Jun. 5th, 2018

rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2xIUTyd

They only find out that his relation to Cor through the statement saying that if he dies then his stepson is to be given his things to distribute things. Jean’s not really a dependent per say as he is more of Cor’s next of kin since Ardyn can’t be for obvious reasons.

“You got married? We weren’t invited?” Regis sounds hurt and is looking at Cor like Regis himself isn’t a king and is rather a puppy being denied food.

“You had better things to do.”

“Cor,” Clarus says, “We would have made time for you.” And that’s touching, but Cor still isn’t having another wedding, this one in Insomnia, like Regis suggested.

Both Regis and Clarus want to meet Cor’s new son, they do, and are almost surprised to see how well Jean gets along with Cor. Jean seems wary of Regis and Clarus but is still perfectly polite to them.
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2JdNx7g

transgayshou:

transgayshou:

i actually fucking love flower aesthetic things but the hanahaki disease trope is unhealthy and sends a damaging message about how love is so i’m offering my healthy alternative:

au where when people are in love little flower buds grow on them and if they tell their crush and their feelings are reciprocated the flowers bloom but if the feelings aren’t returned the buds just fall dormant until the person finds who they’re meant to be with and that loves them that way back

addition: different people grow different flowers to add a layer of flower symbolism cause i eat that shit up
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2xLA2KU

hiruma-musouka:

elodieunderglass:

gothvegas:

thunderandthugnificence:

stimblegrime:

vibropulse:

deadmomjokes:

ash-of-the-loam:

costumersupportdept:

kynthaworld:

dragoneyes:

dawnthefairy:

ladypandacat:

abwatt:

thegreenwolf:

falsedetective:

falsedetective:

my grandparents have to lock their car doors when they go to sunday mass because people have been breaking in to unlocked cars and leaving entire piles of zucchini

i feel like i should’ve added more context when i posted this. my grandparents live in a rural area where farmers and casual gardeners alike are, at this point in the year, suddenly being hit with unexpectedly abundant zucchini crops. there aren’t just some random vandals leaving zucchinis in people’s cars for the hell of it, this is the work of some very exasperated, probably very elderly, folks who have more zucchini than they know what to do with

Yep. You can also expect to find a bag of zucchini on your porch.

My grandfather once found his neighbor stealing his tomatoes out of his garden at three in the morning. Red-handed, with a basket of the nearly-ripened ones.  He thought he was going to find gophers or something, but no, here’s Henry, taking his tomatoes. The best ones.

There was a long pause between them.

My grandfather (allegedly) said, “Henry… it’s OK.  You can take some tomatoes if you want them.”

Henry sighed in relief.

“But,” my grandfather said, “you have to take two zucchini for every tomato.”

There was another long silence.  “That’s a harsh bargain, John,” said Henry.  “But I accept.  I’ll tell Joe up the street, too.”

My grandfather said, “Tell Joe he needs to take three.”

a friend of my dad’s came by in the middle of the night, he seemed very nervous when my dad answered the door. he wouldn’t come inside but he leaned in and whispered to my dad in spanish, “i have some fresh grapes for you.” and then this happened:

the melon was a special bonus.

MY DREAM

A friend of mine lives in a rural area and he has been surrounded by zucchini for most of May, June, and July.

At one point he was so done with the whole zucchini madness that he came to classes actively begging people to “Please please please!! Take some my family’s damned zucchini!! I’ve been eating zucchini for weeks!! I’m going insane!!!”

Having grown up in a rural area and having come home to zucchini on the front step or in the mailbox, i find it highly amusing the OP had to clarify.  I’m sitting here nodding “yup.”

I have a friend with a garden in Oregon who literally made Zucchini Chocolate Chip Cookies and sent them to me in Indiana. I texted her back “I SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING HERE”

I’m waiting for the day when someone will hear about my background in Botany and ask me for advice on what someone who’s just wanting to start exploring planting vegetables should try.

I know fuckall about gardening because my background is wild plants and not agriculture, but I’m gonna tell them

“Zucchini. Definitely try Zucchini. Just plant plenty of them and you’ll get a decent sized crop! They’re very rewarding to grow.”

