Before working at the greenhouse in FoCo, I didn’t understand people’s obsession with tomatoes. I still don’t understand WHY people are like this, the plants are fussy and unpleasant to work with and tomatoes taste like concentrated mouth sores to me, but as least now I have some inkling of the depths of madness edible nightshades can drive people to*. I watched a pair of octogenarian women get in a fistfight over the last Amish Paste we had that week, another man break down in tears over the fact we were out of Mortgage Lifters until next Teusday, and my own manager wax poetic about recent developments in hybridization.
*I could understand if it was Potatoes, THOSE are amazing
The greenhouse I worked at grew ours in-house, to the tune of four long arched green houses and 40 different breeds of tomato, started in February and staggered to last most of the season. We sold something to the tune of ten thousand mature plants per season, and four times that in starters, the manager explained with pride, the two anatolian-ridgeback mixes drooling happily on my leg during employee orientation.
“Who buys That Many tomatoes?” I asked, naieve.
My manager’s dark laughter should have been a warning.
During one of the hailstorms in late May, the greenhouse was, briefly, blessedly deserted, if deafeningly loud as the sky hurled balls of ice onto the cheap plastic roof. My manager had left early that afternoon and so I was left to manage that fifth of the business largely unattended. I was watering the Fucking Tomatoes when two of the roundest miniature Australian shepherds I’ve ever seen appeared at my feet, wheezing happily. Looking up, I found a pair of equally gleeful humans behind them, sun-burnt and wearing matching Jimmy Buffet shirts.
“WE’D LIKE SOME TOMATOES.” The man bellowed over the roar of hail.
“WE HAVE MANY TOMATOES.” I shouted back, gesturing at the wall of tomatoes behind me.
“GREAT!” howled the woman. “CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT THEM? WE’VE NEVER DONE TOMATOES BEFORE.”
Since I was alone, I spent the next forty-five minutes screaming the attributes of all forty breeds of tomato at them, unable to hear myself speak over the rain, hail and wind, and already dissociating from the noise. I have no idea what I actually said to these people. I might have claimed they were bred on the moon. We got to the end, my throat raw, and fat little Aussies drooling on my shoes.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT MARIE?” The man asked.
“I DON’T KNOW, THEY ALL SOUND EXCELLENT.” Marie considered. “LETS GET THEM ALL HOWARD.”
“GOOD IDEA. WE’LL TAKE FIVE OF EACH.” said Howard.
That’s 200 plants and at $10 a pop, $2000 dollars worth of tomatoes. Why. I get the extra-large cart out and start loading the tomatoes on. How. I wonder as It takes me three lumber carts to get them all up to the register to scan them.
“WE’RE FROM CASPER.” Howard said, like that would explain anything. “THE BIG BLUE HOUSE, YOU CAN SEE IT FROM 25.”
Having driven through that part of Wyoming several times to and from Grand Teton, I actually knew about the house in question. “OH YES. WE USE THAT HOUSE TO KNOW WE’RE HALFWAY TO TETON AND TO GET LUNCH.”
“YOU SHOULD STOP BY NEXT TIME YOU’RE AROUND.” said Marie.
“OKAY.” I said, for some reason, and helped them out to the parking lot where I discoved they’d apparently driven down in an actual Short Bus, modified to be a sort of camping vehicle, with seatbelts and custom dog-beds for the Fat Aussies, apparently named “Florence” and “Mashmallow”. I waved cheerfully to them, ears ringing and white lights flashing in my eyes from the continuous noise and feeling like I’d stepped out of my correct timeline. I found one of the other managers and told them I’d just made them $2k, had a migraine and was going home.
A month and a half later, the seasonal job had ended and I was driving to Washington to see a friend and I happened to be passing through Casper. In need of a break and eternally curious, I decided to try to find the Big Blue House and see if any of the tomatoes had survived. It took me a bit to find the correct frontage road but as I was driving by the front yard-
“[REDACTED] HOW ARE YOU?” bellowed Marie. somehow spotting and recognizing me. “I’M SO GLAD YOU CAME, COME SEE THEM!”
Apparently they just talk like that all the time, but I had a lovely half hour in which Marie and Howard took me on a lovely tour of their experimental self-sustaining farm with the trout pond and chickens and the 200-still-alive-and-apparently-thriving tomato plants. Given that tomatoes are happiest when hydrated But suffering, Casper turned out to be a good choice. They’d also gotten some 30 varieties of corn, 15 types of potatoes and 12 types of carrots and Howard was looking into Beans and Squash for next year.
