#Recalled Flower | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

majorproblems77 · 2 months

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Hi! Its time for a Recalled update! :D

Ive been following this comic for a while and i really enjoy the concept for it, I highly recommend you go and check it out over at @recalled11.

It's an interesting take on the links meet idea and i love the art style and the character designs.

Now, this is a rambly post, no I'm not sorry. Please sit with me, grab some popcorn and some hot chocolate or a hot drink of choice. Prepare to sit for like 30 minutes :D

Also prepare for blorbo hype cause he's here too :D

Lets get started!

All panels belong to @recalled11 thanks for the permission! :D

Alright here we go!!!

First off, it must must be said.

These backgrounds are incredible. like, oh yes oh hell yeah *chefs kiss* I love them.

So at first i was a little confused about the glowing eye, i was looking back at the other pages and back to here and thinking about if it's just a Wild thing. Which would make sense right?

Then they throw this curve ball

MAIN QUEST EYE GLOW, IS HE THE MAIN CHARACTER? DO THEY ALL HAVE THE GLOW EYEBALL OF QUEST TRACKING?

I DONT KNOW YET BUT I'LL FIND OUT.

Man's like, bionic? eye is doing work for us and I'm here for it. the blue glow as well, yes. Just yes.

Also with this panel. We know each of the arrows while a Link is holding it points to a Link. The same goes for Zelda.

And i've been brainstorming who is who.

So, If I've got this right, based off what i could figure out in panels where the compass appears.

Mainly this one

From directionless 2

White (Blue white?) - Wild

Green - Time

Blue - Captain

And now

Yellow - Sky

Let me know if you think it's different! :D

Moving on!

The detail in this is making me so excited, I'm wondering what it means when an arrow acts like this. Is it travelling towards the compass? It is exclusive to just Sky's point? Little thunderbolts spark from it.

Maybe im reading too far into this but the others dont do this, so Im definitely intrigued by this!

I love a full-body shot of anyone, and I love how Wild looks! The little poncho and the details with the scaring!

Now...

BIRB BIRB BIRB

MY BELOVED LOFTWINGS :DDDDDDD

Now I've not found any official names for the loftwings yet, I personally use Crimson and Luna. And will differ to these unless told otherwise. But if there are official names please please tell me! :D

Also is this the camera attachment? A zoom feature? I figure we are gonna see more of wilds ability as we go through but I'm thoroughly enjoying finding out what he can do!

This is the correct reaction when you see a GIANT BIRD flying at you at speed. The people of Wild's world have been through so much at this point the assumption of another monster first its absolutely fair.

HIM

THE BIRB

NDKJSAGNJKFDLSBGKJ;DAFD

When I tell you I had happy clappy hands at this panel I mean my phone fell to the floor with more than a thud.

There's a lot to unpack here, first the reigns with that little gold detailing from the clasp. The saddle? Is it a saddle for loftwings? The leather straps around Link's loftwings.

And Sky's design!

If you know me you know that SKSW is my fave game and that SS link if my fave in pretty much every AU that i encounter. This one is no exception

I'll go into detail later, when we have the detailed screenshots. But just look at my boy!

Also the goggles were a nice touch! It just makes sense for them to wear them, they fly so damn fast imagine the dust.

Captain is a fight first ask questions later, man is ready to go!

Crimson is out here getting half pages and he deserves every inch of space he gets. Such an extra boy and i love him. The details with the feathers flying from both of them too. I love it. I love them

Loftwings my beloved!

Shout out to Zelda for landing Luna not right in the way of everyone, Sky please. Your scaring the adults. The kids think it's cool and want a ride.

But the detailing on the feathers and the eyes even from this far is just incredible.

Crimson please, your scaring the adults. Im here for just the amount of people in lookout landing who sprung to its defense.

While wild is just up here chilling out, This is a totally normal Tuesday!

this reminds me of my chill cat and it makes me love Zelda's loftwing even more. Just a birb chilling.

And this reminds me of my other cat. Loud noises!

Are loftwings in this universe just giant cats? Two types, Chill and crazy.

The real mvp right here. He is ready to fight the big bird.

From a later panel, we can see that the one at the back here is Captain. This means he not only drew his sword he was straight-up ready to fight by this point. He is fast!

Sky my beloved, god I love his design so much.

Also captain's face, He's seen the green tunic and is like. Well, its another child to add to our collection better put the sword away before he does something.

Yes malon, yes they are! And they are wonderful! :D

Time looks worried, is Time afraid of birds? My understanding of oot is that he and the owl were friends?

My fave panel, the best boy with best birb.

Crimson totally knows this is a comic and breaks the forth wall to smile at the reader as well as the others in lookout landing. I love the details here. I love him so much.

He know's he is stunning and will flaunt it every opportunity he gets

Also Sky and Sun having matching sailcloths? I am in love. I love them both.

I'm gonna mention the feathers now too. I love the details of them having their loftwing feathers in their hair as like a head dress. That's such a cool idea i love it!

These two panels had me laughing I wont lie.

First off, Sun responds to Hylia. That is the face of someone who's heard their name. Second off, Flower is a mood. running out of bed with a sword, questions later style.

The detail on Zelda's loftwing too. Such a pretty creature. So well-behaved.

Also, Zelda(flower) asking captain what's happening and the link responds rather than one of her captains.

I really like captain, He's a chill guy. while Sky is just confused. Really cool of captain to be the one to introduce first, he seems to be the one who will be the main referral when it comes to authority. I assume he will be the one who introduces first for all of them.

