs of illness with a well-trained eye and happily finding none. One of the Grubbin finally noticed him, receiving a little chunk of manapua and an affectionate pat as it abandoned the pile to inspect his leg, nibble at his shoes. It was the only one to so much as look his way from squatting to standing back up, wiping his hands on his pants, and in reward came another gentle pat before, with a final once over, he turned away.

Stepping back out into the Alolan sunshine to the cheery sound of Golisopod at work checking over the berries they’d planted in the yard, Guzma took a deep breath, looked back over at the training ground. Over the row of untouched houses still sat across the street- they still hadn’t decided what they were going to do with them yet besides use as storage. All the way to the Pokecenter at the end of the lane and the pile of debris just passed it from the two buildings they’d torn down. They’d made for good sources of materials for everything from replacing the broken window in the big house with a big glass door to building crap they needed around the place to replacing busted pipes. Left a damn good chunk of empty space to work with once he, Golisopod, and Pinsir had gotten the foundations torn up too. It’d been good work, the kind of destruction that let other shit grow, like he’s always really wanted, and with a rough scratch of Golisopod’s head, he turned to what’d been their big project since.

Guzma couldn’t have told you what had happened to lead him from tearing up hedges and overgrown flower beds in an attempt to do something with his wild emotions that wouldn’t scare his crew- that baker’s dozen who through family, faith, and nowhere to go had refused to abandon him, even if ordered (“Whether we’re Team Skull or not, this our home”)- to gardening. He’d never really been interested before. But the sight of those once perfect hedges, carefully manufactured flowerbeds, had pressed on him, especially after Lusamine. The bare, empty dirt left behind had pressed even harder. There’d been no leaving the place like that, and when the idea of Charjabug generators had put composting on the to-do list…

He supposed it had just felt like what he should do. Something had to go in those spots, especially after two whole mansions had come down and left their own bare mess behind. The least it could do was feed his family. Didn’t make as many calories as the Chansey and shit Kaleo kept talking about going out and finding one day, but seeds at least were cheap and easy to find, even enough to fill out the space they had.

Besides, you didn’t even need a watering set-up when you had a Golisopod and a Masquerain.

Speaking of, even as he and his ace made their way through the berry trees the smaller bug was hard at work. Masquerain hadn’t hit the vegetables, waiting until the rest of the team had gone through and handled any work that might need doing, but the row of fruit trees along the back was getting a thorough watering via a relearned Water Sport. Scizor had a big basket on one arm and was going around the place with the air of a dedicated student, carefully clipping away any unhealthy leaves and produce it could safely manage. They went in the basket- after all, it was too early to harvest larger, sturdier crops, and the beans, peppers, and herbs were left to Guzma’s comparatively nimble human hands- alongside any stray victims of the mass of webbing just inside the treeline.

Other gardeners had scareow to keep the pests from their harvest, he had an Ariados. One that chittered a sleepy good morning as he came into view, climbing down just far enough that he could stride over and scratch under it’s chin.

“You’re a real killer aren’t you,” he said, grinning wide as it nibbled at his wrist. “Keep up the good work and we’ll be eating like kings here soon.”

And they would be. He had so much more faith in that than before. As Ariados went to bed, as he turned and looked at what felt like vast gardens of vegetables, of young trees. Looked out at the houses, the graffiti. Listened to the battle in the background. There’d been a pride in building Team Skull, in making something, a place and a group where all these kids being failed by Alola could find safety, security, and confidence in each other. But this? This was a new level. Just a year before, he, Plumeria, all of them had felt like they’d reached as high as they could. No hope for better, clinging to what they had and defending it like gold, pumping themselves up with talk of how perfect it all was. Hit or miss power, hit or miss plumbing, iffy meals, but they’d had each other and a roof over their heads and told themselves that was enough.

Now there was power they could count on, plumbing Ami was learning to do herself, fresh food out of the garden with more promised as everything got established. They had money coming in, space and time and the ability to engage in proper hobbies, bugs haunting walls. The undercurrent of hurt, forced confidence, and nihilism was slowly melting away in the face of a future none of them had ever expected to look bright. Even Guzma himself had never really expected to make things any better than he already had, failure eating away at his gut through victory and loss the same. And here he was, watching his pokemon help in the garden that fed his crew. Leading projects to shape the area to fit their needs. Taking them all from a small gang to a small community. The best one in all the islands of Alola, no bias and no bet. There was nothing for it but to grin out over it all in those moments before rolling up his sleeves, soak in the sun and the scent and the sound of the tolling bell-

“Boss!”

There was nothing to grab Guzma’s attention like an undercurrent of distress in the voice of his grunts, muscles going taut and eyes narrowing as he turned toward the sound. In the garden, his pokemon followed suit, Masquerain zipping forward to put itself between Ami and whatever had driven her from the Pokecenter.

“Hey,” Guzma said as she reached him, a hand falling on her shoulder both to calm and in case he needed to shove her behind him. “Hey, what’s fucking with you?”

“Boss-” She looked over her shoulder, licked her lips, then up at him with wide eyes. “Boss, you’ve got to see this.” In the background he became aware that the battle had stopped. A bad sign. Squaring his shoulders, Guzma stormed across the garden, strides lengthening to avoid stepping on anything important, Ami trailing a good distance after. There were many reasons he wasn’t holding down a job or off fighting battles with Plume, and one of them was this right here. Nothing was going to cause trouble for his people, certainly nothing was going to give them trouble in his own damn town. Head held high, he turned down the road towards the Pokecenter and froze.

Stared.

Beside him Golisopod seemed to shrink into itself.

Fucking hell…

No! Nothing meant nothing! Not even a Tapu!

Pulling himself back up, resisting the urge to swat himself, Guzma started down toward Tapu Bulu, floating there at the end of the road, his shoulders back and muscles tight. Yes, it was a Tapu, yes, it had a Golisopod the size of the damn nursery with it, but this was his town and he wasn’t going to quail under anything. Whatever business they had, they could clear it passed him or get-

His past Trial Captain attempts finally hit Guzma like a brick about halfway down.

Golisopod didn’t get that big.

Normal Golisopod didn’t get that big.

That was the island’s fucking Tapu, bringing a Golisopod that was whole sizes too large to Po Town.

He froze again, watching now with narrowed eyes and crinkled brow.

Tapu Bulu didn’t seem too concerned about things, just floating and watching as the Golisopod wandered about the end of the lane. As it looked at the nearest house, the Pokecenter. It wasn’t going to care about either of them, Guzma knew as soon as the situation hit him. No, they weren’t places a Golisopod would want, would give two shits about. He could have sworn Tapu Bulu spared him a glance as he thought it, as the Golisopod walked slowly to the pile of junk they hadn’t yet gotten rid of. Poked, prodded, adjusted various items, slowly working it’s way deeper and deeper until it was clear from view. The Tapu gave a lowing call and he could just make out in the silence that had overtaken Po Town the chittering response. A pleased call from a new Totem Pokemon.

Something twisted in his gut, dark and bright in turn. Tapu Bulu just lowed again, bobbed in what might have been some sort of approval. Then, as if there was nothing left of interest now it’s charge was in place, turned and made it’s way back down the road, bell ringing as it did. Guzma reached back to scratch at his own Golisopod’s shell- knowing without looking it was eyeing the fresh-made lair like the creature inside might eat them- and watched warily as the Tapu went. Waited, forcing himself to breathe, until it vanished around a corner.

It's disappearance from sight seemed to break some sort of spell over the town, and almost before he could blink Guzma found himself surrounded by grunts.

“Boss, what the fuck was that?”

“Why would Tapu Bulu be here?”

“Did you see that bug?!”