“IT WAS VERY NICE OF YOU TO COME OUT.” said Howard. “HERE, HAVE SOME HAM.”
I thanked them, took my three pounds of sustainably-farmed Loud People Ham, and excused myself as I still had to get to Bozeman by that evening and they waved me goodbye from the driveway.
I commissioned her to draw the both of us together (that’s me on the left and Eden on the right) as if we were taking a selfie. We live so far away that it’s difficult to do that irl but ONE DAY!!!! ;_; ONE DAAAAAY. This photo’s gonna be my motivation to work hard, hustle and save up so I can meet my internet friends! ^O^
Anyways I’ve been squealing over this the whole damn day. It’s so pretty!!!! I’ll never be over it. Never.
I know you've gotten a lot of Hades/Persephone asks, but I've spent the last three days listening to Hadestown by Anais Mitchell - I have a burning desire to know how your Hades and Persephone would handle the Orpheus and Eurydice mythos?
first time he hears of Orpheus is when Ares comes to him, in spring, when his
wife his gone. Ares only comes to him when his wife is gone.
has a son,” he says, dark eyes darting around like there’s something chasing him.
There is always something chasing the god of war, and many of them now reside
in Hades’s realm. No matter how many times he’s tried to reassure Ares that
he’s safe here, he doesn’t believe him.
has many sons,” he returns, dry. He reaches out and places two fingers under
Ares’s chin, sees the bone-paleness of his skin against the rich red-copper of
the younger god’s, and swallows. “You look tired.” Crescent purple bruises are
carved deep beneath his eyes.
doesn’t shrug off his touch, but neither does he lean into it. “I,” he finally
meets his gaze, and Hades smiles, warm. Ares’s lips twitch up like he wants to
return it, but can’t. “I haven’t been sleeping. There’s a war in the East, and
they’ve been invoking me for weeks. I think I need to go there.”
knows. There’s been hundreds of new people in his realm every day. Thanatos and
Charon haven’t slept in weeks. Neither has he, for that matter.
will you disguise yourself as this time?” he murmurs, “Another general?”
was the wrong thing to say. Are’s eyes go impossibly distant, and his skin gains
a sickly grey hue. His hands aren’t shaking, so Hades has no reason to take
them in his own. He can’t decide if he’s disappointed by that or not. “No. I –
no. Just a foot soldier. Less guilt that way. Less – less. Just, less, that
nightmares, less fear, less blood on his hands. Less of the constant,
inescapable battle-fury that keeps him alive, but also keeps him from sleep,
even on his best days. When Zeus declared his son the god of war, this probably
wasn’t what he had in mind.
hopes it isn’t, at least.
careful,” he says, and Ares flinches.
grabs Hades’s wrist before he leaves though, and squeezes it so tightly that it
would snap if Hades was a mortal man.
that, at least.
wears not the vibrant red that marks her as queen of the underworld, but the
soft green that names her the daughter of spring. She sits on a smooth rock in
the middle of the sea, her curly dark red hair brushing her bare shoulders.
It’s the last day of summer. She goes home tomorrow.
does not strain to keep her daughter at her side anymore. Now she’s merely
content to keep her away from Hades.
you waiting long?” a voice like lapping waves asks in her ear, and Amphitrite
sits at her back. She presses a kiss to her shoulder, and her long green hair
tumbles down Persephone’s front and blends into her dress.
tilts her head, allowing Amphitrite to trail salty kisses up her neck. “No.
Have trouble sneaking away from your husband?”
snorts. “I do not sneak.”
said you had news from my husband,”
Persephone reminds, does not allow herself to become distracted. Not yet.
not from,” she uses a single claw to cut through the back of Persephone’s
dress. It falls down to her hips. “They’ve been waging war for months. A bloody
horrible thing. And rumor is Ares was in Hades’s realm. People are saying that
Ares sends the dead to your husband as tribute.”
are idiots. Besides, she likes Ares. She does not mind that he visits her
husband; she only wishes he would visit her as well. “Is that all?”
shrugs then bites at Persephone’s ear, “Won’t you come to the sea with me? My
palace has many places more comfortable than this rock.”
leans back, pulling Amphitrite down with her, and does not answer.
is not Poseidon. She does not forget that Amphitrite possesses, but is not to
be possessed, and she dares not follow this personification of the sea itself
into her domain.
loves her. She may not give her back.
is not Helen either. She will not be the cause of any wars.
the boy who Hades still calls Icarus, sits with his head in his hands.