Time for me to be excited about their designs.

Skyloftian goggles, I love it. It just makes so much sense.

I love Sun, Her dress, the way she's got an sailcloth wrapped around her shoulders like that, the way she's got loftwing feathers not only behind her ears but at the end of her longest braid too. I'm very excited to see more with her.

And Sky! where do i start without going on a twenty minute rampage about him. The way he's got his sailcloth around one shoulder like that. I assume to make it easier to use if he ever needs to use it to land. The loftwing feather hanging off his belt. (Which I notice Zelda doesn't have. Is this just a him thing?)

I can't get over the headdress with the loft wing feathers. Is that a skyloftian thing? Is it ceremonial? Is it because they wanted matching headgear?

I want to know more about Skyloftians in this universe.

Also totally not Sky being an absolute cinnamon roll. Beloved. I love him.

Time and Malon are an absolute mood. time just existing in a state of confusion. And Malon being excited about loftwings. Me too malon, Me too! Let Malon ride one of the loft wings as soon as possible.

Captain behaving like a dad already. Gives me 'Where is the wild child' vibes. Which is funny, cause Wild is older than him.

Oh and I will mention the scars on Sky's face, I love the scars that they all have. It's all so detailed. Sky's lightning, Captain's burns. And the two cuts on his face.

The fact that this is an expression at all, let alone one that the rest of them are not going to understand cause you know, No remlits on the surface. Poor cinnamon roll man is confused.

Again chill dude with all the friends, i love Captain so much. He's just here to help you out.

Oh man, I enjoyed this update, this was good. I love Sky he is wonderful.

Im sure she can and im very excited to see what's next!

thanks for listening to me ramble for so long. I'm gonna get something to eat and you should too.

See you later! :D

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columboscreens · 6 months

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#columbo #season 2 #etude in black #they shouldve continued the Things In Glasses trend #culp had his corpse disposal. cassavetes had his flower disposal #wait im just now recalling that no murderers in season 3 wear glasses. what a travesty #me seeing the 3.99 carnation bouquet at trader joes

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anipgarden · 7 months

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Collecting Milkweed Seeds - All Facts, All Seeds, No Fluff

(OK but please also consider I'm not an ~expert~ I'm not a ~scholar~ I'm just a nerd on Tumblr who really likes milkweed and wanted to make a fun lil post about it)

[Image ID: a green, leafy common milkweed plant (Asclepias syriaca) with five large, ovalish and bumpy green seed pods. The seed pods are currently unopened.]

It’s fall, which means if you haven’t seen them already, now’s the time that milkweed plants will start producing seed pods! (Well, technically, they’re called follicles, but fuck it they’re seed pods). Each pod has dozens of seeds inside, some species can even have up to 200 seeds, so even collecting just a few can be a good way to boost your pollinator gardening efforts big time! What you do with them then is up to you--adding life to your backyard garden, sharing with friends, making seed bombs--but first you’ve gotta collect them.

The first thing you want to do is identify your milkweed plants--in an ideal world, you’d be able to tell precisely what kind of milkweed you’re collecting from (so you can know precisely what growing conditions that species prefers.) But when they’re dying back, forming pods, and releasing their seeds, it can be hard to tell. It helps to visit sites early, to know what milkweeds are there, and while you’re there you might even find some forming pods.

It can be helpful to band off the pods early! This will keep the seeds from escaping, so you can come back later and collect them! I would only do this for a couple of pods--each pod has a lot of seed in it, so only taking one or two from each plant should still net you plenty of rewards! When I’m doing this in my backyard, I tend to use rubber bands--the size of rubber band you’ll need varies depending on the species. I’ve also seen people use the lacy-looking jewelry bags to a similar effect--if the pod splits open, all the seeds get trapped in the bag!

[Image ID: the first image is of appears to be swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) with about fifteen long, green, smooth and pointed seed pods. Most of the pods have small black rubber bands wrapped around the midsections. The second image is of what appears to be common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) with two large, ovalish and bumpy green seed pods. A white fine mesh bag has been tied over the pods.]

For people who want to get seeds from unopened pods, you have to be very careful not to force open a pod that isn’t ready--otherwise, the seeds inside won’t fully develop. How do you tell if a pod is ripe? There’s a seam in each pod, and it should open fairly easily with minimal pressure if it’s basically ready. If you’re basically prying it open, you’re too early. The seeds inside should be a nice dark color, and be plump in the middle--if they’re creamy colored or light orange, you’re too early. There may be some undeveloped seeds in each pod (I am talking maybe 1 to 3 here), but if the majority of them are ready, you’re good to go!

[Image ID: a tropical milkweed (Asclepias curassavica) seed pod that has been opened at the seam, revealing dark brown seeds and lots of creamy white floss. Four seeds are floating away from the pod on fluffy white comas. The pod is being held between a white person's fingers.]

I’ve also seen people who go late late late into the season, after most of the pods have already fully split off and released their seeds. Some of the seeds occasionally stay in the pod, so they’ll take the leftovers that didn’t get scattered after winter passes. That’s a fair strategy! I prefer to get mine way early on, so I can get a clear ID of what kind of milkweed it is (some will flower and produce pods at the same time), but if you already got an ID early in the season and then come back later this can also work! But…

[Image ID: several dried brown seed pods have opened fully, releasing a cloud of milkweed floss with seeds attached. Some seeds are still in the pods, but many are primed to float away.]