“Quiet!” The grunts’ mouths snapped shut as Guzma ran an eye more critical than he meant over them. “Ruki, go with Ami and shut down that generator, we’re not wasting electricity and we’re not using it again today if we don’t have to. Sota, go get Kaleo and bring him back to the house. All of you stay inside until I say otherwise.” They all nodded, those named rushing off to do their jobs and the rest heading for the big house, only one lingering back along enough for a quick

“Boss, are you-”

“I,” Guzma said before he could finish, fishing his phone from his pocket with a scowl and a glare, “am calling our Kahuna to learn what the flying fuck’s going on.” And Nanu better have had answer for him, after his homies just nearly had heart attacks, after he nearly had a heart attack.

He’d never heard of a Tapu personally escorting a new Totem Pokemon before…

[splatoongamefiles]

Here's all the gear names in the new update

LONG ass post so under the cut:

HEADGEAR:

Long-Billed Cap, King Flip Mesh, Blowfish Newsie, Pilot Hat, Barrelfish Baseball Hat, Octoleet Goggles, Worker's Head Towel, El Rey Calamar, Zekko Cap, Ink-Guard Goggles, Teal Pinhole Shades, Green Pinhole Shades, Pink Pinhole Shades, Yellow Pinhole Shades, Patched Hat, Fugu Bell Hat, Hothouse Hat, Mountie Hat, Black FishFry Bandana, Squidfin Hook Cans, Matte Bike Helmet, Deca Tackle Visor Helmet, Barrelfish Headgear, Slipstream Helmet Pro, Slipstream Helmet, King Facemask, Motocross Nose Guard, Digi-Camo Forge Mask, Yamagiri Beanie, Sneaky Beanie, Tee Time Visor

CLOTHING:

North-Country Parka, Octoleet Armor, Dev Uniform, Cooler Jacket, Fresh Octo Tee, Chilly Mountain Coat, Takoroka Windcrusher, FA-01 Jacket, FA-01 Reversed, Pullover Coat, Birded Corduroy Jacket, Deep-Octo Satin Jacket, Zekko Redleaf Coat, Lemon Mountain Coat, Zekko Jade Coat, Light Bomber Jacket, Navy Eminence Jacket, Tumeric Zekko Coat, Custom Painted F-3 , White Leather F-3, Chili-Pepper Ski Jacket, Whale-Knit Sweater, Rockin' Leather Jacket, Kung-Fu Zip-Up, Panda Kung-Fu Zip-Up, Shirt with Blue Hoodie, Grape Hoodie, Hothouse Hoodie, Pink Hoodie, Olive Zekko Parka, Black Hoodie, Baby-Jelly Shirt & Tie, Prune Parashooter, Red Hula Punk with Tie, Dots-on-Dots Shirt, Toni K. Baseball Jersey, Barrelfish Baseball Uni, Short Knit Layers, Positive Longcuff Sweater, Annaki Yellow Cuff, Annaki Red Cuff, Octarian Retro, Takoroka Jersey, Octo Jumper Home, Pink Easy-Stripe Shirt, Inkopolis Squaps Jersey, Lime Easy-Stripe Shirt, Annaki Evolution Tee, Zekko Long Carrot Tee, Zekko Long Radish Tee, Black Cuttlegear LS, Takoroka Crazy Baseball LS, Red Cuttlegear LS, Khaki 16-Bit FishFry, Blue 16-Bit FishFry, Sharkfin Raglan, Black V-Neck Tee, White Deca Logo Tee, Half-Sleeve Sweater, King Jersey, Gray 8-Bit FishFry, White Urchin Rock Tee, Black Urchin Rock Tee, Wet Floor Band Tee, Squid Squad Band Tee, Navy Deca Logo Tee, Mister Shrug Tee, Chirpy Chips Band Tee, Hightide Era Band Tee, ω-3 Tee, Missus Shrug Tee, League Tee, Friend Tee, Tentatek Slogan Tee, Octoking HK Jersey, Dakro Nana Tee, Dakro Golden Tee, Black Velour Octoking Tee , Green Velour Octoking Tee, Slate Streetstyle Tee, Red Tentatek Tee, Blue Tentatek Tee, Squid Yellow Layered LS, White King Tank, Slash King Tank, Navy King Tank, Lob-Stars Jersey, Fishing Vest, Front-Zip Vest, Silver Tentatek Vest, Tentatek Slipstream Vest, Teal Body Warmer

SHOES:

Deepsea Leather Boots, Annaki Arachno Boots, New-Leaf Leather Boots, Tea-Green Hunting Boots, Octoleet Boots, Knockout Boots, Cream Basics, Shivery Squidkid III, Fried Squidkid III, Big Squidkid III, Chained DC Toejamz, Jeweled DC Toejamz, Swirled DC Toejamz, Trifecta Duck Boots, Trifecta Hi-Tops, Trifecta Sandals, Smoky Wingtips, Gray Yellow-Soled Wingtips, Inky Kid Clams, Musselforge Flip-Flops, Cyan Dakroniks, Black Dakroniks, Piranha Moccasins, White Norimaki 750s, Black Norimaki 750s, Gray Sea-Slug Hi-Tops, Orca Hi-Tops, Navy Enperrials, Amber Sea Slug Hi-Tops, Yellow Iromaki 750s, Honey & Orange Squidkid V, Sun & Shade Squidkid IV, Orca Woven Hi-Tops, Green Iromaki 750s, Purple Iromaki 750s, Red Iromaki 750s, Blue Iromaki 750s, Orange Iromaki 750s, Red Power Stripes, Blue Power Stripes, Toni Kensa Black Hi-Tops, Sesame Salt 270s, Black & Blue Squidkid V, Orca Passion Hi-Tops, Truffle Canvas Hi-Tops, Crab-Trap Squidkid III, Violet Trainers, Canary Trainers, Yellow-Mesh Sneakers, Orange-Mesh Sneakers, N-Pacer CaO, N-Pacer Ag, N-Pacer Au, Sea Slug Volt 95s, Athletic Arrows, OB Gaiter Waders, Noir Guppies, Birch Climbing Shoes, Green Lace-Ups, White Laceless Dakroniks, Blue Laceless Dakroniks, Suede Gray Lace-Ups, Suede Nation Lace-Ups, Suede Marine Lace-Ups, Toni Kensa Soccer Shoes, Stamina Cycling Shoes, Energy Cycling Shoes, Polka-Dot Slip-Ons, Burden of Floof

[pomegranarchy]

Have You Any Faith? Chapter 4: Admission

wordcount: 3,576 content warning: further mentions of dead family, fear of alienation link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47796682/chapters/121632274#workskin

---

admission: noun ad·mis·sion

1: an act of admitting, the fact or state of being admitted, such as a) the right or permission to join or enter a place, a group, etc.

2: the granting of an argument or position not fully proved, the act of acknowledging something asserted a) acknowledgment that a fact or statement is true b) a revealing statement

The Wordsmith bends beneath the edge of a doorway, then steps inside. In the middle of the room is Thea. Usually the jobs are shifted around and your partner is more or less luck of the draw, but for some reason Thea has consistently volunteered to work with her. Ever since they had an overlapping shift in the mill, that is. Maybe the Princess and the Pea had more effect on her than she thought. A familiar face might be welcoming in another situation, but…

“Here you go. One load of radishes, just as promised.” The Wordsmith pulls the basket off of her back, handing it down to the shorter bug. She laughs at that, though the Wordsmith is pretty sure she didn’t make a joke. At least, not so funny as to warrant anything more than a brief chuckle. The fact that these bugs make a noise she can recognize as laughter alone is--

“Thank you! You did such great work. Why don’t you take a break?”

“But… I only did two trips so far.”

“Yes, and most bugs here can only do one without needing a break! That trek out to the thickest patch and here again? Wears you out! You know that.” Pleasantly, Thea starts unloading the radishes onto an already mounting pile.