Hades reaches out and absently runs a hand up and down his spine, thinks not
for the first time that he must have been a sight to see with his golden wings,
for that glorious moment before he fell. “Persephone should be crossing the
shore soon. Why don’t you go and wait for her?”
know what you’re doing,” he says, voice muffled, “Styx can bring her. Or she
can walk herself, since there’s not a thing in this realm stupid enough to
leans down and kisses the top of his spine, “She likes it when you’re there to
help her off the boat. Please?”
turns and glares at him. Hades kisses him below his left eye, lets his lips
linger on the delicate skin there. “You’re cheating,” he accuses, a blush high
on his cheeks, “this is cheating.”
working for a couple hours and go get my wife,” he commands softly, “The armies
of traumatized dead will still be here when you return.”
listens – finally – and slips away to the river.
looks back over the map. The problem with the dead is they never go anywhere,
so his realm only gets bigger. He’s going to need get Hecate so the two of them
can raise another city at this rate.
a push in the air, and he startles. No one enters his realm without permission,
but he recognizes the outline of the person trying to push through, and allows
it. Ares tumbles from the air, and into his arms. He’s covered in blood, his
long black hair is soaked through with it.
yours, I assume?” he asks, gripping Ares’s forearms. He’s strung so tightly
he’s nearly vibrating.
wish it was mine,” he says, somewhere between a scream and a sob. Hades
wishes this was the first time Ares had come to him like this.
locks his wrists around Hades neck and pulls him down, knocking them both to
the floor in his exuberance. His mouth connects to Hades’s, slick and tasting
like sulpher and metal. “I have to go back soon,” he gasps, dragging his lips
along the edge of Hades’s jaw, “they’re invoking my name. Distract me until
still has hours until Persephone will return home, and besides she would not
deny him this. “Okay,” he whispers, and when he rolls them over they’re no
longer in his office, but his bed. Ares keens and strains his body up towards
Hades, and he grabs the young god’s wrists and pins him to the bed. “Do not worry,”
he says, and Ares’s whole body glistens red with blood that isn’t his own. “I’ve
relaxes, just the smallest amount, under his hands.
take what he can get.
can tell Ares was there before even steps foot in her palace, and knows it for
sure when she enters her bedroom to find her husband naked on their bed and
covered in blood.
is he?” she asks, and he startles, having been so deep in thought he hadn’t
he greets, his whole face going soft as he pushes himself up. He holds out a
hand to her, and she doesn’t hesitate to drop her cloak and crawl over the bed to
him. She hikes up her dress and straddles him, arms crisscrossing behind his
neck. She kisses him slow, licks over the places where Ares had bitten his
lips. “I’ve missed you.”
rolls her hips downward, and is gratified by the way his hands flex on her thighs,
“As I have missed you, husband.”
kisses mortal blood off his skin, and tries not to worry too much about the man
who left it there.
survived every war since his birth, and he’ll survive this one too.
enters his realm, her hair piled atop her head and held together with copper
pins fashioned in the shape of delicate flowers. “Apollo has a son,” she says,
biting at her bottom lip.
and Persephone share a glance before he says, “Apollo has many sons.” He feels
as if he’s had this conversation before.
quirks her lips in a half smile, “This one is different. He plays the lyre, he
plays it better than his father even. He plays it so well that – that there are
rumors that he can sooth any beast to sleep. And,” she adds, even quieter, “that
Ares himself is soothed by his playing.”
are you telling us this?” Persephone asks coldly. Hades places his hand on top
of hers. They like Aphrodite, after
I know Ares cares for Hades,” her eyes flicker over to him, “and I believe
Hades cares for him as well. I – I could not accept his proposal. My love was
not the peace he thought it would be. But I wish him well.”
can neither kidnap nor kill a son of Apollo,” Persephone says. Hades feels
compelled to add that they shouldn’t want
to either, but he can already tell this is a situation which is quickly
going to spiral out of his control, if it hasn’t already.
raises a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, then lowers it when she realized
her hair is already up. “He loves a mortal girl, Eurydice. If she were to die,
he would be beside himself in grief. Enough to take his own life, even.”
