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#wildflower headers
mu-tilada · 8 months
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spring 2023.
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dedheaders · 2 years
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Cottagecore headers
Saved? Like or reblog
Salvou? Curte ou compartilhe
Credits twitter @DaraInYeop
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sweetwolfcupcake · 3 months
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A Secret Garden
Main Masterlist
Welcome to the secret garden of Wicked Indulgence. The themes remain dark, and the romance remains murky.
Only the universe and characters change.
Note-- This is not my main masterlist or the area of focus, I make no promises here. I cannot give it as much time as I give to my main masterlist. But this is a sweet indulgence.
So...Welcome to my secret garden, not popular like my other works but relevant to me and those who would indulge.
Be warned...This is no place for the faint-hearted or the sweet angels. Definitely not minors.
Banners, headers, and dividers by @cafekitsune
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John Wick
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An introduction
Drabbles
Daisies
Secrets We Keep
A Gentleman
Series
Wildflower-- Part II, Part III, Part IV
Requests Closed
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thehistoriangirl · 5 months
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The Delirium of Still-Lifes [One]
Putting a unrelated gif of the blorbo because I haven't done the headers yet :D and because looook at hiiiim sirrrrr i wanna be ur hexcore--
Happy Halloween! <333
Vampire!Viktor x Fem!Artist! Reader----1.2K---SFW
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> MASTERLIST -> Next
Synopsis:
Debts are paid with blood.
After a visit from death and ending all alone, you had no other option than to become like your late guardians—seeking refuge in the shady business where rewards are as high as the risks.
Your latest mission: steal and forge an expensive painting from a secretive private collector to complete the series of your current boss, and thus finally pay off the burden you still carry.
Debts are passed on by blood.
When infiltrating ends up being harder than planned, you have no choice but to apply as a working staff. Though working inside isn’t as easy as it seems, with all the strange noises echoing at night, and the random droplets of crimson staining the floors, the endless hallways with their flickering lights.
There are eyes always watching, whispers carrying secrets—and of course, the hidden painting that would define your life forevermore.
Maybe freedom can be given without the need of blood.
General Tags (per usual, spoiler-y): Gothic AU | Vampire AU | Haunted House | Enemies to Lovers (?) Kinda | Slow Burn | Strangers to Lovers | Dark Magic | Curse | Forced Proximity | Mentions of a firearm (revolver) | Spooky/Slightly Disturbing Imagery |
Ruins, fragments of a gilded past that had died with the house’s owner.
The building itself seemed to mourn; the curtains in the gigantic windows dirtying, sending grey hues against the dusty floor that clung to your footsteps, in the need of company after so many years of oblivion.
Yet there were strange signs of life blooming in the corners of the rooms; there where the furniture wasn’t covered in ghostly bedsheets, with no presence hidden behind them, waiting to haunt you.
Your boss was right—someone was renovating this house, which meant you had to find the forgotten painting, and soon.
The house creaked, breathed alongside you the further you went, the flame of your oil lamp flickering with each step, morphing you into a monster just like the ones the stories said haunted here at night.
From the second floor, you heard the slam of a door. The little hairs on the back of your neck rose with a blow of chilling wind, almost whispering to you to run away.
But you couldn't—there was no escape in that rusty gate you crossed, almost devoured by wildflowers. There was no escape out of the life blood that had tied to you, out of the debts death hadn't erased.
Closing your eyes, tucked in a corner with your back against the wall, you remembered the plans of construction for the house. The third floor was the office and library, your last option. In the second, all the bedrooms were divided in the East Wing, for the members of the late Ulhir family; and in the West, for all their guests. Unlikely.
The first floor, however, was meant to be the gallery, the nursery, and the music room.
A burned and draped carpet was laid over the spiral staircase that submerged in the darkness. However, you only need to go so far. An empty music room, a desolated nursery, all but bare of paintings, though the outline of their places hung in the wall prevailed.
Then, it was the shadow.
A dash of black against the discolored grey of the ruins, of something almost alive—certainly, if it moved that fast. From under the stairs like all monsters crawled under beds in those children’s stories, to the ballroom with the broken chandelier at the right.
Your palms were sweaty while taking ahold of the revolver, the metal becoming sticky and hot too quickly.
Monster or not, you doubted something could survive a dozen bullet wounds. If only you could finish with the monsters in your life so easily.
How the thing had been under the staircase? Nothing was supposed to be under it, only the wall where there was barely a corner to hide, or so the house plans said.
Aiming to the dark, the sensation of being accompanied by something had vanished, leaving only a cold void that could taken as relief when you saw the secret door.
