#Even if the grass is the air at a museum or something

[elijasz]

I know a lot of people wont be with me on this but give me a moment of your time anyway. This whole trend of mindless consumption is related to the huge amount of media and input we have access to nowadays. I believe that we should limit what we consume and only consume things we have found through social interactions, word of mouth or because we looked it up. There is SO MUCH media out there. More than we could ever consume in many lifetimes. We have to limit this. Not by creating less! My gods please don't create less! But by consuming only things that people have created for the sake of creation. If you create for the sake of money, like Disney does, you'll lose your depth. Mass produced culture is worthless and temporarily relevant. It dies eventually.

We HAVE TO take more time to create amazing things. Wait 10 years for the next movie, or book etc. A month is not enough to write a good book or make a good movie. Half a year isn't enough to create an amazing animated film. Please start taking your time to create and consume again. And consume with awareness. Meaning consume things that took time and effort to create and aren't made by some huge company because they want to sell you the next mass produced piece of culture.

So finally, I have a quest for you: Go to an art gallery or museum or even a library. Gather information on a topic or artist that/who fascinated you when you encountered it/them. And then tell someone about it. Ask them to join you on another trip to a gallery or museum. Hook them into something that is worthwhile. (I don't mean just old art etc. There are art galleries with small, young artists aswell) Get off the internet and see culture in person. Even just go through a walk in the city, listen to street musicians, look at street art and graffiti. Because in person, culture has a limit. Both in time and location. You need to put effort into consuming it. And because you put in effort, its worth more to you.

I’m not even an anti-internet person like I love the internet, I just get so frustrated with the passive way people have become accustomed to using it now. not actively seeking things out or engaging with communities, just turning their brain off & letting the algorithm feed them whatever it wants. & I can’t help but feel like that’s partially to blame for the current state of things (anti-“woke” backlash is easier to digest if you turn your brain off when online)

[glamourscat]

୨ৎ Beautiful as...? BLLK edition

BACHIRA, CHIGIRI, BAROU, KAISER, RIN, ISAGI, REO, NAGI, SHIDOU

Bachira: beautiful as a fair carnival

His light and contagious smile can brighten a whole room. His presence, in a way, makes you feel like a child again. Running around and seeing the world through “naive” eyes. Staring off in space taken aback by the bright, colourful lights. High on way too much sugar. Seeing the beauty in life, aware that there are dangers and challenges out there, but for now, not knowing them is better than anything.

Chigiri: beautiful as spring

When the leaves come back, filled with life and green. Bright, vibrant flowers dot the grass. He is a splash of color that persists even on the darkest days, a lingering reminder that “everything will be okay.” The sun will shine again tomorrow.

Reo: beautiful as the ocean

The calm waves, the sea breeze and that distinctive seaside smell. The sand between your toes, the warm embrace of the sun and the cool water wrapping you in a blanket of shivers and warmth at the same time.

Shidou: beautiful as a museum

Different artists, different paintings, different forms of art. A carefully threaded puzzle filled with emotions, explosions of thoughts, liberty, and need. The need to scream, to ensure someone hears it. The need for a revolution. The hope that someone will remember you.

Kaiser: beautiful as a thunderstorm at night

Not everyone likes it, but many still enjoy it. The clouds fill the dark sky, illuminated by occasional flashes of lightning. It can give you chills just as it can give you comfort.

Isagi: beautiful as the moment after it stops raining

The smell lingers in the air, following you wherever you go. The sky starts to open up, grey clouds mixing with white and the sky is turning a lighter shade of blue. The faint sun rays start to poke through, a welcome touch against your cold skin. The few drops of water still present on the leaves of the trees might, or might not, fall on your head as you walk under them.

Nagi: beautiful as heavy snow

That serene feeling of no school, no work, no worries. The streets filled with mountains of snow, cold yet inviting to jump into. At first glance, soft yet hard and firm. Playful and forgiving when it wants to.