“I can do more than two without tiring, which you know as well.”

“And that means you need twice the breaks!”

The Wordsmith sighs, masking her annoyance. “Alright.”

“Here, before you go.” Thea goes to the corner, pouring from a jug of water. Now handling a cup, she pushes it into the Wordsmith’s hands. “And don’t you think about coming back before I’m done here!”

“Mmhm,” She vaguely agrees. All this ever leads to is an argument that Thea refuses to lose, no matter how inane her reasoning gets. It feels completely pointless. And currently, she just doesn’t have the emotional bandwidth for that. So she gives up and walks out.

What to do, though? Idly, she turns a corner, only to be suddenly faced with two bugs thick in the middle of a conversation. Right in the middle of the path. Blocking the way. The Wordsmith stares at them. Judging by the way their antenna twitch and the excessive arm movements, they’re trying very hard to avoid looking at her.

Okay. Cool. Fine.

The Wordsmith turns around and heads the other way. The only other option is to squeeze past, and that would only lead to a dozen questions about her missing exoskeleton. Certainly they hadn’t always been acting so strange. But when did it start? All she did was wake up one time and suddenly everyone was… being weird. The Wordsmith isn’t quite sure how to explain it. She might call it friendly, in the same way that hotel staff and other customer service employees are supposed to be friendly. They invite her to breaks (insist, more like) and give her water almost anytime her hands are empty. Even when she first explained how much water she needs, they didn’t try to indirectly drown her with it. Then there’s the insisting she go take a walk, get some fresh air, explore the caverns. But oh, don’t overexert yourself! Please stay safe, bring someone with you who knows how to use a nail…

There’s a weird urgency to it all. Like an employee desperately trying to politely usher a raging customer outside. On some level, the Wordsmith wonders if no one likes her. But the kids seem just as enthusiastic around storytime as ever, if not more. There’s some missing puzzle piece here, and she can’t seem to find it.

Speaking of kids… the Wordsmith spots Lu, sitting on the ground. There’s something in her hands, hidden in her lap. Children tend to be more capable of spilling secrets without realizing. Maybe it’s dishonest, but this behavior is really starting to unnerve her. Gently, the Wordsmith begins to walk towards her.

“Hey, Lu. It’s nice to--” Lu looks up at her in alarm, then abruptly skitters off like her legs are on fire. Vaguely shocked, the Wordsmith can only stand there. What the hell? Did she do something offensive without realizing? Hesitantly, she sniffs one of her sleeves. Surely she’s not covered in some sort of ‘fuck you’ pheromone? It doesn’t smell like much of anything except dirt and grass. Even so, maybe she needs to be saving all this drinking water for a bath?

At a loss, the Wordsmith walks back to her house. She sets the cup on the table, then closes the door. A cot and the rounded chest against the wall are the only other furniture she has. It’s not much, but at least it does its job. At least it doesn’t run away in apparent fear.

After a moment’s consideration, she shoves the chest against the door, then sits on top of it for good measure. She pulls the mask off her head. It’s as simple as the faces these bugs have. White and smooth, with two large eyes. The difference being that their faces have mandibles, antennae, and sometimes horns. This mask’s expressiveness starts and ends with those empty eyeholes. Maybe they hate her because they can’t understand if she’s ever being sincere? It’s not as if she can give off pheromones to express how she feels. Do these bugs even communicate in that way? They speak, laugh, and apparently cry. They might not even be bugs, when it comes to scientific definition. She’s yet to see a talking bug with more than two arms or legs. Does having speech strip you of six limbs or something?

The Wordsmith sighs heavily. This hardly counts as a break. Standing up, she sets her mask beside the cup. She shucks her boots off, letting them clatter aimlessly against the floor. They keep her feet safe, but she’s glad for any chance to take them off. Sluggishly, she lies down in her cot. Outside, everyone is being weird. Beyond Gravel and those few paths she’s walked, there are pointy predators who’ll jab and bite her. No point in going out. There’s no point in removing her layers, either. Not when she’ll end up shivering, anyway. But maybe… maybe this time, when she falls asleep, this will all be some strange dream…

…

..

.

..

…

… she wakes up to knocking. Shit, she’s going to be late for-- for… she doesn’t work that stupid temp job anymore.

“Just a moment!” She calls. The cup of water is splashed on her face, and the remainder is downed. Put her mask back on, fix the way the fabric sits around her head, put her boots back on… then shove that chest out of the way. Hopefully whoever’s there won’t ask questions. Whoever it is must be patient, or have already left. The Wordsmith clears her throat, then opens the door.

Hopper is there. All at once, the tension in her shoulders releases. He is the one person (bug, whatever) who hasn’t been acting like he’s been replaced by a doppelganger. Granted, that’s because she hasn’t actually seen him all that much.

“Hopper! It’s good to see you. Did you need something?”

“Oh, not at all! I wanted to say hello. And to ask if you were well, truthfully. I’ve been… busy, and didn’t get the chance to see if you were alright after we last talked.”

“I’m…” She hesitates. The momentary panic of thinking she might get fired still lingers. “To be honest, I’m not doing great. But it’s not anything you’re responsible for. Just… remembering people I miss.”

Hopper nods, understanding. “I thought it might have been that. I might have something that could help? I did take your advice, Wordsmith. In fact, I wanted to show you the progress I’ve made.”

“Oh…?” She blinks, trying to remember what that advice was. “Oh! No wonder you’ve been busy. I’d love to see it.”

Hopper turns to lead the way. As she follows, the Wordsmith realizes there are faces following them. They peek out from windows, or behind walls, then scurry away once they realize they’ve been spotted. Her heart sinks.

The hut is modest, the same as when she first saw it. All of the buildings in Gravel are made of smooth, weathered stone. The occasional piece of carapace or metal acts as structural support or simple decoration. But this building in particular has been polished, she thinks, possessing a slight luster. The windows are newly clean, and through it she can glimpse light. Inside, the Wordsmith finds herself instinctively looking for a bed. But there isn’t one. If there was, it must have been removed. It makes sense, as the dead don’t need to sleep. But the place looks homey, and such a simple piece of comfort was expected.

There are two tables. One is set directly across from the door, against the middle wall. A blanket has been draped across it, where a multitude of objects rest. The most noticeable one is the picture frame sitting in the center. In the frame is a hand-drawn portrait of a bug. It must be Humi. A bracelet rests at the frame’s base. The Wordsmith stares at it, solemn. Her oldest cousin would adore a piece of jewelry so simple and loved. She remembers her dragging her to thrift stores, asking opinions on someone’s old necklace. Mostly, her cousin had used the trip as an excuse to pull her away from the younger family. She longed for someone older to hang out with that wasn’t her own parents.

The Wordsmith takes a deep breath, bidding the tears away. Other personal effects surround the frame. On the walls, too, strings of beads and glass baubles are hung. There are a few other depictions of bugs on the table. Some of them are drawings, pinned to the wall, laid across other objects, or sitting beneath a trinket. Others are carvings out of shellwood, or chiseled depictions in stone slabs. Some of the bugs are similar to people she’s seen around Gravel. Others she doesn’t recognize at all. Creatures she’s never seen before, nails and needles, capes and other items she’s not familiar with. Or simply not understanding the… er… level of skill used. It’s a cluttered display, but a loved one.

The second table is less eye-catching. There’s nothing on it except two boxes. One looks a bit like a toolbox. Beneath the table is a chest, and next to it, a chair.

“What do you think?” Hopper asks.

“I…” The Wordsmith swallows down the memory of summers. That cousin had grown up, and made her own friends. “It’s very sweet. It’s like seeing a little bit of each person. Did you make all of these yourself?”

She points to a carved figurine.

