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#and now i have 5 growing under my favorite flowers and they are yellow and they look like they are wearing tiny little hats its so cute
thetriplets3 · 9 months
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hii for the prompts can you do “the kindest "i hate you" followed by a contagious laugh” with matt plsss??
i got carried away with this idea i don’t know if i exactly did this prompt
➶ trust in timing ➶
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One thing we both agreed on when we started dating was we would keep it private just like our friendship was. None of us felt the need to share our relationship or friendship with the world. It was something special, not letting others decide things for us.
We had all taken a trip back to Boston to spend a few weeks with our families. Resting my head on your shoulder as our hands link, I look over to see both our moms laughing away in the kitchen and our dads faint voices carrying from the backyard, and Nick and Chris talking on the adjacent sofa. These are the moments I cherish, filled with normalcy and nostalgia. Summer trips to Cape Cod when we were 5, Christmas vacations to Vermont when we were 8, we’ve always been together. I guess that’s what happens when your parents have been best friends since school.
The sounds of adoration increased as our moms walked our way holding a box of photos. “Look at you guys you were so small” MaryLou said, handing us the box. “These are all of our family vacation photos, have a look through them”.
Deciding to settle down for the evening we take the box upstairs to your room. The only light illuminating your room is the subtle golden glow of your lamp. Situating myself under your arm, I open the box to be met with a picture of you holding a teddy bear and a puppy stuffed animal. My heart melts at how sweet this picture is.
“You are adorable oh my goodness! You haven’t changed. You still do those eyes” I gush.
Grabbing the next few photos I can’t seem to help tearing up. These are some of my favorite memories and I’m so glad we were able to get photos of it. Leaning my head on your shoulder and showing you the photos, a smile forms on your face.
“That was when we went to Bar Harbour for Labor Day weekend. Those flowers were your favorite thing. I remember you came in with as many as your little hands could carry and started handing one out to everyone and when you got to me you had so many left you gave them all to me. They were all yellow ones because you said they reminded you of sunshine which reminded you of me. I felt special” You reminisced.
“I can’t believe you remembered all that. You are my sunshine always will be. Always a light in everyone’s life” I look up at you with a sparkle in my eyes.
“Of course I do, I love you, I love you now and I loved you then” you say, placing a kiss on my cheek. You pull your phone out to scan the 4 photos. Confused about what you’re doing I just watched as I saw you open Instagram.
“Matt” I playfully gasp, knowing full well you wouldn’t post them.
“What? These are adorable. I want people to see them. Plus I know Nick and Chris will find you in your little florist era funny” you chuckle. “Don’t worry sweetheart, it’s a vague post. They can think what they want, it only matters if we know” you reassure me.
“I hate you” I say jokingly, knowing I could never hate you. “Looks like I’m sharing baby Matt in all his glory” I laugh.
・❥・
matthew.sturniolo
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matthew.sturniolo flowers 💐
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nicolassturniolo 🐸🪱
christophersturniolo 🌷🌺
your.insta
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your.insta 📖🦕⛄️🫂
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matthew.sturniolo 💐💐
nicholassturniolo the snowsuits go hard
・❥・
As my eyes grow heavy I hear you whisper “I always knew it’d be you. I can’t wait to marry you and tell our kids about our story. I love you so much honey”
I’ve spent most of my life with you and I can’t wait to spend the rest of it with you by my side.
Taglist:
@im-a-matt-girl @iluvmatt @stxrniqlo @d0wnt0wnstu4n1ol0
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dlzdrz · 3 years
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Shrooms
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Want you more than a Melody
Anon request:
Hi ! Could I please request a Harry Styles fluff piece? Maybe something with long hair Harry and he loves to have his hair handled and played with by the reader? I’m not too picky plot wise I just miss Harry’s really long hair haha. I love your account, I can tell that you’re going to blow up soon you’re very talented!
Wordcount: 1.4K+
Warning: My grammar, cheesiness.
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There was something touching your neck, pulling you out of your dreams. You tried swatting the intrusion away but it wouldn’t stay away for long. Eyes still closed you furrowed your brows, whining softly. “No no, stop,” you mumbled, turning over in bed
The warm bed under you began to move, rumbling with laughter. Your confused brain started to hurt. Beds didn’t move and they definitely didn’t laugh. Peeking one eye open you saw that you were not laying on a bed but a chest covered in tattoos.
Opening your other eye, you turned your head, immediately seeing a chin covered with early morning scuff. And just like that, the last 48 hours came back to you. Flashing of waking up early and nervous, pale yellow dress, walking down the aisle, green eyes, cakes, and a plane ride.
Sitting up against the chest you pressed a kiss to his nose. “Good morning, Harry,” you said to your new husband. The thing touching your neck was his hand as he combed his fingers through your hair.
“Good morning? You’ve been slapping my hand for the best 5 minutes. If I knew this marriage would start off like this, I would have left you at the altar,” he teased, running over in bed so that he was hovering over you. His long hair was free and hung like a curtain between you.
“You know how much I love my sleep, Oats,” You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck. His nickname came about after you two first started dating. You wanted to give him a unique nickname, you were a nickname sort of person and the most important person in your life needed a nickname.
You shopped around with a few, there was a whole week when you called him bums, which always had you both laughing so hard your side ached. Then one night, after Harry took a shower at your flat using your honey-scented shampoo, he climbed into bed smelling heavily of honey and it gave you craving for honey bunches of oats. And from then on he was honey bunches of oats which has been significantly shortened to Oats.
Harry always melted when you called him that and you loved the goofy grin that spread across his face. Even now, it had its desired effect and he melted right in front of you, burying his face into your neck, pressing kisses along it.
“Sue me for wanting to cuddle my bride in bed,” he mumbled, biting your neck playfully, causing you to squeal slightly in surprise.
“I can’t sue you, your money is already my money,” You teased, combing your fingers through his long hair. You loved his hair and were secretly pleased that he decided to grow it out once more, you loved playing with it, running your fingers through it as you two cuddled in bed, or watched a movie together.
Harry moaned as you played with his hair, “Love when you play with my hair, flower.” He mumbled relaxing against you. “Don’t stop, there is no place I rather be than right here with you, actually,” he paused, moving his face from your neck moving down your body slightly until he was resting against your boobs. “Okay, this is my favorite place in the world.”
You laughed, shaking your head at his silliness. “So you married me for my boobs and me playing with your hair?”
“No of course not, you forgot your cooking. No one makes muffins better than you,” he said. You could feel the smirk on his face from its place on your chest.
Just to tease him you moved your hands from his hair, “No more snuggles for you or hair play, you hurt my feelings,” you said, swatting his behind so he would move off of you, which he did immediately, pouting as you rose from the bed once you were free.
“Flower, I was kidding, of course, I married you because I love you,” he said, pushing his hair out of his face. From your position, you could see the outfit he was wearing. You could never understand how he had the ability to look incredibly sexy as well as incredibly adorable. His black and white pants were low on his hips and his chest was bare and his hair was messy and curly.
Goodness, how was it possible to wake up every morning and fall more in love with someone.
“You look radiant, how is it possible that I fall more in love with you every morning I wake up with you,” he said as if he could read your thoughts. You smiled down at him moving closer to the bed kissing him.
“You are so perfect, it hurts sometimes,” he mumbled against your lips, causing you to shake your head. “You are perfect, Oats,” you said, letting him pull you into his lap so he could deepen the kiss.
You kissed him happily for a few minutes before pulling away. “Okay you are forgiven for your mean comment,” you teased. “But we should get some breakfast and eat on the terrace, yeah?” You suggested fingers back in his hair.
His eyes closed for a moment, kissing along your jaw as you played with his hair. “I’ll order room service if you make some coffee for us,” he said eventually, making no move to detach from you.
“You know we will have to move to actually do that,” you said, though you weren’t moving either. You loved being close to him and just having him in your arms. After a moment you groaned softly, pushing his shoulders back until he was laying on the bed and then wrapping yourself around him.
“Okay cuddle session and then food?” You mumble into his chest.
Harry laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “That sounds like a deal, flower.”
What was supposed to be a quick cuddle session turned into an all-morning cuddle session and a nap. When you woke up again, you were in bed alone, but you could hear Harry talking in the next room. Yawning, you grabbed your reading glass and the book you bought with you.
Yes, you bought a book on your honeymoon, but it was for the inevitable gym couple gym sessions, Harry will propose and you were too weak to say no to. So when it happens you’ll be sitting on a stationary bike pretending to read while you watch Harry work out.
He was kind enough to pretend he didn’t know you were watching him when it happens, but the moment you two are in the shower together he will ask you about your book. It’s happened too many times and you have always stumbled for something to say. So at least reading some now you’ll have something to say.
The story was actually engrossing and you didn’t even hear when Harry returned, only when you felt a slap on your bottom, causing you to squeal. “Hey, not cool,” you said, putting your book down, rolling over to face him.
Your next words died in your throat when you saw him.  He clearly showered during your nap, but still wearing the same pants, just now he had a long robe left open. You closed your legs as you felt heat pool to them.
“Have I ever told you how much a turn on your glasses are?” He asked crawling onto the bed, slowly climbing up your body.
“Oh yeah?” Your voice came out a lot shakier than you would have left, and Harry smirked as he picked up on it.
“Something the matter, flower?” He teased leaning down to pepper kisses along your collar.
“I hate you,” you mumbled, hands back in his hair.
He chuckled, his breath hitting your neck sent shivers down your spine. “We both know that is a lie.”
A knock on the door caused Harry to pull away. You whined missing his warmth and his lips on you. He shot you a wicked look before leaving the bedroom. He returned a few minutes later. “Coffee and a very very last breakfast on the balcony,” he said, offering you his hand.
Taking it, you allowed him to pull you up, but not before you tangled one of your hands in his hair pulling him down so you could kiss him. He moaned against your lips, his arm coming around to grip your waist. You tugged again on his hair before biting his lip.
Predictably, Harry pressed his body closer to yours and you could feel his excitement on your thigh. You pulled away, smirking. “Okay, let’s go eat,” you said leaving the room with a little bounce in your step.
“You are going to regret that after we eat,” he grumbled, joining you on the balcony a few moments later.
“I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Styles.
“Be careful what you wish for, Mrs. Styles.
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chimeracowgirl · 3 years
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Floral Arrangements
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Summary // Flowers the AOT characters would give you & what they represent
Characters: Armin, Eren, Connie, Jean, Levi, Zeke
Warnings: Slight mention of Daddy Kink
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Armin
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Tulips | Deep Connection, Appreciation
Armin gifts you tulips because they’re a flower you can plant and continue to grow, just like your relationship. They express how he feels one with you and the empathic nature you have for one another.
Evenings spent at the beach watching the sunset with Armin were pretty common. At this point, it was close to being a tradition. While he always kept a pastel yellow blanket in the back of his car and you always made sure to bring along snacks, you were a bit confused when Armin advised you to not worry about it this time. He had already stuffed a woven basket with all your favorite items and made note of the flowers you had eyed last time you both visited your sacred spot. So as the both of you make your way closer to the shore, cool sand beneath your feet, you help Armin spread out the blanket and weigh it down with your shoes. As you claim your spot on the soft fabric, he begins to pull out the snacks along with the orange tulips.
“I hope you like them”  he sheepishly says, a small smile forming to conceal his nerves. 
Eren
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Roses | Undying Love, Affection
Eren gifts you roses because they convey his passion for you. You see red roses, you think love. And Eren is determined to make everything he feels for you known. Whether that’s to the world or you or both. He’s a spontaneous lover.
As you both are heading home from running errands, sitting in the 5 o’clock traffic, you distract yourself by aimlessly scrolling on social media. Small conversation being exchanged between you and Eren as he keeps his focus on the stagnant cars in front of him. He notices a group of people walking down the street, vibrant flowers in hand. The closer they get he can hear them yelling out “ Five dollars a bouquet!” Signs accompanying them asking to help support  worker’s rights. You lift your head up from your phone and before you can realize what’s going on, you see Eren lowering his window, waving the man over.  
“I’ll take them all please” He says as he pulls out two twenties.
The vendor thanks him repeteadly with a nod of his head and hands over every bouquet in hand, to which Eren places into your lap.
Your confusion now amplified even more so, but not as severe as the swelling of your heart for the loving gesture, you let out a breathy laugh.
“Eren, what in the world?”
“What? I’m supporting a cause” he justifies with a toothy grin, knowing that wasn’t his only motive in doing so
Connie
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Gerbera Daises | Playful, Innocent Love
Connie gifts Gerbera Daises because of how colorful they are. Night adventures are pretty common and being around you heightens his playful personality. It’s nothing but laughing fits and genuine comfort when in the presence of one another.
Neon signs and city lights illuminate the streets as you and Connie make your way towards the subway. Returning from your late night pizza run, you walk hand in hand listening to his corny jokes. Giggles filling the air as you lean into his side, Connie tightens his grip on your hand, forcing you to run with him to God knows where. He had noticed the bright red sign reading “FLOWERS” down the street, past the subway stop you both were supposed to get on. 
“What are you doing?” you ask while continuing to laugh at his shenanigans. 
“Getting you flowers, duh” he says while turning to face you and pointing upwards to the sign above him.
You both wander the shop, admiring the variety of flowers among you. Connie begins to pick out radiant daises, ranging from pink, yellow, and orange. 
“Do you like these?” he asks, looking for your approval
You reply with a nod of your head and beaming smile.
“Perfect. Help me pick out some more”
Jean
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Lillies | Purity, Virtue 
Jean gifts Lillies because they’re pure, just like his intentions for you. All he ever wants is to be the reason you smile. He’s supportive in everything you do and you’re the same for him. He shows his appreciation for you often and while it appears in various forms, he likes to make sure you know how much you’re on his mind with tangible gifts.
After hearing your sobs over the phone from the previous night and the strain in your voice the following morning due to the stress you’ve been under from school/work, Jean decides to head over to your apartment. He figures you could use a break and since you’re not giving yourself it, he will. So as he makes his way over to you, he stops at a local florist and grabs a bouquet of Lillies, making sure to also snag a coffee from the cafe next door, before continuing his venture to you. 
As you lay in bed, engulfed by the warmth of your comforter, you hear a knock at your door. You make your way over, still swaddled in your blankets and open it to find Jean staring back at you, stifling a laugh at the sight of you as little burrito. Only then do you realize the gifts in his hands, and look up at him with thankful eyes. 
“Seemed like you could use some company” he says while entering and handing over your coffee. He had your order memorized just like very other little detail about you. 
Settling into his presence, you grab a vase for the flowers and fill it with water. Placing them in, you notice the little card accompanying the white lilies. Written on it is “Be kind to yourself, my love” and as Jean watches you read it, he walks over the other side of the island to where you are
“Please” he mumbles before planting a kiss on your forehead.
Levi
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Peonies | Prosperity, Compassion
Levi gifts peonies, accompanied by eucalyptus because he cares deeply although it may be hard to express sometimes. It’s very subtle but with these flowers he’s able to root himself deeply into you the way you did him. The eucalyptus helps ease the everyday stress you (and him) face.
The sunlight shines through the blinds, awakening you as you lay in bed turning over to find your lover missing. 
Levi always woke up earlier than you, but usually on weekends he’d stay in bed with you a little longer until you woke up. This morning though, he decided to occupy himself by visiting the plant nursery you both had spotted driving home one evening. He remembered your comment on wanting to get a bouquet for your shared apartment, something to make it more lively. So as a way to let you know he was listening, he purchased flowers and decided to construct an assortment for you. Peach peonies for the pop of color and eucalyptus as aromatherapy. Sure, he could have bought a pre-made bouquet, but he knew it wouldn't be as perfect as he wanted unless he assembled it. 
So as you crawl out of bed to find him standing over the kitchen sink, trimming stems and placing the flowers into a glass vase, you can’t help but tease him a bit.
“Didn’t know you were a florist” you playfully poke
“Tch, shut it” he jabs with the tiniest grin.
Zeke
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Baby’s Breath & Roses | Purity, Everlasting Love
Zeke gifts you baby’s breath and roses to represent the two extremes in your relationship. It feeds into his Daddy kink, as you’re so pure and perfect for him. The roses are his way of “tainting” you while conveying his feelings of loving you intensely yet delicately. 
Zeke’s always been into the more vintage things. He claims they have more soul, real significance. So as he picks you up to drag you to a new Vinyl Record shop he’s discovered, you’re a bit taken aback when you see flowers resting on his back windshield of his car. Opening the passenger side of the door, you can’t help the curious smile plastered on your face as you begin to ask him what they’re for and why they’re propped there out of all places.
“They add to your aesthetic” He defends while reaching behind your seat to hand you a seperate bouquet of roses decorated with dainty baby’s breath flowers.
“My aesthetic?” you question, quirking an eyebrow to express your confusion as you analyze the bouquet with a smile beginning to tug at the corner of your lips
Lighting a cigarette before pulling out of the driveway, he turns to you with a smirk
“Timeless”
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I literally spent 8 hours looking at photos of flowers to make this. I wish I could say I was joking but I can't. It’s okay though *eye twitch* Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this, please let me know what you think!
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hongnanglen-arina · 3 years
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Forget me not | Hong Joshua
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Genre: Angst
Pairing: Joshua x fem reader
Warnings: sick!reader, dementia
Words: 3k
A/N: Hey there! So here it is, my first angsty fic on here. I’m currently going through this myself but writing it down helped me cope with it a bit. Of course having to deal with this syndrome/disease is anything but romantic or nice but i tried to make it less bad if you know what i mean... anyways, i really hope you don’t have to deal with this in rl. Please be healthy!! Love you ♡
Tagged: @love-dreams​ @seokcalibur​ 
⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅
The first time Joshua knew that something was off was at your birthday party 5 years ago. When you talked too fast, often times you mixed up the names especially the similar ones. You nearly forgot the cake in the oven. Luckily your cousin noticed it. During the party, he thought you were just too excited or too stressed because you wanted it to be perfect. You’ve always been like this.
But when you were alone in the kitchen after everyone had left, you asked him about the special occasion of the party. You couldn’t remember it was your birthday.
He had laughed and thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t. 
The questions increased, more and more random reactions happened until he couldn’t leave you alone anymore. 