There is, however, one thing that tends to be a bit annoying about collecting milkweed seeds--and that’s the fluff. These fluffy white bits attached to the seed--called comas--function similarly to the iconic fluffy dandelion seed. A milkweed seed’s coma allows it to float through the air and on the water until it (hypothetically) reaches bare soil or an otherwise suitable start to settle down and germinate. If you’re collecting the seeds for later use, though, that same coma can mean your milkweed seeds are traveling through the air and away from where you’re collecting them, or all over your apartment once you get them home. Removing the comas by hand is an option, but tedious, and still leads to a nice pile of fluffy that will get airborne at the first gust of wind. At the end of the day, for many people trying to collect milkweed seeds, the coma is just an annoying part they dread.

Fortunately, there are plenty of ways to collect milkweed seeds without having to deal with the comas long-term!

[Image ID: A single brown milkweed seed floating on a comparatively huge mess of white fibers.]

Method 1

So this is my favorite method because it's honestly one of the simplest and easiest once you get used to it. You open the pod, grip the top part of the middle ‘pith’ section tight, and gently scrape off the seeds into a bowl or bag. This leaves you with almost no fluff in your collection bin, and you can then toss the middle fluffy part--or I’ve heard of people collecting milkweed fluff for spinning! Most of the videos I’ve seen on it use common milkweed or other large milkweed pods as an example--however, I’ve successfully done this with smaller milkweed pods like A. curassavica as well.

youtube

Method 2

This method is one I’ve used in the past. Take the seeds and fluff and put them into a bag (paper or plastic) and add a coin or two. Shake the bag around--a lot. The coin will dislodge the comas from the seeds. The seeds will then drop to the bottom of the container, and the fluff will float around on the top. I’ve also seen this with buckets and blocks, like in the video below!

Method 3

I’ve seen a handful of people discuss burning the floss of the seeds! Apparently the seeds themselves aren’t damaged badly by the fire, though honestly this is a method that I am simply too anxious to try myself.

youtube

Method 4

This was a method I found while I was looking for other methods people have done. Apparently, you can just roll the pod between your hands and it’ll work to dislodge the seeds? I may have to try it next time!

youtube

Hopefully this advice is helpful for you all! I know collecting seeds was a hassle for me before I learned my favorite method. If I had a nickel for every time I got yelled at for releasing milkweed fluff into the house...

If you've got a method that I haven't heard about yet, let me know!! I'm always down to learn more about milkweed, and it can also help someone else down the line!

#milkweed #asclepias #seed saving #seed collecting #pollinator garden #outdoor gardening #gardening #flowers #ani rambles #out of queue #i think this was my first time doing image descriptions??? if they suck ass let me know and I'll Make Adjustments As Recommended #i've seen people talk about spinning the milkweed floss??? but I saw online that it was too brittle to be spun????#but either way if you wanna save the floss and do Stuff with it go for it #did you know. or actually this is me functioning from memory.#but if I recall correctly I believe in either the WWI era or the WWII era #people would pay kids to go around fields collecting milkweed seed pods and pay them by the pound #and then they'd take the floss and use it to fill life jackets for soldiers?#i think this was less of a 'extorted child labor sweat shop' deal and more of a like #'hey kids wanna earn some cash and also be a Patriotic Citizen? go find some seed pods and we'll give you money'#which i guess many people WOULD consider an Extorted Child Labor kinda deal but like #idk seems like a chill deal to me #anyways hope you guys like this post #Youtube

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shaykai · 2 years

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I will never not find it amusing where fics have Merrill in Inquisition and she almost immediately catches onto Solas

#doodle #sketch #somebody a long while back suggested I draw Merrill giving the other elves flowers (or so #something along those lines. I recall neither the prompt nor the promptee djdjdj #anyways here’s this #da #dragon age #solas #Merrill #zevran arainai #fenris #sera #dragon age inquisition

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mc-lukanette · 6 months

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Luka looked up from his spot on an instrument case to Juleka's friends heading towards the Liberty and onto the gangplank. He raised a hand to greet them, but paused mid-wave when he noticed Marinette at the back. She was lagging behind the others and nearly missed a step on her way onto the Liberty.

She looked exhausted, a yawn halfway out of her mouth before she covered it with both hands. She even looked warily around, as if to see if anyone had noticed. He didn’t pretend like he hadn't noticed, so her eyes eventually locked with his, shame flooding her face as she hurriedly said, "Um! I'm going to go get a drink of water!"

He watched her go, brows furrowed in concern, then got up to turn to her friends. They were talking to Juleka about various plans - having all given variations on a simple "okay" in response to Marinette's leaving - so Luka went for the arm of the one nearest to him.

"Is Marinette alright?" he asked.

"Huh?" Alya's face scrunched up in puzzlement. "Yeah, she's fine, just tired."

"Ah."

Putting a hand to her cheek, Alya snorted and put an overdramatic flair into her voice to say, "She must've just stayed up late daydreaming about Aaaadrien~"

"She didn't end up giving that gift to Adrien this week," Mylene explained, nodding in Alya's direction, "so she's probably coping."

"She means definitely," Alix cut in to correct. Smirking, she added, "That's just Marinette being Marinette. I've even got one of Rose's stuffed animals to prove it."

Juleka had been setting out a pillow for Rose to sit against, but at the mention of the relinquished plush, Rose's eyes flared up in a rare rage and she went about pounding the poor pillow in a fit of anger.

Luka wanted to comment as, regardless of his proverbial dog in this race, he felt that such information was a little too personal to share, but he refrained. He didn't know about Marinette's friendship with them and it wasn't his place to say things he wasn't certain of.