Hopper chirps, seemingly amused. “No. Part of the trouble was getting enough items together, but bugs were happy enough to chip in. Here.”

Walking over to the simpler table, Hopper kneels and opens the chest. The Wordsmith can’t see what’s inside, but he turns around with a small log of shellwood in hand. Gently, he hands it to her.

“Enough came in asking if they could help, I said they could make something for anyone they missed. You don’t have to use this, but… you’re welcome to do the same.”

The Wordsmith stares at the wood. She looks at Hopper. Looks back at the wood. “I… I’d have to think about… What I want to…”

“Of course.” Hopper looks at her warmly. “You can use the table here, or, er-- I guess you could take up the carving stuff into your place. Make sure you bring them back when you’re done.”

“Yes. I’ll-- yes. Thank you.” The Wordsmith glances at the table, where the boxes sit. If she spends too long looking at Hopper himself, she might tear up again.

He chuckles. “Not often speechless, are you? Bit odd coming from you, Wordsmith.”

“Can you blame me? You’ve--! This is so touching, I… I’m overwhelmed. I’m not sure what to say. It’s all too much.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” Hopper glances down. After a pause, he looks back up at her. “We don’t have to linger on it. I just hope it helps you.”

“I think it will.” The Wordsmith takes a deep breath. There are gears turning in her mind, and this is as good an opportunity to ask as any.

“Actually, before I forget… I had another question.”

“Not one about empty houses, I take it?”

She scoffs a little. “No. It’s about… do you know about spiders?”

Hopper angles his head at her curiously. Preemptively, he decides he ought to take a seat. “Certainly. Did you want to know about them?”

“No, I…” She bites her lip. “Well, yes, a little. Where I come from, many consider spiders to be terrible things. I wanted to know if that’s the same here.”

“You’re not that off, I suppose.” Hopper scratches at his face, thoughtful. “Many bugs do think spiders are scary, but I say they’re just like any one of us. I met one, once. They have their own place, and don’t tend to leave it. Don’t blame them, when people think of them so poorly.”

He eyes the Wordsmith warily.

“Yes, it-- oh! No, that’s what I meant. I was asking because I have an important story to tell about a spider. I don’t want it to be scary when it’s meant to be hopeful.”

“Oh, good. I’d thought so, but, you know… I don’t think you should worry about that. You tell your stories so well, after all. If anything, I think it might help turn some bugs around.”

“That’s a big comfort, coming from you. I’ll come back to you, once I’ve decided what to carve.”

Hopper nods, antenna perking. “Make sure to let everyone else know you’re feeling better. They’ve been worried. And-- ah, have they been trying to keep you from here?”

“From here? Why would…” The Wordsmith thinks. Suddenly, things start to make more sense. “Is THAT why everyone’s been acting so strangely? I thought they were conspiring to throw me out!”

At that, Hopper bursts into chirrupping laughter. “ Throw you out? Why in the King’s name would we do a thing like that?”

Her cheeks burn. “I don’t know! I didn’t know what else you could be possibly doing! And Lu’s been avoiding me, so I don’t--”

“Ahaha, ah, no, I wouldn’t worry about Lu.” Hopper snickers. “She’s been making something, doesn’t want anybody at all to see it. Not just you.”

“Oh. I… That makes me feel better about seeing her at storytime.”

“Yes. Let me know when you’re ready to tell that spider one? I’d love to hear it.”

----

The Wordsmith sits down atop a stone seat. Someone had been kind enough to leave a folded blanket on it. She would thank them, but it could have been practically anybody. The fact that she was about to tell a story she never had before-- a story about a spider, a story about weaving, a story about herself-- it thrummed in her veins, boiled her blood into anxious steam. Maybe the people of Gravel could tell. There’s more people here at once than she’s seen before. It’s… almost everybody, in fact. Tiak isn’t even trying to pretend to be restrained. He’s sitting right in the middle, just behind the kids. Thea is just beside him.

The Wordsmith wets her lips. Near the back is Hopper. A little bit of stalling, before she starts on the first breath of her story.

Anticipation wafts into the air.

The Wordsmith’s breath is strong. Even at such a gentle tone, their words are louder than any other bug. Like great bellows, air heaves in and out of the Wordsmith’s body. It fuels each word, and drapes a hush across the gathered crowd.

“I’m about to tell you all a very important and special story. It’s a story that I’ve never told anyone before.”

They take another one of those powerful breaths. “Our story is about a spider. You see, spiders are excellent weavers. They make silk with no equal, and can twist and mold their thread into all sorts of fantastic shapes. Spiders are so talented, in fact, that where I come from, they gave my species the gift of weaving. They taught us how to craft all sorts of things, and how to use thread with creativity.”

The Wordsmith places a sleeved hand against their chest. The fabric ripples with the movement, the various layers fluttering into place.

“Yet they are treated unfairly. Many of my species considers them scary, cruel, or downright horrifying. All of this, despite the fact that one of their gifts was the dreamcatcher.”

There are wide eyes from the crowd.

"Really?" One bug cries.

“Yes, really. It’s a very important gift, as you know. One so valuable that they’d understand why I gave it to you as well. There are different stories about how this gift was originally given, not just one. In some of them, a powerful spider visits a great leader, and teaches them how to make dreamcatchers so that they can protect their people. In others, someone tries to unjustly attack a spider, only to be stopped. In exchange, the spider teaches their savior how to weave dreamcatchers. But those stories belong to other people. Instead, the story I am about to share will be my own.”

They fold their hands in their lap, then tilt their face up at the ceiling. For a moment, the Wordsmith remains like that. The wide, round eyes of their mask convey no emotion. There are no pheromones to hint at their thoughts. No antennae, and no scratching of claws or mandibles. Even the limp, wing-like cloak around their shoulders betrays nothing. Even so, the bugs imagine that they can feel a sad thoughtfulness in the air.

“There was once a very young bug. She slept well, and lived happily. Her parents worked often, and they worked hard, so that their young bug could live in comfort and safety. When they could not look after her, then her aunts and uncles would take her in. Then, she would look after her cousins, and help them be as comfortable as safe and her parents helped her be. She loved her family dearly. Yet, she wished that her parents could spend more time with her. Over time, she would grow older, and her parents would have that time. But now, she was as busy as they used to be. The young bug felt herself growing distant from her family.

Without warning, her father started losing his memory. It became harder for him to remember where he was or who the people around him were. He would fall asleep, and it would become harder and harder for him to wake up. Eventually, he stayed that way. He stayed like that for a very long time, and nothing seemed able to rouse him. It scared the young bug. She began having terrible nightmares, and worried that her father was having them as well. Her mother was just as distraught. Finally, the young bug had been given the chance to spend time with her parents. But it was nothing like she had wanted, and she wondered if there was anything from this situation to be salvaged.”

One of the children cries out softly. A bug whispers comfortingly, daring not to raise their voice any higher. The Wordsmith waits patiently. As they inhale, the fidgeting of the child stops.

“As she was crying, a spider took notice. Gently, he asked why she was upset. The young bug admitted that she was scared for herself. But most all, for her father, who she wanted to be safe. When she explained, the spider told her that he had a gift for her. That this was a gift between friends, and she would not have to worry about returning the favor. Then he began to weave. His legs moved deftly, creating a pattern of great beauty. As he did so, he told the young bug that it would keep the bad dreams away, by trapping them inside the web. Since they couldn’t reach her, the bad dreams would vanish as soon as she woke up.

Once he gave her the dreamcatcher, he told her how she could make them herself. With his generosity, she could use it to help her father as well. It was a gift meant for protection. She thanked the spider, and swore to use his gift well. Then he departed, and left the young bug to fulfill her promise.

When she returned to her father, she had made a new dreamcatcher just for him. She left it above his head, and promised that he would eventually wake up. While she did not know if he could hear him, her mother found solace alongside her. It brought them comfort, knowing that their loved one was at least sleeping peacefully. Together, they knew they could wait.”

With that, the Wordsmith falls silent. The story is more melancholy than the bugs of Gravel were used to hearing, but there was hope. Hope that the father could wake up, hope that the Infection could be stopped, hope that tragedy could be overcome. But most of all… community. There is newfound solidarity with their Wordsmith. Knowing that they had felt loss, and that they trusted Gravel enough to reveal as much.

Hopper waves his antenna at the Wordsmith. Even without any of their own, the Wordsmith waves back.

[darkcrowprincess]

@anitachristinita @roxannarambles @theprinceandthewitch @teamcharlastor @capribornio

(Don't like don't read. Post hate and I'll block you)

Lunter thoughts: Idea the only way a grimwalker and a human can have a baby is if they make them like grimwalkers. Just mix a bit of their dna together. Just basically lunter having to literally grow their kids like a cabbage patch baby out of the ground.

Luz patting the grown and sweetly talking to it: Grow up nice and strong for Mammi and Daddy ok baby.

Luz looks to Hunter.

Hunter who has such a done look on his face: why is this my life.

Hunter looks at Luz. Gives her a sad look.

Hunter: I'm sorry I can't give you a baby a normal way.

Luz cupping his face with hands: Hey, hey hey! Enough of that. I love you and I want to have children with you.

Luz kissing Hunter on the lips. Than continues talking while pointing at the dirt: and if we literally have to grow them in the grown like radishes I will.

Hunter holds her hand:ok

Luz: so do we need to chant a spell or say something?

Hunter reading from the book on grimwalkers: we have to hold hands in a circle and slowly spin around the buried grimwalker with said glyphs marked on the ground while chanting as one:Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate make it right(borrowed the chant from Pratical Magic the movie)

Hunter frowns at said book: My uncle was such a hypocrite. This is as wild and as magical as you can possibly get. And he didn't need to do this.

*After making the glyph marks and doing said chant*

Luz staring at the dirt in anticipation: so do we have to dig them out or?

Hunter looking at the grimwalker book again: no, they basically dig their way out like zombies.

Lunter freaking out when little hands or feet finally stick out of the dirt. Creepy yet adorable little baby giggles from under the dirt ground.

Luz: so they're basically have to dig themselves out!

Hunter deadly serious: yes.

Luz worried looks at those tiny hands and feet as they wiggle: what if they get buried alive!

Hunter: it's ok Luz, I did it just fine.

Luz pouts at him with big sad eyes.

Hunter stares at her and starts to break.

Lunter freaks out cause little baby in the ground starts to crying cause they're having trouble.

Hunter breaks and starts diging with his bare gloveless scared hands: ok fine dig!

Luz gets a little shovel and coos and tries to calm the baby they dig out.

Lunter digs out tiny baby with Luz's coloring, and Hunter's eyes and ears. It's a little girl.

Luz wraps up her baby in a blanket and wipes off dirt with water and rag: Hunter we did it! We grew a baby!

Luz coos at the little baby. She doesn't care about the dirt at all.

Hunter smiles at Luz and the baby and helps wipe off the dirt: I love you.

Hunter looks at the little baby. Has tears in his eyes. Holds her baby fist: I love you too little one.

[theemperorsfeather]

It's been overcast but gently warm today. I pulled grass from a few sections of the garden and planted some carrot and radish seeds, and threw more lettuce seeds into the lettuce patch. Decided I was tired but couldn't stand to just come back inside, so lay down on the grass, because why not half-nap outside where I can hear the creek and the birds (and the neighbor kid riding up and down their long driveway on some kind of motorbike).

I idly contemplated the merits of getting a freestanding hammock for future outdoor dozing but can't get past the thought that it would be so unnecessary and anyway there is all that great ground to lie on, why would I separate myself from that. Gently rocking back and forth has its merits, yes, but also. ???????

Eventually I could feel the sun slowly heating me through all the layers I had on. (Did I need all those layers? No, but "overcast" still reads as "better layer up Or Else" to me, even when I get outside and it's balmy. And frankly I still need them inside.) Then my ear started to feel too hot and I realized the sky had cleared a bit, aaahhhhhh real sunlight!!, and I had what felt like an incredibly mad idea to take off my coat and my sweater and both long-sleeved silk knits and by god, it WAS warm enough, especially with the sunlight, to lie there in a tank top and get gently baked into the ground until all of me felt too hot for comfort.

I am only inside now because lunch has to happen and also the clouds filled in again, though at 70 degrees (! !!!!!! if my porch thermometer can be trusted, which I think it can) it's sleeve-free temps if I'm moving around enough. And also I do need to maybe finish off the fucking freelance project. I mean, -I- will be finished, but what are the odds this draft might fucking finally be the last one.

[jupiter-reimagined]

your hair is watermelon Sourpatch kids

oh for gods sake-

my mom called it "sport fan" hair, then at school it was a fairy on coke, the joker and then a radish and now *this*? unbelievable /j /nm

at least watermelon sour patch kids taste alright

[altcntrlmp]

Dadish

Dadish is a game about a radish that's a dad who has to search for his children across 4 worlds. The game starts with Dadish sleeping in the vegetable patch while watching over his children, when a balloon floats above. All the kids start chasing it. When Dadish wakes up, his children are gone and he has to find them therefore starting the game in Avaro Woods (aka Grass). Dadish finds nine of his kids and a screeching possum before he runs into Burgugular. Burgugular tries to kill Dadish but Dadish presses various buttons, opening spike traps, that kill Burgurgular. The game then transitions to Strando Beach (aka Sand), where there are palm trees and more kids to find. Eventually Dadish finds all the children in the area and meets a Hot Dog who is literally a pizza slice with an eye patch also trying to kill Dadish. Dadish also kills Hot Dog and moves on to Monto Mountain (aka Snow). Dadish finds even more of his children and also meets Sharon, french fries with shoes. Sharon believes that Dadish is a warrior and attempts to kill him as well. Dadish then presses some buttons to activate a crusher to kill Sharon. Dadish succeeds and moves on to Kastelo Fortress (aka Castle). Dadish finds more of his kids and battles Lord Durnak, the final boss of the game. Dadish succeeds and defeats Durnak and the game ends there.

[ajoytobeheld]

The project - update, Spring 2010

April 10th, 2010

Due to the power of wireless internet I’m writing this whilst sat in our garden.  Wilco is coming out of the kitchen and its warm and sunny.  It seems, possibly, that spring is actually here!

So an update.  For anyone who has forgotten, I said I would try and liven up our back garden.

Okay, lots of you will say it hasn’t changed much but it has.  I wasn’t going to do an Alan Titchmarsh or Monty Don on it!  Over the winter we planted Daffodils and Tulips.  The Daffodils flowered late compared to the rest of Cardiff but they were beautiful over the Easter weekend.  We also have some garlic growing.  Thanks to Mama and Papa Campesinos! I was given some herbs in pot for Christmas, they are growing well despite the cold snap last week, and soon the garden will be filled with the hypnotising smells of Mint and Thyme, among others.

Due to us being a house of food lovers, we have a lot of food growing.  Radishes and Spinach have been planted, whilst we have lettuce and tomatoes growing on the kitchen windowsill prior to them being put into grow bags outside.  Also on the agenda is squash and courgettes.

We’ve found a nice sunny patch in the garden which has been marked for Sunflowers.  I haven’t grown sunflowers since I was a kid, and me and my sister always used to have a competition to see whose was the tallest

Wildlife wise, with the introduction of a bird feeder we are seeing some wildlife come into the garden.  Theres nothing better than doing the washing up whilst watching the Sparrows nibble on the fat balls.  We are getting a few cats in our garden.  They have seen the new soil in the beds as ideal toilet spots, and so i’m regularly clearing away cat poo!

Going off to America will mean that the garden will be left to fend for itself for a while.  Hopefully on our return everything will be thriving.

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Small Stories Hour: Ballad of Kid Corduroy

Close Call or The Losing Battle That Kid Will Fight for Another Fifteen Years

↳ The barkeep set a tankard of amber beer on the counter with a little more aggression than strictly necessary. His beady eyes found the dirt patching every surface of Russell's face disdainful, his upper lip curling beneath a thick black mustache.

That was not Russell's immediate concern, however, as he had to stop himself from dumping the contents of the tankard down his gullet in one go. He hadn't had a proper drink in days; a sip of river water here and there wasn't enough to sate him, especially under the experience of having vomited shortly after the last river disagreed with him. The beer, though lukewarm and stale, got the job done, and he gulped it down in desperation, holding his hat to his head as he tilted it back to pour as much of the bitter liquid down as possible.

"What's goin' on over in Winslow?"

Russell paused mid-pull and lowered the tankard from his face to hear the three men in the corner of the small saloon without drawing too much attention to himself.

"They still ain't heard from that boy, the one that ran away," another man said. "The Corduroys' boy, Russell. I think they called him Kid. It's been a couple of months since he's gone. Got a cousin lives over that way an' she's sayin' the whole town can't find hide nor hair of him."

"He just up an' left in the middle of the night, ain't that right? He runnin' from the law?"

Russell dropped his head and slumped his shoulders, the mention of his hometown igniting the usual feelings of guilt and shame while also kicking off his self-preservation instincts. He slid a couple of coins across the bar top with two fingers.

"Not from what I hear," one of the men said. "He was a good kid, but he might as well be dead by now."

Suddenly not as thirsty as he'd been when he first arrived at the saloon, Russell made a point to avoid revealing his face to the men as he slid off the stool to make a quick exit. He mounted his horse and rode away, reminding himself never to stop in that town again. It was too close, too risky.

A few hours into the afternoon, however, he regretted not taking more advantage of having a source of beverages at his disposal. Thirst clutched his throat in a tight grip, addling his brain.

"Where we goin', Radish…?" Russell muttered, keeping an ear open for running water. "I'm lookin' at another rough night if I don't get somethin' to eat soon—"

Shots rang out in the too-near distance, and Radish jolted to a stop, whinnying his complaint. Russell clutched the reins and attempted to calm him while also searching the endless trees ahead.

A wail started from the forest, growing louder with each passing second until a man exploded from the bushes, screaming at the top of his lungs and brandishing a rifle in one hand while bleeding profusely from the other one.

"Run!" he shrieked, tearing past Russell and Radish. "There's a wolf after me!"

Russell glanced back to the trees, about to question the man's claim, when an actual wolf sprang forward, hellbent on making a meal of the man with no prejudice whatsoever. Its hungry jaws snapped and drool flew every which way from between its razor-sharp teeth, paws making craters in the dirt underneath it. Upon noticing Russell and Radish—apparently an easier meal—it skidded to a stop and bounded in their direction instead.

Without giving it much consideration, Russell drew his revolver from his gun belt, slapped the hammer back with his palm, and aimed true between the wolf's eyes, firing in the midst of its arced pounce. The momentum carried its body under Radish, who began to rear and spook in response to all of the action happening at once, and a hoof came down and snapped the wolf's neck before he took off.

"Hey, whoa!" Russell grabbed the reins again. "Easy! Calm down, boy, you're alright!"

Radish finally slowed near the bleeding man sitting at the side of the road, and it became clear that the man wasn't from anywhere nearby as he had on a peculiar arrangement of clothes, not the least of which was the bright red tailcoat worn over a slim-fitting vest and golden ascot.

Russell retrieved a handful of loose bandages from the saddlebag and dismounted. "Sir…here, I just got these yesterday for emergencies." He caught sight of the bloodied appendage as he got closer, his stomach lurching once he realized that half of his hand was missing, leaving only an index finger and a thumb. "Oh, sweet Jesus…and this might be an emergency…"

"Thank you," the man said in a peculiar accent. It sounded very formal, probably English, and he set the rifle down next to him to shakily wrap the bandages around what was left of his hand. He failed to start the wrap several times. "Not sure what the point is…it's not just my body that's ruined now."

Crouching in front of him to help, Russell did his best to ignore the sharp coppery stench wafting from the wound. "What d'you mean by that, if you don't mind me askin'?"

The man sighed. "Young fellow…my name is Horace Purcell, and you just killed my life's work."

Russell paused pressing the wound with bandages and looked at Horace. "Excuse me?"

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful…I am endlessly in your debt for saving my life." Horace pointed with his good hand to the lump of fur lying motionless in the road. "That was the star of my entire act. 'Horace Purcell and the Wolfman,' I'd called it. You could watch me perform tricks with a wolf as big as a man. We'd toured the whole West, just me and Angelo. I'd worried for a while that things were going poorly when Angelo started to clear out chicken coops about a week ago…"

"That was your first clue?" Russell said. He shook his head. "Not that you decided to go runnin' around with a wolf bigger'n a lion?"

Horace chuckled, a surprising reaction given his current state. "You're right, I know. I was never one to shy away from a challenge back home, not a mind here in foreign lands."

"You gonna be okay on your own?"

"Yes," Horace said, and he seemed sincere. "If all else fails…I'll take the next boat out of here."

Russell tilted his head, frowning. "Well, I meant are you gonna be okay without half a hand."

Horace blinked at the bandages as if seeing them for the first time. "Oh, yes…I suppose I don't have a choice, do I? I'll adjust. Better a hand than my life, as it were."

"D'you need a ride somewhere? I ain't goin' nowhere in particular."

"Normally I would say no, as I'm quite self-sufficient; however…circumstances may require I at least have help to my next destination."

Russell finished patching him up to the best of his ability then assisted Horace Purcell onto the saddle before securing the rifle and mounting. "This is Radish," he said, patting the horse on the neck. "Say hello to the nice gentleman, Radish."

Horace chuckled again, arms looping around Russell's waist. "How quaint. Good afternoon, Radish. I hope you don't mind an extra passenger. I'm staying at an old friend's homestead not too far from here, and I think I can navigate from where we are."

The road split off into a stretch of plains that went on for miles, boasting very few hills and even fewer distant mountains. A gathering of deer bounded away from the road through the tall grass and scattered a flock of indignant birds into the air.

Russell kept Radish at a steady canter for much of the ride, the wind cutting across his skin. "What happened back there, anyhow?"

"Ah," Horace said, booming voice carrying over the impacting hooves and the wind. "Bit of a disaster, I'm afraid. I'd opened Angelo's cage to feed him, and he decided my fingers would be better suited for his dinner than the rabbit I'd caught."

"You'll wanna see a doctor for that, by the way," Russell advised. "Wounds have a nasty habit of gettin' worse."

Horace remained silent until they reached the homestead—a small wooden cottage in the middle of a sprawling field, tucked against a hill blanketed in tiny white flowers that mimicked snowfall. It all looked so new, it didn't even have a path leading up to it.

Russell slowed Radish to a stop and helped Horace down. "You got someone lookin' after you, sir?"

"Not until this evening." Horace grunted in pain despite the two of them going out of their way to avoid making more contact with his hand than needed. "I'll soak my wound in whiskey, metaphorically speaking."

Russell gestured for him to go ahead to the house while he unloaded the rifle. "If it ain't too bold of me to say so, I'd like to stay until then to make sure you're okay."

The worst of it had started to sink in as evidenced by Horace's perpetual grimace and slack walk toward the house. "Yes, of course..." He pushed the door open with his shoulder. "Please…make yourself at home. It's the least I can do, Mr. Corduroy."

Russell froze with the rifle in hand and his entire spine tensed. He peered at Horace from under the brim of his hat.

Through growing discomfort, Horace managed to imbue him with a cheeky smile that pinched the corners of his eyes. "Word gets around, I'm afraid. But you don't have to worry…it stops with me."

"Mr. Purcell, I can't say enough how important it is that I'm not identified by anyone."

"I admit it crossed my mind to alert the sheriff of Winslow of your whereabouts, but you did save my life…" Horace's face fell into something melancholic. "And what kind of man would I be if I condemned another man to being found when I'm guilty of evading the same?"

Russell's fist whitened around the rifle. "Swear to me you won't tell a soul."

"On my dear mother."

A tense silence swelled between them until Russell felt it safe to breathe again. He hitched Radish's reins to a post at the corner of the fence and followed Horace into the house.

The next several hours consisted of Russell watching Horace sleep off his pain on a cot against the wall of the living room, and when a friendly-faced woman arrived by way of carriage long after the sun had set, he explained what happened and that Horace should see a doctor by morning at the very latest.

He made sure he'd be looked after, then he hopped onto Radish's saddle and rode off full gallop into the night, chills still bolting through every appendage from the previous few hours.

[underground-boss-clay]

9/27/23, 14:30> Clay, is this a bad time?

9/27/23, 14:37> Could be better, but no it ain't a bad time. Why?

9/27/23, 14:45> Iris said she was going to run an errand for you last night and has been out of sorts since then. I tried to ask her what happened but all I got was... well.

9/27/23, 15:12> We'll say "incoherent."

9/27/23, 15:48> Did something happen?

9/27/23, 16:22> Clay?

9/27/23, 16:41> Let me just ask ya somethin' real quick darlin'.

9/27/23, 16:49> Have I mentioned any family to ya or Iris before? Outside of Sigmund and his mother obviously.

9/27/23, 17:03> You've mentioned a sister and her daughter living in Sinnoh, but that's it.

9/27/23, 17:31> FUCKING DAMMIT.

9/27/23, 17:35> Clay??

9/27/23, 17:45> Okay, so I have

9/27/23, 17:50> I have a brother, younger than Marguerite, who lives in Alola. He has a daughter who's... probably ten now, I haven't seen them since Sofu passed away. That's his father-'n-law, long story.

9/27/23, 18:10> Point is, I could've sworn I told everyone about them before, so when I asked Iris to trade a Sandshrew with Hapu--my niece--I thought they would've been familiar with each other by now.

9/27/23, 18:17> And instead you gave our granddaughter a heart attack.

9/27/23, 18:22> Not intentionally, but yeah.

9/27/23, 18:30> Look, I get it if you're mad. Sigmund's pretty pissed that I didn't tell him too, even though I swore I did.

9/27/23, 18:41> Clay--Clay I'm not mad. I'm... actually a little relieved, I thought it was something worse.

9/27/23, 19:00> Worse than having a brother and niece that folks didn't know about?

9/27/23, 19:06> But you thought they did. Which implies you actually DID tell someone.

9/27/23, 19:09> Mildred I kinda HAD to, she needed to schedule things and send me updates when I went to Alola a couple times some years ago.

9/27/23, 19:14> That could be why you thought people knew; you mentioned that she's a bit of a gossip and that's why you didn't tell her about us. Maybe you've been underestimating how well she can keep secrets.

9/27/23, 19:21> Mm, I guess. Don't help that it--I really thought I told everyone, or mentioned them, or... something.

9/27/23, 19:26> Hey, it was an accident. People forget things all the time.

9/27/23, 19:28> Granted not usually of this magnitude but still. At least it wasn't something worse.

9/27/23, 19:31> Yeah, I guess. Still, I should try to call 'Bera, see if this was just on my end or-

9/27/23, 19:45> ... wait, "worse?"

9/27/23, 19:53> You know. Soap opera material, like... I don't know, an evil twin or a long lost child out of wedlock.

9/27/23, 20:07> ... You don't, do you?

9/27/23, 20:23> FUCK no

[sammydem0n64]

Just tried three new foods, MamaMia

[liathebookwyrm]

Granny Wen is the MVP

That one time Nie Huaissang physically dragged his brother to the Burial Mounds, because, listen! Wei Wuxian is his friends, alright? Nie Mingjue is so confused.

"Xichen stop laughing. No, Xichen listen! She pet my head and ask me if I've been sleeping. And she shushed me!" Xichen will eat his laugh when he also gets the granny treatment.

Granny Wen sees these two over-worked, too-young sect leaders and immediately makes them sit down and eat a decent meal. Nie Huaissang finds it hilarious that his big scary brother is being intimidated by an old woman. I mean, Wen Qing had to get it from someone…

Lan Wangji is just enjoying the excuse to spend more time in the Burial Mounds. He just sits quietly near the radish patch and plays with A-Yuan. A-Yuan has also latched himself onto Nie Mingjue's leg multiple times. Nie Huaissang has already started work on a painting to immortalise his brother's expression.

I'm just picturing all this in the foreground and in the back is Wei Wuxian just... confused but pleasantly so. He comes out of his cave to see what all the fuss is about and is greeted by Wen Qing, Granny Wen, and Lan Wangji all simultaneously telling him to go back to bed. He goes to complain and Lan Wangji just scoopes him up and carries him back to bed. Lan Wangji doesn't return for quite a while. And when he does, Lan Xichen tactfully remarks that his forehead ribbon is crooked.

Granny makes very pointed eye contact with Lan Xichen and makes a comment about how spring weddings are lovely. Lan Xichen eagerly agrees, until he realises that Granny Wen wasn't just talking about Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

Somewhere in the distance Jiang Yanli's mayhem senses are tingling. Also is this a good time to admit that Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen eloped like two years ago? Of course that will not be good enough for anyone - they're both sect leaders so everyone needs to make a massive fuss. Lan Wangji agrees, mostly to get Lan Xichen back for all his wedding-planning-schemes.

Lan Qiren arrives at the Burial Mounds ready to kick up a fuss and gets stared down by Granny. She talks about "her boys" and no one dares to ask if she means Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning or also the Lan and Nie brothers.

Suddenly everyone finds themselves with an extra grandmother, whether they like it or not. She has a few Things to say to Jin Guangyao and Jin Zixuan. She's also 100% up for helping Madam Jin become a widow. And imagine her delight at having another grandchild by proxy because Yanli is having a baby.

Also, imagine her shushing Jin Guangyao like you do with a little kid. Jin Guangyao doing his usual customer service smile and Granny Wen is having none of it.

"Young man, save that nonsense for others. Now sit down and eat your lunch."

She probably knew Wen Ruohan when he was a stupid teenager. I bet there's no flavour of stupid she has not seen and heard at this point...

As always co-authored with/enabled by @sswangxian

[bukojuiice]

— genshin boys and how you take care of them when they’re sick.

ೃ ft. childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, and xiao x gn! reader

ೃ tags: modern au, headcanons, and tooth-rotting fluff.

ೃ 200 to 300 words per character.

ೃ genshin masterlist  ♡ mha masterlist  ♡ aot masterlist

ೃ note: if you enjoyed this, please do reblog! and if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

CHILDE:

Childe has a very strong immunity system. No lame flu could ever get him. Mayhaps it's the below 0-degree temperature in Snezhnaya that helped his body grow accustomed to certain climates and temperatures? Because according to him, he "takes colds and kicks ass." However, after having too much fun and getting too competitive with Scaramouche at the Dragonspine Ski Resort, he's struck down with a terrible fever. From Sneznaya's Greatest Love Machine to sick babie in (y/n)'s care. He's not necessarily the whiny type but Childe is very helpless. Whether it was intentional or not, he couldn’t help himself at all. He forgets about the cough drops he has to drink and you have to remind him about it, when he refuses to eat Goulash fresh from Dragonspine and demands for alphabet soup, or when you're doing work in the living room and he comes up to you wrapped in a burrito blanket, asking for cuddles because "hugs are the best medicine." to which, you would reply with a hard "no." because you couldn't risk the both of you getting sick. (Even though you were craving hugs from him too.) Due to your boyfriend's stubbornness, it took a week before he could fully recover. And when he did, you bet he rushes to you, screaming, "I'm cured!" peppering you with kisses on your cheek and enveloping you in hugs that you've longed so much from him.

DILUC:

Colds are Diluc's worst enemy. Whenever he got remotely sick when he was a kid, whether it be a runny nose or a small allergy, his immune system literally betrays him. So, when he gets sick, he literally gets sick. Since then, He vowed to maintain a healthy body. You've never even seen him get a headache! It's always been Diluc taking care of you whenever you’re down with a cold. You had always wished for a moment where the tables would turn and it would be you taking care of him for once. That would soon happen on a particularly normal day. Diluc approaches you and asks if you could check his temperature. You bring out a thermometer to check if he has a fever, and it read 38 degrees. Diluc suddenly panics. His face red as a tomato and feeling woozy and lightheaded, your boyfriend wraps his arm around you for support as you bring him to your bedroom. Then, he suddenly sneezes. An adorable sniffle you did not expect to hear from your boyfriend or from anyone as handsome as him at all. It was the cutest "achoo." you've ever heard. You giggle, reaching for his neatly folded pajamas in the closet and handing it to him. "Pretend you didn't hear that." He says coldly, trying to not act embarrassed. Since that night and until he became well, you barely left Diluc’s side. He's wrapped in a blanket, his usual well-dressed get up is replaced with a dark gray hoodie and joggers, your stuffed plushies are cuddled up beside Diluc to keep him company whilst he's bed-ridden, and you're bringing him healthy and delicious meals to help him get better soon. When he had finally recovered, Diluc thought that maybe getting sick wasn't all that bad. Especially if the the one most dearest to him could love and care for him so well while he’s at his weakest.

KAEYA:

Kaeya tries to hide his cold at first. He doesn't want to make you worry too much. After all, he's not the type to get so sick easily anyway. T'was the cursed downpour of rain on that particular Wednesday night after his evening classes to blame for all of this. When you're around him, he clears his throat every time he has the urge to cough, He tries to sneeze as quietly as possible so you wouldn't hear, and he takes his daily medicine for colds behind your back. It wasn't til you accidentally hear his loud coughs whilst he was on his phone when you realized that he had a cold for the past few days now. You were a bit sad at first because Kaeya shouldn't have hid this from you, and yet, you quickly understood when he told you why. Since then, you've been taking care of him. He would lie on your lap as you apply a fever patch on his forehead, massaging his temples, as he coos adoringly at your gestures of affection. In fact, he loved the special treatment that he was getting from you  so much, that even if he was getting better, he still asked if you could rub his temples to ease the pain he's been feeling from his common colds. Although it is very clear that he's already free of his illness, you chose to play along with him. and so from then on, giving Kaeya a loving massage became a part of your daily routine, and he was loving every minute of it.

ZHONGLI:

As a herb and tea enthusiast, Zhongli is able to keep a healthy mind and body. Chamomile tea before the two of you go to bed and a scented humidifier wafting around your house to rid of the germs. However, after eating something he had ordered for the both of you on Postmates and not knowing there was seafood in it, his mild allergies suddenly strike him with a severe cold. Zhongli hates this feeling. He hates not being able to get up, water the plants, read his books, or stroll around the city with you. He had no physical energy to do anything. He kept your house as clean and as influenza-free as possible. Yet here was, on your shared bed, speaking in a nasally but cute voice, a glass of orange juice on the bedside table, and tuned in to the Discovery Channel because it was the closest he could get to the wonderful world around him whilst he was sick. "I miss hearing your soothing voice." You say jokingly, drying a hot towel so you can pat and place it on Zhongli's forehead. "I'm afraid I can't do anything right now, my love. I'm sorry. A-Actually... my body feels hot. I think I need to take a  shower." Wearing a bathrobe or else he'd shiver and have his condition worsen, you help your boyfriend take a hot bath by washing his hair and help dry it right after. Zhongli wasn't the type of boyfriend to ask for these kinds of things, but it was such a sweet gesture. You gingerly wash his hair, spread shampoo around his auburn streaks and small upward curls, and massaging his head in the process. He hums in delight whilst you giggle at his utters of praise, leaving him once you're done with your deed. After a relaxing bath that had probably defeated the colds that was plaguing him, Zhongli is back on his feet the next day. Unfortunately, you were the next victim of this stupid flu and now, it was Zhongli's turn to take care of you and making sure you would get the love and treatment that you had given him.

XIAO:

Calling your boyfriend stubborn when he's sick is quite an understatement. As a very productive person, Xiao always sets a certain amount of things to do as his goal for the day. Going to the skate park, hanging out with you, playing sports, or playing video games were just many of the activities he would do in a span of a day. But, when he catches a cold after staying up too late (sleep is for the weak! According to the Vigilant Yaksha as the mad lad had stayed up till 7 AM) after getting too invested in playing Resident Evil Village, he comes down with a flu that same afternoon. And so, his usual routine of going to the skate park, hanging out with you, and playing video games were soon to be replaced with lounging in the bed, taking medicine, being reprimanded by (Y/N) for moving too much, and feeling like shit because he can't do anything at all. You will literally shoot daggers when you see your boyfriend dashing around because he's supposed to be in bed, getting all the rest he can get. You were very strict with him, simply because you had to. Xiao was very careless after all. You were cooking dinner that same night when Xiao comes up to you, resting his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering, "I can go to school with you tomorrow." "Xiao... no you won't. Go to back to bed. I'll bring you the Veggie Radish Soup there." You reply harshly, paying no attention to him at all. His tsundere tendencies were showing when you deliver the soup to him and he grumbles, "Y-you don't have to take care of me like this. It was my fault as to why I got sick in the first place. I can take care of myself, you know." You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing yet loving look. "I know that. But, I'm doing this because I love you. You're my freaking boyfriend for petesake! Why would I not care for you like this!?"

ೃ taglist: @mignonextte @inlovewithadeptusxiao @duhsies @qimiie @kozu-zumi @volleybloop​

[eirenical]

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER, RIGHT?  ^_^

[Picture IDs in the alt text of the images.]

Pictured above, we have a GIANT patch of chives (which I did NOT plant there, for the record. They planted themselves there from elsewhere in the yard. XD  And this is after I transplanted a huge swath of them into my mother’s yard.  In the same bed as the chives, and in the long bed are my five butternut squash seedlings, and in the other bed are my six eggplant seedlings.

Not pictured (because there’s nothing to see yet.):

1 bed with three rows of beet seeds planted, 1 bed with two rows of radish seeds and the back half of that bed where I scattered dill seed all around.

Should see the radishes pop up in another week to 10 days. 

Still to plant: cucumber seeds, but I’m waiting for my neighbor kids for those because they have a VESTED interest in my cucumber plants every year and it’s too cute to not indulge.  XD

But OMG I AM A NOODLE NOW.  TT^TT

That being said, I feel MUCH better now that everything is planted.  Usually I start my planting WAY EARLIER THAN THIS but I couldn’t be bronchitis.  :P

But YUMMY FOOD IS ON ITS WAY!!  :D :D :D

My mom and dad planted: cucumbers, 2 kinds of tomatoes, zucchini, parsley, basil, (a piece of my giant chive patch ;D), orange bell peppers, and some of my cucumber seeds.  ^_^  So I’d say we’re pretty set!  ;D