Once he was at a market with you. It was a lovely saturday afternoon. You two enjoyed those short getaways a lot. You would randomly choose a place up to 3 hours away from your home and would drive there, spent the day or even the whole weekend there and would go back happily as if you had a little vacation. That day you had decided to split up so he could secretly get the little bouquet of roses for you before joining you at the grocery store to help with the bags. The bouquet was placed securely on the backseat of your car when he stepped into the grocery store, looking for you. The store wasn’t too big so he was sure that it wouldn’t take long to find you. No sign of you at the fruit corner, the pastries, alcohol nor the snacks corner. He just couldn’t find you. He even asked the workers to call your name through the speakers because he started to get worried. 5 minutes passed. 10. 15. Still no sign. He didn’t want to bother the busy workers a second time so he made his way back to your rented apartment for the weekend. Maybe you wanted to start preparing dinner because you’ve been always like this. You never wanted to get help if it wasn’t really necessary. This was one of the reasons you two would get into an argument but those never lasted for long. 
When Joshua got into the car and drove down the street in the direction of your apartment, he saw you sitting at the bus stop, crying. He immediately stopped the car and ran to you, he thought his heart had stopped beating the second he saw in what kind of state you were.
“Y/n, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He tried his best to speak in a calming tone but it was very difficult. Joshua didn’t know what was wrong. What happened. What he missed out on. He was mad at himself that he left you alone, no matter what the reason for your tears was.
Your eyes lightened up a bit when you recognized him beside you on the bench, looking down at his hands which were holding yours, thumbs rubbing soothingly over your cold skin.
“I’m such a bad mother! I forgot to prepare dinner for our kids! I have to go back and cook. They must be hungry and waiting!”
It wasn’t what Joshua was expecting to hear. 
Especially because your two children were already living in other cities for work and university. He didn’t understand right away. Again, he thought you made a joke but when his eyes met your glossy ones and he tried to find the right words.
“Love, they aren’t with us anymore. You don’t have to prepare dinner for them.”
This was the wrong choice of words. You started to cry uncontrollably, worse than before. Because you thought they had passed away.
Later on he learned that he had to “play along”. That this would resolve almost every situation with people who were suffering with this syndrome.
The other time you just wanted to throw away the trash. It was just right outside the apartment complex so he thought it would be okay. The big bins were just beside the entrance, in a separate place only residents could enter since the gatekeeper was always around. You didn’t have to go that far, it was still the same building. But what was a task for 10 minutes maximum under normal circumstances became a horrible memory for Joshua and probably you too. 
Because you got lost somewhere between leaving and closing the apartment door and the moment Joshua found you. In the hospital.
Until now, he didn’t know what exactly happened on that day. But you got hit by a car when you crossed the street at a red light he was told. Even after asking the gatekeeper, he couldn’t help you because after seeing you, he got a call and didn’t pay attention where you were going after exchanging greetings.
Joshua’s fingers slightly touched your knee, the scars from the accident still evident. He was mad at himself. He thought moving to this place would help you recover and made you happier. In some aspects it did. Living on the 23rd floor with a breathtaking view over the Hangang river and all the nice lights once it got dark outside was something you two had always dreamt of. Being able to take a walk at the park next to the building and having some slice of nature around was exactly what you two wanted in this huge city. Always joked about growing old and admiring the view together. 
He never thought it would become like this.
He didn’t know why God had chosen you.
He used to believe that everything happened for a reason. That you would only get good things if you do good.
He was raised to believe in God. 
But after everything, it was difficult.
He even caught himself hating God for making you suffer like this.
He just couldn’t help it.
“It’s cold.” Your words pulled Joshua back to reality and he quickly got up to get your favorite blanket. The fuzzy fabric that you fell in love with when you were at an amusement park together a month before you got married. You always took great care to everything and everyone around you so it was no surprise to him that the blanket still looked exactly like it did when he won it for you. Although it hasn’t gotten the same care anymore after you weren’t able to do chores by yourself again. Joshua asked you what your secret was in maintaining it but as much as he tried, he just wasn’t as talented as you. 
He wrapped you in your blanket and made sure that you felt warm and cozy before walking over to the open kitchen area to prepare tea. Your favorite organic herbal infusion. 
While he was waiting for the water to boil, is eyes traveled to the side and to the wall which was decorated by different photos. Every single one holding a deep meaning.
A selfie taken on a ferries wheel. The moment he confessed his feelings for you. He planned everything to the smallest detail and wanted it to be romantic. Throughout the evening you asked him several times why he was carrying a bigger backpack. The reason was a bouquet of red roses. That day he wasn’t fully himself because he was too nervous but it still worked out. He succeeded. Joshua smiled at the memory.
Beside that was a photo from your wedding. The beautiful dress that you wore was something he had never seen. He was speechless and had to swallow down the tears. He couldn’t believe that he was the lucky guy marrying this ethereal woman in front of him. In this photo your eyes were a little puffy and nose slightly red because you couldn’t help but to cry through half of the ceremony. He could still hear your whines when his best friend asked for a photo. The smile remained on Joshua’s lips while remembering the moment.
Then photos of your children. The first born, then your second 3 years later. Time really passed by too fast because now they weren’t living with you anymore. In fact, your first born would become a father himself in a couple of months. 
Joshua looked over to you, the smile changing to a painful expression. He wasn’t sure if you would understand who it is when your son would come over with his baby. 
Once the tea was ready, he put everything on a small tray with some fruits and walked back to you.
You were still at your favorite spot. At the table in the dining room which was right in front of a huge window, allowing you to have a beautiful view on the Hangang river and the Paldang bridge. Joshua would catch you smile from time to time, sometimes even getting an answer from you why you were smiling. When there wasn't a smile on your lips, your eyes would be watery as if you had remembered something sad. Every time he would ask you and often times he would be surprised what the cause was. The fact he would randomly learn new things about your past even after knowing you for over 40 years now was surprising to him. But the doctor once told him that those things could also be dreams or wishes that you would mix up with reality. Sadly it was common.
He helped you with the tea, blew over it and held the cup while you took a sip. Every time you would thank him but without saying his name. It was painful but he tried to hold his smile.
“They look like the flowers we have in our garden. They are so beautiful. My mother loves them. Me too.”
Joshua turned around to a painting on the wall. A painting of small flowers, little blue petals with white and yellow centers. Forget-me-nots. 
You painted it after getting the diagnosis. At that time, it wasn’t this severe. You were still able to do everything by yourself although you stopped from time to time because you weren’t able to remember what you wanted or why you were doing something. But the both of you were scared of the future.
It wouldn’t just go away after some time like a flu. There was nothing you could do, no antidote. Just medication which would temporarily improve the symptoms, distracting you from the real process. You knew that one day it would become so bad that you may hurt him.
The reason you painted the flowers was because you wanted to break up with him. You wanted a divorce. Not because you stopped loving him, it was because you loved him. You hated to ask for help. You hated to bother people, especially him. People who meant the world to you. You wanted him to live his life without you as a burden because dementia meant you would need help until the very end.
You wanted to give him the painting as a gift, like a symbol of your time together. That you were thankful for everything and hoped he would keep all the good memories in his heart. You didn’t want him to hate you and you really hoped he would understand. If not now, then later. The divorce would give him the freedom he deserved. He shouldn’t see you miserably and take care of you when you can’t recognize him anymore.
That was the biggest fight you two had. 
Joshua was more than hurt of the decision you had made alone. But he wasn’t the only one in pain and he saw it in the way you were shaking as you tried to explain everything. He knew that something was wrong with you some weeks prior to your fight where the bomb dropped. You didn’t eat normally, you denied his ideas for a night out, you didn’t smile as much as you used to. You just avoided his love and wanted to be alone more and more.
In the end he convinced you to stay. Joshua told you that he swore to care for you until his last breath. To be there for you in good but also in bad times. He would be understanding if the syndrome would mess with your brain or body again. It was his purpose to be there for you. He loved you. Just as much as you needed him, he needed you as well. Even if that meant to be in the situation he was in right now.
"You really sing so beautifully. You should become a singer!"
That's what you would say every day after he played the guitar or sang his favorite song for you. And his reply would be the same as well, every day.
"Believe me or not but I was a famous singer once.”
And you would always giggle and think that he made a joke. But it wasn’t.
Joshua was 2 years older than you but then again, healthy. Unlike you who was suffering from dementia. 
He knew you didn't do it on purpose but it always hurt him so much, he had no word to describe the pain. Knowing you weren't able to remember all the happy moments you two went through made his heart ache. No matter how often he told you about your adventures, your experiences and life lessons, you would forget about it right after. But he still did it again and again. At least he had a lot to tell you about and somehow it was a way of not forgetting it himself. Some kind of therapy for himself. But often times he struggled because he couldn't remember it clearly and it was always a lonely feeling as you couldn't help or correct him.
Joshua checked the secure on the wheels of your wheelchair, making sure it wouldn’t move. He slowly got up to his feet to turn on the heater on the other side of the room. It was getting cold inside and the tea was gone already.
When he first heard about dementia, he thought it was losing memory only. But as he educated himself more and more, he learned that it could also mean the loss of mobility and the loss of speech. 
Luckily the latter hasn’t happened yet and he prayed it would stay that way. 
That was one of the reasons he believed in God again.
He felt selfish but he had nowhere to go. No place to let everything out.
When he prayed to God again, he felt bad and pathetic at first but it gave him the strength he needed.
He prayed that you wouldn’t be in too much pain.
He mentioned his gratitude for still being with you.
He was thankful for the chance to be a good husband to you.
Absentmindedly, his fingers found his cross necklace. You weren’t in a good state and of course everything could be better without dementia but being there for each other must be the life lesson here. Even without a marriage, being with the person you love and supporting each other was one of the most important things in life. He didn’t know how it would be, if the tables were switched between the two of you. Maybe that was why Joshua understood your idea of the divorce although he decided against it. If he would have to choose again, his decision would be the same. 
He didn’t want a life without you.
After turning on the heater, he joined you again.
He was watching you smile with tears in your eyes.
He asked you what was wrong but you didn't react, instead your gaze was fixated on something outside the window. He wanted to help. He wanted to turn back time but he couldn't. His wish was impossible to become true. 
Joshua reached forward, grabbing two clementines from the tray he had brought earlier and started peeling them for you. You two used to do it for the other when everything was still okay. Before the drastic change had started. Now you've never done it for him again but it would never stop him from doing it for you.
Carefully taking your hand and placing the peeled fruits in it, you made a surprised noise, giving him a soft smile.
"How do you know I like them? Say, what's your name?"
He tried to smile back. The same question he would hear every day.
Leaning forward, he gently rubbed your arm through the blanket. "My name is Joshua." ...and I'm your husband, he added in his thoughts.
You pulled out your arm from under the blanket and carefully touched his hair, letting the fingertips graze his cheeks until he grabbed your hand and kept your hand like this, leaning in your palm and closing his eyes for a second before placing your hand back down in your lap. You still wore his bracelet. The one he made for you with pastel colored beads. 
Every day you would ask where you got it from but Joshua made sure to tell you about it every time he heard this question. At least you two would always have topics to talk about, he always told himself.
“You are so kind to me.” 
Your soft voice made him look up to you and then he saw it in your eyes. He saw that deep down you haven't completely forgotten about him and that was all he needed. That was what kept him going, day after day. You were and will always be the love of his life after all.
And that would never change. Never.
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spicycreativity · 3 years
Text
Intertwined - Chapter 6
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Chapter: 6/8
Additional Notes: Fic published in full on my AO3, WizardGlick. This is my favorite chapter 😁
Chapter Content Warnings: Blood, respiratory distress
The record player was still in the kitchen, surrounded by puzzle pieces. Patton switched it on and watched the vinyl spin in a daze. He missed Roman's boastful chatter, missed Logan's even keel. Maybe he should just give up. They clearly didn't want him around, and at a certain point, maybe it was selfish to keep badgering them.
God, he was a mess. Virgil had been too tactful to say anything during last night's Ghost Adventures marathon, but he had kicked his feet up in Patton's lap, and that was telling. It wasn't the reassuring full-body contact he longed for, but Virgil had never been big on touch. He couldn't be what Patton needed, and that was fair. It wasn't Virgil's job to take care of Patton. It was no one's job.
Janus' voice sounded unbidden in his head, reminding him in a distinctly annoyed tone, ' It's your job.'
So Patton picked himself up off the kitchen island and opened the fridge. He liked the work of cooking and cleaning. The domesticity was reassuring and sweet and safe. He cooked and cleaned because he loved. He loved Logan, he loved Roman, he loved Virgil. He wanted to see them safe and fed and contented, free to fulfill their functions because Patton fulfilled his.
As he cracked eggs into a bowl, he wondered if he loved Janus. He probably did. How could he help it?
Janus' smile was a rare thing, and that much sweeter for it. And he was so clever, so self-assured, so determined to help. This whole time, that was what was driving him. He wanted to help Thomas the only way he could, and now he was helping Patton. Because… Because he was just good. Even if he, like Virgil before him, kept that light hidden behind walls of sarcasm and bitterness. Janus was good. And Patton loved him.
He had forgotten to turn on the stove. Patton smiled at himself, because what else could he do, and turned on the stove. As he stood there, anxiously eyeing his half-finished omelette, his fingers found their way to the friendship bracelets around his right wrist. He had two there, Logan's and Roman's. They were both made of soft embroidery floss. Roman's had a little charm, a small silver 'R' that sometimes caught the light and made Patton smile when he noticed it.
He and Janus should have friendship bracelets. It could go on his left wrist next to Virgil's. Virgil wouldn't be happy about it, but… But Patton wanted it. He wanted Janus to feel accepted and loved. And there was no way to do that and spare Virgil's feelings. There was just no winning and Patton wanted, wanted, wanted more than he'd ever wanted anything.. Would it really be so bad to indulge this?
After breakfast, Patton relocated to the living room and asked the mindscape's halls for Janus. Janus did not appear, but the fog of the subconscious at the edges of the walls solidified into a hallway. Patton got to his feet and started to walk. He had never really ventured into the space that Roman referred to as 'the Dark Side,' but there was really nothing foreboding about it. The halls were still well-lit, the carpet still plush beneath his feet.
Eventually, the hall opened up to a cozy little alcove. Janus was huddled up against the wall, staring into the depths of a pure black coffee mug. He flinched when he noticed Patton, then smiled.
It was a slow, unfurling thing: first sheepish, then courteous, and finally, genuine. It lit a fire in Patton's chest, made him feel like he was glowing.
"Patton." Janus tipped his hat, peering out coquettishly from under its brim.
"Sorry," said Patton, "am I interrupting?"
"Oh, yes," said Janus, getting to his feet, "I need to have my coffee in utter silence of the caffeine doesn't take."
He sounded a little hoarse. Patton felt himself cross his arms and draw back to examine Janus, but couldn't stop it from happening. His scales looked the same as ever, more yellow than green under the light, but both eyes were glassy in a way that indicated lack of sleep. He looked tired, Patton decided, but not sick.
"Did I button my shirt wrong?" Janus asked, not actually looking down to check. He kept his eyes on Patton.
"Is there something on your mind?" Patton asked.
Janus countered this question with another question, which Patton supposed was fair: "Did you come down here just for that?"
"Well, actually…" Patton tugged at the tight, precise braid of Logan's friendship bracelet. Why was this so hard? "I thought we could-- If you wanted to--" His nerves were taking over and he was helpless to stop them, couldn't control the way his voice trembled. He started over. "So, no pressure, obviously, but I just thought it might be nice if we, you know, made friendship bracelets together." Patton held up his forearms so Janus could see. "If you want."
Tears were forming in Janus' human eye; his chest hitched with uneven breaths. Patton was already raising his arms to offer a hug when Janus turned away and started to cough. Oh.
The fit, though it sounded terrible, ended quickly. Janus straightened, drawing a yellow handkerchief back into his sleeve like a magician. "What," he said, pretending to look at his fingernails, "are the odds of you believing that was nothing?"
"It didn't sound like nothing," Patton said.
Janus sighed and leaned back against the wall, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. "Look, I didn't want to say anything, but I think that our dear benevolent prince might be a little angrier than he let on."
"You think Roman's doing this to you?" That didn't sound like him. He could be stubborn, sure, maybe even bull-headed, but it really wasn't like him to make someone sick. At least, not on purpose.
"It's not Remus," Janus said, crossing his arms. "There's nothing else wrong with me."
"It's just a cough?"
"Just a cough."
Patton tapped his fingers against his leg, thinking. "Roman's not really talking to me at the moment--"
"Typical," Janus muttered.
Not wanting to fight, Patton let this go. "But I'll see if I can… Well, I'll see what I can do."
Janus nodded, then seemed to remember something. His jaw worked for a second, his eyes darting everywhere except Patton's face. "Thank you."
Patton nodded, still inexplicably afraid. Now was his chance to leave, since Janus hadn't acknowledged his offer. If he sank out fast enough-- But what exactly was he running from? He wasn't Logic, but he couldn't deny that it made no sense to run from something he couldn't even identify. "So, um. Did you want to…?"
"Where?" Janus asked.
The trapdoor to the speakeasy opened beneath their feet. Patton's door appeared down the hall. He and Janus looked at each other in silence.
"The lighting might be a little better in my room," Patton said finally. He wasn't sure which of them had caused his door to appear. The subconscious was tricky like that sometimes.
"By all means," Janus said.
It was a little nerve-wracking to have Janus in his room. Patton wasn't quite sure why. Maybe the idea that Janus might not like it, and by extension, not like him. After all, Patton's room was as much an extension of himself and his function as his body was.
Janus stepped quietly over the threshold, holding himself still except for his eyes, which darted from object to object.
"Let me know if you start feeling all sentimental," Patton said, a thrill of nerves tingling his spine. "I don't have a lot of practice controlling my room." Janus probably didn't want to cry today, or ever. Not that he seemed like the type to get caught up in nostalgia. Like Logan, he was ruthless, cutting away what didn't serve him with the precision of a surgeon. Or so it seemed.
Janus nodded. Patton frowned. He'd been awfully quiet since Patron had extended the invitation. He almost seemed scared, which didn't make sense. They were safe in here. Too safe, if Patton let them be, sequestered in this hall of nostalgia's anesthetic haze.
"Are those California poppies?" Janus asked, striding forward to a dresser (the design of which had come from a memory of sleepovers at Thomas' grandmother's house).
"Where?" Patton asked, turning on his heel to look. It was difficult to move without tripping over the odd bin or crate of memorabilia. He found himself faced with a choice to either bend backwards to see around Janus or to stand right next to him. Far too close for propriety, they would be wedged right up against each other like the yearbooks on the far bookshelf.