Contrary to the other wings in the house, this gallery’s entry was tucked beneath the staircase, similar to the structure of a wooden decorative wall a simple ebony door, almost drowned in the shadows of midnight, with the clock suspended in the south wall of the foyer chiming so hard it made you tremble.
But with the cacophony, you could open the creaky door without a problem, still thinking that someone may be watching you.
The once spotless, dark ebony floor was covered in the ghostly veil of dust, welcoming your presence with avidness, marking each step you took inside as if the gallery had missed company, with all the unfinished portraits looking at you with the impassive gaze of eternity.
You almost dropped the slippery gun, tucking it behind the belt cinching your dark pants together.
All dozens of paintings, gold-framed and slightly crooked hung on the walls, none of them the ones you were looking for. These merged with the chaos of the desk, stains of color, and unfinished lines like paths leading nowhere.
Except for the one ahead of you; free of furniture, with the floor opening a path to show a bare wall where a lonely easel stood in front of a mirror, the canvas barely visible beneath the web of black scratches covering what once was a sketch.
Not only a sketch but a self-portrait, if the mirror was clue enough.
Opaqued by dust, you could barely see your reflection in it, passing your gloved hand over the surface to let you see the shameful image of what you have become. A liar, just like your parents. A thief. Would your parents be proud of you?
Probably. And such realization hurt so much more.
“I wasn’t aware I’d had guests for dinner.” A voice said, its strange cadence echoing in the still room. “And such a familiar one, at that.”
Your scream mixed with the thud of the canvas falling to the ground, turning to see the tall silhouette of a man leaning against a column, barely some feet away from you, two golden beacons as eyes piercing through the dark to keep you frozen in fear.
“W-wh-who are you?!” you said, trembling fingers trying to pull out the lent revolver, unsuccessfully. Part of you tugged at the sudden dèjá-vu, the cloaked man. Death.
It was Mr. Ulhir, of course. The owner of the manor and the one you were meant to steal from. The one that had died… years ago.
I’m talking with a ghost.
“I believe you shouldn’t be the one asking questions, should you? What are you doing in my house?”
“This can’t be your house—this… this place had been abandoned for decades!” You stopped, thoughts pouring into your brain. “Oh, I get what this is. You took this place for yourself and now you feel the owner…” you spat, walking toward him, just to discover that said beacons were too, too high up.
I’m talking with a ghost.
Your grasp on the revolver tightened, his eyes flickering down to where you kept it hidden in your back.
The man chuckled. “Well, this is getting interesting. What are you hiding there?”
Feeling bold at his taunt, you aimed your revolver toward him, only to feel cold, gloved fingers wrapped around your wrist as soon as you raised your arm. His presence leaning against yours, the soft cotton of his shirt brushing your cheek.
He was cold, yet solid.
He was no ghost.
You tried to yank away, but his grasp was like iron. Huffing at the effort, your eyes got drawn to the mirror, hoping the moonlight could at least decipher the outline of this sudden presence.
Alas, all that you could over its broken surface were a dozen of reflections of you, completely alone in the room.
“Truly unfortunate,” the man said, his free hand guiding your gaze away from the mirror and into his face, long fingers pressing the back of your neck as he tilted you toward him. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
See what? There was nothing there—
He was no ghost. He was…
The man sighed. “Nothing personal, little fairy,” he said, pressing the sides of your neck with his fingers, your pulse quickening at the cold, ruthless movement. Your gaze swam toward the ceiling, parched glass ceiling to block the moonlight, and yet you saw him, truly, saw him.
"Ah—!" you tried to scream, but only a gurgle rippled out your mouth, your limbs becoming heavy, heartbeat exhausted, slow.
“Goodnight,” you heard his voice where there was nothing anywhere else,  your gaze becoming black, brain shutting down until you were one with the night—all darkness, all void.
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jessource · 2 years
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#01 “ BANNER PACK ” templates by jessource.
original and free templates. if using please like / reblog and don’t forget to credit.
notes: do you ever find yourself struggling to come up with a simple banner for your pinned posts, headers or character posts or even text to add to your google doc / carrd? in this pack you will find four easy to use templates. these were all made by me, please ensure you credit somewhere visible and if using as a base, ensure you’re crediting and not claiming as your own. below you can find the fonts used for each template.
#01 - MOONLIGHT: Darlington, Helvetica LT STD. #02 - SELCOUTH: Ledlight, Courier. (google font) #03 - WILDFLOWER: Back to Class + Outline, Times New Roman. (google font) #04 - OPALINE: Limelight, Arial. (google font)
please don’t redistribute, steal or claim as your own.
any issues, don’t hesitate to contact me!