Instead, he turned his attention to where Marinette had gone, not bothering to make an excuse as he made his way across the deck to head down inside.

——

Luka didn't think of himself as any sort of mind reader, just observant, and he was certain that Marinette wouldn't have gone along with the girls if she were simply exhausted: she would've opted to rest. That indicated - to him, at least - that there was a different problem at hand.

His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Marinette sitting on the barstool, her upper body draped over the high top and an overly full cup of water near her hand. She wasn't asleep, but her eyelids fluttered tiredly while she laid there. Every time they would draw to a complete close, she'd tense up, eyes opening wide on alert before another bout of sleepiness hit.

Luka wondered how much of that she'd managed to hide from the girls. "Marinette?"

"M-mmm—?" She looked over, blinking slowly in response to the call. A solid few seconds passed before she jolted up, her water spilling slightly when her hand bumped it. "Luka—ah!" She tried to rescue the cup, but miscalculated and ended up sending it right off the table. "I-I'm sorry—!"

"It's fine," he interrupted, voice firmer than usual. Given that she naturally wouldn't be as receptive to tone while tired, he wanted to make sure that she understood he wasn't upset.

Marinette quieted, lips pursed like she wanted to argue, but Luka didn't wait for her to. He walked over to the kitchen area, getting an excess of paper towels to clean up the water that'd been spilled. He could faintly hear a whine but didn't acknowledge it, knowing that Marinette would only insist on helping.

Nightmares, he concluded, though not knowing about what. She's afraid of falling asleep.

When he was finished, he dropped the cup into the sink and turned back to her. On top of being sleepy, she now looked upset, and his heart ached seeing her so miserable.

"It can't be comfortable sitting there," he said, though he guessed that'd been the idea. Going around the high top, he kept his gaze on her and offered, "I'm here to talk if there's anything wrong."

Of course, it was obvious that there was something wrong, but he wanted to give her an out. They were friends, certainly - his mother would probably say something like, "You snuck into that TV studio together? Ha, sounds like you're mates for life!" - but he still had a strict policy of not pushing any boundaries without adequate reason.

Also, on the chance that this did concern Adrien, she wasn't likely to mention her problem to him. Luka himself had confessed to her not too long ago, after all.

He sat down on the couch, idly sliding a hand along the cushion and hoping to make it look as inviting as possible. His eyes never left Marinette's, just as hers didn't leave his, almost like wordless communication.

Finally, Marinette wavered, slowly pushing herself up off the barstool. She almost slipped getting down, stumbling a bit, but she managed to walk over and plop heavily next to him.

"...Luka," she began, no longer looking directly at him.

"Yeah?"

He couldn't see her face, but could hear the subtle changes to her voice: it had grown distant, like the muffled sound of an instrument making you aware that it's coming from another room.

"Have you ever done something over and over, even though you knew deep down that nothing would change?" she asked, hands clasped together on her lap and tightening. "Even though you know it's only making you more miserable?"

Again, he wondered what must've happened to her, and this time had to bite back from speaking it aloud. As for her question, while he couldn't speak to her personal experience, he'd definitely gone through it himself.

"...Once," he admitted.

Her gaze finally turned to him again, unexpectedly open. His heart ached for the second time that day, noting that the moment an opportunity struck to help someone else, she shifted focus away from her own problems.

Her whole expression said you can open up to me. It wasn't something he heard, much less sensed often. He was just that much more likely to be the listener.

After trying a few times with words that didn't come out, Luka confessed for the first time, "My dad left a long time ago, maybe before I was even born. I don't know who he was, or anything about him."

"Oh, Luka..." she whimpered sympathetically. He wasn't sure if it had anything to do with her current state, whether it was making her more bold or simply showing her support, but she rested her head on his shoulder.

He continued regardless, "I asked my mom about him all the time when I was growing up, and she never gave me an answer." He tried to smile at the memory, not wanting to drag the mood down further. "I was mad for a while, but then I realized how much she was hurting. Maybe she wanted to talk to me, but I was opening too many wounds, and all I was doing by asking was making us both sad."

"You don't want to know about your dad anymore?"

"...No," he answered after a moment, wanting to be sure of his response. Thinking back to the past, he put a hand to his heart and clutched the fabric there. "He doesn't want to know me either, or he would've shown up. I can't force a song if the lyrics aren't coming together."

She was quiet, but Luka could tell she hadn't fallen asleep. It felt strangely natural talking to her and he could only hope it was mutual.

Finally, she said, "It's almost weird hearing it put into words. I didn't have them for so long." The side of her hand brushed his thigh in a show of comfort. "I'm sorry about your dad though."

"Don't be," Luka insisted, staring down at her. "I already have people here who love and care about me. That's more than enough."

"Yeah." Her hand slid down his leg, lightly toying with the stray threads of his distressed pants, right at his knee. "...Luka?"

"Mm?" His gaze fixated on her touch, almost mesmerized by how comfortable she seemed.

"I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere," she reassured, apparently unaware of the way it made his heart skip a beat. "So... don't die, or disappear on me, okay?"

"W-what?"

He couldn't ask anything further, not because he didn't want to, but he already felt Marinette's body going slack. He hurried to catch her as her head slipped from his shoulder, her body having finally given into sleep. He waited just to be sure she was truly out - to see if she'd jolt awake like before - then pulled her against him to keep her supported.

Don't die or disappear...? he repeated in his head. It was undoubtedly ominous, but it made him more concerned for her than fearful for himself. What have you been having nightmares about, Marinette?