Rin: beautiful as a summer night

Nothing is forever. Summer, just as it came, will end too. It’s the feeling of looking out of your window, smelling the scent that’s unique to summer. Hearing the night insects’ serenade in the distance as you look at the stars with nothing particular on your mind. There’s a nostalgia hitting you, you’re not sure why. Your chest feels a bit heavier and emptier at the same time. You find yourself closing your eyes to soak in this feeling.

Barou: beautiful as fire

Destructive in some cases, yet warm and comforting in others. Wild and untamable. You think you have the upper hand but one piece of wood too much and everything is ablaze. Only the most skilled know how to control it. Not tame it, but understand it. Being able to turn the wild, bursting flame into something softer, something that feels like home.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[thirteenfrogs]

‘hot & heavy’ — leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x fem!reader

based on hot & heavy by lucy dacus !

italics are flashbacks

not proofread and idk if makes sense

so. many. words. (7.8k)

—

being back here makes me hot in the face

hot blood in my pulsing veins

england, you know, is home.

you associate that word with the country so often that it always surprises you that the dictionary definition of home isn't simply the polaroid of your house in milton keynes that you took when you were 8.

england is home even when you leave, and it's home when you come back after years away.

being back in england — specifically in milton keynes — makes your cheeks warm, and you're not sure whether it's the uncharacteristically hot sun or something deeper in the pit of your stomach that makes you all too aware of the hot blood in your pulsing veins.

heavy memories weighing on my brain

hot and heavy in the basement of your parents' place

your memories of milton keynes are varied — some are from your childhood, where you spent hours wishing on dandelions, kicking a ball around the neighbouring streets, and chasing the ice-cream van with a 50p coin you found in the gutter in the hopes of a screwball or a mr. whippy.

some memories are from your teenage years, where the bus ride to school was more entertaining than any parties your friends dragged you to in short dresses and the promise of a kiss from the good looking lad in the year above, no matter how much you insisted that you would much rather go to the cinema with your mates (and sneakily hold hands with your best friend).

few memories are from your adult years, when you decided to travel to neighbouring cities and spent hours exploring the intricacies of museum architecture and flirting to get free drinks in the new pub that opened around the corner from your secondary school.

every memory, though, includes her.

leah williamson — your childhood best friend, teenage love, and the reason why being back home feels both freeing and suffocating at the same time.

you used to be so sweet

leah used to pick flowers.

it was something that, more often than not, ended with you both being chased down the street by an angry neighbour who had fists in the air yelling that they were already on the phone to your mums and you would both be in for it when you got home.

it was always worth it, though, when after running so fast for so long you swear your legs could fall off, leah presents you with a fistful of whatever flowers were growing in that particular garden with some blades of grass and the roots still attached to the muddy bouquet. there would always be a dandelion, too, and the blonde girl would insist you make a wish just so she could pester you for hours after about what you had wished for.

and even when your mum does inevitably tell you off after the streetlights had come on and signalled your time to retreat home, the crumpled flowers you hold tight in your grasp remind you that tomorrow you'll do it all again, and the collection of wilted flowers on your windowsill will surely grow once more.

when she sees you again for the first time in almost 5 years, leah refrains from breaking into the nearest garden to steal you a flower and instead settles for a quick hug that feels more like home than any house she's ever lived in.

now you're a firecracker on a crowded street

couldn't look away even if i wanted

it’s merely a coincidence, you tell yourself, that your trip back home coincides with leah’s 26th birthday.

she invites you to a small get-together she’s having in london, and you try not to think about all the birthday traditions that have been broken in the years apart from your ex-best-friend. gone are the sleepovers you held the night before, gone are the parties your families had in your back-gardens, and gone are the shared slices of your favourite cakes.

get-togethers in hidden bars in london are new to you, but they seem familiar to leah and those she considers most important to her.

meeting up with her teammates and friends is a bittersweet experience, and you try not to think about how the leah they’re celebrating is wildly different to the leah you’re celebrating.

you look at the blonde and see the girl you once considered your better half, your extra limb, and they simply see the woman she is today.