[ DOWNLOAD FROM PAYHIP ]
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trexrambling · 11 months
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Broken Heels (III / III)
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Request: “There's a protective Dean and Sam some kind of thing. They're friends with fem!reader, a shy and graceful girl. A long time ago the brothers took her in and a deep friendship was born. She only helps with research because she suffers from a heart failure, which leads to her being often dizzy nauseated and breathless. The brother care for her and always keep an eye out on her. Dean is secretly in love with her and vice versa. But neither of them admits it. One night Dean brings home some of his flings and the girl is really cruel to the reader.... Reader spirals into a rabbit hole, taking the things the bitch said to her to heart.... And shit hits the fan?! Some angst, drama and fluff, protective Winchesters.” - by anon
Word Count: 2,120
Warnings: language, negative self-talk, heated/arguing conversation, angst, fluff
A/N: I broke this request into two three parts because it ended up being much longer than expected. This last part took me forever to finish, still not sure I love how it turned out but here it is. No beta, all mistakes are mine, please message me if you see any! Watercolor heart from the header image credit.
(Read Part 1) (Read Part 2)
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You’re not really sure where he’s driving you, because it’s not back to the town you were hunting in, and it’s not towards home, either. It feels aimless, like he’s picking turns at random for the sake of the familiarness of being behind the wheel, like it’s the only thing that’s grounding him right now. The sun has made its venture into the sky, climbing with each passing minute and painting the wisps of clouds in orange and pink. The quiet in the car is becoming unbearable, the inevitable conversation that’s about to take place encroaching with each passing second.
You decide to just go for it, like that first jump into a cold pool. Just get it over with. It’s either that or tuck and roll out the passenger door. Though…the latter option might prove to be less painful when all is said and done.
“So…” you start quietly, “where’s Sam?”
“Oh, Sam’s still working on the case.” Every word is wrapped in frustration. His jaw is tight, fingers gripping the wheel with more force than necessary. You don’t have to check for a speed limit sign to know that he’s exceeding it.
“You left Sam?”
In a split second you find yourself almost relocated to the floorboards of the car, the lap belt cutting into your waist the only thing keeping you from sliding off the seat as Dean slams on the brakes. You manage to catch the upper half of your body weight with a hand on the dash, eyes wide as he veers off the side of the road and continues right on into the neighboring grassy field. The Impala’s wheels find a small rut, bumps in and out of it, the frame vibrating from the uneven ground. He goes a few more feet and then comes to a complete halt, throws the gears into park and shuts off the engine. You quickly undo the seatbelt to rub your stomach.
“Dean, what the hell-”
But he’s already opened his door and is exiting the vehicle, the loud slam of it shutting making you flinch. You watch him through the windshield as he walks a short distance into the field, then he stops and just stands there with his hands in his jacket pockets, his back to you.
You stay in your seat, staring at him, a bit stunned. You’ve known Dean for years, and in that time you’ve seen his rough edges, watched him dissolve into anger that would leave him unable to speak, observed his elated highs alongside the dismal lows. But you’ve never seen him like this… At least, not with you. Not because of you.
A steady breeze is blowing the tall, spring wildflowers around his legs, pushing small tufts of his hair in all directions. His stiff posture is a direct contrast to the serenity around him; a tranquil view from a distance that’s lacking all of its peace up close.
“Ah, screw it,” you mutter to yourself. You pop your door open and step out, the immediate onslaught of wind attacking your hair as you walk across the grass to stand beside him. You’re not really sure how you feel, not sure what to think. A short hour ago you’d been on a bus, trying to get as far away from him as possible. And now…
“Alright, spill. What’s going on with you?”
He turns sharply, fire in his eyes. “With me? What’s going on with me? Are you serious right now?”
He wants to pick a fight, to throw everything that’s built up out into the open, and part of you does, too. You fold your arms, meet his glare with a steady one of your own. “Yes, with you. How could you leave Sam to work a case by himself?”
Air snorts out of his nose in disbelief. “I left the case? Are we forgetting that you’re the one who just up and hopped a bus in the middle of the night? Without saying anything?”
“I texted Sam.”
“Oh, you texted Sam. Of course. My bad.”
You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “You literally just drove god knows how many miles and tried to run a bus off the road, and you’re acting like I’m the crazy one. I have every right to go wherever I damn well choose to. I’m not a child, Dean, I don’t need to get permission from you.”
“You didn’t even pick up your phone, Y/N. I’ve been calling you for hours, and I just kept getting your voicemail. What was I supposed to do, supposed to think? Since when do we not talk to each other? What the hell happened?”