Regardless, he knew she couldn't sleep against him forever. He shifted, trying to get both arms under her so he could lift her, then stood up from the couch to walk to his bedroom.

On the way, he spotted a clean blanket resting on the arm of the couch. He couldn't even remember how or when it got there, but it didn't matter. He transferred Marinette to one arm to free up a hand - hoping that he'd gotten stronger since the ice rink rather than her getting lighter - then took the blanket with him to his bedroom.

Though it was difficult with Marinette draped over him, he fumbled one-handed with the blanket to lay it out over his bed and give her something clean to sleep on. That done, he brought her down, letting her lay on the bed while he took the side of the blanket near the wall to partly cover her. It wasn't perfect, but she seemed content.

Luka considered whether or not to leave her to sleep, taking the time to at least look around for something to sit on just in case. Heading back into the lounge room, he ended up finding a short stool under a pile of clutter and started to head back with it. By then, he determined it best to stay, just in case she had another—

"...M-mgggh."

He was just in time to catch Marinette whining in her sleep. He picked up his pace to get beside the bed, setting the stool down and looking her over. Her legs were moving underneath the blanket in some sort of distress, her breath picking up as she started to shift about on his bed.

"Marinette," Luka called, but didn't get anything back for it. He reached out carefully, mind whirling in thought as he clutched her hand. Deciding not to wake her, he remembered what she'd told him and echoed, "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He had wondered at that moment, when hearing her say it, if maybe it was something she'd always wanted to hear herself.

He held his breath, watching her movements while he waited for any reaction. Worst case scenario, he'd wake her up, but he really did want her to sleep if he could make that happen.

It took a few seconds, but he felt her hand squeeze his own. Her eyes remained shut, but she slowly began to relax, the sound of the blanket shifting coming to a stop.

Luka exhaled in relief, putting his foot behind him to pull the small stool closer to him. Sitting down, he kept hold of Marinette's hand and leaned against the bed for comfort's sake, not taking his eyes off of their joined hands.

Faintly, he could hear people moving about on deck and muffled talking, though nothing that would make him worry they might interrupt Marinette's sleep. He even found himself starting to zone out, eyelids feeling heavy as the background noise slowly faded away.

Soon enough, he too gave into sleep.

——

"...Luka...? Luka..."

He stirred, his back aching as he slowly opened his eyes. His vision adjusted to the sight in front of him: blue eyes, black hair, and a refreshed but concerned expression.

Also, a hand that he hadn't let go of even in his sleep.

"Ah—" Releasing his grip took a bit of effort after having been in that position for a while. "Sorry."

She cast a glance at her now-empty hand; was that disappointment in her eyes? "N-no, it's okay. I mean, obviously it was me who you did all this for!"

"I didn't mind." Then, realizing that wasn't the whole truth, he added, "And you let me talk too. It was only fair."

"H-huh?" Confusion took over her face. "But I didn't do anything?"

He pushed himself up, arching his back to work out any soreness, then sat next to her on the bed. "Maybe it doesn't seem that way to you. It doesn't feel like I did anything either."

"But..." She paused, realization hitting. "Oh!"

He smiled, seeing that she understood. They had the same caring nature, it seemed. "Did you have any nightmares?"

There was a flash of alarm that he'd gotten even that right, but she shook her head rather than pointing it out. "No. Er, nothing that got too bad, at least." She dropped her gaze to his hand resting on the bed. "I think... it must've been you?"

"Me?"

"Reminding me that I wasn't alone." With a daring look in her eyes, she picked his hand back up and squeezed. "Because I couldn't sleep well at home at all, even when I was hugging my pillow."

He nodded sadly. "I wish I could help you more."

She let out a small hum, appreciating the gesture. Then, letting go of his hand to fiddle with the blanket, she hesitantly pointed out, "Um... maybe you could? But it's silly."

He tilted his head at her, curious, silently urging her on.

"I-I mean..." She swallowed, avoiding eye contact all of a sudden. "If I sleep better with you around, then...?" She trailed off, letting his brain do the rest of the work.

The implications hit him like a guitar being smashed over his head. Actually, he could really use one, because words weren't coming out anymore.

"B-but you've already done enough!" She practically threw the blanket off of herself, ready to flee at the soonest moment. "This all happened by accident, and—"

His body moved before his mouth could. He slid off the bed first, grabbing the edge of the blanket on the side opposite to the wall and bringing it up with both hands. He could feel Marinette's puzzled eyes on him as he laid it down at the center of the bed, bunching up the excess and leaving a small divider down the middle of the bed.

That done, he slid the small stool out of the way to keep either of them from accidentally stumbling over it later, then got on the bed himself. Laying down on "his" side, he didn't even bother to get under his own blanket, already feeling excessively warm.

Marinette mirrored what he guessed was his own expression. She babbled a bit in a few attempts at speech, but eventually gave up, responding physically instead by plopping herself back down.

She didn't seem to need the blanket anymore either, and Luka could only weakly hope that she didn't roll over the divider and against him whilst asleep: she might not sleep well against a pounding heart.

She brought her hand up, staring at it in contemplation, then slowly settled it down on top of the divider. When Luka didn't immediately react, she edged it closer to him as a sort of questioning hint.

Cute.

Smiling, he rested his hand on top of hers, noting the shy but pleased little wiggle of her legs that she did afterward.