leah’s the same as she always was, you notice from your seat at the bar, as she attracts the attention from the entire room without even trying. she’s still the same leah that was a thousand times more popular than you, and she’s still the same leah that never seemed to notice the hold she had on others.

you watch the way her eyes light up when she’s had a drink, and it takes you back to bonfire night when you were 7. when leah first held a sparkler on your crowded street, and her immediate thought was to try and cast a spell on you, giggling like a madman when you throw yourself to the floor like you had been struck.

you think the sparkle in her eyes is still there, and you pretend not to notice the way it brightens when she catches sight of you watching her. you couldn’t look away even if you wanted, and it takes a tap to your shoulder to snap you out of your leah-induced haze.

“kei!” you throw your arms around the ginger in a warm hug, and she responds back eagerly.

“hi, y/n/n, it’s so good to see you again.” keira smiles, squeezing your shoulders gently.

“it’s been a while.” you agree, letting her take the seat next to you.

you find yourself sticking with keira and other familiar faces, such alex and georgia, for a lot of the night — getting tipsy as you reminisce on shared memories and anecdotes about a certain blonde who was drunkenly serenading the entire bar.

at one point, it’s just you and keira, both equally drunk as you laugh about that time leah fell off a swing and was convinced that a ghost had pushed her.

“she was mad — still is, i think.” keira grins, glancing over to leah as she dances around the room.

“it’s a wonder i survived so long.” you agree, a smile on your flushed cheeks.

“i always thought you were it for each other, you know.” keira muses quietly, glancing between you and leah across the room.

“me too.” you take a large gulp of whatever drink georgia had forced into your hand 5 minutes prior.

“i still do.” you glance up at her in confusion, but keira’s slightly slurred words continue, “i know i’m drunk, and i know you are too, but i really think you shouldn't give up on her. she never gave up on you, not really.” at your silence, keira backtracks slightly, wincing at her own drunken word-vomit. "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have- i know you're happy in spain now, i didn't mean to bring up old-"

"i’m moving back to london soon.”

and with that, you make your way to the bar to order another drink, eyes drifting around the room and automatically landing on the woman of the hour, who takes that as her cue to stumble over for the first time that night.

“dandelion! i didn’t think you were coming!” she shouts over the song that you know was once her favourite, wrapping her arm over your shoulder and squeezing you close in a once-familiar embrace.

“neither did i.” you admit quietly, never one to be able to lie to her.

“i’m glad you did, now we can sing our song!”

“no karaoke-“

“yes karaoke!”

and like no time had passed at all since you were leah and y/n, the blonde leads you to the small stage with a firm hand.

“one song, and then i’m sitting back down.” you say firmly, and leah simply grins, pushing a piece of hair out of your face as gently as she can with her clumsy hands.

“that’s my shy girl.” she coos as she pinches your cheek teasingly, and you simply roll your eyes. "you never were one for the stage, were you, dandelion?"

try to walk away but i come back to the start

led me to the floor even though i'm not a dancer

the night before your year 11 prom was spent in leah's bed — which was practically yours too with how much time you spent there growing up — laying side by side and staring at the ceiling as if the answer to why your cheeks were so warm was written above the bed.

"what if someone asks me to dance?" it's the first question you ask that betrays how nervous you really are for the upcoming event, and leah scoffs in response.

"tell them to shove off because you've already got a dance partner." the answer is so leah that you have to take a moment to roll your eyes, and because she apparently has eyes on the side of her head, she kicks you for it.

"i don't suppose that dance partner is you, is it?" you tease lightly, bumping your shoulder with hers and watching expectantly for her rebuttal.