Patton's heart started to race. Why? Why should he be nervous? He bent backwards, muscles aching in protest at the awkward pose, and peered around Janus' body. "I can't tell."
Janus turned, squinting at Patton's predicament, before looking down at the bins on the floor. He seemed to grasp the issue and extended a hand for Patton to take. "Come here."
Come here. Innocuous words, but the same ones he'd used to bring Patton into his arms that terrible night. Patton's heart fluttered.
He stepped over a stack of textbooks and entered Janus' space. Janus' capelet was soft and velvety against his bare arm; his sleeve a little rougher.
"Are they?" Janus asked.
The poppies were already wilting a little and Patton couldn't help but feel sad about that, even though they were imaginary. "Yes."
"How did you get them?"
"California," Patton said, the memory coming to him on a warm breeze that smelled of the outdoors. "Thomas sees them every time he gets to go."
Janus stifled a cough into the back of his hand, nodding all the while. "He wore them in his hair once."
Patton smiled, mind awash in golden light. Thomas and his friends were making a brief pit stop as they journeyed down I-5 and someone, it didn't even matter who, had spotted the blooms growing by the roadside. And they had all worn flowers in their hair for the rest of the day, bright faces made brighter by the addition of something so beautiful. "Do you like California poppies, Janus?"
"It's funny," Janus said, in a tone so devoid of sarcasm and teasing that Patton nearly did a double-take, "It never occurred to me to like them. But seeing them like this…"
He trailed off, coloring slightly, and Patton's breath caught in his throat. He understood perfectly, too perfectly, and it made him tremble.
It had never occurred to him to love Janus, until one day it did. But this-- Oh, no. Oh, no. Not like this. This couldn't be allowed. Janus glanced over at him and Patton felt his smile snap into place despite the newfound ache of wanting beneath his ribs.
"And here I thought you were going to keep me safe from your room," Janus teased.
"Oops!" Patton ran a hand through his hair. "Give me a second here; I can make a space." He thought for a moment before sitting them both down at a wooden picnic table. He imagined embroidery floss in every color, bins stacked with beads, scissors,  and two rolls of masking tape just to be safe.
"Summer camp," Janus said, smiling that crooked smile.
Despite his best efforts, Patton blushed. He tried not to hate himself for it because Janus wouldn't want that. But he also knew he was being far too selfish now, wanting Janus all for himself. There was a line and he had crossed it. "Do you remember what to do?"
Janus was already pawing through the embroidery thread. Loose strands clung to his gloves and Patton watched, intrigued, as Janus' mouth curled into that not-smile he sometimes wore when he was making fun. He withdrew his hands, trailing rainbow strings despite his efforts to shake them off, and glanced at Patton, startling a little when their eyes met.
Patton wasn't sure what to say. 'It's okay' felt hollow, less than a lie. Utterly meaningless. Janus' gloves meant something to him, something that went deeper than just aesthetics. Patton understood, in that moment, what it was all for: the gloves, the high collar, the hat, the sarcasm, the biting remarks, the exaggeration. All guarding Janus' heart. He must have been very afraid. Suddenly his irritation at Patton's inability to prioritize himself made perfect sense.
"I can help you," Patton said, not wanting Janus to feel pressured into taking off his gloves. "You can keep them on, just tell me what colors--"
"Don't be stupid," Janus snapped. "It's just clothing."
"Oh," said Patton. Heat flooded his face, impending tears burning in his eyes. Understanding didn't make it hurt less.
Janus didn't say anything, couldn't, because he was muffling those awful, barking coughs into his sleeve. They sounded so much worse than yesterday. Patton stared at a skein of auburn embroidery floss. He would have to find some way to get through to Roman.
"That was inappropriate," Janus said when he resurfaced. He was a little out of breath; his breath caused loose strings to flutter.
"I understand," Patton said.
"You do?"
Here, Patton hesitated. It seemed a little rude to read Janus, as Roman would say. He had obviously lashed out because he was scared of something.
Janus winced, pressed his lips together, shifted where he sat. "I'm sorry." He wouldn't look at Patton. "I shouldn't have said that."
"We can do this another time," Patton said, "if you're not ready. I just wanted…" It seemed stupid to say it out loud now, stupid and manipulative. "I wanted you to feel accepted."
Janus tugged his gloves off without fanfare, folded them neatly, and set them down on the table. His left hand was scaled, which Patton supposed he should have anticipated. "Don't look," Janus said. Patton frowned, trying to parse this, and Janus elaborated, "I want it to be a surprise."
"Oh!" Patton said, relief flooding his chest like morning sunlight through an eastward-facing window. "Okay." He stared at the embroidery thread, thinking. He had never been all that good at color theory, but… Maybe he could do a dark green for Janus's scales, and gold because they shimmered. To represent himself, he would of course use blue thread. And for the two of them, gray. But what shade of green…? Patton picked up a skein of army green floss, then kelly green, then moss green. "Janus?"
"Hm?"
"I need to look at you."
"Oh, Patton, I'm flattered, but need?"
"Can you just give me your hand for a second?" Patton asked, blushing.
"Which one?" Janus asked archly.
"The left one."
"...What for?"
Patton, still not looking at Janus, held up the three skeins of embroidery floss. "I need to color match."
Janus let out a huff of air through his nose. "I'm much prettier than that."
Then an idea struck. "Ooh, I know what to do! I still need your hand, though."
"Alright, alright." Janus leaned over, extending his hand to Patton. He flinched a little when Patton held it in his own, but did not pull away.
"Hmm," said Patton, examining the scales and the way they reflected back the light. It took a bit of thinking, but he managed to imagine a skein of thread in the same glossy green-gold color.
Then Janus stiffened and started to cough again, his hand curling around Patton's fingers until his nails dug painfully into Patton's skin. The fit was low and ragged and rough, left Janus teary eyed and gasping.
"You're sure this is Roman?" Patton asked, dimly aware that he was still holding Janus' hand.
"Forget it," Janus said, his voice like tattered silk. "You said you'd talk to him."
"I'll go right now if you want me to."
Janus shook his head. "Are you done with my hand? If not, I have a few to spare."
"Oh!" said Patton. "Yes. Sorry." He let go of Janus's hand, knuckles aching where Janus' nails had dug in. Janus' cough must have hurt far more than he was letting on.
Right. Compartmentalize. Friendship bracelets.
Patton picked his colors, eyeballed the thread length, cut them down, and taped the ends to the table. He decided on a simple striped pattern, flat, so it could slide easily under Janus's sleeve or the cuffs of his gloves.
"So you and Remus?" Patton said after he had fallen into a rhythm and didn't need to focus quite so hard.
"We're friends, yes."
"But you said--" Patton cut himself off, embarrassed. He certainly didn't want to be reminded of that awful night, and Janus probably didn't either.
"I know."
Patton was pulling too hard. He set his threads down and added another piece of tape. "I don't get it."
Janus sighed. "I'd rather not talk behind his back, but I will say this: He was on his worst behavior when he introduced himself."
Patton considered this but couldn't think of anything to say other than 'thank God.' That seemed rude, so he just kept his mouth shut. The silence that ensued felt equally as rude, and words slipped out of Patton's mouth before he could stop himself, "Do you love him?"
Janus didn't answer. Patton was tempted to look at him, to try to read his expression, but didn't want to risk ruining the surprise. Finally, Janus sighed and Patton heard the gentle rustle of his clothing as he shifted in his seat. "Defensive sarcastic quip."
Patton dropped his threads again so he could muffle a laugh behind his hands. "Sorry, was that too personal?"
"No, no, I love talking about myself. Maybe next you can ask me about my deepest fears."
"I didn't mean to be pushy," Patton said. It was hard not to be; he was so full of love love love he just wanted to give it away like Tupperwares full of snickerdoodles, like wildflower bouquets. He wanted Janus, wanted his whole fam-ILY to know and feel it as deeply as he felt it.
And Janus especially, Patton wanted to tell him with his lips, with his hands, with his tongue. His whole body radiating love.
But just because he wanted didn't mean he could have. He ached with a selfish desire to be held again, safe in Janus' arms. But even Patton was smart enough to understand that that moment was over and done with. They had shared it, and now it was another snapshot for the shoebox Patton kept in his closet. His own memories, separate from Thomas. A testament to his personhood.
They worked in silence after that, until Patton's wandering thoughts came to rest, inevitably, on the trouble at hand. "Hey, Janus?"
"Yes?"
"What do you think we should do now? Thomas can't keep going like this for much longer, I don't think. He hasn't done anything. And I-- I'm not saying-- I'm not trying to say it's, you know, immoral to rest, but this doesn't seem healthy." And also, it did chafe Patton a little, to see Thomas being so lazy, but he could keep that to himself.
"The sooner Logan and Roman get over themselves, the better," Janus said.
"I haven't checked on them yet today." Patton heaved a sigh and tried to focus on his pattern. He had the matte gray hooked around his finger at the moment, his own deliberate reminder to compromise.
"They haven't checked on you at all."
"So, what, then?" Patton asked, struggling not to look up. "I should get mad and ignore them right back?"
"That's what I would do," Janus said. "And you did ask. But…" A long-ish pause. "As we both know, I'm always right."
Oh. Patton closed his eyes, trying not to fold over and bury his forehead in the rough wood of the picnic table. He'd never wanted to see the worst in Janus, but he'd been bracing for it all the same. And every time he held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, it never happened.
That didn't mean they were never going to fight. Patton knew he was naive, but he wasn't that naive. But he had been bracing for something so much worse than this.
It was for Thomas. He had to remind himself. Janus had even said so, down in the parlor. It was all for Thomas. And Patton was sure, when it came time to make the next big decision, they would be at odds again.
But maybe… Maybe it didn't have to be so hostile. Couldn't they disagree without being enemies?
"You are always right, Janus," Janus said in Patton's voice. "And you're so handsome, and smart, too."
It was equal parts creepy and amusing, but Patton appreciated what Janus was trying to do, so he smiled. "I mean, you are smart. And h--" The word caught in his throat. They did all look very similar, though the subtle nature of the subconscious altered their appearances somewhat. It sharpened up Janus' features some, took away several inches of height, made his eyes dark and flashing. "And handsome," Patton finished weakly.
"You already said that," Janus said, voice dripping with faux-innocence.
"You're sweet, is what you are," Patton teased back.
"Finished," said Janus.
Patton blinked, thrown off, before he realized what Janus meant. "I'm almost done. Give me juuuust a second." He finished the bracelet with a practiced hand. "Can I look now?"
"Give me your hand. Then you can look."
Patton extended his left hand and finally looked over at Janus for the first time since they had started. The bright colors of the bracelet caught his eye immediately; it was an intricate weave of only two colors: bright yellow and true blue. Janus fingers were deft and gentle around Patton's wrist. He made no remarks about the purple and black bracelet already tied on.
"Oh, Janus, it's perfect!" Patton said. Hot tears welled up in his eyes. He let them fall, unashamed. It was nice to cry happy tears for once. "Your turn."
Janus pushed up his sleeve, tilting his head at Patton's bracelet. "What does it mean?"
"The green is for your scales," Patton explained, positioning the bracelet around Janus' right wrist. "The blue is for me. And the gray is.." He paused, suddenly embarrassed. "Well, it's a reminder."
One of the ends brushed against Janus' forearm and he twitched, nearly pulling out of Patton's grasp. "That tickled," he explained.
"You're ticklish?"
"No," Janus said, far too quickly for it to be the truth.
Patton smiled at him, though he knew they were a long way off from friendly touches. It struck him then just how badly he wanted that future. He wanted cuddle sessions with Janus on the couch, just the two of them. He wanted stolen kisses in the kitchen and tickle fights in bed. He wanted Janus, body and soul, consequences be damned. "Noted," Patton said. "Janus: totally not ticklish, even a little bit."
"Gospel truth," Janus said.
Patton finished tying on the bracelet and sat back. "Well…" He didn't want to leave his room, which was a sure sign it was time to go. "I'd better go check on my kiddos."
To his surprise, Janus didn't scowl or nag. He tugged his gloves back on, carefully sliding the bracelet inside the cuff. "What do you say to them?"
"Just that I'm here," Patton said. "And I love them.
"You know, Patton--" Janus got up and held the door open, breaking the spell of Patton's room somewhat-- "sometimes I think you're too good for the likes of us."
And then he was gone, sinking out before Patton could ask him what he meant by that.
Patton went first to Logan's room. Logan had maintained his silence after the meeting, not even answering to tell Patton to go away. The only hint Patton had that he was still in there was that Thomas hadn't gone completely off the rails.
"Hey, Logan." Patton knocked gently. "I'll go away soon, because I know you don't want me to bother you. I just wanted to say… Well, I'm not sure what you need right now, but I know this isn't it. So whenever you're ready to come out, I'll be here." It was so hard not to spill his guts to that plain white door. Almost like a confessional, only that Logan stubbornly refused to tell him what he had to do to earn forgiveness. "I'll go now. Come get me if you need anything, okay? I love you and I miss you." He waited a few seconds for any signs of movement within, but there was nothing.
Down the hall to Roman's room then.
The sight of Virgil seated on the floor with his back pressed up against Roman's cherrywood door made Patton pause, breaths stuttering in his chest.
He kept his distance, but Virgil had startled at the sound of his steps on the carpet.
Patton flashed him a thumbs up and cocked his head.
Virgil nodded.
Patton sank out. What else could he do? If Roman would rather talk to Virgil than to him, well… Patton couldn't blame him.
He sat down heavily at the kitchen island, staring down at the half-finished puzzle. Tears blurred his eyes and he took off his glasses as they started to fall. He was so, so sick of crying. He did it all the time. Every strong emotion moved him to tears.
He wanted to crawl back to Janus' room, relive that tender night. Just once, he wanted someone else to pick him up off the ground. He was thoroughly sick of being his own hero.
He had mostly gotten himself under control by the time Virgil popped up by the fridge. It was only his breathing that still troubled him, heavy and painful in his chest.
"Hey, Virge."
"Since when do you call me that?" Virgil asked, opening the fridge.
It was reflex more than anything that forced Patton to his feet. "I can make you something."
"You don't have to," Virgil mumbled, cheeks going scarlet under his foundation.
"I want to," Patton said. That much was still true, at least. "What are you in the mood for?"
"Uh, I was just gonna make a sandwich," Virgil said.
"BLT?"
"Sure."
Patton nodded, clenching his left hand into a fist by his side. Virgil was incredibly observant; he was bound to notice Janus' friendship bracelet. Patton wasn't sure whether to let him or to bring it up.
Virgil saved him from having to decide. "Where have you been all morning?" Patton wordlessly held up his arm, feeling for all the world like a guilty child. Sure enough, Virgil's eyes narrowed. But to Patton's surprise, no lecture followed. "Janus made that?"
"Mm-hm." Patton nodded. "I made him one, too."
"Is he wearing it?" Virgil asked, looking dumbfounded.
"Yeah," Patton said, a little emboldened now that he knew Virgil wasn't angry. "Tied it on myself."
"He let you do that? Janus?" Virgil ran both hands through his hair, looking at Patton like he'd just expressed a desire to go cliff diving while blindfolded.
"I mean, I didn't have to tie him down."
Virgil sighed through his nose and wandered to the kitchen island with a lost expression. "That's weird."
Patton opened up the fridge. "Are you okay?" he said to the condiments rack, not wanting to make Virgil uncomfortable with too much eye contact.
"Watch him," Virgil said. "Watch him like a hawk… A hawk with binoculars."
"Aww!" said Patton, picturing it. "Oh! How's Roman?"
"Conflicted," Virgil said. "I told him you've been hanging out with Janus."
Patton bit his tongue and pulled a head of lettuce out of the crisper drawer. It wasn't wrong to spend time with Janus. He loved Janus. Love was never wrong. "How'd he take it?"
"Nnnot that bad?" Virgil said. "I think it helps that Thomas hasn't gone full, y'know, Squip."
"You know I wouldn't let that happen," Patton said. He moved over to the counter and paused to take a few deep breaths. His chest hurt a little. Probably just from crying too much. But that reminded him of Janus and that worrisome, mysterious cough. "By the way, does Roman seem… in control?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know, he accidentally made it super cold for a little bit."
"Oh," said Virgil, "yeah. He apologized for that. He's okay now."
Patton nodded, trying not to let his worry show on his face. But it crept into the corners of his mind and kept him silent as he made two BLTs. If Janus was sure it wasn't Remus and Virgil was sure it wasn't Roman… Who else could it be? Or what else?
No answers sprang into Patton's mind. He bit his lip and stabbed one fancy toothpick each through sandwiches. He slid one plate over to Virgil, mindful not to upset any stray puzzle pieces, then rounded the kitchen island to sit next to Virgil.
"You…" he started, and paused to catch his breath. "You're not mad, are you?"
"I mean, I don't love that you're hanging out with Janus. I wish you wouldn't. I wish he'd leave us all alone and go back to slinking around in the shadows like the snake he is." Virgil turned his head to look at the new friendship bracelet on Patton's arm. "But you're your own Side. It would be wrong for me to try to control you. I just really hope he doesn't hurt you, Patton."
"So you're not mad?"
"No, pop star, I'm not mad. Just worried about you."
"Thanks, kiddo."
--
It seemed that these days, the mindscape was just made up of one crisis after another. After spending a pleasant day with Virgil, albeit with his breaths dragging in and out of his body like the air was too thick to breathe, the next morning found Patton doubled over in a fit of coughing so intense it knocked his glasses off. He ducked right back into his room, kicking his glasses in before him, and spat out a mouthful of heart-shaped flowers onto the floor.
Hm. Uh-oh. He wasn't an expert on biology, but he was fairly sure that wasn't supposed to happen.
The blooms were pretty, though, bright magenta hearts with little white tails. Bleeding hearts, they were called.
Patton frowned. Hadn't Janus said… Yes. 'I want you to protect that bleeding heart of yours.' How ironic. Maybe. Patton could never seem to use 'irony,' right, something Logan was always quick to point out.
He coughed again, but no flowers came up this time. That was good, probably. Coughing was bad, coughing up blood was worse. Surely coughing up flowers had to be somewhere in the middle.
He stood up straight again and banished the flowers into nothingness. Was it coincidence that Janus had a cough? Was it contagious? He hadn't said anything about flowers, though.
Patton sank out, grabbing his glasses on the way. If he was coughing, then he was probably sick. He knew how to handle that.