He was just happy to help, and if that meant sleeping alongside her for comfort, it could only be beneficial for the both of them.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #episode: Chat Blanc #type: salt #((Tagging salt juuust in case.))#((Figured that the girls' comments could be seen as either their usual uh--''teasing'' or me being salty.))#((Don't recall my salt levels when I wrote this but they're pretty emotionally unaware and Adrien-centric with Marinette's problems so))

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endofbeginings · 2 months

Text

"Yes, next time. The important thing is that you return, Raimunda"

more f1 movie posters

Original and alternative poster:

#i used carnations and daisies in the background which are spain and italys national flowers #the tango is very beautiful but nostalgic and sad id like to interpret it here not as a sad return #but as a coming back to recall your legacy and own it #basically saying fernando haunts the narrative and will always do theres no getting rid of him #“if ill be here in the future as a driver... a father.... or a fia boss”#f1 #own post #fernando alonso #f1 movie posters #ferrari #f1edit #f1blr #formula 1 #my edits

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thetomorrowshow · 7 months

Text

a stuffed deer

empires superpowers au masterlist (currently out of date)

this story takes place about one year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, religious trauma, referenced past death, deadnaming/misgendering of a character (but the person isn’t really doing it out of mailce, and said character is dead)

The closer they get, the more anxious Scott becomes. His hands grip tighter on the steering wheel, he checks his mirrors more often, he glances over at Jimmy every couple of seconds.

This is fine. This is normal, even. He knows what he’s doing. He’s done far more terrifying things than this. He’s nearly died several times, he’s graduated college, he’s been a superhero for years.

He can face his birth parents.

He’s been talking to Nora about it for several months, and he’s come to the conclusion that he needs closure. Not about himself—he fully understands their feelings for him, and made peace with them long ago. No, he’s here for closure on Xornoth.

In the last minutes before their death, Xornoth had declared themself to be Scott’s sibling. As far as he knows, he’d been an only child. If what Xornoth said was true, that puts Scott in charge of any and all of their possessions currently being held by the city. Not that he wants them, but the mayor had asked him to pursue any leads he found on Xornoth’s next of kin and, even though it had taken him an entire year and a half, he finally feels ready to pursue the only one he’s ever had.

Jimmy’s fiddling with the radio next to him, switching between gospel and country. There’s not much else that comes through out here, and they’re going through a dead zone for their data plan, so Jimmy eventually just turns it off and sits back, not-so-subtly watching Scott. Scott resolutely keeps his eyes on the road.

They pass the exit for Milford. If Jimmy’s feeling all right after the visit, maybe they can stop by there, visit the library and community college and homeless shelter.

Half an hour until Briarsville. Scott shifts in his seat, taps the steering wheel lightly.

“What did you think of that motel breakfast?” Jimmy breaks the silence. “I thought it was decent—waffles are always good, at least. But I wouldn’t have touched those sausages with a ten foot pole.”

Scott had only eaten a slice of toast with some watery coffee, too nervous already to have any faith in his stomach. “Not the worst I’ve ever had,” he offers. Jimmy’s just trying to help him relax. He can humor his attempts.

“Well, yeah. I can remember a time when I would’ve killed for a motel breakfast—literally.” Jimmy chuckles nervously, tugs on his seatbelt. “Um—how much longer?”

“Half an hour,” says Scott too quickly. He checks the radio clock, then his rearview mirror. They’re almost there. His heart is really beginning to jump now.

The car is quiet again until they reach exit 42. Briarsville.

Jimmy straightens up, looks between Scott and the town that they’re pulling into. It looks like any run-of-the-mill midwest town, Scott knows. Even the Order of Heaven private school isn’t much of an indicator of anything abnormal.

“We can turn around, you know,” Jimmy says softly. Of course he’d noticed the nerves. Scott’s knuckles have turned white around the wheel, his back is ramrod straight, he’s barely spoken all morning. Jimmy’s not an idiot, and he’s more observant than most people know.

Scott forces himself to relax. “No. I need to do this.”

Jimmy nods and doesn’t argue him any further. That’s something that Scott will always love about Jimmy: he understands. He sees that this is important for Scott and would never try to keep him from it.

And then he’s turning onto Bloomfield Avenue, and he thinks that maybe Jimmy’s right. Maybe he ought to turn back now and cut his losses.

It’s still his last name printed above the door of the house three houses down. The welcome mat is that ugly, waterlogged brown thing that it had been before he’d left. His parents still live here.

Scott pulls into the driveway, then freezes.

“What if we just went home?” he says, voice pitched an octave higher than normal. “We can stop by the country music museum. Or the Appalachian one, I heard it’s—”

“Scott,” interrupts Jimmy. “Normally I would be fine with that, but you just told me you have to do this.” He takes one of Scott’s hands, runs his thumb over his knuckles. “This is important to you. I don’t want you to be kicking yourself for the rest of your life because you got all the way here only to turn back.”

Scott takes in a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. Then again. Jimmy’s right. Jimmy’s absolutely right. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“And,” Jimmy continues, “if they try to hurt you in any way, I will kill them.”

“You’ve got to stop saying that about everyone we talk to.”

“Hey, I’m just really good at making things look like an accident. Some might even say it’s a superpower.”

“Jimmy.”

“Just saying.”

Scott laughs, kisses his boyfriend on the cheek. He’s ready now. He can go in.

He pulls the key out of the ignition and hops out, then circles round to offer his hand to Jimmy and help him up. Jimmy stops to grab his cane out of the backseat, then gestures encouragingly for Scott to lead the way.

Right. He has to actually go up to the door.