"who else would it be?" she turns to look at you, blue eyes searching your face for the answer she knows she'll never get.

because the answer is nobody. there's not a single other person on planet earth you would trust to dance with you, and since there aren't any martians visiting any time soon, you'll stick with leah.

and stick with leah you do.

you're attached to her side when your mums take as many pictures as their cameras can physically hold, leah's hand settled on your waist and your head leaned against her shoulder as you stand outside your house. you pretend the blush on your cheeks is from the never-ending compliments from your families and the warm sun, and not the way that your best friend squeezes your hip gently to remind you pay attention to the cameras and not her.

you remain within arm's length of leah the entire night except for the 2 minutes that she disappeared to fetch you a drink that she knew you would need in the warm room, and even then she had tried to take you with her.

your interlocked pinky fingers keep you close as you make your way around the room, mindlessly chatting to your classmates.

you didn’t go near the dance floor, though, no matter how often leah tried to drag to towards it. you had made your opinions on dancing very clear and leah swore if that she heard the words “i’d rather die” come out of your mouth again then she’d kill you herself.

instead, the pair of you mingle with all of your friends and poke fun at the teachers’ outfits as they supervise the room with eagle eyes, though the blonde never lets up in her begging for a dance.

“come on, dandelion, just dance with me? please?” the pout on leah’s face is one you’ve seen many times in your decade of friendship, and not once have you ever had the heart to deny it.

“lee,” you whine, feeling your resolve crumble further when she steps closer. “i’m not a dancer. i don’t dance.”

“i do! i’ll show you how to do it.” she looks down at you with her most pleading expression, “please?”

“i’ll look-“

“you won’t look stupid, and don’t even think about suggesting it again.” she squeezes your pinky gently with her own, and you know you’re gone. “if anyone says anything, i’ll kick ‘em right in the face with these stupid heels — and that’s a promise!” you bite your lip hesitantly with a smile and leah presses further, “come on, y/n/n, please? don’t make me beg in-front of everyone here.”

“…fine. one dance.”

“that’s all i need, my girl.”

with leah’s hand in your own, you don’t feel nearly as nervous as you would’ve normally, and she leads you to the floor where you spend the rest of the night.

you find that you don’t hate dancing so much when leah’s your partner.

ask me all the questions that your parents wouldn't answer

"did you know that olivia in your geography class has two mums?”

it’s a tuesday night and leah’s in your bed. you’re 15 and there’s not much to do on a school night other than talk about whatever comes to mind. leah’s the first, tonight, and you wonder if she’ll finally let slip the reason she’s been deep in thought all day.

“really? she’s never mentioned it before.” you shrug, unsure of where your best friend is going with the conversation. “i guess she wouldn’t have a reason to, would she?”

leah bites her lip, clearly deep in thought. you have half a mind to tell her not to think so hard or her head will hurt, but you refrain.

“hey, what’s up?” you poke her cheek gently, hoping to snap her out of whatever headspace she was in. “you a homophobe or something? because i’ll have you know my cousin’s gay and-“

“i’m not a homophobe, you dick!” leah shoves you with a huff, and you grin at your success. “i’m just curious!”

“bi-curious or just curious?” you tilt your head, knowing it would only annoy her further.

“dandelion, i’m getting annoyed here.” she warns, glaring at you as best as she can with her 16-year-old baby face. “i’m just-“ she sighs, flopping back down on your bed. “do you think it’s…okay?”

“for?” you ask, laying down beside her.

“for two girls to…y’know, have a baby? get married?”

“i don’t see why it wouldn’t be okay?”

“i don’t see why either, but…” leah glares up at the ceiling. “when you think of getting married, what do you think of?”

you blink at the slight change of subject, but conversations with your best friend often go from topic to topic, so you shrug and answer honestly.

“cake- ow, leah! don’t hit me!”

“be serious for once!”

“i’m trying!” you huff, rubbing your shoulder from where she had so kindly elbowed you. “okay, when i think of getting married i think…a white dress, and some nice flowers. i think about songs i’d like to have play too. and cake.”

“what about who you’re marrying?”

“i don’t know, i never think of that.” you shrug, wondering what leah was getting at.

“well isla in our form class is convinced she’s going to marry jack, and she says she imagines it all the time. do you?”

“do i imagine marrying jack? god, no.” you snort at the idea. “he picks his nose still, did you know that?”

“y/n! be serious!” leah groans.

