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OC FIGHTS!!
I got through a lot of them before brain gave out, though unfortunately not all. Alright, so the rundown is:
@dravenxivuk's cool metal arm cowboy Tygo (green) vs my demigod cowboy Eli (red)
@theplagueraven's Professional Monster Slayer Matteo (big guy) vs Professional Problem™ Reave (scrawny menace)
@jadeelements's fire lady™ vs my fire guy™
@wodwosmain's slayer Yanien (sword) vs my werewolf ranger Vega (axe)
@zenstarling's Malevolent oc Ulysses gets to tangle with an appropriately tentacle infected horror
@chaoscrewtime's Thalassa jump scaring my vulture man Vidal
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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“The regnant minority is genuinely terrified of a new constitutional convention. They are happier with the way things are, with half the electorate permanently turned off and the other half mildly diverted by presidential elections in which, despite a semblance of activity, there is no serious choice. For the last two centuries the debate has been going on as to whether or not the people can be trusted to govern themselves. Like most debates, this one has been so formulated that significant alternative ideas are excluded at the start. "There are nations," said Herzen, "but not states." He saw the nation-state as, essentially, an evil—and so it has proved most of the time in most places during this epoch (now ending) of nation-states which can be said to have started, in its current irritable megalomaniacal form, with Bismarck in Germany and Lincoln in the United States.
James Madison's oligarchy, by its very nature, cannot and will not share power. We are often reminded that some 25 percent of the population are comprised of (in Lundberg's words) "the super-annuated, the unskilled, the immature of all ages, the illiterate, the improvident propagators, the mentally below par or disordered" as well as "another 25 percent only somewhat better positioned and liable at any turn or whirligig of circumstances to find themselves in the lower category." As Herzen, in an unhappy mood, wrote, "Who that respects the truth would ask the opinion of the first man he meets? Suppose Columbus or Copernicus had put to the vote the existence of America or the movement of the earth?" Or as a successful movie executive, in a happy mood, once put it: "When the American public walks, its knuckles graze the ground."” - Gore Vidal, ‘The Second American Revolution and Other Essays (1976-1982)’ [p. 267, 268]
This was put in a while ago by request from @jeridandridge 💚
Garden center Vidal/Can't keep her plants alive for shit Agnes and so,
She will kill your fucking plants 🌱🌱🌱
"You sure are good at allowing things to die, aren't you?"
Agnes winced at the sharp sting of the words that came from the woman standing before her behind the makeshift counter. It was supposed to be rustic looking, the counter, but Agnes knew the wood was too new and not well-worn; not well-loved. She dropped the potted plant with a thud on the counter and dragged her gaze up to look into the woman's eyes in front of her.
Agnes shrugged at the question before jamming her hands into her pockets; rolled her shoulders back and tried her best not to be offended. Obviously, the woman was talking about the yellow tomato plant that had gone mushy and without a doubt, had mold growing on the dirt around it. She had done a bad job. Fair and square. And, it was the woman in front of her who had sold her the plant a week ago when it was still healthy and green and strong.
When the little tomato plant was still alive.
"I think I over watered it..."
The woman scoffed as she picked up the pot and spun it in her hand as she tried to take a good look of it from all sides. Definitely beyond saving; too mushy and waterlogged to try and boost it back to health. The woman sighed as she put the pot back down and turned around; taking off without another word and leaving Agnes standing at the counter alone.
Agnes huffed as she craned her neck to try and see where the woman had gone; had tried her best to not get caught when she stared at her backside while she walked away. Agnes puffed out her cheeks and stared silently at the dead plant mocking her in its green pot. She hoped there wasn't going to be another one.
Clearly, Agnes didn't hope hard enough, as the woman with the gardening apron and gloves came back around with another green pot in her hand and a smile on her face.
Well, that's a good sign, Agnes thought to herself, the woman wasn't mad at her for killing something she had bought off of her.
"Here. You should try again with this one...he's a little farther along; his stalk is a lot thicker...you just have to make sure to pull the suckers off when they start to grow."
Agnes stared at the woman like she had two heads and was speaking a foreign language.
The woman caught on at Agnes' confused and bewildered look before she laughed softly under her breath and the sound made Agnes' heart soften behind her ribs.
"Sorry...when tomato plants start growing bigger...these leaves will start growing in between the branches and they suck up all the water so the fruits don't get any...you don't want that. You want healthy fruits not healthy suckers..."
"...Suckers?"
The woman laughed again before she handed the pot over to Agnes with a smile and the faint sounds of laughter still on her lips.
Agnes almost dropped the pot when she took it from the gloved hand and the woman in the apron introduced herself as 'Vidal' while Agnes, barely managed to mumble out her own name in response.
Agnes took the potted tomato plant home, set it on the kitchen counter and hoped it would fare better than the last one.
She was good the first two days but that may have been because it was the weekend and she wasn't working any shifts. She could care for the plant and keep an eye on it; sneak a glare from over her shoulder in between periods of the hockey game she had on. But then Monday rolled around and she was thrown back into her routine that didn't include a plant to look after. She admitted silently to herself that she barely took care of herself never mind another living thing that occupied her home.