His voice has progressively gotten louder with each question, and though he’s not quite yelling, the harshness has you blinking back an unanticipated bout of tears. Your mood shifts, the fight leaving you as doubt and dejection take its place.
Dean notices the change, and his eyes lose some of their sharpness. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck and lets out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just don’t understand much of anything that’s been happening the past few hours. Why did you take off? Why did you just leave us like that?”
You wrap your arms tightly around your midsection, fixate on the grass beneath your feet, and manage to softly say -
“Do you… do you really not know?”
He doesn’t say anything, which is ten times worse than all of the worst possible things you’re imagining he could say. You gnaw on your lower lip, anxiety building with each second that he doesn’t speak. You can’t take it anymore, can’t take this, whatever this is. So, like a broken dam, you open your mouth and let it all flood out.
“I know that we’re not equals. I know I could never hold my own on a hunt with you. Hell, I proved that last month, didn’t I? And you deserve someone who can have your back, someone who can actually help you when the time comes. I know you guys say I help, but that’s different. It’s reading lore and making lasagna, and anyone can do that. And to top it all off, I’m an absolute mess. I cough up blood and I can’t walk a mile without feeling like I'm going to faint. I’m like this broken thing, this deadweight that you keep dragging along with you for some reason. And I don’t get it. I really don’t understand why I’m still here, because…because you don’t need me.”
He’s still not saying anything. You give in to the weakness in your knees and sink down onto the ground, tugging your jacket around you and staring out at the borderline of trees in the distance as your fingers absentmindedly pick at the surrounding grass and flower stems.
“And then I was waiting in your room for you to come back from the bar, and instead that woman showed up. And she was just-” you chuckle dryly- “so delightful, by the way. A real charmer. And you didn’t ask her to leave, so I left. I got out of your way. And I just… I couldn't stay, Dean. Don’t you get that?”
He joins you on the ground, close but not quite touching you. You dare to glance at him from the corner of your eye, surprised by the solemness his features carry.
“You don’t-” he clears his throat, digs his fingers into the dirt- “you don’t really want me, Y/N. Not the way you think you do.”
You turn your head sideways, rest your ear on your bent knee so you can look at him. He avoids your gaze, but keeps talking.
“That girl…she’s easy. Someone I can lie to when she asks me questions, that I can be a completely different person for. It’s just an escape, a night that doesn’t matter because I’ll never have to see her again, never have to think about her again, worry about her again.”
Your face tightens. “And you want that?”
“It’s been pointless to want anything else. To let myself want something else. This life…it’s not safe to let yourself get close to anyone.”
“Well…sometimes you can’t help it. Sometimes it just happens.”
He looks at you then, the right corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Yeah. Yeah it does.”
There’s a moment of hesitation, and then in one swift motion his arm goes up and around your shoulders, firmly scooping you into his side. You shuffle close and willingly lean in, resting your head in the crook of his neck. One of his hands stays wrapped around your arm, the other finding yours in your lap. A deep sigh leaves your body with the contact, the pent up tension you’d been carrying since last night dissolving with his touch.
“You’re the farthest thing from broken, you know,” he says softly. “And don’t you ever let me hear you say that we don’t need you. Sam and I are damn lucky to have you.”
“It doesn't always feel that way,” you whisper. “I still feel like I’m broken all the time. And not just because of my heart problems, but because of everything that’s happened to me, every mistake I’ve made, all the things I want to do, want to change… but I just can’t ever seem to get there.”
“I get that,” Dean says, giving you a small squeeze. “I’ve been there. But if I’ve learned anything, from Sam or Cas or anyone else in our lives, it’s that the broken heals. You just have to be willing to let it.”
You smile faintly, tilt your head up to look at him.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for chasing me down. Literally.”
He meets your eyes, his face serious. “I didn’t sleep with her, you know.”
Your blink, surprised. “Okay…why not?”
He bites the inside of his cheek, but doesn’t answer.
You squeeze his hand. “You know, you deserve to be with someone you can fully be yourself with. Someone you can talk to without having to fabricate your life, someone that actually gets it. And it may not be easier, but…I think it might be worth it.”
His features change then, and he’s suddenly looking at you in a way that takes you back to a flour filled kitchen, with mixing bowls and a pie waiting on the counter while he’s standing over you, your hand in his, heat and tension and a deep underlying desire filling the small space between. You swallow deeply, take in a shaky breath through your nose.