“stop beating around the bush and ask me what you really want to ask, then!” you huff, kicking her shin.

there’s silence for a moment, and you risk a glance towards the blonde.

she’s already looking at you — blue eyes piercing yours. “…do you ever think of marrying a girl?”

you roll over to your side and look back at her, eyes roaming over her freckled face that seemed awfully troubled for a simple tuesday night.

you shrug, “i dreamt i married lucy liu once, but i think that was because i fell asleep watching charlie’s angels.”

“was it…did it feel weird?” she furrows her brows the way she always does, and you reach out and press your thumb between them to remind her to stop.

“no, it was nice until she went all bridezilla on my dad. i can’t remember why, though. think he said her dress was ugly or something.” you remove your hand from leah’s face, but it doesn’t go far because the blonde reaches up and intertwines your pinkies and lays your hands on the pillow between your faces.

“i’d go bridezilla on him too. just for fun, though.” leah nods thoughtfully.

“and that’s why i wouldn’t marry you.” you roll your eyes, squeezing her finger.

“no? not even if i proposed with a million dandelions?” she asks with a smug smile, and you grin as she finally seems to relax.

“hmm…if you did that and got me a pretty ring, i wouldn’t say no.” you nod.

“the haribo ones aren’t good enough for you anymore?” she smiles, her eyes flickering between your own and your lips.

“diamonds are a girl’s best friend, lee. you gotta know that if you’re ever gonna propose to someone.” you poke her nose gently with your spare hand, and she grabs it with a gentle squeeze.

“i’ll keep it in mind.”

how could i deny a diamond in the rough?

it was awfully cliché, and you're aware of that, but leah had insisted that it was a rite of passage to play dancing queen on your 17th birthday, and so you allow the blonde to twirl you to her heart's content as the lyrics blare through your house. she sings along as she always does, never one to shy away from showing her passion for music and love for singing.

your families are scattered around the house and the back garden — leah’s grandmother playing scrabble with your aunt at the kitchen table, jacob kicking a football outside with your cousins, and both your’s and leah’s mums gossiping over a glass of wine while your dads manned the barbecue on the deck. to anyone else, this wouldn’t be considered a very good 17th birthday celebration, but to you it was perfect.

your other friends don’t understand that this is how you’d rather spend your birthday over getting drunk in a field (though, you weren’t opposed to that every now and then), and so it’s only leah who you spend the evening with, singing, dancing, and drinking as much as your families allow.

when it’s time to blow out your candles, it’s leah who stands beside you with a soft smile as your families sing the song you hate so much. it’s leah who presses a kiss to your cheek and tells you to close your eyes and make wish.

‘i wish it could always be like this.’

you open your eyes as watch as the smoke rises to ceiling, blushing as everyone cheers and claps, and giggling when jacob begs for the cake to be cut already.

“what did you wish for?” leah asks quietly, eyes solely on you as you watch your dad carry the cake over to the counter.

“you’ve asked me that almost everyday since we were 6, lee.” you chuckle, leaning into the arm she has around your waist. “and i’ve never once told you.”

“i was hoping today would be different.” she pouts dramatically, “but, alas, my dandelion keeps her secrets.” the hand she places over her heart makes you roll your eyes fondly, and leah simply continues her theatrics for as long as she can before getting distracted with a slice of cake — typical.

you can’t help but feel like today is different, though. maybe it’s just because your head feels a little fuzzy from the beers your dad had allowed you to have, or maybe it’s because leah’s arm had been wrapped around your waist all day and you wonder how you’ll cope if she never does it again. either way, there’s something in the air that evening, and you feel it close in on you when leah shoves a piece of cake in your face, smearing icing across your cheeks with a laugh so loud, you wonder if you’ll go deaf.

you freeze in shock when it happens, and even though you can see everyone in the room cracking up, it’s leah’s laugh that captures your attention, and it’s her smile that you want to shove a piece of cake into.

so you do.

war is declared that night, and despite your mum’s protests about getting food everywhere, you and leah find yourselves in a cake fight that resembles the great snowball war of ‘05.