Since Virgil rarely spent time in the living room, Patton could hole up there with tea and toast and Adventure Time on the TV. Just until he was better, and then it would be right back to trying to fix things. He wondered if Janus would be proud or whether he would just push for Patton to rest more. Maybe both.
Virgil made an appearance a few hours later, about the time that Patton felt his patience running thin. The cough wasn't getting better, but he had no full-body fatigue to make the cartoon marathon bearable. Sitting still for too long made him antsy.
"Roman invited me in," Virgil called from the kitchen, dashing any hopes Patton had for conversation. "I just wanted to let y-- What are you doing?"
"I think I'm getting sick," Patton explained, wincing as the words seemed to claw their way out of his torn-up throat.
"Are you okay?"
Patton nodded. Aside from the cough, he really did feel fine. Maybe this would pass quickly. "Tell Roman I said hi."
"Will do." Virgil gave one last, lingering look before he sank out.
This left Patton alone with the ache in his chest and the vast loneliness threatening to swallow him whole. He tried not to think too much about Janus, lest he inadvertently summon him again, but it was so hard now. He didn't ever want to be apart from Janus. It was such a pure and simple yearning that Patton couldn't even feel guilty for it (though he did feel an echo of guilt that he didn't feel guilty). But it was a desire born of love, and how could that be bad?
The only bad thing about it was that Janus didn't love him back. Of course he didn't. How could he? All he ever did was run around babysitting Patton through crying spells, desperately trying to get him to pull himself together. There was nothing remotely attractive about that. In fact, with Janus, it seemed that all Patton did was take, take, take. He was guilty of the exact behavior that had him so wrung-out and desperate in the first place. How embarrassing.
Patton coughed into the crook of his arm, catching flowers and leaves in his mouth and banishing them without looking. He'd been sick before, they all had, but never like this. He almost wished for fatigue or a headache, something to make resting a little more bearable. Right now, he just felt lazy.
A bottle of NyQuil appeared on the couch next to him, nestled up against an embroidered throw pillow. Patton looked at it. He could already hear Logan lecturing him about the dangers of misusing medication, but… Patton was sick. And he was imaginary. And Thomas probably knew better than to chug NyQuil at the first sign of illness.
It would be fine. Patton poured out a dose and drank it down with his nose plugged in the hopes of masking the alcohol-tinged artificial sweetness. He still shuddered at the syrupy sensation on his tongue. Then he sank out, changed into his pajamas, and buried himself under his covers to slip into a coma.
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bearsinpotatosacks · 3 years
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What do you think are the characters of Star Trek's (TOS or AOS) favorite flowers are? (Hopefully this question makes sense, I'm bad at asking questions djjcjdskd)
Ooooo, you're question makes total sense! I'm not too well versed in flowers though so I'll do my research
Jim (TOS)- Sunflowers- There's something about how smiley he is and the yellow shirt that makes me think of Sunflower
Jim (AOS)- I'm thinking general wildflowers. He spent a lot more time outside than his original series counterpart just to get away from the suffocating house. He probably rode his bike really far away and fell asleep in a field in the afternoon summer sun
Spock (TOS)- Lotus- He likes how it's used as imagery for peace and serenity and we all know he has a massive greenhouse in his house on Vulcan which would be full of them
Spock (AOS)- I think he'd like orchids just because they're pretty and are a challenge to keep compared to others. Looking after his orchids is a real escape for him
Bones (TOS)- He loves Peach Blossoms. His mum had a prized peach tree in the garden that he'd sit under and he eventually gets one on the ranch he buys when he's older and the 5 year mission ends
Bones (AOS)- Poppies- He too loves Peach Blossoms but his favourites are poppies because of how they seem to grow in any situation after hardships (look at WW1 and how the poppies were the only things to grow after the war in the mud and destruction). It gives him some hope about space
Uhura (TOS)- Jasmine- She likes how dainty they are and probably has one in her quarters
Uhura (AOS)- Water lilies- She likes the peace associated with them and how they're in ponds and meditative gardens
Scotty (TOS)- Thistle- Not sure if this classes as a flower but he's a lot more patriotic than AOS Scotty seems to be so I feel like he'd love his national/plant
Scotty (AOS)- Daffodils, they're blooming right now in the UK because it's early spring and I love the idea of him knowing very little about flowers but loving these little sunshines because it means the real sun is coming and summertime is on the way (I'm kind of projecting here)
Sulu (TOS & AOS)- Probably some alien plant, this feels like a cop out but he has so many that he'd struggle to choose. But I know that both Sulu's have funerals for dead plants and AOS Sulu went through an only-half-joking mourning period for his lost plants after Altamid
Chekov (TOS)- He says the venus fly trap to seem cool but it's really a lily. Sulu started growing one in his botany lab and Chekov randomly started showing up more
Chekov (AOS)- His is a Chamomile flower, the national flower of Russia. He sometimes confuses them with white daisies but always manages to turn it into something about Russia
(And I'll throw Christine Chapel in there too because I love her)
Chapel (TOS)- Tulips- She loves the colours and definitely grows them in her quarters
Chapel (AOS)- Lavender- A lot of her skincare products are lavender scented. She loves the smell and the shade of purple
I hope you liked these! I'm really not a flower gal so I tried my hardest and I'm sorry if they're really UK based, I know nothing about plant varieties and tried to do my research. This was a fun ask and I really loved doing it, I don't really get asks so I appreciate every one
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metastablephysicist · 3 years
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I really fell behind on the zoomester study challenge, catching up today (under the cut)! 
I’m struggling to work through some theoretical calculations on the structure of the isotopes that I study, hopefully I can work it out with my research advisor when we meet today.
Day 6 - Quickly! tag urself!
five am. ice cold water. watching the sunrise. healthy smoothies. skincare. reads often. friends with everyone.
ten am. iced coffees. always in a hurry. golden hour aesthetic. remembers the little details. loves old movies.
midday. mom jeans. picnic dates. thrift-shopping. pinterest. low-key insecure. obssessed with photography.
three pm. the color yellow. walks everywhere barefoot. oversized t-shirts. can make anyone laugh. a bit crazy.
five pm. warm smiles. classy. aesthetic instagram feed. anklets. soft music. yoga. face masks.
eight pm.  netflix. cuddles warm sheets. indoors life. loves singing but can’t. sweats. never sleeps.
midnight. driving at night. flirty. neon lights. wears a lot of red. neon lights. big sunglasses. karaoke.
three am. tired eyes. small sketchbooks. pressed flowers. stargazing from the window.
I’m three a.m. all of the way... although I really need to break the habit of staying up late.
Day 7 -  Some of your music faves right now (let’s say up to 5)
sidney gish - especially sin triangle.
death grips - I’m sorry for my music taste, I know they’re not for everyone, but I think it’s good study music. their best song is probably on gp.
daymé arocena - the whole cubafonía album is great, but especially la rumba me llamo yo.
souad massi - my favorite song of hers is ghir enta.
penelope scott - favorites: sweet hibiscus tea, cigarette ahegao, rät.
Day 8 - International Women’s Day! What’s your take on feminism?
if it’s not intersectional I’m not interested. 
also, I think that we’ve made progress with women and men being seen as equals, but I think it’s also important for femininity to be seen as masculinity’s equal. historically feminists have divorced themselves from traditional femininity, even to go so far as to claim that it is unnatural & all people that still embrace it are faking it or being coerced into it by the patriarchy. this has alienated many women who do enjoy expressing traditional femininity (and is also harmful to feminine-inclined people that aren't women). just something that’s been on my mind lately.
Day 9 - Write something that you’d like to tell yourself.
you're not going to write a perfect sentence, so just write an sentence. you're not going to write a perfect essay, so just write an essay. you can always revise later.
Day 10 - Tag someone whose aesthetic you love seeing on your feed.
the first person that comes to mind is @darkmacademia, her prints (like this calendar) are very pretty!
Day 11 - What’s something that you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t got the chance to do so?
I've always wanted to make some video essays (about history of science/physics & other interests that I have) and post them to youtube. it never seems like I have enough time to organize my writing and record myself.
Day 12 - Are you more into plant or flowers? What’s your fave type?
this is a confusing question because flowers are plants.. right? my favorite types of plants have always been epiphytes, specifically mini varieties of orchids.. they’re so cool. I have some mini & normal-sized phals; I would love to grow a sedirea japonica if i could find one.
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thatwitchyaunt · 3 years
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Makeup for Magick/Ritual p3: Beltane
We made it to Beltane, you guys! We did it! Is this actually going to go up in time without my computer freaking out? Only time will tell. And no, I didn't get a better phone.
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I stole my sisters. ANYWAY!!!
It's the last of the three fertility sabbats (along with Imbolc and Ostara). And that's fertility in all its forms, by the way, not just the baby-making kind. You need fertile soil to for just about any kind of plant to grow, after all. The main colors that I, personally, associate with Beltane are bright/summery reds, lush greens, and… white. All colors of fertility, growth, passion, shmex… as you do. However! The entire rainbow spectrum is fair game. Think of all the colorful flowers, plants, and trees and stuff. For instance, just looking out my widow from where I'm typing this, you got the green of the new leaves on the tree, the reddish-orange color of the little helicopter seed fellas hanging from it, and little yellow, almost white, flowers on the bush in the neighbor's yard.
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Any of the more nude palettes from Ostara are still in play. And DAMMIT! The picture's cut off at the edges. Because of course it is, why wouldn't it be? *groan* Whatever, let's get into Colourpop.
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Top: Strawberry Shake, Main Squeeze, Orange You Glad?, Uh Huh Honey
Middle: Just My Luck, Blue Moon, It's My Pleasure, Oh La La
Bottom: Yes, Please!
If the red/green thing is what you wanna go for, grab the Just My Luck palette and either Strawberry Shake or Main Squeeze and you're good. And of course, as the rainbow spectrum goes, there it is. Hell, if you have the Fade into Hue palette, just grab that. I don't have it because, though the eyeshadow formula is decent for the price, there are pressed glitters in the palette. And unlike the BH eyeshadow formula, I don't think the CP formula is good enough to make up for the handful of arts-and-crafts-herpes shades you have to deal with in this palette.
Yes, Please! is here because Beltane is also a fire festival and this a cute and cheap fiery palette.
On to Give Me Glow!
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Top: Summer Vibes, Extra Spicy
Bottom: Vintage Rose,Vivid Rose
Where there is the CP Yes, Please! Palette, there is the Give Me Glow Extra Spicy palette. Unfortunately, she's no longer available, but it's a great pick for this fire festival if you have it.
Kindly excuse the busted pans in my Summer Vibes palette, but a good chunk of these shades could work for Beltane. You can take it fiery or flowery, depending on what you're going for.
And if you want to look like a stereotypical flower fairy (and I mean that in the best possible way), the sister Rose palettes are the palettes to grab.
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Now let's get the single-palettes out of the way.
Tarte's Tartelette Toasted palette is another one of those fire festival palettes, except more of a warm toned nude version of one as opposed to the bright fiery colors of Yes, Please! and Extra Spicy.
The Too Faced Life's a Festival palette is just full of great brights and those fun duochromes. Definitely the time to pull it out if you have it.
And then there's the ABH Modern Renaissance palette. This palette will give you serious vintage flower fairy vibes, and was the first time I got said vibe while using a palette. Okay,technically that was when I used the Makeup Revolution dupe palette, but that formula was utter trash.
And as for the ABH sub-brand, Norvina…
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We got two. The Pro Pigment Palette Vol. 3, and the Pro Pigment Mini Palette Vol. 3.
The Mini's cherry reds, green and pinks and beautiful, and that white has a cherry red duochrome to it. Ignore the pressed glitter in the middle of the top row, the shades are pretty enough not to.
The larger Vol. 3 has some nice bright greens, reds, etc. that makes it great for the lushness of Beltane, even though it's meant to be a fall palette. Which it's also great for, but we'll get to that in a future post.
Now for BH Cosmetics!
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Top: Trendy in Tokyo, Chillin' in Chicago
Bottom: Mimosa
Trendy in Tokyo is the typical rainbow palette, except the shimmers are more satin than metallic, so not my favorite of their Travel palettes.
Chillin' in Chicago would make a pretty good fire festival palette, and lays in between Tartelette Toasted and Extra Spicy/Yes, Please!. It's not as nude as Toasted but not as bright as the two others.
Mimosa's pinks with orange and yellow pops could give you a bright, flowery look.
And now the last of the palettes, Juvia's Place!
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Left Column (Top to Bottom): The Masquerade Mini, The Magic Mini
Middle Column (Top to Bottom): The Zulu, The Festival,The Sweet Pinks
Right Column (Top to Bottom): The Warrior III, The Chocolates, The Violets
The Masquerade Mini's top two colorful rows are what you're reaching for if you want to do a fully colorful Beltane look, but can be paired with the bottom nudes if all you want (or can do because work or whatever) is a little pop of color. For The Magic Mini, you're looking at the top two rows, which are the warmer rows, and the purple duochrome (Faso) and the green (Buzo) in the bottom, cooler toned rows.
Both The Zulu and The Warrior III are beautiful colorful palettes. In Warrior III, I'd stick with the top six mattes. That green and red are beautiful, and that pink is almost neon in real life. The entire Zulu palette is good for brighter plant/flower looks. And that pink/gold duochrome in the bottom left corner? So beautiful.
In The Festival palette, I'd say all the shades except the metallic black, the deeper metallic teal, and the matte mustard gold. The red, pink and oranges are so beautiful and rich, guys! And that metallic white and gold? *chef kiss* But, guess what palette is getting pulled out for Samhain. X3!
The Chocolates, Violets and Sweet Pinks are basically companion palettes. The Chocolates have some "rich, fertile soil" vibes if you want to bring that into the look, while The Violets are fairly floral and The Sweet Pinks are more bright pops with a more floral matte and shimmer shade (top right, bottom left). The two pinky floral shades could actually be cute with the Violets, now that I think about it.
And finally, the singles! A few days ago, my first Terra Moons singles order arrived, but since I haven't really got to play with them much they won't be included in this one. Though they, as well as my first order of singles from Looxi beauty, will probably start showing up in my next post. Okay, Shroud singles first!
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Top: Enigma, Azura, Vigor, Ignite, Vigil
Bottom: Oracle, Pillow Talk, Scrumptious, Magnetism, Soulstone
Pillow Talk, Scrumptious and Magnetism aren't pressed glitters, but definitely act and remove like they are. So, if you pick these up when Shroud reopens, keep that in mind.
Enigma (purple with a blue shift)
Azura (teal blue with a green shift)
Vigor (bright lemon-lime soda green)
Ignite (fiery copper)
Vigil (yellow-gold)
Oracle (champagne gold)
Pillow Talk (deep purple with a gold shift)
Scrumptious (coral red with a gold shift)
Magnetism (aqua green with a gold shift)
Soulstone (magenta)
And finishing off, Give Me Glow singles!
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Column 1
My Sunshine (pale sunny yellow metallic)
Lucky Charm (light yellow metallic)
Lemon Lime (electric green with shifts of banana yellow)
Limeade (lime green)
Column 2
Peach Glaze (pale icy peach)
You're Cheesy (Mac n Cheese orange)
Havana (deep coral metallic)
Low Battery (neutral-toned, medium-dark red)
Column 3
Pink Frosting (icy bubble gum pink)
Heartbreaker (electric hot pink)
West Coast (deep vivid coral)
Floral Coral (peachy-pink coral)
Column 4
Strawberry Lollipop (reddish pink)
Pink Lemonade (pink base with electric gold a baby blue shifts)
Icicle (icy white)
Marshmallow (pure white)
Column 5
Pretty Little Lilac (icy lavender)
Electric Purple (neon pastel purple)
Bubbles (true icy blue)
Sky High (bright sky blue)
Column 6
Toxic (deep neon purple)
Purple Hills (a pure deep electric purple)
Under the Sea (deep sea blue)
Starboy (deep cobalt blue)
And we've reached the end of the Beltane post! Fun fact, the Beltane crossquarter day is on May 4th so, still relevant right? Yes? No? Maybe so? The fact that I was able to get this done by Beltane is a miracle in and of itself. Use these as color story inspiration for your own looks, maybe repost with palettes/singles you've found in your own stash, and I'll see you in the next one!
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romeulusroy · 4 years
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Sheyn Punim (Alfie Solomons Oneshot)
((PEAKY BLINDERS SEASON 4/5 SPOILERS))
Character/s: Alfie, Ollie mention
Word Count: 1,405
Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomrecs @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan @captivatedbycillianmurphy @creativemayhems @soleil-dor @thegirlwithoutaname87 @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby @riana-jannat
A/N: Just some fluff 💕 Well, as close as I can get :P I'm not the best at writing sappy things, and I'm a sucker for a dark metaphor, but I've had this idea for a while :) Still a lil nervous. Fluff is hard, but I'm givin it a try anyways!!! I've only ever spoken these words in Yiddish, never written them, and I know how Google can be with translations, so I might've made a few mistakes!!! Anyways, I hope you like it loves! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜
Gif Credit: @bennskywalker :)
FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. / PART THREE.
WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?
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Hand sculpted, you were sure. Come together by the minds of a thousand artists, careful not to smear or smudge, cautious to muddy, to rid the world of all his perfect imperfections. The harsh lines drawn across his forehead, the deeply carved creases of his eyes, a tight lipped smile shaded. To the untrained eye this would have been off-putting, jarring, even severe. These features would have been unlikable, an afterthought in comparison to others, but that's what they wanted, what they needed. To be undermined, overlooked. It wasn't cutting in the way that captured the attention of younger eyes. A jaw as sharp as blade, eyes piercing, the pointed tip of a pencil resting in confident hands. It wasn't soft in a sweet, endearing kind of way. Naive and freckled, lulled by oil paints, by grand brush strokes and a starry-eyed sense of wonder. He was another medium, another material, the kind that went unloved and underappreciated if you didnt look close enough, if you didn't appreciate the right features. You might have missed it yourself if you hang taken a closer look. Too many passed by without a second thought.
That's all he ever needed, though.
Sheyn punim. His beautiful face cupped in your hands, in need of a soft touch. His skin worn, aged with experience, the way paper yellows and crumbles if it's not preserved. Tracing his cheek, tapping his nose, kissing his forehead. Waking him when the sun rays fail to, when the bags under his eyes wain, growing hollow. Urging him to bed, to rest, but always insistent on spending time with you. You only had so much. Face to face. Somehow you always ended up here. An arm lazily dropped across your waist, the blankets and sheets twisted around your bodies after a restless night. This was your favorite version of him. The clay of him malleable, clumsy even, not yet hardened by the day ahead. The side of his face squashed by his pillow, a small snore mumbling through him. It would have been laughable, really. A man who emptied the streets before him, who could have made men bow to their feet and kiss his shoe as if he were God himself, sleeping like a baby, so full of coos.