“Dean-”
His lips on yours cut you off, no hesitation as he tilts your chin up with his hand to draw your face closer. Warm fingertips trail down your cheek and then tangle in your hair as he gently pulls at your bottom lip. It’s a single, long, perfect kiss, and you can’t breathe properly, but you don’t really want to. He pulls away, kisses you lightly again, once, twice. And your head is spinning and your breathing is ragged and you can feel a goofy grin stretched wide across your face.
“You good?”
You nod, breathless, still smiling. You’re not sure if you can stop at this point. You’ve wanted this for the longest time, wanted him. And now that it’s happening, you still can’t believe that it’s real. It feels like a dream you never want to wake up from.
Dean releases his hold on you and stands up, snapping you from the moment. He stretches his hand out, a smile on his face. “Ready to go?”
You raise your eyebrows, still trying to collect yourself. “Go? Go where?”
Your smile fades, uncertainty underlying the pure flood of euphoria you’d just experienced. Were things already back to normal? Just like that? Did you imagine the last few minutes? Did the bus you were on crash, and you’re actually in a coma?
He’s smiling at you, waiting expectantly, and your face flushes from embarrassment. You grasp his hand, and he effortlessly pulls you to your feet. He doesn’t give you a chance to step away, though. He keeps a firm hold on your hand and tugs you back into him. Toe to toe, your chest flush against his, he cups the side of your face, erasing any of the doubt as he says -
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
And then he’s kissing you again, firmly holding you tight against him while he steals the breath from your lungs.
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Tags: @iprobablyshipit91​ @senjoritanana​ @amythyststorm33​ @morgiex​ @sushiumex​ @akshi8278​
^Thank you for reading! You guys and your feedback are the reason I kept writing this one :) 
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lirotation · 11 months
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I want to do a new header for my tumblr page. Idea is the couple sitting in a pastel colored wildflower field. This is the sketch. Hopefully, I can get to it this weekend. I have to say, graphite remains my favorite medium.
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rhythm-of-space · 1 year
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notes - hi! I wrote this a while ago and it's just been sitting in my docs collecting dust. I also have a dad!jake and dad!josh written if anyone is interested (sam is currently in the works!)
a huge thank you to @sunfl0wer-power for the header and listening to my endless commentary about this and @allieisacrybaby for the encouragement 💛
warnings - none. Just dad danny and sweet sam!
-
“We’re leaving, babe!” you hear Danny yell from the garage. You get up from your place in your garden where you were tending to your new sprouts and waltz over the car where Danny is securing five-year old, Francine, in her booster seat.
“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Danny urges as he envelopes you in a warm bear hug you know so well.
“No, I’m okay, I need to get some work done here. I love you, drive safe,” you kiss him and then move over to the little girl waiting patiently in her seat.
“And I love you! Be brave.” You whisper the last part into her ear before planting a gentle kiss to her forehead. You move away from the car to watch Danny reverse and wave them goodbye as they drive off on their little excursion.
-
Danny pulls into the parking lot next to the only other car there and hops out to unbuckle his daughter from her constraints. Her big amber eyes squint at the brightness of the summer sun as her feet meet the gravel on the ground. Danny gives her an encouraging smile before locking the car and leading the way to the trailhead.
They walk a few minutes before making it to the clearing they frequent often when he’s home. The field of flowers in full bloom, the stream with water clear as day to the side, and an area under an old oak tree where they usually lay out a blanket and enjoy their time until the sun starts to set. It’s their little oasis away from the hustle and bustle of their life.
Yet this time there’s a visitor knelt over a bundle of wildflowers, taking a picture of their beauty with his phone. Earlier that morning, Danny got a call from Sam to talk about an upcoming festival they were scheduled to play at and they got on the topic of plans for the day. Danny invited him to tag along, saying it would be a good opportunity to bond with her, and after some persuading on Danny’s end, Sam complied.
Once Francine makes out his face, her steps falter, falling behind Danny’s pace. He realizes she’s not next to him once he’s a few feet from Sam and turns to see his little girl's face full of worry. She finally catches up to Danny, but stays behind him, his body acting as a barrier between her and Sam. She clutches her arms around Danny’s leg, squeezing tight to find the comfort she always receives from his presence.
“Hey Frankie!” Sam greets with a bright smile. But she just huddles closer to her dad and whispers a polite yet mousy ‘hi’.
Sam has come to learn to not take offense to this behavior as she does this with everyone with the exception of her parents and Uncle Jake due to his laid back demeanor. Though, he is so headstrong that he is determined to connect with her, one way or another - he is her namesake after all.