It’s the longest walk of his life, Scott thinks. Even the walk across the stage at graduation hadn’t been this long. But seconds yet seemingly hours later, he’s in front of the door, hand poised to knock.

He swallows, then bites the bullet.

Rat-tat-tat-tat.

It’s only a couple of moments before the door swings open, and his mother is standing before him.

She looks much the same, but changed. Her hair, once grey at the temples, is nearly completely grey with only a few streaks of its former blond. There are a few new lines in her face, only serving to add to the sallowness, the laugh lines he’d once known long-faded. Her hairstyle is the same as ever, her classic Christian mom fashion sense not any different. He takes in all of this, then properly meets her eyes.

“Hello, Mother,” he says, a shiver running up his spine.

She doesn’t say anything at first, eyes passing over Scott to examine Jimmy briefly, sizing him up like a bird of prey. Then she steps aside, pulling the door open wider.

“You’d better come in, hadn’t you,” she says, and the resignation lacing her tone is somehow so much better than the anger he’d expected yet so much worse.

The living room is different. There’s a new couch, pushed up against the wall opposite where it used to be. The easy chair is the same, but also tilted weird and there’s a coffee table for some reason when all it does is take up space. But Scott keeps his complaints to himself and steadies Jimmy as he lowers himself onto the couch, propping his cane up against the coffee table, then sits beside him.

His mother looks at the two of them with something unreadable in her expression, before leaving the room. She returns moments later with two glasses of water.

It’s a test, and Scott doesn’t know if she’s set it up like this or if he set it up for himself, but he takes the water from her hand and sends a little burst of freezing air to chill it, eyes trained on hers the entire time. She doesn’t react.

Jimmy takes his water with a muttered thank you, then she sits down in the easy chair across from them, crossing one leg over the other as she waits for Scott to break the silence.

He takes a sip of his now-cool water (Jimmy passes his own over and Scott forms some of the water into an ice cube before handing it back), takes a deep breath, and speaks.

“Is Dad home? Because—”

“He’s dead,” his mother interrupts. Scott blinks.

Two for two, his mind unhelpfully supplies.

Is he supposed to mourn an unloved parent? Is he supposed to mourn someone he used to care very deeply about, but proved that they didn’t care for him?

He’s not sure how to feel.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jimmy says beside him. “That must be terrible.”

“How long?” is all Scott can manage.

“Nearly two years, now,” she replies. “Heart attack while at work.” She clicks her tongue. “I was always telling him to lay off the salt, stop working so hard. Guess he suffered the consequences.”

Scott’s really not sure how to feel. The last memory of his birth father he has is of his face closing off, declaring himself to have no son, and banishing Scott from the house. Would he have liked to reconcile? Is parting easier with his last words being unforgivable?

“I’m so sorry, Mrs—”

“Heidi,” his mother corrects Jimmy, and Jimmy amends his words.

“I’m so sorry, Heidi. I can only imagine the pain.”

That’s the first thing to incite emotion in Scott, because Jimmy can’t only imagine that sort of pain. Jimmy’s lived through the death of loved ones without a house to live in afterwards or a community to support him. Jimmy’s had it worse off. Jimmy shouldn’t have to be placating his terrible excuse for a mother.

He must be getting tense, because Jimmy’s hand runs comfortingly along his knee, and Scott can almost feel the love and support that Jimmy imbues the touch with.

Heidi’s eyes follow the movement, and after a moment, she says gruffly, “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Right. This could go very badly.

“Mother, this is Jimmy, my boyfriend,” Scott says stiffly, before adding, “as in, romantic partner. We kiss. Each other.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Are you a gay now, then?”

Scott stares her down. “And if I am?” he challenges. “What are you going to do, kick me out again?”

She stares back for a long moment, a moment during which Scott’s certain she is going to kick them out—then she chuckles, shakes her head.

“You always were a bit sassy,” she says. “I ought to have known, really. But that can be said for a lot of things.”

“Speaking of things that ought to have been known. . . .” Jimmy hints, nudging at Scott. Scott nods, takes a deep breath, and forces out the question that’s been on his mind for so long.

“Did I . . . did you have any children before me?”

Heidi looks away suddenly, toward the TV. Her expression gives away absolutely nothing. “I thought that was Noah,” she says eventually. “His voice was already starting to change when he left.”

“Sorry—Noah?”

She looks back at him. “Your brother. He was fourteen when we noticed he was one of them. You were so young, I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”

Right, because it’s such a normal thing to destroy every trace of your child’s existence and raise the other to believe he never had a sibling.

But that means—

“I’ve seen the two of you on the news,” his mother continues. “Your father, too. He regretted what he did, Scott, after he saw how good your heart was.”

“So he just wanted to send me to conversion therapy instead, huh,” Scott mutters. “And that’s so much better.”

Heidi sighs. “We did what we thought we had to do, for both of you. We always hoped you would repent and come back.”

Scott wants to scream. He wants to scream and yell and freeze the entire house, because that may be the most insensitive thing he’s ever heard and his own mother is supposed to love him unconditionally, not act like this!

His hands are shaking. He doesn’t even notice until Jimmy eases the glass from his grip and rubs his arm. He needs to calm down.

But he can’t bear to look at the woman’s face for a moment longer.

“I think we’ll be going,” Scott says icily, moving to stand. Heidi stands as well, taking their glasses, then pauses on her way back to the kitchen.

“We donated your things,” she says, “but not all of it. Do you want any of what’s left?”