Matók. Sweet. Your sweetness. You weren't sure how it happened, how he became yours, and you his. When you started belonging to one another only that you were hand in hand, never straying too far from one another. Mindlessly playing with his rings, trying them on for yourself. He'd get you a ring of your own one day. Big and clunky, like his own, like the one you'd taken, refusing to take off. Not the prettiest, but, then again, neither was he. An eye for the odd, the obscure, finding beauty where others turned away. Falling for the scraggly alley cats, plucking weeds in place of flowers, joyous when the fog fell across the soil and not a soul could be seen. Mukhl. Forgiving. Forgiving with your love, giving it up absentmindedly. Forgiving with him, his actions, all the terrible things he was capable of. He wasn't a piece of art, but a weapon of mass destruction. He wouldn't have to lift a finger to take a life, and yet, in your arms, he was anything but.
Sheyn balibt. Beautiful beloved. To be reminded of love, as foreign to him as a godless man. To be feared was to be expected, anticipated even. But loved? That he wasn't ready for. And yet, he couldn't picture his life without it, without you. Washing the blood from his hands, the worry from his bones, all of it slipping off the same way his coat did, hanging it where it could never touch you. An abundance of kisses in the doorway, excitement dripping from your words, grabbing him as if he may slip and fall. Talk of your day, he wanted to hear of every second. You made the most mundane infectious. Able to relax, to sink into the cushions with you, his day sugar coated, lightened where it needed to be. He never wanted you to worry. Meyn lebn. My life. Yours. His. It wasn't his actions that affected him anymore. Every decision he made, it had to be an act of protection, all of his proclamation of love to you.
Even if it meant hurting himself.
Narish. Foolish, the both of you. Thinking you could live in a bubble. Shut the world out until it was just the two of you. It didn't work like that, not in his business, not in this kind of world. You felt it before you knew, before Ollie came to you, hat in hand. An instinct, a pain without cause. It had to be him. It always was. Not a lie, but a half truth. Softening reality for the sake of a smile. You'd always known though. Hidden in his office where none could see, none could touch, the door thin, the walls begging for word to get out, to be free. Hearing too much, more than you ever asked for. Your Alfie, believing himself a statue, a keeper of secrets, stone faced, forgetting how effortlessly you could read him. Narish mentsch. Foolish man. You wished he wasn't so foolish, so stubborn, that he could be as vulnerable as he was in those sunrise moments.
Refusing to see you. Lebedik. Alive. You couldn't believe it. Your love alive, but refusing to see you, as if he were already dead. . . Hidden away for reasons you'd never understand, ones a letter would never do justice. Back and forth, your angr, your fear, bleeding into the page. Ollie could say nothing, ordered to keep his whereabouts to himself. Tried to follow, a few times out of desperation, but he was good at his job. You lost him instantly. Every time after that, he always promised, at the bottom of the page, it wouldn't be forever. Egoistish. Selfish. Selfish, vain, childish reasons. A bullet in that sheyn punim, in his beautiful face, that was no longer beautiful. You weren't sure how long it would last. Neither was he. The healing process took longer than either of you wanted. Once inseparable, now you were world's apart. You didn't blame him. Alfie had his reasons for everything, you understood. You just missed him. You missed holding him, being held, looking into his eyes and knowing everything would be okay no matter how uncertain life felt.
Bahaltn. Hidden. He needed to see you, to hear your voice, his cool exterior finally cracking, crumbling. Weeks, months, a lifetime, it felt without you. But he couldn't be seen. He couldn't bear the thought of you turning away from him, disgusted by the man before you. So, he stayed in the dark. The curtains drawn, lights off, safe in shadows. Ollie refused to tell you where you were going or why, only that you needed to come with him. You heard him before you saw him, as you often had in the past, swearing up a storm at nothing in particular. Nostalgic for him, his voice, hating that you were becoming so used to sleeping alone, that you were forgetting all the littlest ways in which he brightened your day. Pushing through the door, into the dark, waiting for you.
Brushing your hand through his hair, fussing the same way that always annoyed him, a last resort to get him out of bed. Still asleep, but stirring, taking your hand in his, pressing it to his chest. Thankful for that heartbeat every day. Getting closer to him, your noses almost touching, catching him open his eyes, sneaking a quick glance at you, pretending all along. You never wanted him to be in the dark like that again, to hide out of shame. Balibt. Favorite. Your favorite person, your favorite smile, your favorite face. The hardened scar tissue growing, settled, streaked across his cheek and forehead. The result of living through what no one was expected to. You didn't see what he did, what he examined in the mirror when he was self conscious, what he tried to avoid looking at in reflective surfaces. There was nothing wrong with it, though. You loved him just the same. No matter what he looked like, he would always be beautiful to you. He would always be yours, and you his. Ale mol.
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uwua3 · 4 years
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helloo! i was lurking through ur blog and ur writing is so good??? ur angst fic for tsumu was so painful and now i'm 😭😭 so can i pls request for hcs for tsumugi with an affectionate s/o? thank youuu 😭😭😭💖
i promise you i have 5 drafts right now but the moment i thought about this prompt, it wouldn’t leave my mind and i knew i had to write it! also, i’m so happy you liked my tsumu angst 🥺 it’s my least popular writing so i didn’t know if it was just awfully written or T___T but yes! angel deserves love ♡
summary: when all else failed, flower language was there to win over your crush
author’s note: this might be a bit different from what you were expecting, anon! the affection so much isn’t... obvious? well, you’ll have to read it and tell me if you think flower language is affection ♡
i absolutely adore flowers, so i was so thankful to put this romantic knowledge to use! if you are looking to be timeless, woo your crush with flowers please~
word count: 2,992
music: dream – suzy & baekhyun, love is the way – red velvet
yellow tulips means there’s sunshine in your smile.
❄️📚 tsukioka tsumugi
tsumugi loved flowers
it all started when he worked as a florist. the store was the same as always, even after he came back. it was overgrown, with decades of flora & fauna taking over the storefront as there wasn’t a single dead leaf in sight. greenery gave the usual urban, grey road life as the sunshine felt warmer in the makeshift forest. displays of annual flowers made tsumugi smell the roses, and he came by daily ever since he was a teenager
tsumugi liked to check out the produce and greet his favorite little old lady nicknamed “ma” that ran the small store. she always coddled him, pinching his cheeks and affectionately saying he grew up handsome as he blushed under the praise. she liked retelling stories she remembered of his young self working in her shop, laughing at his low stamina but unbreakable will
she reminded him of his own grandmother, and often arrived after work with new flowers he had harvested from the mankai courtyard to impress her
it was a particularly lucky day. one of tsumugi’s blooms came earlier than expected, and the moment he noticed it whilst gardening and whistling a tune, he took one as he left the dorms in his gear. when tsumugi arrived nearly out of breath for attempting to run the entire length, he was about to call the grandmother’s name but noticed someone else was tending the plants
(strange, ma never needed help, tsumugi thought before he glanced at your smile and was blinded. you were the sun)
when you bloomed into his life like the most beautiful flower, tsumugi swore he nearly dropped his pot when he saw you the first time. you saw him in gardening overalls stained by dirt and his rural appearance, and he admired you like you were at full bloom
tsumugi wasn’t good with words, in fact, he couldn’t even speak when he saw you. he just nodded quickly, gesturing to the random new arrivals he was pretending to be interested in. as you went further into the store, tsumugi sighed and could feel the vines within his lungs crawl and tighten around his chest
he wanted to talk to you, but he was afraid you’d be a cherry blossom that lasted for two weeks before fluttering away
so tsumugi approached you the only way he knew how: with flowers
it was your first week working as ma’s apprentince florist, but you had found a minature flower bouquet by your door. it was tarragon, a herb with tiny green & yellow flowers, gently wrapped with a delicate pastel yellow ribbon
tarragon: lasting interest
when ma came upon the boquet, she smiled knowingly, as if she had some dirt on the secret giver. however, you couldn’t get ma to budge (that woman was incredibly stubborn and had seen too many things to yield to a young adult!)
you decided to keep the herbs, pressing the flowers so they’d dry and twirled the ribbon around your finger as the empty lackluster hours expectedly came and went throughout the day. you wondered if the person who brought you such a beautiful present knew of flower language?
tsumugi did
tsumugi was a hopeless romantic at heart despite living in a world of fleeting love. he remembered learning flower language for situations like this, though, this was the first time he ever had to (or wanted to) use it
he still came to the shop every other day to be the victim of ma’s endless teasing, her short frame not stopping her from jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. but this time, with a knowing smile. nothing ever escaped ma, she was too observant for her own good
(tsumugi was the only person she knew who tied his ribbons that way)
(she only knew because every mother’s day, tsumugi liked giving her the best assortment of flowers she had ever seen ever since he worked for her)
as the days went by, you had begun to notice the quiet, timid boy with the shyest smile and brightest eyes always standing near the front in the sun as you hid away inside wherever the fan was
(perhaps you regretted that, when you heard his gentle laugh twinkle across the shop like wind chimes, you thought of tarragon)
one day, when you decided to look up after intensely reading a library book on botany behind the register, you saw him immediately avert his eyes and awkwardly laugh at something ma said. she glanced back at you, gesturing you over with a flick of her hand. you didn’t even bother arguing against it, closing your book and heading out front
(no one fought ma and won)
“this is my newest employee, tsumugi! they’re such a green thumb, it’s like they bring my flowers back to life.” ma bragged, laying a hand on your arm and pushing you forward so you were even closer to the boy you’ve been noticing out of the corner of your eye. he couldn’t look you in the eye, he was staring at everything but your eyes
(tsumugi couldn’t look at you because you shined so bright, he almost had to cover his eyes)
you introduced yourself properly, and as tsumugi finally tore his sight away from the new red roses in season, his eyes widened at something around your neck. you subconsciously lifted your hand to it and—oh
it was the yellow ribbon you had been gifted last week
ma grinned, feigning shock at your new acessory around the collar of your uniform. “my dear, i never noticed such a pretty little thing! haven’t you been wearing it everyday?” ma pretended to reach out for it but you leaned back, protectively putting your hand over the bow
(for some reason, you had become oddly attached to the ribbon)
“i... i have. just thought it was lovely, that’s all.” you justified, seeing tsumugi’s shoulders drop when he exhaled with... relief? tsumugi complimented the shade of yellow, saying it often fit the summer season and compared it to a dahlia
so, when it was the next day and you saw ma waiting for you with another knowing smile and a single yellow dahlia in her hands, you remembered tsumugi
the dahlia was pastel yellow, just like the ribbon you had on today. when you took it, you turned it over and watched the petals rustle in the summer wind
dahlia (single): good taste
“you know who it is, don’t you?” you interrogated ma, holding the dahlia close to your chest. it was clearly grown with care, in fact, it almost saddened you to see such a beautiful flower given to you when it could’ve kept on growing
ma just shrugged, doing her morning round of watering as she slipped on her gloves and got to work. you were about to do the same before something caught your eye
blue salvias
you didn’t even need to ask ma before she passed you a pen and floral tag you could attach
you bundled up blue salvias, tying a navy blue ribbon (you thought of tsumugi’s eyes and hair that glistened in the sunlight) with a note attached
“thank you, may all your flowers bloom during this summer season!”
you finished it off by signing your name, and left it in ma’s very capable hands. she complimented your ribbon choice with a snicker, but you didn’t question it. ma knew way too much neighbourhood gossip from being the local cupid with her flowers
(you were out back on break, taking notes from a herbs textbook you borrowed. while you were dutifully learning, you never noticed ma pass tsumugi a bouquet of blue salvias and his shocked, flustered blush as he accepted the flowers graciously)
blue salvias: i think of you
(“next time, my boy, just give the flowers to me. you’re much too obvious for your own good.” ma patted tsumugi’s cheek with her wrinkled hand, an aged look to her as if she knew it all)
(when tsumugi went home, he tied the dark blue ribbon around his watering can and put the salvias in a vase)
it didn’t take long before ma whacked a bouquet of flowers over your head, reprimanding you for slouching while reading
you took the gift, noticing a note but before you could read, you smelled the white camelias. but when you realized what it meant, you turned as red as the carnations beside you
white camelias: you’re adorable
“if only you were the sun, then all my flowers would be happy. though, they could never be as bright as you.”
as you unlooped the white ribbon this time, you put aside the note as you tied the ribbon around your neck. now, you had two equally cute ribbons that had you thinking of this secret admirer all day
as the fan blew towards you, the note floated to the floor as you leaned down from your stool to catch it mid–air. you checked the back of the tag, there was a name you would’ve missed: tulip
did they want you to address them as tulip? without a second thought, you had an assortment of red carnations held by a red ribbon and another note
“tulip? why is that?”
(you signed the back with “sunflower”)
red carnations: alas for my poor heart
next day, you received a dwarf sunflower with a bright yellow ribbon and a note you held closest to your heart
“perhaps, i just wanted to make you smile. — forever thinking of you, too, tulip”
dwarf sunflower: adoration
for the next month, you slowly forgot about the shy boy with the blue. tsumugi stopped by less, or at least he came during your break time. you wondered why, since he refused to look into your eyes and hid his face during the rare chances you did get to see him
(tsumugi always gave ma the flowers when it was break, he didn’t want you to find out)
you and your secret admirer kept exchanging flowers like it was mail. by this time, you had so many ribbons and you always received questions on why you wore them all
(“no reason.” you’d lie, and gently ran your fingers over the thread)
(tsumugi began tying the ribbons you gifted him everywhere just so he’d remember you. sometimes even around his pinky when he wanted to feel connected to you like soulmates would. he’d lay his head on his desk, pretending he was pulling on your string of fate and watched the ribbon flow elegantly around his hand with a small smile)
you had grown fond of tulip. his handwriting was delicate and light, you could tell he didn’t push down hard on his pen even when he doodled the flowers he was giving you that day. he had such a unique style, it was comforting to write to someone so genuinely kind and pure–hearted
although your affections to tulip were unparalleled, you often smelled the flowers he gave you and stared out at the horizon, wondering who this person was. you wanted a real name to connect to a face
(maybe, you were scared that whatever you were feeling was too much for a nameless unknown)
you knew it might have been too soon to demand answers, but your actions were readily supported by ma as she took the bouquet without letting you think it over
a purple bittersweet, also known as nightshade, with a deep violet ribbon and short note this time
“i must ask you, tulip, is it truly too much trouble for you to share your name? — best, sunflower”
(when tsumugi received these flowers with an impatient look from ma, he faltered, looking into the store but seeing you were no where in sight. ma jabbed him again, frustrated with his fear. “tell her!” ma insisted, but tsumugi shook his head and left)
(ma sighed, rubbing her temples as she shut her eyes. “kids, these days.”)
bittersweet: truth
“i am afraid, once you know the real me, you won’t want me anymore. i know it is selfish of me, but i just want to have you, just for a little longer. — always yours, tulip”
you read the next day and twirled the red columbine with a sigh. maybe you were afraid, this love would only bloom in the summer and tulip thought the same thing
red columbine: anxious, trembling
(you didn’t respond for a few days. you couldn’t, you were just as scared of what you felt for them)
you had started your day off bright and early, arriving at the local library to continue your research into flower language. you had chosen a book after becoming interested by its familiar drawings on the cover and took it to the shop, waving to ma as you rested in the back moss garden
you wanted to find the perfect flower to comfort tulip. even though your curiousity was overwhelming, you couldn’t help but understand where they were coming from. the relationship you guys had built was so nice, it would be a shame to question it
you turned the page but furrowed your eyebrows, automatically opening to a bookmark. it was custom, with dried flowers and a ribbon at the end through a hole. you noticed two initials at the bottom in light handwriting
T.T.
you were about to take it out to return it before the wind made you lose your place, going to the back of the book where the card pocket was. you put the bookmark at the back and found the letters aligned to a name that borrowed the book most recently
T.T. tsukioka tsumugi
tsumugi... that must’ve been the full name of the blue boy who came by so much. then, you noticed it
the handwriting was familiar, for a good reason. tsumugi crossed his t’s the same way as tulip, the ends of the t’s were curved in a similar fashion, too
you remembered the first time you met tsumugi
(“yellow, like a dahlia.” tsumugi hummed, reaching out to fix the way it was uneven. he almost didn’t notice it, until he looked up at your eyes. he moved back, made some excuse of how busy he was, and disappeared)
(you had touched the ribbon, wondering why you didn’t stop him)
you quickly moved to the front desk, shuffling through the countless stacks of paper and decorations until you reached the drawer where you kept all the notes. you took a random sample, realizing it was one of the more recent ones before you had asked their name
it had been stained with dirt. they must’ve wrote it in a hurry, like they just had to say it
“would it be too soon to say i want to see you, even though i know i can’t? — i miss you, tulip”
(you remembered this. pink camellia, pastel pink ribbon)
pink camellia: longing for you
you put the scrap of paper side by side with tsumugi’s name, tracing the letters with a shaky hand. how had you not realized it, was the boy you had become fascinated with the one you actually liked? sure, you thought the silent affection for the client was temporary, like a cherry blossom
turns out, he had survived the summer and would stay with you even until winter
was tsumugi tulip?
you had closed the book, attempting to process the revelation. all those things you said, all the secrets you exposed to the world, and he felt the same. sure, it was silly to think you could fall in love with the way someone wrote
but then, you thought about when you saw him the first time under the sun. he was glittering and sparkling like a streaming river, blue and beautiful. you wanted to see tsumugi again, you had to know
you didn’t usually send bouquets first, so when you handed one to ma, her face hardened and she seemed to know
“you know who it is, now? are you ready?” ma asked, placing the flowers down to envelop you in a motherly hug. you hugged back, nodding with resolve as you placed your chin on her head
“i... i need to know,” you chose your words carefully, but you glanced up and saw all the floral ornaments you had made from their gifts. their sweet, well–meaning flowers that brightened your day. then, your gaze fell upon the red columbine
“i need to know if this is real love.” you finished, ma patting you on your back comfortingly as she listened
“he loves you, little sprout.” ma simply said, but it meant everything when you waited until the next day with the flowers yourself
it was your break time. tsumugi came in with a bouquet just like you, but his steps stuttered when he saw you standing out front with flowers at your chest
you looked at him and softly smiled, the admiration and affection you had for a mysterious boy flourishing out of you. you took a small step forward, but tsumugi took two steps back. he hid the flowers behind his back
tsumugi was about to apologize, beg for your forgiveness before you smiled, your neck decorated with the tens of ribbons he had gifted you
“i love you, tulip.” you confessed, needing no note to hide behind when you held the bouquet out to tsumugi
red tulips, red ribbon
red tulips: passion, a declaration of love
tsumugi took a moment to admire you, the way you stood tall just like a sunflower. maybe it was too fast and he was being impulsive, but he felt it. he felt love, he wanted you to feel it, too
tsumugi offered you a bouquet in return as you laughed at the situation, pulling him into a close hug and taking in his warmth
yellow tulips, yellow ribbon
yellow tulips: there is sunshine in your smile
“i love you, too, sunflower.”