It may be a bit of a long game, but I’ll enjoy their screams of despair from across the void as they realize that they will eat zucchini forever

This is NOT an exaggeration, guys. Zucchini (and most squashes, really) will outgrow you so fast. Let our tale be a caution– or an encouragement, whichever. You decide as you hear the story of Squish.

When we were so broke we had to choose between gas and store-bought-food (I think I was about 10?), we had a garden so we could eat regularly (we also had chickens and pigs and hunted, but that’s beside this point). One summer, we planted 6 rows of yellow squash and 6 rows of zucchini. Each row probably had 10, maybe 12 plants in it. We created this giant squash-block in our garden plot so it was all right there together in the middle, and the needier plants like tomatoes were on the outside of the whole plot. We thought we were clever, til the first crop started coming in.

The outside two rows of each squash, yellow and zucchini, were normal. High yield, of course (because squash), but standard size for both summer squash and Italian zucchini. The inner 8 rows, however, created this hybrid monstrosity that we called Squish. It was pretty– a nice swirly yellow and green combination that made it clear the squash and zucchini had interbred.

Squish became a living nightmare for us. Something about the hybridization caused them to forget how to stop growing, or at least how to grow at a normal rate because those suckers were longer than my dad’s forearm, and bigger around than my (albeit child-sized) thighs. They didn’t get all hard and nasty on the inside, either, for some reason, like most squash will at that size. And they just kept coming. I don’t even remember seeing that many flowers, but every day we were pulling upwards of 20lbs of Squish out of the garden, only for there to be more the next day, or sometimes by the end of the day if we harvested in the morning. I don’t know where they were hiding, but it was like some sort of squash portal had opened into our yard and started crapping out Frankenstein’s Squashes.

At first, it was great. We could eat all we wanted and not worry about rationing it. But the growing season in Arkansas is long, and we had incredible weather that summer, so those darn things kept alternating flowers and fruit. Pull off a few Squish, new flowers budded out, and they ripened super-fast in the heat. We were absolutely swimming in Squish, because they were so big that even gorging on them meant only 1 or 2 got eaten per meal. (I think I recall using a few particularly enormous ones as swords for a duel with my sister, if that says anything about their size. I cannot overemphasize how absolutely, heinously gigantic they were. You probably don’t believe me but I am not kidding. Those things were bigger than a newborn by several many inches and a couple pounds.)

We had (luckily) a big deep freezer, and someone gifted us a bunch of freezer ziploc bags, so we started chopping them up and freezing them as we pulled them off. We ran out of bags real fast, so we caved and bought a ton more. We filled that deep freezer near to bursting. It was probably 3-4 feet deep, (as I remember barely coming up to the edge of it), and at least 4-5 feet long, about 2.5 feet across, and we filled it to the top with Squish. And that’s while we’re eating fresh ones every day with dinner! But still more Squish came before the first frost, so we started packing the fridge. And my grandma’s freezer. And my grandma’s fridge. And feeding them to the pigs and chickens. And giving them away at church.

Do you realize how big a deal it is that people who were so broke that they had to choose between gas and the power bill were GIVING AWAY FOOD??? That’s how much gosh darn Squish we had. And little did I know, but apparently, my dad HATES squash. He only planted them because they were a cheap, quick source of food and my mom loved squashes. And he got stuck with the folly of his decisions. For over a year.

Yep. We had Squish in the freezer for over a year. Eating it regularly. It lasted for over a year. A family of 5, plus often feeding my grandmother, we ate off a single garden’s haul for over a year. Of just the Squish. I tell you, if we’d had a farmer’s market back then, that Squish could probably have single-handedly lifted us out of poverty. Well, maybe not, but you get the idea.

We never planted both again, probably because my dad would have combusted out of rage if he’d ever seen another Squish in his life. But man those were the days for thems of us what loved squash.

So survival tip: If you need an absolute crapton of food, plant you a row of yellow squash and a row of zucchini, and keep that pattern going for as many rows as you like. You too can drown in Squish and love it.

Oh wow.

The last story is well worth the read. It might be long but I found it absolutely delightful! Thank you for sharing your childhood Squish gardening adventures!