And as much as Scott wants to get out of here, he knows he needs to see whatever it is his mother decided to keep. So, after an encouraging squeeze from Jimmy, Scott follows her into the attic.

There’s only two things in the attic—two small trash bags, leaning against a wall to the side. With a nod from Heidi, Scott opens one of them up.

His monogrammed bible is on top. He has no interest in that. His Boy Scout pins and kerchief are here as well, more stuff he doesn’t care about. His birth certificate, which he does set aside (he already has a copy of it that he’d requested from the government, but it can never hurt to have the original), and a small photo album, which he sets aside as well. At the very bottom of the bag is his plush turtle, scruffy and old.

That he pulls to his chest, burying his nose into it. It smells pretty musty, which makes sense. It probably hasn’t been out of this attic in a decade.

It brings back feelings, looking at it. Not memories, not exactly, but feelings of a simpler time. Feelings from some vague past, where he had no troubles and his only concern was getting to school on time.

And more feelings. Feelings of deception, of hate, of guilt. The feeling of his world being flipped upside down and this plushie not being near enough to anchor it.

He wants to set it with his birth certificate and the photos, but it holds so much of this place that he’s not so sure.

He sets the turtle to the side and looks in the other bag.

Much the same stuff, and at first he inexplicably thinks this is an exact replica for some odd reason—but the name monogrammed onto this bible is not his.

Scott weighs it in his hands for a moment, then sets that aside.

There’s no photo album, but the same boy scout items and a birth certificate. There’s a plushie here too, though, a floppy deer, one of the antlers torn off and the hole it left carefully sewn shut. The fur is wearing thin in places, the beads for eyes have lost their shine.

It’s well-loved, as loved as Scott’s turtle, and for some reason, that makes him want to cry.

He’s not sure what to do with it. He still hasn’t really processed what his mother confirmed downstairs.

This stuffed deer belonged to the sibling he never met.

This stuffed deer belonged to Xornoth.

Can he take it?

Does he want to take it?

He sets it aside next to his turtle. At the bottom of the bag, there’s one last thing—a photograph, bent at the corner.

It’s older than any in the photo album, and Scott knows instantly that the child in the photo isn’t him. It’s a small child with a mop of dark blond hair, maybe three years old, wearing little red overalls and a white sweater, sitting on a push-bike and smiling up at the camera.

He can’t quite force his brain to make the connection. This child, so happy and young, grew up to be Xornoth. This toddler tried to take over the world.

He can process it later, he supposes, and he upends one of the bags to make sure there’s nothing else (there isn’t, so few of what once were his possessions leftover), then stuffs both his turtle and the deer in it, along with his birth certificate. He hikes the bag over his shoulder and picks up the photo of—of the child—and the photo album, before holding both out to his mother.

“Do you want any of these?” he asks brusquely. She takes the loose photo, then waves off the album.

“I’ve kept some of yours downstairs,” she says dismissively. “This is my only picture of Noah, though.”

Scott leaves the attic without another word, photo album chucked into the bag over his shoulder. He meets back up with Jimmy in the living room, who looks up from his phone with a questioning glance.

Scott sets down the bag, pulls out the turtle plushie. “This was mine growing up,” he says. Jimmy’s face immediately softens and he coos, reaching out for it. Scott hands it over, then removes the second stuffed animal.

This one he holds farther from Jimmy, because he’s still not sure if he wants to take it with him, despite the strange sense that he owes it to his lost sibling. “This,” he says carefully, “belonged to Xornoth.”

Jimmy’s face goes carefully neutral, and his hands still. “Oh,” he manages, and Scott can hear the change in his exhales as he immediately kicks into breathing exercises.

“We don’t have to take it if you aren’t okay with that,” Scott is quick to reassure. “We can leave it here, that’s fine. I’m sure my mother would appreciate it.”

“Why—why do you want it?”

That’s harder to answer, because Scott hasn’t figured out why yet. He’ll know when he comes across the answer, he’s certain, but it hasn’t made itself known to him in the five minutes that he’s known of his sibling’s existence.

“I don’t know,” he says eventually. He stares at the deer, at the faded pattern of its coat. “There’s some reason I want it, but I’m not sure what that is, yet.”

A little color has already returned to Jimmy’s face, and he doesn’t stutter when he speaks. “Is it part of your closure?”

He doesn’t know how, but Jimmy’s right. He nods. This is, in some way and fashion, a very important part of making peace with his sibling’s identity in his head.

“Then take it,” says Jimmy, handing back the turtle. He stands, slowly, supporting himself with his cane.

But it’ll hurt you, Scott wants to say. It’s clear that Jimmy doesn’t like the idea of taking this deer plushie home, doesn’t like the idea of it being in their house.

“Don’t worry about me, yeah?” Jimmy says, as if he can hear Scott’s thoughts. He smiles weakly, squeezes Scott’s arm. “I’ll be fine. This is about you.”

They leave with a quick goodbye, no attempts on either side to set up further contact. Scott just throws his things into the backseat with Jimmy’s cane, then drives away.

It’s just a week later when Scott drives out of the city to a park.

It’s a quiet park, just some trails and benches through the trees, and Scott stops at one of these trees and digs with the shovel he’d brought from home.

He digs alone, in the quiet shade of the trees, a light breeze rustling through them. And when he’s finished the job, a small pile of dirt beside him, he lays a shoebox containing a small stuffed deer in the little hole he’s dug.

He scrapes the dirt back over it with his shovel, pats it down a bit, and stands there. Just . . . stares.

Then, silently, Scott turns away and heads home.

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