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juviin · 3 years
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Here’s literally all the rosie lore. 
(template 1) (template 2)
Name: Rosemary Nare Etana Alias: Ro, Rose, Rosie Personality: Rosemary is very open about her emotions. She takes a while to warm up to people, but when she does, she loves people very strongly. Relatives: Father (estranged), Mother (deceased), 4 older siblings, 2 younger siblings. Status: Alive Species: Human Gender: cis female Age: 19 Eyes: Gold Hair: Pink Appearance: Rosemary is 5′5 and has short pink hair. She has two scars, one along her back and one on her lower right abdomen. She also has a tattoo on her calf of a lily. Birthday: July 30th Constellation: Leo Height: 5′5″ or 165 cm Blood Type: O Occupation: Magic Knight -Squad: Black Bulls Country: Clover Affinity: Lava Magic (On a scale of 0-10: 0 being terrible and 10 being the best) Physical Strength 5/10 Magic Amount 7/10 Magic Control 9/10 Magic Sensing 6/10 Cleverness 9/10 Growth 8/10 Equipment: none
(this next one is all in first person which i am NOT used to writing in but...)
Part 1: The Basics
What is your full name?--Rosemary Nare Etana
Where and when were you born?--I was born on July 30th in a large city in the Common Realm, however we moved to a small town shortly after I was born.
Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)--
Lily Etana was my mother’s name. She worked several jobs while raising us, like waitressing and being a maid. She was very kind too, but a lot of people took advantage of her for that. I guess that’s why Val and I have taken to being aggressive about how we feel, and aggressive in sticking up for her. When I was 12, an assassin killed her and gave me the scar across my back. I’m sure he was sent by my grandparents, but they played the fool and even sent an advisor to her funeral. Since then, that advisor has scheduled meetings with me monthly to make sure I haven’t told anyone.
My father’s name is Andranik Typhos the fourth? something like that, but I don’t know very much about him. I know he’s a noble, but I’ve never met him. I don’t hear that many complaints about him, and Mother says he was a wonderful gentleman, but I’ve met his parents, and I find it hard to believe that they would raise a lovely son.
Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?--I have four! On my mom’s side, at least.
Valerian is the oldest. He’s sixteen years older than me, so he’s a lot more mature than me, and very protective of us younger siblings. He has three kids, too, and his wife is Eli’s cousin. They have been married since I was only three, so she’s been in our lives forever. The two of them basically became my parents after our mother died, so I couldn’t be more grateful to them.
Then is Dahlia. Dahlia is 12 years older than me. She’s very calm, and there have been more than a few times where Valerian has been freaking out and Dahlia always keeps her cool and fixes the problem. She’s the best at makeup.
Basil is in the direct middle, and they’re 9 years older than me. They are very energetic and mischievous. I don’t think Basil wants a spouse, but they’re very dedicated to their craft. I blame them for the multiple scams of my father’s estate, but who’s complaining? Basil also has a scar along  their right cheek, running from their nose to their chin
Azalea is the closest to my age, she’s 25. She’s a lot like our mom. She treats everyone with kindness, but I worry about people taking advantage of her for that.
Also, I know that my father has two children younger than me with his wife, but I’ve never met them and I probably never will.
Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.--I live with the Black Bulls! The base is really crazy and always changing, but there’s always something going on, so everyday is fun.
What is your occupation?--I’m a Magic Knight, but I have also worked some other jobs in the past.
Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks--I’m 5′5, and around 150lbs. My skin is pale, so I tend to burn very easily, and my eyes are yellow and my hair is pink. I like to wear warm colors and clothes that aren’t very tight, as well as boots. I have two large scars, one is about three inches and is a slash along my stomach, while the other one is about eight inches long and runs across my upper back, both from assassination attempts. I try to hide both of them. I also have one tattoo on my lower calf, so it’s usually covered.
To which social class do you belong?--I believe I’m considered a commoner. I likely wouldn’t be considered a noble unless something happened to my father’s legitimate children, though I have no interest in being taken in by his family. 
Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?—I get nosebleeds often because of an injury when i was younger. 
Are you right- or left-handed?—right handed
What does your voice sound like?—If I had to describe it, I’d say it’s medium in pitch and kind of airy. 
What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?--nothing particularly?
What do you have in your pockets?—um. a handful of flowers, a pocket watch, and assorted candies. 
Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?—I sometimes bite my nails. 
Part 2: Growing Up
How would you describe your childhood in general?--Average for the most part, I’d say. I had a loving mother and 4 great siblings. Still, my mother’s death hit all of us very hard.
What is your earliest memory?--Sadly, my first assassination attempt. That one was when I was around five and it was sent by my father’s family. It gave me the scar on my stomach, and also gave Basil the scar on their face from them protecting me.
How much schooling have you had?--I went to the small schoolhouse in town up until I was 12, and then I started going less so I could work more. 
Did you enjoy school?--I enjoyed learning, but I’ve found that I learn more outside of school.
Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?--I learned basic first aid and how to identify certain plants and herbs from my siblings. I mostly learned battle from experience and assassins.
While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.—my siblings, especially Basil
While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?--We all got along very well as kids, though they were all a lot older than me so that did strain our relationships a bit, especially as the youngest.
As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?--As a child I wanted to work in medicine, even though my magic is ill suited for it. I only decided that I wanted to become a Magic Knight after my mother’s death.
As a child, what were your favorite activities?—i used to love helping my mother garden. 
As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?--I cried a lot more than I do now. I was always scared, as I knew from a young age that my father’s parents wanted me dead.
As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?--My only friend was really Eli, but she hung out with all the kids from town, so i vaguely knew them.
When and with whom was your first kiss?--also Eli, when we were about 12 and 13.
Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?--I’m not. After Eli left town I kind of lost myself for the next two years until I became a knight. 
Part 3: Past Influences
What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?--My mother's death perhaps?
Who has had the most influence on you?--Eli. I think if not for her, I would be a very different person.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?--The amount of nobles I’ve insulted to their faces on official magic knight business.
What is your greatest regret?--being born.
What is the most evil thing you have ever done?--I don’t think I’ve ever done anything “evil”, only some malicious things, but I don’t regret them.
Do you have a criminal record of any kind?--No, but I probably should for extortion.
When was the time you were the most frightened?--The first attempt on my life.
What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?--My elder brother catching me lying about my profession. 
If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?—i would be stronger. 
What is your best memory?—probably the first few months with the black bulls. It was genuine happiness for the first time in a while. 
What is your worst memory?—the aftermath of my mother’s death. I don’t remember the actual event, some mix of trauma and head injuries, but I do remember the weeks following. 
Part 4: Beliefs And Opinions
Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?—i think i’m more pessimistic, but i'm trying to be an optimist. 
What is your greatest fear?--My greatest fear is once again being too weak to protect the people that I love. 
What are your religious views?--I’m not religious.
What are your political views?--I think that the Clover Kingdom’s nobility is corrupt, and the whole system needs to be fixed.
What are your views on sex?--I think nothing much of it. 
Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?--I think I’m a hypocrite on this. I think killing is unacceptable, but I wouldn’t hesitate to kill the people that harm the ones I love. 
In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?--In my opinion, the most evil thing one can do is to habitually hurt and abuse others.
Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?--No. I don’t think that anything like that is real.
What do you believe makes a successful life?--I think that money plays a large part of success. 
How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)?--Very open. My emotions are very easily read.
Do you have any biases or prejudices?--Yeah i hate nobles. 
Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?--I try to stay out of the public eye as best I can. I also refuse to do jobs near my grandparents’ home. 
Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)?--Finral or Eli. I’d do anything for them.
Part 5: Relationships With Others
In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?—I try to keep people at a distance, but when I become close to someone, they become one of my People. I’d do anything for the people I’m close to. 
Who is the most important person in your life, and why?--Right now, it’s probably Eli or Finral. They’ve positively affected me in more ways than I can count.
Who is the person you respect the most, and why?—Captain Yami is the person I respect the most. Joining the Black Bulls changed my life so much for the better, and I’m so grateful that he gave me that opportunity.
Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people—Eli is my best friend. She’s loud and always smiling, but I worry about her. I’m also pretty close to Magna.  He’s a great friend and brings out my mischievous side more. 
Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.--Finral is great. He’s a little goofy, but he is very loyal and loving. 
Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.--I think I’m in love right now. 
How close are you to your family?--I’m very close to my older siblings.
Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?--No. I think I’d like to at some point be a mother, but not for a while longer. 
Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?--I think I would find it hard to turn to anyone, but if I was so desperate, probably Eli or Magna. I’m too afraid to show Finral my weakness. 
Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?--No. I need to be strong enough to protect myself. 
If you died or went missing, who would miss you?--I think that the bulls would. 
Who is the person you despise the most, and why?--My father. My mother spoke kindly of him, but he abandoned her. 
Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?--I argue more.
Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?—depends who I'm with, but I’m more likely to take a leadership role.
Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?—I’d prefer a smaller group, personally, but i’m not bad with large groups. 
Do you care what others think of you?—yes. immensely 
Part 6: Likes And Dislikes
What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes?--I enjoy reading romance novels, and spending time in nature. Flower fields remind me of home and give me comfort. 
What is your most treasured possession?—my pocket watch. my mother gave it to me, since it was a gift to her from my father. 
What is your favorite color?—i like warm pale yellow
What is your favorite food?—I like crepes!
What, if anything, do you like to read?—I like to read romance. 
What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)?--I enjoy reading. On days off, I often spend hours at a time sitting outside and reading.
Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?—I generally don’t, but I will drink sometimes. I probably drink an average amount. 
How do you spend a typical Saturday night?—generally hanging around the Bulls hideout. If I have a day off I often go visit home to see my mother’s grave and give her flowers. 
What makes you laugh?—My squadmates! I’ve been told my sense of humor is bad..
What, if anything, shocks or offends you?--I hate the prejudices of the Clover nobles.
What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?—When that happens (because it has before) I will usually walk around the base, sometimes I eat a snack. I also like to head outside and look at the stars when I can’t sleep. 
How do you deal with stress?—I will usually end up letting it out, whether emotionally or magically. I don't like to bottle things up. 
Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?—I prefer having a plan. 
What are your pet peeves?—people talking over others. 
Part 7: Self Images And Etc.
Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?--I wake up at about 7 every morning, and get ready for the day. If I have a mission, I’ll leave for it early. On days I don’t have a mission, I will either go visit my mother’s grave or go see my grandparents or their advisor.
What is your greatest strength as a person?--I’d say my strength is supporting people. And also throwing lava. 
What is your greatest weakness?--I lie a bit too much, and I am a bit indifferent towards people I don’t care about.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?--I would want to be more caring. 
Are you generally introverted or extroverted?--I’d say introvert.
Are you generally organized or messy?--Organized. I don’t like disorder.
Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.--I’m good at lying, cleaning, and fighting. I’m bad at controlling my emotions, sewing, and cooking.
Do you like yourself?--No, I really don’t. 
What are your reasons for being a magic knight*? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…)--I am a magic knight because I want to protect people. 
What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?--I want to heal from my past. 
Where do you see yourself in 5 years?--I hope to still be a Magic Knight, and hopefully a higher rank.
If you could choose, how would you want to die?--I would want to die swiftly if I could choose.
If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.--I would try to isolate myself from the people I love, so that they wouldn’t have to deal with grief. I think I would generally be calm.
What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?--I want to be remembered for my strength. 
What three words best describe your personality?--open. loyal. decisive.
What three words would others probably use to describe you?--Rosie is loyal, smart, and loving!!-Eli
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r0s3mm · 4 years
Text
The one in which Grace Russel is active on Instagram
Welcome!
Don’t hesitate to reblog, like, leave constructive comments, send feedback on what you just read or what you’d like to read next.
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and let me know if you are on the taglist but didn’t receive the notification.
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My requests are open! Ask away people !
Read me here!
General Masterlist
Sweet masterlist
Sweeter masterlist
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“Hi guys! It’s Grace, you obviously already knew this but still.” The actress says, placing her phone so it can lean against a few glasses. “Today, I decided to do an Instagram live, because I’ve been so bad at doing social media and keeping up with them so yeah.”
She notices the numbers growing and the comments flowing in.
“I guess I’ll answer some questions and like do whatever... I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” She mumbles. “Oh, okay questions are coming in. Ooooh, you guys are asking spicy stuff, shit. Before I want to thank you all for your amazing reactions to Beth and Outer Banks, it’s a project that we all want to keep doing for as long as possible and if we are able to do this, it’s because of you, so thank you.”
“Are you still quarantined with Madelyn?”
“No, sadly, I’m not. I was there because we lived together during filming and I was waiting for my current place to free up but a week after moving, huh, one of the units of the building caught on fire.” She smiles as she sees all the comments asking whether she’s fine or not. “Thank you, guys, for asking, I’m good, I’m good. Most of my stuff was still in the storage place I was renting so most all of my boxes are good and intact. The fire was a few level up but they had us evacuate for a few weeks, and I decided not to go back to Clyne’s because the boys, Drew and Chase are there most of the time and I had a friend who was ready to help me out for a few weeks.” She smiles while scrolling through the questions.
“How much do you talk to the rest of the cast? Who do you talk to the most?”
“Yes, I talk to them daily, we’re friends so it’s not that hard.” She laughs. “but yeah, we facetime, zoom and actually I went on a walk with Drew and Clyne last Friday, we were all super safe, we had our masks and we kept the safe distancing. Who do I talk the most to?” She hums, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t know really, I talk to them in like, an equal amount, just this morning Bailey and I facetimed, and we had a social distancing jam sesh. It’s just different with all of them, I have different friendships with all of them even if we’re initially a large group we all have individual friendships that creates the group we are... I don’t know.” She scratches the side of her face.
She scrolls through the comments and reactions on the live.
“What are you wearing? Looks comfy!”
“Whoever you are, yes, it is very comfy, but I wouldn’t recommend asking that to a person you don’t know or that doesn’t know you personally. I know you probably didn’t mean it that way, but some people could take it wrong. To answer your question, I am wearing a purple tank top, with a grey jacket over it and...” she walks to the mirror in the living room, switching the camera. “my sponge bob pajama pants that I got from Walmart over five years ago.” She says and she zooms in on the yellow clothing. “It’s not very fashion of me but I honestly couldn’t care less, we’re having a movie night tonight, so I didn’t want to have like pants button and stuff keeping me from stuffing my face.” She turns the camera towards her face and walks back to the couch, in the background the viewers can quickly see a tall silhouette hovering in the kitchen.
“Are you still in L.A?”
“Yep, still in LA . I’m based like between the Burbank airport and the 170 and that’s all I’m gonna say because I don’t want you crazy people to try and find me.” She laughs and a hand appears in the live handing her a bowl of pasta. “Thank you.” She smiles up at the person, grabbing the large bowl with her two hands, then waving with a chuckle, very faint sounds can be heard from the kitchen. This just became a mukbang. It’s currently,” she looks at the clock on her phone. “right now it’s 7:45 in LA and I’m eating pasta and it’s really good. I’m sorry if seeing someone eat turns you off but I’m hungry. Where are you guys from?” She asks and watches as many people start to comment. “Oh wow, it’s an international live, we got people from the states, Canada, people from Europe, y’all is it not like super early over there? Go to sleep please!”
“Do you have roommates? Who was that in the kitchen?”
“Yeah, I do have temporary roommates while they make sure the building is safe again, there’s four of us right now in the apartment. In the kitchen was my dear friend making me a bowl of pasta. Just a group of actors doing what actors do best, be fuckin loud and do vocal warmup at like eight in the morning. That’s that on that” She smiles slurping the pastas in her mouth.
“How was it being the youngest on set?”
“I wasn’t the youngest per se, Julia Antonelli who plays Sarah’s younger sister is younger than me but in the main cast, yes I am the youngest by a few years. It usually just means that mainly Chase will make “fun of me” for being young but I can do the same because he’s 27 and what I mean by that is that he’s old!”
“How big is the age and height gap between you and Chase?”
“Uh,” she laughs “Chase and I are 8 years apart and he’s 6ft1 while I’m barely 5”3 so. We’re at the two extremes. While we filmed, he’d, along with the rest of the guys, just like lean on me... which was just great when I was trying to keep myself afloat in the water.”
“Most likely to go skinny dipping in winter when it’s snowing?”
“Oooh, we’re playing most likely! Ok, I’d say Rudy? I don’t know why, either him or Chase. I feel it’s something they would do, like if they were dared by JD or something. Yeah either Chase or Rudy.” She laughs with a shake of her head.
“Most likely to go to a party in their pajamas?”
“I’d say me. Especially right now, with the quarantine and the not having anything to do during the day I spent most days in pj’s and like if I have to go out, I’d put leggings or a pair of sweatpants. I haven’t worn jeans since maybe end of march.”
“Most likely to go off on their own on a night out?”
“Oh, that’s a good question. I wanna say Drew, I feel like he’d see something far away and he’d just go after it, or there would be a place he heard of and he’d just leave without saying anything, camera in hand.” She eats the last bite of food in her bowl and sets the phone against it on the coffee table. “So yeah, Drew Starkey is my answer, I don’t know if it happened or if it is even halfway true.”
“Most likely to fall asleep during a movie night?”
“Oh easily, Clyne and me. We’d watch a movie with everybody, and we’d just tuck ourselves in the corner of the couch under a blanket and we’d just fall asleep 20 minutes in. Madison said in an interview that I liked to be comfortable and while that is true what is even more true is the fact that I can fall asleep anywhere.”
“Why are you acting so different from group interview than when you’re alone or paired up?”
“I don’t think I act different, it’s just that when we’re in a group, we bounce off of each other and the energy never really leaves and we just become really chaotic while when I’m alone like right now or paired up we - how could I say this?” She zones out on someone behind her phone, the shadow reflecting lightly on the light couch and wall behind her. “There’s just much less stimuli than when there’s like 6 of us. I like to think of myself as a pretty calm person so when I’m with the others I become more extrovert but still keep to myself.”
“Do you have any tattoos?”
“Oooh, okay. I don’t yet, I was supposed to get one done a few weeks ago but I couldn’t get it done because of the whole Covid situation but I do have sketches of them, I’ll be back.” She runs out of frame. “yo? Where are the sketches?” she asks and there’s movement out of frame before a male voice says. “don’t know, G. Might be in your room.” A door slams shut and seconds later she reappears on the screen. “Ok, so” she looks at the camera, papers in her hands. “T’was my very unhelpful roommate Kyle, who for the first time since I got here actually cooked something.” She looks up at her roommate with an amused laugh, sorting through a few papers. “ok so, as cliché as it is I want to have a tattooed moon or moons, like a full one and like quarter one. Then my best guy friend back home has a rose tattooed on his leg and I want one too because it’s my favorite flower.” She shows both drawings. “I did not draw these; these were made by the tattoo artist. “then behind my ear I was gonna get my zodiac sign, which is Virgo because I think it looks pretty, that’s it for now, I have a few more ideas but they’re not really thought through.”
“Hiking or swimming?”
“Swimming, as much as I love a good hike I like feeling weightless. I’m gonna reference to a live Rudy, JD, Maddies and Chase did a while ago where they were asked whether they preferred mountain or the beach, I love swimming, but I would take the mountains and lakes any day. In beach you got sand, and sand in weird places, and it’s – I just prefer lakes.”
“Do you have a tik tok?”
I don’t, if I watch tik toks it’ll be from either YouTube like a compilation or on Instagram.”
“How are you and Beth alike?”
“Elizabeth Miller is someone who’s very caring and often will recklessly put herself in a bad situation if it means that her friends are safe, and I think that we both have this level of caring about other people. Beth, even with what happened to her, is still very confident with who she is, I think she still has to figure herself out because she’s just 16 but I think she is very mature for her age and that is something I feel might link us.”
“How was moving from Canada to the U.S for Outer Banks?”
“When I first auditioned for the initial part in the Pilot episode I was already in the process of moving, I have family here too, from my father’s side as he is from San Francisco so I was supposed to move there but months later so when I got the part I wasn’t even half ready. I took the plane thinking I’d be there for two weeks at most so I didn’t have much clothes and my things weren’t entirely boxed up in my mom’s apartment, so she did that and sent them to me. I went back to Canada once since then—" her head snaps up in front of her, her eyes squinting playfully before she grabbed her phone, keeping it on her face. “Ok, guys I was informed that the movie night would be starting soon! I’m gonna try and do another one next week maybe? I might try to get someone else with me too. It was real fun to chat and answer your questions, thank you for joining me in the mess that is me. Hope you guys are safe and capable of finding little joys in your life. I love you all!” She says before stopping the live.
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Taglist:
@pink-meringues - @jaxandcomet
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grumpygreenwitch · 4 years
Text
Summer Gardening.
So it’s been a while, and for that I apologize to the... 200+ people who follow me. I’m sure y’all are here for the cat pics and the nekked men, but TOO BAD. Today you get to suffer through pics of my green children. Also, I do share seed. My seed list link will be up later in the year. To begin with, the summer flowers are out en force:
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Echinacea Purpurea, the original echinacea. I do save yearly seed from these guys, although it’s an incredibly pointy, stabby and bleed-y job. 
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Mountain Phlox. Unfortunately, all of it around the house is afflicted with powdery mildew, so I will not share seed. But it’s still pretty to look at, and the clearwings (hummingbird moths) love it. Not pictured is the white variant, who grows on the other side of the house. Look, it was hot and I was already melting.
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Peppermint Balsam. This thing is basically indestructible, for an annual. It will reseed freely (to truly Lovecraftian levels) and blooms continuously from late spring until mid-fall, when the seed-pods set. There is a dormant genetic in it for double flowers, but when it pops up it’s always been sterile. It just pops up occasionally from the peppermint seed.
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I may give the roommate hell over the hostas (I hate them. They’re so useful to protect toads and control weeds, but I hate them), but they do put out pretty flowers. There are several variants around the house - white-edged, blue and green, but hostas in general are very, very hard to start from seed. I will save it on request, only. We were also incredibly lucky to have a Moth Mullein sprout in our porch bed, along with some Variegated Solomon’s Seal.The SS doesn’t put out seeds, and I don’t have enough to share bulbs (yet), but the mullein has been exceptionally generous with seed pods, and it repels bugs. It repels ROACHES. It’s going everywhere. And I may be convinced to part with some seed.
Onward!
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A view from a hill. Can you see the garden? That’s OK, I can’t either. Those are peach trees, on the side of the orchard closest to the house. Unfortunately a freak storm during early spring killed all the blossoms. Also, don’t mistake ‘orchard’ for ‘organized’. There’s a pear, some apples, a plum, some nectarines? And front and center are two walnuts. I’ll probably be plunking my laurel there to see if it survives winter. And someday when I have a job and money again, I would like to drop a few Chicago Hardy figs, and maybe a kiwi trellis.
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This is the big garden (and fortunately not my responsibility, or I would cry). The guys are ‘handling’ it. The weeds say otherwise.
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The jasmine tree and the roommate’s garden. Because of a bad back injury that refuses to heal, I’ve been helping them on and off with it. And if you thought jasmine was supposed to stay a delightful little bush, AHAHAHAHAH. Yes, that’s a light-post next to it. For size comparison.
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MY CHILDREN. Please ignore the dead soccer ball. That’d be a dog toy.
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Lemon balm, amaranth, and a new bed that I’ll be finishing off during fall, for use next year. The lemon balm is a permanent row - it will overwinter just fine, and it will even keep growing through the mildest part of December. Mine didn’t die back until a few solid days of sleet in January. Unfortunately the weed fabric under the amaranth turned out to be an old roll, and fell apart on me (no big, the whole point is for it to fall apart eventually), so the weeds have kinda eaten it alive.
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Unfortunately, both cucumber beetles and blister beetles love the amaranth. Fortunately, it does not seem to give a damn. It’s an incredibly resilient plant, not minding weeds, bugs, flood or drought. We’ll see what the grain actually tastes like, but so far it’s looking like a good candidate for continuous growing.
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The lemon balm is lemon-balming. Planted on a lark, it’s proven to be a fantastic wind-breaker - because it grows so early and so quick, it keeps the colder winds that come down through the hollow from my more fragile seedlings, like the lettuce, dill and cilantro. You can see here where the spent flower-heads are dying but there’s new growth underneath; I really have to get in there and behead it. It makes nice hot tea, meh cold tea, and hanging fresh bunches of it around the balcony keeps the skeeters off. It also seems to be a decoy for cabbage moths.
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Canary Zinnia. The seed was sent to me as a gift with one of my seed orders, and this is my first year growing it. -If- I can save some, I’ll definitely be sharing and growing again. It’s a lovely plant, very sturdy, and the bees love it.
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Dwarf Castor Oil. I don’t think there’s anything dwarf about it, but then I’m a short green witch myself, so maybe it’s all about perspective. Don’t let the pods lie to you, until they dry the spikes are relatively soft. However, it being castor oil, I don’t recommend it to anyone with ducks, chickens, goats, or anything that might accidentally try talking a nibble or pecking at the beans. I do, however, recommend them from jewelry if you know how to pierce things and so on. They are a gorgeous tiger-stripe pattern.
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Say hello to the chard! Say goodbye to the chard! Nothing else, absolutely nothing else since the limas, has given me so much trouble. The deer love getting into my chard bed and destroying it (ergo all the forks). And once I managed to chase those off, the blister beetles showed up in force. This will be the last year I grow it - we just don’t eat enough of it to make it worth my while, and it only occasionally sold at the Farmers’ Market.
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Red lettuce - Merlot and Lollo Vino, a combination of bought and saved seed. I planted a red romaine of some sort, too, but unsurprisingly it bolted in the heat. The darker reds of my favorites, though, keep bugs off them, keep deer from noticing them, and keep them from bolting. It’s just now threatening to, and at this point its kind of allowed. I need more seed for next year. Seed for this will likely be shared by the teaspoon-ful.
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Calendula! I searched for a long time to find the plain ol’ calendula officinalis ancestor, rather than a cultivar where I would have no way of knowing if the medicinal principles would have been sacrificed for looks. It’s supposed to work well as poor man’s saffron (color, no taste), and I’m going to be soaking the heck outta my feet on it during winter. The plant is... not pretty. It gets leggy and the leaves get grotty very quickly. But it’s very sturdy and as long as you cut the flowerheads off as fast as you can, it’ll keep blooming until well into winter. I usually leave it to go to seed around late September.
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Green cilantro seeds. You pick ‘em when they’re brown, but before they drop off the plant. Or you pick ‘em when they’re brown-ing, and put them in a paper bag so they’ll finish ripening there and you don’t end up with fifty wild cilantro plants in your garden >_> Most of the row is already gone, and I’ll be putting in a late dill crop in its place. No such thing as too  much dill!
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Don’t let lemongrass lie to you. Unless you tie it up, it will not grow up neat and tidy, as most grass does. Instead it will sprawl like a dramatic wilting Elizabethan lady and do its best to end up under your feet so you’ll feel bad about it. I just tie it up with a half-blade of grass; it dries up and withers away before it can hurt the plant.
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I ordered pennyroyal seed because... Well, because it’s something one should have on hand, considering the way the world is going. What I got was Creeping Pennyroyal, which doesn’t care if you step on it (mint family), smells absolutely delightful, and has the most adorable, tiny purple flowers. I plan on harvesting, drying and sprinkling it everywhere in the crawlspace under the house. Making war on cave crickets, wood roaches, and other such sundries, me.
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The thyme and Spicy Oregano took a beating in the heat, but they’re slowly bouncing back. The bed behind them is more pennyroyal, desperately in need of weeding, but there’s only one of me, y’know.
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SIGH. Just. You absolute, ill-mannered monster of a creature. That would be horseradish, gloriously happy to be alive, as horseradish should be. Also, NOT IN ITS BASKET. Because never mind the rules, I guess.
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I don’t even know how I’m gonna dig that up come winter. With some construction equipment, I GUESS. 
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Decorative gourd! It’s the only one producing so far, but being the seed was 10+ years old, I’m very pleased.
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And an apple gourd (I think?), from a mixture of drying gourds that was only slightly less ancient. Snake, apple and birdhouse gourds. There’s a bunch of them competing in the basket at this point, we’ll see what we will see.
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And this, I think, is a great use of a dead canopy frame (the dogs ate the canopy. No, I’m not making it up.) I hope to coax the gourds to grow me a lil’ roof so I can sit in shade, surrounded by pennyroyal anti-skeeter barriers, eating my maters.
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My Peter Peppers (nrehehehehe) aren’t producing yet - it takes them a while. But my Chinese 5-Color are getting started. It’s a lovely pepper, both edible and ornamental, with (so I’m told) about four times the heat of a Jalapeno. They’re tiny, with deep purple undertones to the plant. They’ll go purple-white-yellow-orange-red.
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The bullhorns, on the other hand, are fairly sizable SWEET peppers on very tiny plants, and I honestly suggest staking them while they’re young so they grow a sturdy trunk, else you might end up with all of them growing at a slant.They’re just now beginning to turn colors. Keeping in mind I’m virulently allergic to peppers (less so sweet than hot, but allergic to all of them), the roommate loves ‘em.
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It’s a small pepper bed - mainly to refresh my seed on the hots, and to grow sweets for the roommate. Pardon the nekked bed, the autumn lettuce hasn’t sprouted yet. And yes, that’s a mixed basil/dill bed next to it. My basil grew in patchy holes (NEVER buying from those seed people again), so I filled the holes with dill. Unfortunately, dill seed heads are so fine that they’re hard to photograph well.
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The tomato row. After arguing with them for this long, I went the extra mile. Every plant has a metal stake. There’s also a double line growing at the top supporting the stakes so they don’t fall over. And they still fell over. Because why not, you unruly children, why not.
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Green, white, pink and brown cherry tomatoes. Delicious!
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Two kinds of cucumbers, some of the only decent shots of the dill seed-heads, and a special guest hiding in the shade. I usually plant dill as soon as the cucumber sprouts, to keep cucumber beetles off it. Otherwise I’d have no cucumbers and a lot of fat beetles.
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The Muncher is a small cucumber, somewhat delicate. It’s very sensitive to temperature changes, and it’s candy to cucumber beetles - basically, it’s impossible to grow it without a heavy curtain of dill, or a heavy duty decoy. This year I got lucky enough to have both. It’s also delicious pickled, keeping its crunch and getting a good ooomph in flavor.
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The Japanese Long is, as the name implies, long. It’s also incredibly bitey, and absolutely scrumptious. It’s sweet! And unlike the average cucumber, it does not go metallic when salted.
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And now for the SPECIAL CHILD OF MY HEART. Seriously. I have been lusting after Blue Tea Peas since I first saw them offered, and every single time they’d be sold out pretty much the day of. This year I finally got some and... remember me mentioning that freak freeze that killed the peach blossoms? Yeah. Guess what it also killed. But two plants soldiered on. I have them heavily shielded by the cucumbers, dill and chamomile, and really I have no words for the blue. Pics don’t do it justice. I won’t have the tea this year, I’m saving as much seed as I can, but I am so pleased to have it at all!
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 Last, but not least, and it’s a poor shot of it, the chamomile. I cannot drink chamomile to sleep - it does put me to sleep, but it also gives me bad dreams. I plan on using it as a skin wash for all the bug bites, along with the calendula, and to give me some respite from dry skin during winter.
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Stay green! See you in fall! Now back to our normal schedule of frogs, cats and nekked men!
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cecilspeaks · 4 years
Text
166 - Delta
The stars tell us our future. They’re rarely correct, but yet there they are, blathering on night after night. Welcome to Night Vale.
At the foot of a sandy hill, a woman explains to her son what a flower is. She’s pointing at an orange starburst atop a squat bulbous cactus. She says: “Flowers are beautiful, aren’t they?” I cannot hear what her son says. She answers: “Because bees like beautiful things and flowers want the bees to take their pollen, that little bit of yellow powder, right down there inside, and give it to other plants, so they can grow up and be beautiful too.” There’s a long pause. Then she says: “Nature wants to make more and more beauty all the time. That’s all it wants to do. If it is not beautiful, it cannot live.” She’s upset at her son’s next question. “Humans wish to make beauty too, but not for nature,” she snaps. “They want computers and airplanes and factories, oh Benny, don’t touch.” She sighs. Then she says: “The cactus hurt you, didn’t it? The cactus knows you’re human and it does not want you to watch it, and now it has let you know that, you won’t touch it again, will you? No Benny, you won’t.”
Underneath the scant shade of a dilapidated wing of an MD-90 aircraft, a middle aged man tells another middle aged man about a time he went to New Orleans. He thought the French Quarter was too crowded and the jazz scene overrated, so he drove east along the upper neck of the Mississippi Delta to a Swapshack, where he paid a man 50 dollars to take him on a hovercraft to look at alligators. “Such majestic and hideous creatures,” the middle aged man says to the other. “You know, when I was little, I cried thinking about how I would never see a real live dinosaur. All the world had left were bones. But right there in southern Louisiana lay dozens of living dinosaurs. It’s an extraordinary world when you finally realize that all life is magic,” he says. The other middle aged man had heard the story dozens of times, but still he replies: “I hear you, I hear you.”
A young woman thinks about a job interview she never attended. She is happy without that job, yet she feels regret for what could have been. “I cannot imagine myself behind a desk making spreadsheets and memos,” she says to no one. “But I cannot imagine a 5-dimensional horse, nor the width of the void, nor the language of whales. I cannot imagine a lot of things but the pay, the pay would have been pretty good.”
Behind a blighted Palo Verde Tree, hidden between lush acacia shrubs, two teenaged boys kiss for the 50th time or so. It is brief, as one stops to look around, on alert for overbearing parents. They kiss for the 51st time or so and then laugh. Their fingers clumsily fumbling over each other, trying to decide on the perfect grip, the perfect touch. They melt like marshmallows in the flame of inexperienced joy. This moment in their lives is as pure and powerful as they have ever felt and may ever feel again.
My mind is crowded with voices, with people living their lives all day listeners. these are the stories, they are eating fruit and playing cards. They are arguing about who said what and when. They are meditating and conversing, retelling old shows and books they remember from when they had such things. A copy of Tina Fey’s memoir “Bossy Pants” was found in  a suitcase seven years ago, and everyone in the group has read it at least once. Someone mutters that they used to have a copy of Karen Russel’s “Swamplandia!”. It was in her purse when they landed here, but someone won’t own up to stealing it. another says the book might have been used to make a fire one night, because whoever made the fire might have thought the owner was done reading it, hypothetically.
It’s been several days since the voices came into my head, and at first it was new and interesting, but already I have grown tired of it. I do not know how Amelia Anna Alfaro lived her whole life with these sounds in her mind. It’s unceasing and I’ve not gotten much sleep. The teenage lovers sneak away each night to hold hands and talk big dreams underneath the moon. It’s sweet and romantic, but at 2 AM, give it a rest boys! I could try to talk back, but none of the voices can hear me. It’s like asking the rain to return to its cloud. But when I talk to Carlos, the voices go way. Thankfully I have my greatest peace when I’m with my favorite person. I can’t keep Carlos awake at all hours or have him skip work to be with me, so I have to learn to make peace with the voices, as they are noisy but permanent room mates in my brain now.
I do have news to report, but it’s mostly stuff you already know about. The high school basketball team has tryouts on Saturday. The library is doing open mic poetry nights on Tuesdays at 7, and we all know it’s a trap. Don’t do it unless you’re well armed. And the Opera House is extending its run of Verdi’s “2 Fast 2 Furious”, starring Renée Fleming, through the end of the month.
It’s hard to concentrate on reading these news stories with so much other language running through my head. Like this: there’s a guy who’s complaining about metal scraps that haven’t been cleaned, and the woman he’s talking to is explaining that they are conserving water for drinking and the guy is saying that it’s unsanitary to make dining utensils out of dirty metal, and she replies that they’re not making any more forks or spoons, they don’t need any more forks or spoons, they need knives but not for eating. What am I supposed to do with this information, it’s been going on nonstop for days? You cannot possibly understand what its’ like to listen to someone you don’t know, who you’ve never even met, who you can’t even see, ramble on and on about their boring personal life straight into your head, it’s awful. I can hear another person saying he’s found something. Good for you pal, way to find another rock or stick or lizard or whatever.
Wait. “Weeeee have founnnnnd ittt,” the voice says. I know this voice. It’s the first voice that’s been familiar to me, where do I know this voice, he is saying “first weeeeeeeee found you. You who are – no where – now weeeeeee have founnnnnnnd itt.” And other men are barking in agreement. Listeners, that voice is Doug Biondi from the asylum, and the voices around him are the agents from the National Safety and Transportation Bureau, all of whom escaped the Night Vale Asyulm two months ago. They are in nowhere, in an otherworld desert standing near a door attached to no building. Not far from a passenger set, long since rotted away. A jet that has been home to 143 passengers and crew members, one of those 143 – the pilot. Asylum warden Charles Rainier warned us of this. He had been a been a passenger on that plane, he became part of a small commune that grew into an angry cult under the leadership and telepathic influence of the pilot. Charles told us that the pilot would find those who could help him find Night Vale. Help him find the real world, and Doug Biondi knows the way back.
The pilot found Doug and Doug found the pilot. “Iii know the wayyy,” Doug Biondi says, laughing the laugh of a man whose smile is too big for his face. At the foot of a sandy hill, a mother tells her son it is time. “Stop crying, Benny. Stop crying so that there will be more flowers, more beauty.”
Underneath the scant shade of a dilapidated wing of an MD-90 air craft, two middle aged men argue over which hand made axe is sharper. At last, they agree that the one crafted from the rotor flap and held together with the hand belt is the better blade. “No you take it,” one says. “No, I insist you, I’m happy to use the smaller axe,” the other says, “because it is easier to manage what with my back spasms.”
And behind a blighted Paolo Verde Tree, hidden between lush acacia shrubs, two teenage boys kiss the way you kiss when you think it may be your last. They whisper impossible promises and raise high their rusty shovels, the spades’ tips having already been sharpened to deadly points. They race toward the gathering crowd.
A young woman who thinks often about the job interview she never attended shouts: “Nature is beauty!” “We are beauty!” replies antoher woman. They repeate these calls. “Nature is beauty! We are beauty!” And now every voice in my head is chanting the phrases, chanting and chanting and chanting, it’s too… it’s too much!
Silence. They’re silent suddenly. My head is clear. I can think my own thoughts.
Night Vale, I’m getting word that Sheriff Sam is barring all known passages into our town. This includes roads, trails, sewer grates, even the Dog Park which is not officially an entrance to the Desert Otherworld, but you know, let’s be honest here. We’re on lockdown, Night Vale. No one enters or leaves.
Good. This is good. If the voices can reach me, they can reach any of us. In fact, if the voices can enter my mind, then the pilot and passengers of flight 18713 may well already be here, or some of them anyway. Or maybe the voices come and go. This is the first moment of silence I’ve had alone in nearly a week. Maybe the voices aren’t always there like, like radio signals as you leave a city or, or a cell phone in an elevator, maybe the voices can’t permeate us under certain conditions or maybe… Or maybe… The voices are silent because… they are listening. Maybe they’re listening to their leader, their pilot who is giving instructions on what to do next, when and where to attack.
I don’t know. But I must use my moment of clarity to tell you some news. Nope, the voices are back. A single voice is back. I know, without knowing, that it is the voice of the pilot. He says: [in a neutral tone] “Uh, hi there, this is your pilot speaking. Just wanted to let you know that nature is beauty, we are beauty. We propagate our pollen, we spread our seeds, we grow new life over old life, we cleanse the toxins of technology. We depose the human king and return natural instinct to its rightful throne. If you can hear my voice, then you are chosen. You are chosen to join all who join our nature. All who join our beauty. All who refuse will be recycled into the earth, destroyed and dispersed to fertilize new more beautiful life. All those who are beautiful are chosen. All those who are not, are a cancer, blight, infection and disease. All who are not beautiful will be cut away, amputated, so that the Earth’s wounds may finally leave, so the Earth may grow beautiful once again.
We have been found and we will return. Open the gates to freedom, end the tyranny of artifice. That’s all for now, we’ll be arriving in just a few moments, Night Vale. There is going to be some turbulence.”
[distraught] I’m sorry, listeners! I did not meant to do that, I did not want to do that! The voice of the pilot overtook me and I, oh, I need to lock myself inside the studio, I have to protect you from me, but first the weather.
[“A Prayer for the Sane” by Danny Schmidt http://dannyschmidt.com]
I brought Carlos to the studio. When I talk to Carlos, I don’t hear the voices of the passengers from 18713. I don’t hear the voices even now as I look directly at Carlos while I’m speaking. Like Charles Rainier’s fishing hole or, or Amelia Anna Alfaro’s puzzles, Carlos grounds me, lets me be wholly me.
Thank you, Carlos.
Oh, I also had Carlos bring a pair of handcuffs with him that he bought at –Target on his way to the station, and used them to shackle me to my desk. If Charles Rainier is correct, then once the pilot can speak to you, he can control you. And if that should happen, it won’t happen but if it should, then now I won’t be able to leave here and do harm to anyone else.
From my window, I can see far down the street a spiral of black smoke. There are flashes of emergency sirens. Now I can see people coming up the road. They are long-haired, sun-scorched and nearly naked, wearing not much more than flat wide-brimmed hats and short tunics fashioned from seat upholstery. These people are carrying large blades, roughly honed from scrap metal. Some have widdled down pieces of plexiglass windows into sharp points and tied them to ends of long sticks. They’re deliberately walking up the hoods of parked cars and smashing windows and caving in the roofs with their bare feet.
It is no doubt that the passengers of 18713 are here, Night Vale. If you can hear me, sty inside and lock your doors. If you can her the pilot, then do as I have done. Secure your position so securely that not even your own mind can talk you out of it. Sheriff Sam has stubbornly kept up all roadblocks in and out of town, so we have no choice but to stay. The long unmoving lines of traffic at the edges of the city are easy prey now for the 18713. The pilot offered the choice of joining or refusing, but it is not a choice, not really. He either can control you or he cannot. Those whom he cannot control will be killed at the hands of those who can.
[anxiously] Carlos? You don’t hear the pilot voice, and thus cannot be controlled. But I do, and I can. I have been controlled. We’re in trouble, Carlos. I can’t stay chained to this desk forever, can I? And if the pilot means to destroy you, he might make – me do it myself. Just promise me you’ll run. Leave me behind if that happens, OK? OK. But for now, do not let me out of these cuffs, not even if I use a safe word, which I hear is something quite a few people use in healthy fun intimate relationships.
The people of 18713 are climbing up storefronts and tearing off signs. I can see about 10 or 15 in normal street clothes in the crowd now, which means the group is growing. They are recruiting quickly.
But something else is eating at me. In the asylum, in Doug Biondi’s journal and among the myriad voices in my mind, I still have not seen nor heard Amelia Anna Alfaro, the first person to make contact with the pilot. She disappeared in 2012 and no one has heard from her since. I need to find her. Somehow, if anyone can solve this, it might be her. She was always the best at everything.
Stay tuned next for the sound of me talking to Carlos forever and ever.
Good night, Night Vale. [creepily] Gooood night.
Today’s proverb: People who live in glass houses shouldn’t hire that realtor again.
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dragonswithjetpacks · 3 years
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Tagged by @noire-pandora! Thank you for the tag!
5 Favorite Writing Bits - I’m just going to include some stuff from 2020. Because 2021 has been a lot of Astarion and Ferelith so far. So from oldest to newest, here we go!
1. WIP from Voices of the Fade - I swear I’m going to get to this one day. So help me. This is actually what made me want to write this series. It was the first thing I wrote for it. And it made me just incredibly heart broken.
There was something about the way the sunlight hit... She was naturally pale, so her ivory skin was glowing against her cheekbones. They defined the side of her face, giving the soft shape of her profile a hint sharpness. Her nose was so small. And so were her lips, despite how pouty the bottom one was. But it was the way the sunlight hit her face that made him stare in awe. When her eyes opened, he shifted hoping it was not his gaze that woke her. She blinked up at him as if in disbelief. He brushed a strand from the corner of her mouth as she came to.
"Where are we?" she whispered.
"Home," he answered.
The stone walls of the fortress were the color of dark sand. It kept the rooms cool from the scorching sun. The windows were thick and tinted, as well, preventing any sort of breeze from intruding. The smells of the Anderfels were not always pleasant. And the birds were always hungry. Nevertheless, the mountains were massive and a wonder to look at. Like green giants plastered against a forever grey wall. And Weishaupt was it's gem. A place of honor of protection. A place of fragrant foods and quiet murmurs. And a place where the clashing of swords and explosions of magic echoed through the grounds. It was everything he had imagined.
"This is nice," she said quietly.
"Yeah," he heaved a happy sigh.
"Shame this isn't what really happened, though."
It was too confusing to mutter a response. Not that he could as a lump swelled in the depths of his throat. His mouth refused to open. And he watched as her face burned under the sunlight, a bright hot light that sizzled into ash, the same color as her hair. He reached out for her, his hands burning. It was too late.
2. From the first chapter of A Dame’s Tale (Claira Trevelyan’s origin story) - This was super personal for me. My mother was emotionally abusive and my dad was always working so he couldn’t always be there for me. And this was really just something I drew from that.
"Do proper ladies raise their hand?"
"No," the tears began to swell.
"Are you a proper lady, Claira?"
"Yes, Mother. I am," her voice cracked.
"I don't think you are."
"I promise I'll do better."
"You promised last time."
"Please, Mother, I promise. For real this time."
The tears were now little streams dripping down the side of her face. Her voice cracked as she wailed a plea for her mother's forgiveness. Her mother was silent, her eyes scanning over her youngest child as she stood sobbing in front of her. This little girl- her knuckles and cheek bruised, her lip bloodied, her dress torn with patches of dirt, her dark hair a tangled mess, and her face wet with tears- this was not the daughter she had prayed for.
"Go with your father. He'll take you to your room."
Claira struggled to catch her breath between cries and a warm hand on her shoulder didn't help. She let out the tears she had been holding back and she fought to keep her eyes open. Although blurry, she could see the back of her mother's dress swaying as she strode to the other side of the room to the balcony door. She did not see the rest as her father had reached down to clutch her hand.
3. Some super serious Aeva x Solas angst. I have feelings about eluvians. This is from Whispers in the Garden.
For a moment she saw a cliff side outlined with trees adorning flowers that was quickly obscured by a tall figure, shrouding her view. She stepped back further, feeling the air from the other side chill her entire body. Aeva became overwhelmed with the thought that this could be real and she stepped backward even further to take in the familiar shape. The mirror's image closed, making a small sound like shutters closing quickly against wind. And now the only light in the room was from the moon shining down through a window above. It made his face look pale. But other than that, it was just as she remembered.
His hands were folded behind him with his shoulders back and his chin held up proudly. His face was the same, but he was still different. It was nothing like he used to be. He wasn't the mage with the rugged tunic. He was a soldier. No... a commander in gleaming metal armor. The anger came rushing back to her as she remembered the last time he walked through a mirror. The way he used her for his own gain. Disappointment replaced her distraught and she felt ever foolish for wishing to see him. Her fist curled tightly against her and she drew in a deep breath through gritted teeth. But before she could yell, he was on her, his gloved hand pressed tightly over her mouth.
"Shhhh," he said softly into her ear.
With her only hand, she tried to push him away. She didn't want to see him. And she affirmed that by closing her eyes tightly. She hit him in the shoulder over and over until her hand hurt. Until her knuckles felt raw. Until she felt the skin punctured.
"Vhenan," he whispered.
The sound of the name he used to call her on his lips just made things worse. She pushed him one last time, feeling her arm go weak. Her knees began to shake and they buckled. Tears pushed past her eyelids, crashing down as she began to yell into the palm of his hand. He waited until she had exhausted herself. He held her at her waste and loosened his grip the moment he felt her muscles were no long tense. He removed his hand from her mouth, lifting her chin to look at her face. Her eyes were hooded and she still refused to look at him. But he could tell that she was beyond tired. Her body seemed lighter than before. Her skin had lost it's sun touched glow. Her lips were cracked.
"Enough," she felt her mouth make the shape, but was unsure if the sound came out.
He kept hold of her in fear that she would collapse.
"You can't keep doing this," she went on, finally hearing the raspy tone in her voice.
Her eyes finally opened and he could see now they were still piercing green. The yellow flecks inside were illuminating her eyes like they were on fire. They brought a flutter of fear into his chest, like the moment before being struck suddenly by fangs. But it quickly faded as she brought her hand to his face. It felt like the same man. The same smooth skin with a sharp jawline and faint smile. It sounded just like him too. Looked at her the same. But it wasn't.
"You can't come into my dreams anymore," she said. "I can't take it."
4. So I did a thing where I combined Aeva’s fear of drowning with the fear of what she lost with Solas. And because she connects fear with anger, it all just combines into a huge mess of emotion. This was the first time I really was able to portray that. An expert from Chapter 7 of Strange Fates.
Aeva walked to edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves swelling beneath her. There was the strange feeling again. The fear of the nothing beyond the sea. It was a larger feeling than what she felt at the barge. It was like the all the other times... like the first time...
The first time she saw waves this large...
The first time she sat on the coast...
(memory) The rain came down heavy and she looked outside her tent. It wasn't letting up any time soon. She paced, rubbing her hands on her face. If she didn't act soon, the trail would grow cold and she would never find the Grey Wardens. The flap to her tent lifted without any announcement of arrival. And he stood, a look of concern on his face. He offered her a warm drink. They sat across from each other on her cot. He made her laugh. He took her hand, but it was for research. His fingertip traced in the inside of her palm. She snatched it back...
"Aeva?" Fenris jumped down from the wagon. "You're looking at the sea strangely again."
"Yes..." she shook her head. "Yes I am."
"Ferguson is setting up camp if you-"
There was a drifting silence between them as she brushed by. Her movements seemed slow and her eyes looked blank. Almost as if she were in some sort trance. It had been a long night. And upon further inspection, he could see spurts of blood across her armor. Still, for her not to respond at all was odd.
"... want to take some time to rest," he finished his sentence, watching the back of her disappear around the wagon.
The tents were nothing like she used when traveling with the Inquisition. These were much smaller. Large enough for a cot and maybe a table if you angled it correctly. Her tent was in the northernmost corner and the closest to the fire, which Ferguson had already prepared. It was still small and clinging onto the wood from the blowing wind, but he stoked it carefully so it did not catch flame to the pine needles below. Iris sat nearby peeling potatoes and whistling softly. They looked as Aeva came through, but said nothing.
The fear from the waves was not going away. And the more she thought about a way to be rid of it, the worse it got. Aeva did not handle fear well. It simmered in her chest, tightening her lungs and making her heart race. When it began to boil, she burst with rage. And she couldn't let that happen. Not in front of the camp. There was only one thing she could do. She reached into her pack, looking for a specific vial. And it was there bundled in the center of strange looking leaves. It was a black mixture with floating powder. In most cases, she would use it as a bomb to subdue her enemies. But mixed with the liquid, it became a sleep aid in small doses. She shook it up, causing it swirl slowly. The small cork made a small pop as she opened it. And with a wrinkled nose, she took one drink of it as if it were a shot of the strongest ale. There was a bit of a gag, but then she swallowed hard a second time to try and be rid of the taste. The cork went back into the vial, between the leaves, and bound with string once again before she placed it back in her pack. The affects were almost instant. And she barely had enough time to lay her head on the pillow. It was her escape... for a time...
5. THIS piece of dialogue from The Quiet Closet. I was so proud of this. It was the first piece of smut I not only wrote seriously but posted. And this dialogue to me is just... oof. Um NSFW by the way.
"You," she growled. "You make me weak."
"You like it," he whispered teasingly, his finger massaging her below.
"I hate it. I despise it. I despise you."
Asatrion laughed, slipping a second finger over her. She attempted to sink down again to feel his knee, but found his grasp on her wrists were far too tight. She looked up at them helpless, leaving her neck open for his taking. He caressed over it, licking it to taste her flesh and biting slightly over her throat, thoughts tempting his darker nature. But he had sworn it wouldn't happen again. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter the circumstances, he would only take what she gave. Ferelith may have enjoyed losing control in that moment, but that didn't change her need to command other things. It seemed a bit odd to his taste, but all the same fascinating. And he wanted to explore it further.
"Tell me more," he demanded. "Tell me how much you hate me."
She dropped when he loosened his grips, her back relaxing down the wall. With a gentle nudge, his knee rose up to meet her and he felt her hips sway against him. He moved his fingers in motion, straightening them as she came in like a rolling tide.
"I hate how charming I find you," her eyes closed and her voice sound as if she were in a trance. "I hate that you make me laugh."
She inhaled quickly as he pressed harder into her core, her head hitting the wall as she reared back. He felt her body tighten and urged her forward with his knee.
"Go on," he said, baring witness to the moments of joy on her face.
"I hate the sound of your voice," she lowered her brow with concentration. "I hate how attracted I am to you."
The heat from her body was making him crave her, now, and he could feel himself growing excited at the quickness of her breath. Her spite made it all the better. The more anger she released, the stronger her movements became, and the longer his strokes became. It became difficult to hold onto her and her hands slipped through his grasp as he tried to ground himself, his hand slamming onto the wall.
"I hate this constant desire I have for you..."
Her hands dug into his hair, feeling the back of his skull. The sensation of her nails scratching against his scalp brought him closer. His hand skipped up the wall as he faltered for a moment, his face buried in her hair. The fragrance she gave was enticing, as it always was.
"... this desire to feel you. Next to me. Against me. Inside me..."
Slowly, her hands slid down to his shoulders. One remained, gripping tightly. While the other slithered up his neck, her fingers finding their grasp on either side of his face. He did not fight her pull to bring him to her gaze.
"Still... If I believe for one second you'll betray me..." she said through heavy pants, "I'll kill you."
And uh yeah... 2020 was a pretty productive year. I think I really got back into fanfiction and posting things and being more active here on Tumblr. And I’ve met some really cool people because of it. Now I’m dabbling in other fandoms and everyone has been so supportive and amazing. It’s just really wonderful. Thank you guys! And I look forward to reading more stuff from everyone.
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