Meanwhile, people are starving to death.

Ands What do you expect poor rural farmers who just have excess zucchini to do about that exactly? Mail them to Africa?

I was just talking to a friend today about gardening and she said “I’ll plant zucchini for this project.”

“Oh dear… what’s your damage control plan?”

“Oh,” she said, intuiting what I meant. “Eating the blossoms. Love stuffed blossoms. Pumpkin, squash, zucchini. It keeps the crop down, and you get lots of mileage out of them. You keep a mixed crop that way, too. Plus, people don’t always welcome gifts of zucchini, but they find gifts of blossoms exciting.”

This struck me as absolutely game-changing.

@elenathehun
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2kNgg8r

a-silentguardian:

“All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house.
But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.
But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman.
I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.”
“What do you fear, lady?” he asked.
“A cage,” she said. “To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.”

@elenothar
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2LZiGgE

johanirae:

Have some dancing cactuars to improve your mood

@notavodkashot
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2xJJKgC

positivedoodles:

teacup requested by Hanna and Anna on my patreon

[Drawing of a purple tea cup saying “Drink tea and give yourself time. You’re going to be okay.” in a blue speech bubble.]
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2Jmr3RH

thegaypumpingthroughyourveins:

aethelar:

Allow me to introduce you to Newt Scamander. He’s tall, quite tall, and he’s a redhead - his hair is all curly and floppy, it’s really quite adorable. He has freckles, a lopsided half-smile, and a tendency to talk with his hands.

He is also, at this particular point in time, covered head to toe in icing sugar.

“Oh god.”

So is the rest of the kitchen.

“Oh god.”

I should also mention, perhaps, that this is day three of Newt’s new job at Kowalski’s Bakery, and up until now he thought it had been going pretty well. He’d mastered the army of cleaning products. He’d discovered that croissants are not, in fact, a half hour job. He’d worked out how to stack the trays in the oven so the bread browned evenly. He’d even produced a passable cup of coffee from the machine out front. What he had not done was to fully realise what would happen when he turned the giant stand mixer on high when it was full of icing sugar and butter.

He now knows that what happens is akin to a large, all encompassing, icing sugar explosion.

“Oh my actual god I’m fired, I’m dead, it’s on the ceiling oh god.”

“Newt?” Jacob called, pushing through the swing door to the kitchen. “How are you getting on with the - oh.”

Newt may or may not have whimpered. It was hard to say.

“Mr Kowalski sir I can - I mean, I’ll clear it up, I’ll - uh - ohgodi’msorryohgod.”

Jacob shakes his head at him with a calming smile, already unbuttoning his cuffs to roll his sleeves. “Don’t worry yourself,” he says, because Jacob is a genuine saint. “You should see some of things I do when my mind wanders. Here, pass us the cloth, would you? I’ll handle this, you watch the counter for a bit. It’s pretty quiet out there at the moment, but let me know if you need anything.”

Newt nods frantically, scrambling for the cleaning cloth and passing it over with perhaps more haste than a terry cloth deserved. He’s halfway out the door to the front before Jacob throws a tea towel at the back of his head, waving a hand at Newt’s sugar-covered face with a meaningful raised eyebrow.

Six minutes later, a mostly sugar-free Newt stands behind the counter. His badge is clipped on (backwards, but on), his hair is at roughly normal levels of disaster, and he has successfully served one of the regulars a cup of tea and a chocolate muffin. Navigated getting change from the till and everything. Whatever it is Jacob went into the kitchen to deal is now being dealt with and glorious baking smells are once again filling the room, and maybe, maybe Newt’s third day will not be the day he gets fired. Maybe.

It’s at this point that Holy Fuck He’s Hot walks into the bakery.

“Morning,” Genuinely Are You Seeing This, He’s Divine says distractedly. “Black coffee please.”

“Would you like a blowjob with that,” Newt says, demonstrating yet again how his brain-to-mouth filter was out to kill him and why he should not be allowed out of the house by himself.

Those Eyebrows Will Kill Me I Swear To God blinks in confusion. “What?”