-
Since she first opened her eyes to the world, Francine has been a timid little thing. Despite her dad being the drummer of a rock band, she likes the gentler, softer side of life - coming up with stories, creating the most beautiful art that a five year old could make, and her most favorite of all, the little critters that inhabit the Earth. When entering the Wagner household at any given moment, you’d find plastic bugs littered around the house, Planet Earth playing on the television, and Francine with one of her parents (or both when she pulls out the puppy dog eyes and they can’t say no) looking for creatures to observe in their backyard. There has been a push lately in efforts to get her out of her shell and trust those who care for her deeply and it has not been an easy process. She cries when her grandparents babysit, she often stays in the greenroom, away from the loudness and crowd of strangers while her dad is on stage, she even stayed by the front door while Danny met Josh’s newborn baby for the first time.
Something that always comforts her in these moments is Danny. Nobody could have expected how strong their relationship would be. She thinks the world of him, and obviously Danny does with her. The warmth he provides has become a safe haven for the little girl who finds the world too big. She had caught onto Danny’s soft nature; how he can make anyone feel a sense of home with his tender words, a sweet smile, and a love that is all-enveloping. It’s a sense of calm that grounds Francine in the most worrisome moments. He is her protector.
-
Sam expresses a reassuring smile and turns back to the flowers that have taken his focus.
“They love this time of year, you know,” still in a knelt position, he points to the flying pollinators buzzing around the petals, “This is when they get all their food to store for the winter.” A bee lands on the bundle of flowers right in front of him and starts to hunt for pollen.
Francine’s attention is grabbed in an instant as Sam continues on with his basic bee facts he learned in the seventh grade. Her head pokes out from behind her dad’s leg to see from her vantage point.
Danny feels a small tug on his pant leg and looks down to see her curious eyes looking up at him.
He kneels down to her level, tucks a loose wave of hair behind her ear, and whispers, “What do you think? Should we get a better view?” He sees the hesitation written on her face as she chews on the inside of her cheek, “can you be a brave girl for me?”
A few seconds pass before she nods in confirmation. He straightens back up and unfurls his hand, welcoming her little one and clasping it to his own in a comforting hold. He leads her over to his best friend who is still enthralled in the liveliness of the bees.
“You see that, Frankie? They're just going on with their little lives, finding food, pollinating the Earth one by one. Each and every one of them are valuable and needed - just like us, huh? Just like you, your dad, me, we all matter in this little thing called life..”
The bee buzzes off to find another flower, “...oh look! There he goes! He must have business to attend to.”
“No, Sammy,” Sam and Danny whip their heads towards her in both shock upon hearing her speak up, and in wonder at what she’ll say next, “The worker bees…they’re all girls.”
“Oh, of course! I’m sorry ladies, keep up the good work!” He yells after them, as if they’ll understand and turns to her, “They’re hard workers, huh?”
She nods in agreement, “Very. Um, Daddy got me a book all about them and how much they help us. I c-can show you it next time you come over…if you want to see.”
Squeezing Danny’s hand, she waits with bated breath for his response. “I would absolutely love that, hun. I can’t wait.” Both of their faces light up to show off their beautiful smiles.
“Hey, I noticed a big patch of flowers down the trail, should we go see what else we can find?” Francine peers up at her dad as a silent ask and he looks down at her with wide eyes in excitement to encourage her.
He expects to have to pull her along with him hand-in-hand, but to everyone's surprise, she brings his hand to her lips to place a soft kiss on his knuckles like she's seen her parents do many times before, lets it fall to his side, and walks along with Sam. It’s as if she was the one comforting him - telling him that she’ll be okay.
After collecting himself he pulls his phone out to capture a video. It shows them walking off a few steps ahead and her talking with her hands, getting animated like she does when she's really interested in the conversation. He goes into his contacts and finds your name, needing you to see how big your little girl has grown in just a couple hours. ‘I’m so proud of her!’ and ‘she’s so brave!’ are passed back and forth before he says he’ll be home soon and can't wait to tell you all about the progress she’s made.
He rushes to catch up to the newly-made friends to find Sam kneeling again, picking white daisies from the root. “Don’t worry, we’ll leave some for the bees.” he mentions towards Frankie who is examining an ant hill not too far off.
They stay there for a while longer, Francine has convinced both of them to look for bugs with her; Danny teases Sam the entire time as he is new to the activity and not very fond of the tiny creatures that crawl on four or more legs - but he’s a good sport for her. As the sun starts to set on the horizon, Danny sees the tell-tale signs of his little one losing energy - the constant rubbing of her eyes, long yawns, and the way she starts to cling to Danny’s form.
He picks her up and they head off back to the car park they pulled into that afternoon. After securing her in her seat Sam pops in to wish her farewell, “Here Frankie, these are for you. I had such a fun time with you today.” He’s holding out the flowers he picked back at the clearing as a gift, a memory of today.