Suckers and the mention of allowing things to die pushed in the forefront of Agnes mind and by Wednesday, she had forgotten all about the tomato plant in her kitchen. She could argue, in the very least, she very rarely if at all, used her kitchen to begin with. She should have put it in the living room on the coffee table but then again, sunlight didn't reach that far in and she probably would have knocked it over in her sleep.
Friday rolled around and she stumbled into the kitchen after a long day with a fresh six-pack in her hand she needed to shove into the fridge. And there it was, sitting on the counter in all its crispy, dried-out glory. The goddamn tomato plant Vidal had gifted her free of charge for killing the last one. This one was worse; completely neglected. At least the last one she had smothered with too much care. This one, she had abandoned totally.
"Fucks sake..."
She grabbed the pot after putting her beer in the fridge; determined to chuck it outside from the back door. The plastic label that was shoved into the dirt was sticking out now and Agnes, somehow, caught sight of something written in bold black sharpie on the other side of it. She pulled the plastic label out and looked a little closer. She found that, written over the recommendations for sunlight and watering, Vidal had written what looked to be like her phone number.
Her palms went clammy as she swallowed hard before biting her bottom lip. The numbers glared back up at her, tempting her to call. Sure, the woman was nice and kind and sweet...had a nice laugh and, Agnes shook her head to herself as she recalled, a great ass...the killing of a plant didn't really warrant a call...
Or did it?
Did this Vidal want her to call about the possible dying plant or, did she want her to call...just to call?
Agnes sighed to herself as she dropped the pot back down onto the countertop, flung the plastic label beside it and reached for her phone in her pocket. She counted in her head before she punched in the numbers and hit dial.
"Plant is dead...again..."
Agnes didn't even wait for Vidal to say her name or ask who was calling or anything the second she picked up. Cut throat and straight to the chase. A breath or two passed before she heard the all-familiar laugh on the other end and she swore, she could hear Vidal rolling her eyes.
"We need to stop meeting over dead plants...what was it this time? Over-watering again or complete abandonment?"
"Complete abandonment."
"Ah...pushed the plant right out of your mind, hm?"
Agnes bit her lip again as she leaned against her counter, her gaze drifting to the back door. She cleared her throat before she responded in a half-whisper.
"Yeah...you...kinda took over the plant..."
"Me?"
Agnes went silent like her mouth had suddenly been sewn shut. She could feel heat rush from her neck to her jaw; flush up her cheeks as she closed her eyes and cursed herself for speaking before thinking. She was being stupid and lame; totally overstepping over a goddamn plant and a woman she had only met twice.
"Me?..."
Vidal repeated herself as she made her voice a little more clear but, matched the depth of Agnes' whisper. She had to show her she was on the same page and playing at the same game. She had hoped Agnes would call; almost expecting her to.
"You."
"...I could come over and take a look..."
"You could..."
"...See what went wrong..."
"...I got a case of beer in the fridge for your trouble..."
Both ends went silent again for another breath or two before Agnes mumbled out her address and hung up her phone. She shoved it back into her pants pocket, grabbed the case of beer from the fridge in one hand and the potted tomato in the other and took it with her to wait outside on the porch.
Vidal pulled up in almost record time that made Agnes smirk when she watched the gardener park and basically jump out from the drivers side. She bounded up the driveway and looked breathtaking under the porch light.
"Oh, Agnes...that poor plant..."
Agnes laughed as she grabbed a beer and handed it to Vidal. She took one for herself, unscrewed the lid and saluted towards the plant before taking a sip. Vidal took a seat next to Agnes on the step and did the same; somberly saluting the pot as well.
"Not as bad as the first one..."
Agnes mumbled as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and placed the bottle in between her legs. She put one forearm on her knee to rest it there; definitely posing a little for Vidal's sake. The gardener just shook her head as she tried to hold back a laugh. She took another swig of her beer.
"You just need to find the proper balance, Agnes...sunlight, water, soil...that's all..."
"Hmm...balance...not very good at that concept..."
She sucked her teeth as she stared at Vidal; didn't dare to drag her gaze away from the woman.
"Did you really come all the way out here for the plant?"
"Yes and no."
Agnes' eyebrows shot up and made Vidal laugh that warm laughter again; Agnes' heart fluttered in her chest. She reached for her beer to try and hide the expression that was daring to creep over her face. Vidal was staring at her now; those big brown eyes looking right through her. Agnes rolled her shoulders back as she felt a shiver run up her spine.
"More for you...less for the plant...you seemed interested in me and not so much gardening..."
"You figured all of that out just from?..."
Agnes replied as she pulled the bottle away from her mouth. She felt something then between them; something definite. Something was moving, shifting. She knew they'd end up inside and the plant forgotten on the porch. She knew it from the sudden shift in Vidal's leg and the way she put her bottle down and slightly away from herself.
"...From the way you didn't disagree about being good at allowing things to die..."
The night moved quickly and almost in a blur; neither of them made it as far as the living room and Agnes' favorite spot on the couch. Porch light left on, beers still outside half-empty and the green pot with the dried out tomato left to its lonesome.