Persephone says flatly.
continues, “Then he would be a subject of your realm. You could compel him to
help Ares, could you not?”
have subjects, not slaves,” he says, “I can’t make him do anything.”
puts her hand on his arm, eyes bright. “I have a better idea.”
plan had merit, but this is better. Smarter. It gives Apollo less reason to be
upset at them later, since his son comes to them now on his recommendation. Although
he’s far too attached to all his limbs to dare cross her regardless.
bargaining with her husband now, and she’s given Hades strict instructions,
that Orpheus must agree to play in their courtyard for eternity if he fails. He
won’t cross her either, even if he wants to, even if he’s not totally
comfortable with this plan.
knew when she married him that he was too soft hearted for his own good. It’s
half the reason she married him in the first place.
now she circles the girl that the half-god had been so willing to risk
everything for. She’s attractive enough, but plain, and she has no particular
talents nor is she overtly clever. “What makes you so special?” she asks, when
she sees nothing but an average young woman.
smiles then, and she’s much prettier that way. “He loves me,” she answers, cheeks
flushing. She hesitates, but asks, “Will you really let him take him me back?”
long as he listens, as long as he leaves the underworld without looking back at
you, you are free to follow him and return to the world of the living,” she
agrees, but knows that will never come to pass.
loves her too much to risk leaving without her, and his doubts will overcome
his hope. He will look back, and become trapped here forever.
window of one of the spare rooms is open, and the most beautiful playing comes
through. Hades sits at the edge of the bed, and reaches to run the back of his
finger across Ares’s cheek.
war still rages. A war always rages. Yet Ares sleeps, the bruises under his eyes
becoming lighter by the day.
turns toward Hades, straining in sleep for his touch. Hades hesitates, but his
realm is stable enough for now. He slips beneath the covers, and almost immediately
Ares curls into his side, tangling their legs together and pillowing his head
on Hades’s chest so he can feel Ares’s damp exhales on his sternum.
will always be another war, and Ares cannot stay. But for now he sleeps
peacefully in Hades arms, and that will have to be enough.
sits in her garden in the courtyard, listening to the same beautiful song.
one is my favorite,” Eurydice says, seated besides her and beaming.
glances over to Orpheus, who grins wide as he performs a love song for his
beloved wife. Behind him is the cottage tucked in the corner of their courtyard
where Eurydice and Orpheus live.
too,” she says.
was too soft hearted for his own good. She’d known that when she married him.
I stood there in the stillness of the moment. I felt time slow to a pause as only the drowning sound of waves caressed my ears. The clouds began to erupt with light and the melancholy that had been painted on my soul began to melt away. How wonderful it felt to be anything at all.
It’s not your chose to say either they live or not.
No, it’s not your body. It’s the unborn baby’s.
Just because its rape doesn’t mean you should abort them. The unborn child didn’t ask to be the product of rape. So, just give them up for adoption. Give them the love and family you couldn’t/wouldn’t give them.
It’s not a clump of cells. It’s human.
Studies show that during 7-12 of pregnancy, the unborn child already has a developing nose, brain waves, ears, and more. And up to 8-10 weeks the unborn baby has a beating heart.
If the mother gets the abortion she more likely to kill herself and/or get breast cancer.
Just because the unborn baby might have some problems when he/she is born. Doesn’t mean you should abort them. You don’t know what life has in store for them.
And last but not least.
It’s something I will probably never support (the only time I will support abortions is when both the mother and child could die) . And honestly a lot of people should too. I’m not being insensitive, I’m trying to save lives. It disgusts me to know people support this even if thd reason is stupid.
Message me about how I’m a bitch or how I’m a waste of space. 🖤 at this point I don’t care about what people think about me.
Imagine pushing Dean out of anger, only for him to make fun of you, resulting in your anger taking over.
“Dean Winchester, I swear to God, if you don’t give me back my phone this instant!” you yelled out at the eldest Winchester as his boyish snickers rode sound waves to your ears.
“You might just have to jump for it, Y/n,” he smiled. The illuminated screen appeared above his head with a large smile across his face. Sam, with his arms crossed, was no help. In fact, it was almost like he enjoyed watching the scene that was playing out in front of him. “Aw, look, Sammy! She’s getting mad!”
You stomped over to him with your chest heaving up and down in an all too fast rhythm, your fist clenched by your side. Harshly, you shoved at his chest causing him to stumble backwards. “You jerk! Give it back!” The hunt had put you in a rather raw mood. Plus, for the past three days, Dean had done nothing put torment you relentlessly. This was the last straw.
“You hit like a girl!” Dean laughed.
“Dude, okay, I think she’s had enough. Just give her-” But Sam never had time to let the rest of the sentence roll off his tongue. Your fist had connected with Dean’s lip harshly. Needless to say, he was in shock, his eyes wide and lip dripping blood.
“Damn,” he hissed as he wiped away the crimson liquid, “I was just playing around.”
Grabbing your phone, you turned on your heel smirking. “And who said hitting like a girl was a bad thing? Try me again, Winchester. I dare you.”