She beams up at him with heavy, tired eyes and cradles the bundle before Danny closes her door, ready to get her to bed. After hugging Danny, Sam leans against his own vehicle, giving them space to back out. Before they drive too far, the car window rolls down and he hears a little voice, “Goodnight Sammy, I love you.” All Danny can do is smile wide and keep his eyes on the road to get them home safely. It was a successful day and he wishes you could have been there to see it.
-
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crappymixtape · 1 year
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save me from this darkness
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header art by: @cherbearsz ♥️ • https://cherbearsz.tumblr.com/
S A V E M E F R O M T H I S D A R K N E S S 🎶 hard times, ethel cain
will's not even sure why he went to his room in the first place, but it's dark. impossibly dark despite the lamp at his bedside. despite the moon trying to shine through the window and he just feels so alone. stuck between this vivid technicolor version of hawkins and the other twisted lifeless suffocating upside down version of hawkins. he can feel the panic attack taking root in his chest, his pulse fluttering against his neck. feels his arms start to tingle. feels the numbness in his hands. throat squeezing tight. he tries to take in a breath, but it's shallow and he needs more air and he's drowning in it and tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but then there's a knock at his door.
"will?" he looks up. it's mike. mike and his deep brown eyes. mike and the long, soft sweep of dark lashes. mike and that smile. but it falters when he sees the tears in will's eyes and he's at his side in a few long strides. "what's wrong? is it him? are you okay?" will feels his tears finally well up and spill down his cheeks. he tries to smile, but it crumbles and falls and he takes in a trembling breath.
"i'm just so alone, mike. i'm so alone." and then mike's hand is gently cupping the curve of his jaw and he's looking at will, really looking, and it makes him feel like it always does. like he's seen. like he's real. like the pain is real. and more tears fall, but the rough pad of mike's thumb is brushing them away softly.
"you're not alone. ever. okay? i'm here. i'll always be here. i promise."
and mike's just holding will and will is trying so hard to let go of the fear inside. trying so hard to trust mike. trying to believe him and he can see the younger versions of themselves. tucked together just like this on that halloween night when everything felt so hopeless and he can hear their voices:
'if we're both going, then we'll go crazy together, right?' 'yeah. crazy together.'
and then mike leans in. pulls will close. brushes their noses together. catches will's lip between his and it's soft and bright and will can feel hope blooming in chest like wildflowers in the field and the dark is losing it's grip on him, slipping and fading and crying out as this bright shining light washes over him.
his light. his hope. his heart.
mike.
crappymixtape™ • stranger things masterlist // steve harrington masterlist
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effiepotterisamilf · 3 months
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AO3 MASTERLIST
I follow from @transsexualpriest and my ao3 is CanYouHearMyFear | pfp + header by @nothingtoseeherebyeexx | 18+ minors dni
WIPS
there you go, you’re making me a liar (i kinda like it though) | E | 3/? Chapters | Lesbian Jegulus | Playlist
ONE-SHOTS
let the sound of worship be released from your lips tonight | E | 1/1 | 4.4K | j/r/b/e
my wildflower (you know you are my favorite fantasy) | E | 1/1 | 3.8K | j/r
cause if you’re lonely in chicago (you can call me baby) | T | 1/1 | 1.9K | j & r
resurrection | E | 1/1 | 4.5K | b/e
more on ao3!
MICROFICS
fuck like a twenty year old | feb. 4th | E | 1.5k | j/r | ao3
more on ao3!
SERIES
Harry Potter Drabbles | G-M | 20 Works
Porn Delivery Service | E | 19 Works
Kinktober (All Years) | E | 2 Works
Prompts from Friends | G-M | 6 Works
Jegulus Microfics | G-E | 6 Works
HP Sapphic Microfics | G | 4 Works
Wolfstar Microfics | G-T | 6 Works
call me daddy, sweetheart | E | 1 work
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mallowbees · 1 year
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points! new header! no more wildflowers at high speeds on roadsides :(
sHgfHgfhhhgj- wait wait ro are you memeing or is that what you thought my header was before ? god i wish my header had been the wildflowers at highspeeds on roadsides- but hey!! new one is vaugely storm clouds through leaves so i think thats still pretty good (very blurred) (drawn with low effort in fire alpaca) (not even the right sky shade)
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drachonia · 5 months
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❝ 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬? 𝐢 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞… ❞
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𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐘 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍. ⸻ With a smile and a song life is just a bright sunny day, your cares fade away and your heart is young, with a smile and a song, all the world seems to waken anew, rejoicing with you as the song is sung...when you smile and you sing, everything is in tune and it's spring, and life flows along with a smile and a song.
contents include: headers © saradika outline © celiciaa
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𝐼. ⸻ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥.
name, coreopsis levy
nickname, cora
sex, female
orientation, heterosexual
birth date, september 16
zodiac sign, virgo
place of birth, city of la mer in quartz, northwest of rhodolite
age, ~23
occupation, pastry chef
crest, hummingbird
alignment, neutral good
mbti, infp
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𝐼𝐼. ⸻ 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.
eyes, an ocean blue, deep and with a hint of green.
hair, long and wavy honey-colored hair that trails down her back and reaches behind her calves
built, short, small, and delicate. not much of her is muscle.
much more fair-skinned than most, attributes it to her family's time in the north.
height, 5'0" - 152 cm
weight, 124 lbs
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𝐼𝐼𝐼. ⸻ 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.
father, aster
mother, lorrene levy
brothers, cedar
sisters, lily, iris, clove
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𝐼𝑉. ⸻ 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.
traits, sociable, timid, kind-hearted,
passions, song, baking, instruments, trade & commerce
fears, losing loved ones, large-scale fires (forest fires, wildfires),
colors, pale warm yellow, honey, forest green, vintage cream, lilac
aesthetics, honey, breathable fabrics, sundresses, wildflowers, picnics by a waterfront, warm amber, early morning sunrise, fresh bouquets, chamomile tea with sweet milk.
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𝑉. ⸻ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲.
around loved ones, bright-eyed, loving, accepting, adoring around friends, outspoken, gentle, cute, a caretaker around strangers, easily flusters , spacey, innocent, flighty
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𝑉𝐼. ⸻ 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬.
singing, Cora was raised from a young age to be a performer in her own right, singing to her is akin to breathing.
baking, another skill Cora picked up rather young, specifically from her friend Léa’s father. She grew a great interest since, and constantly aims to make tasty new treats with her skills.
sewing, she’s surprisingly handy with a needle and thread, but is best at using it for repairs over making her own proper clothing. it does however lend to a well-honed embroidery skill.
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𝑉𝐼𝐼. ⸻ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝.
born the second child to a pair of lovers from a travelling troupe, Cora was raised as wild as her name implies, learning folk dance, singing, and instruments at a young age. she sings to herself to-date, often humming or stringing together a melody while she works.
she works for a bakery that makes yearly travels to Rhodolite for business in the winter, sometimes staying throughout the year if her older brother is visiting nearby.
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𝑉𝐼𝐼𝐼. ⸻ 𝐚𝐫𝐭.
reference, here. art, 1 2 3 fics, 1 2 3
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hansensgirl · 2 years
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I LOVE THE NEW THEME AND THE HEADER AND PFP SO MUCH
if you were to recommend 5 Lana songs to listen to what would they be? I’ve been meaning to listen to her more but I don’t really know where to start
EEE YAY THANK YOU SO MUCH BBY!! i’m so proud of it!!
omg that’s so hard!! i’m gonna do five albums and five songs from each bc i just love her too much! pls lmk your thoughts on them!
born to die:
born to die
video games
off to the races
national anthem
carmen
ultraviolence:
ultraviolence
shades of cool
west coast
black beauty
old money
honeymoon:
honeymoon
terrence loves you
god knows i tried
freak
the blackest day
norman fucking rockwell!:
norman fucking rockwell
mariners apartment complex
venice bitch
cinnamon girl
happiness is a butterfly
(honestly the entirety of chemtrails)
blue banisters:
if you lie down with me
thunder
wildflower wildfire
living legend
sweet carolina
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phloxclan · 13 days
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Header image on it's own :) Just a few clusters of phlox flowers on a speckled wildflower-y background. I'd love to say that there's some sort of secret symbolism or foreshadowing here but the truth is it's just my favorite flower!
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quillyfied · 8 months
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HI i love your theme do you have a link???? thanks <3
If you mean the theme as in the layout of my blog on desktop, it's just the theme Redux! Some html work to get the separate pages, buuuuuut it's been so long, I don't know that I remember how to do it. A search engine might be able to help there.
If you mean the theme as in the twinkling purple stars picture I have as the background, it's an ancient result from Google...let's see if I can find it...and heck! I can! Link here, credit to go on my blog shortly! Nice!
If you mean theme as in the header picture on mobile, that's a personal photo of my favorite weed/wildflower, which I will be posting momentarily (answering on desktop, will edit on mobile).
Thanks for asking!
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fulcrum-arts · 2 years
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Wildflower headers, if anyone wants one, feel free to use 🌸🌺
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