And Newt, in what is possibly the most embarrassing moment of his entire life, gives a single high pitched laugh, shoves the nearest piece of cake at the man, babbles out: “No coffee, cake on the house, thankyoubye!” and hides under the counter.

Under. The counter.

He can still see Good Grief He Shines His Shoes standing literally three feet away from him, and even his neatly tied shoe laces somehow manage to look perplexed. After a full two minutes and seventeen seconds (Newt counted) The Reason Newt Was Going To Get Fired, For Real This Time shuffles around and leaves. He stops once at the door, maybe looking back, maybe not, maybe if Newt weren’t still wedged under the counter in terror he’d know, then the bell over the door jangles merrily and he leaves.

Newt wriggles out from his hiding place. A quick check that Jacob is still in the kitchen, a tug to resettle his crooked apron, and he’s good to go again. Because that never happened. No sir. Never.



Shame, though. The blowjob would have been spectacular.

I’m fucking crying I can’t stop laughing
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2Jl9xNF

Crowe: “Jean. Jean, please tell me your homicidal and frankly terrifying father didn’t marry Cor.”

Jean: “If I told you that I’d be lying.”

Crowe: “FUCK. This is a mess. I need to know everything. All of it. Is your father still a threat? Wait, is he the one that’s been giving Cor information? Are you the one that’s been delivering said information?  What is going on?”

Jean: “Dad’s always a threat. Yes, Yes. And Love is what is going on Crowe can’t you feel it?”

Crowe: “I would rather not.”

Meanwhile, Nyx finds out when he runs into Jean at the Citadel. A Jean who is talking to Cor. A Jean who just finished calling Cor ‘Dad’.

Nyx.exe has stopped working. Please try again. By the time his brain reboots Jean has seen him and gets a look in his eye that Nyx knows means trouble.

“Nyx,” Jean calls, waving him over. Like the doomed man that he is, Nyx goes to the call of his siren, “This is my stepdad, Cor. I’m sure you already met him but I figured another introduction couldn’t hurt.”

“Sir,” Nyx greets, casting a glance at Jean and realizing that Jean knows exactly how awkward this is for Nyx. One just shouldn’t meet their fuckbuddies dad okay? Especially not if they have Feelings for said fuckbuddy. 

Cor looks at him like he’s judging him. But Cor always looks like that so its out of the usual. What is slightly weirder is the fact that Cor asks Jean to spar with Nyx.

Nyx is confused as to why Cor would want such a thing but he goes with it.

He gets his ass kicked.

It’s awesome.
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2LYxM5Y

Ace: “Okay, I’ve never given anyone magic before and the idea of you, Selena dear, having magic is kinda terrifying.”

Selena: “Give me magic. Give it to me.”

Nyx: “… You just want to set things on fire don’t you?”

Selena: “YES!”

meanwhile Regis, Clarus et al are just. What. What is happening here? Other people who are there still have doubts that Ace is who he claims to be until Ace raises a hand and a swirl of royal purple magic descends upon Selena.

Ace: “Happy now, little sister?”

Selena: “YES. Now teach me how to set fuckwads on fire.”
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2sEjIWg

Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder.

They are going to die. There are no two ways about it, Nyx thinks as he snarls and rips the throat out of another daemon.

They are going to die. The odds against them for once so overwhelming that Nyx can’t see a way out of this fight alive. He knows when the other Glaives, when the men and women he’s risked all for again and again realize this because for once, his comm goes silent.

“Let’s give them hell,” Luche says through the comm, his voice furious and deadly, ‘If we go we’re taking them down with us.”

Keep reading
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2Lp61SU

speckeltail:

tag yourself i’m chaotic au
(Your picture was not posted)
rakasha: (Default)
via https://ift.tt/2szlqcB

owenburnett:

“It was sad music. But it waved the sadness like a battle flag. It said the universe had done all it could but you were still alive.”

— Terry Pratchett, Soul Music
(Your picture was not posted)

Profile

rakasha: (Default)
rakasha

July 2020

S M T W T F S
    1 2 3 4
5 6 7 8 9 10 11
12 13 1415161718
19202122232425
262728293031 

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 8th, 2025 08:58 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios