Beni bir gün unutacaksan,
bir gün bırakıp gideceksen boşuna yorma derdi,
boş yere mağaramdan çıkarma beni…
özellikle yalnızlığa alışkanlığımı kaybettirme boşuna….
29.10.2020 01:07 #newsharing
Blossom and her giant wife
Ogni quanto fioriscono le orchidee
Sono cresciuta circondata da fiori d’ortensia, il “distacco” nel linguaggio dei fiori. Ho visto molte orchidee, come gioielli dimenticati su un tavolo, che non superavano il tempo di una stagione. Ora i miei occhi vedono e se una pianta muore, se molte muoiono, sto attenta.
La mia prima pianta è stata un cactus che qualcuno aveva lasciato accanto ai bidoni. C’è chi salva vite, io forse salvo piante. E semi. Quello che abbiamo vissuto da bambini ci segna più di quanto pensiamo: può essere una ferita, o una fessura da cui trapela luce.
Questa è la mia orchidea. Sta germogliando di nuovo dopo meno di un anno.
There’s this one Blossick fic I read about 2 years ago that I really liked but I haven’t been able to find since. Blossom went to a boarding schools and Brick was like a prefect or something and kept getting Blossom in trouble. I also remember this one scene where the prefects search the dorms and their friend prefects have to hide all their devices for them. Idk if any of that helped but I’m desperate to find it again I really loved the story.
A new cute one-shot in honor of @carriedreamerx birthday! In the same high school AU as part 1, part 2, and part 3, but can totally stand-alone. Also posted on my AO3. Tune in for some laughs and some Reds cuteness!
Summary: Brick goes deodorant shopping. It doesn’t end well. (Or does it??)
Brick squinted at the nine-foot shelf packed with a full color wheel of deodorants and antiperspirants. The sheer surfeit of brands and scents was as daunting to behold as it was absolutely batshit insane—how many ways did people need to not smell like a dirty gym sock?
He picked a random stick and scowled at the label as if it had offended him and all his future progeny. Who the fuck would want to smell like mango lassi?
The squeak of a shopping cart rolling down the aisle sent Brick into a febrile panic for a hot second, and he shoved the saccharine deodorant stick back onto the shelf. A geriatric woman with a hunched back, a bright head scarf, and eyes so folded over with wrinkles it was a miracle she could see anything at all wheeled her cart slowly past Brick, who froze where he stood. She smiled politely at him, and he nodded out of sheer self-preservation instinct. The moment she passed him, he yanked the bill of his red cap lower over his eyes.
“Get a grip,” he grumbled. He was an eighteen-year-old guy buying deodorant, not stool softener. He was totally casual and had absolutely no reason to be so fucking paranoid. Nobody who might recognize him was coming to Cooper’s Market at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.
Brick wiped his clammy palms on his jeans and searched the shelves for what he’d come for so he could hurry up and leave. There it was, fifth shelf in a sea of sleek black and edgy, neon letters: Axe Ice Chill.
Eyo!!! Happy Asexual Week 😎