your cousins and jacob join in, like all children do, and you can hear your dad placing bets on who’ll be the first to tap out, but your attention is solely on your best friend and how stupidly beautiful she looks when she laughs. you don’t know anyone in the world who could pull off a cake-smeared face so well, but leah seems to do it in a way that has your heart beating faster with more than just adrenaline as you run around the kitchen with cake in your fists.

you know you’ll regret this all when you have to clean up later, and you know your hair will never forgive you for the amount of chocolate in it, but in those moments where cake is flying across the kitchen and out the back door, you know you’ll be okay.

eventually, your mum puts a stop to it all and orders your dad to hose you all off in the garden (something he takes sadistic pleasure in as you all scream and run away from the ice-cold water, leah even using your dog as a shield while you used her), and your aunt ends up taking your cousins home before they could catch a cold.

people start to leave slowly, giving you one last birthday wish and a kiss to the head, until finally it’s just you, leah, and your parents.

your mum sends you both upstairs with a reminder not to stay up too late gossiping like always, and you and leah simply share a look before running up the stairs and attempting to push one another down them.

after you take turns showering and changing into some pyjamas, you both settle on your bed with the lord of the rings trilogy lined up for the 4th time that month, just because it was leah’s favourite.

“that’s you.” you point to the screen where gollum currently is, like you always do, and leah smacks a pillow down on your face, like she always does. “that never gets old.” you grin.

“it never gets funny.” the blonde huffs, stealing popcorn out of your hand instead from the bowl like a civilised person. “one day that mouth of yours will get you in trouble, dandelion.”

“is that a threat?”

“it’s a promise.” she nudges your shoulder with her own. “and i’ll have you know i look nothing like gollum; i’m far more beautiful.”

“that’s not a very nice thing to say about your twin, leah.” you shake your head disapprovingly, and leah scoffs.

“that’s it!” and before you can even begin to comprehend what’s happening, leah’s attacking you.

the pillow that was once behind her head is now in her hands as she swings it down on your face, and you barely have time to react before it comes down again. leah’s laugh is loud as you squeal, trying to escape her wrath to no avail.

“i surrender!” you finally shout after far too long, and leah grins triumphantly from her place above you.

your breathing is heavy, and your cheeks are warm, but leah’s eyes are comforting. they don’t hold your gaze like usual, and instead they glance down to your parted lips with an unrecognisable expression.

“you surrender?” she double checks, holding the pillow threateningly.

you nod, trying to catching your breath.

“and you won’t say anything else about my appearance?”

“my lips are sealed.” you nod, watching as leah drops the pillow

“i can’t think of anything clever to say about your mouth,” she says, brushing some of your hair out of your face gently, “i just…”

you hold your breath as leah leans in close, lips brushing against yours, tentatively, for the first time.

you think about the first time leah ever kissed you when you were 6. when you had just learned how to ride your bike and in your excitement to show your best friend, you stopped looking where you were going. you had hit the curb and flown over the handlebars and onto the pavement. it was leah who pulled you up to your feet, and it was her who pressed a magic kiss to your grazed palm to stop your tears.

you remember thinking it was best magic kiss you had ever gotten, because it worked in taking away like the pain like all magic kisses too.

now, though, you know it pales in comparison to this.

you don’t think anything could ever live up to feeling of leah’s soft lips on yours, and her gentle hold on your jaw. nothing will ever compare to the way she slowly pulls away, smiles at you, and then pulls you back in for another.

you led me in your world until you had enough

the day after your kiss with leah, you find that she’s nowhere to be found.

you don’t wake up to leah’s arms wrapped around you like you usually do after a sleepover, and a quick look around your house tells you that leah’s not downstairs critiquing your mum’s pancakes like usual either. your dog sits at the front door whining in the way he only does when he misses your best friend, and you wonder why leah left so early and where she could have possibly gone.

you find that as the day goes on, your worry for leah increases. she hasn't responded to — or even read — the numerous texts you've sent, and even jacob had simply shrugged his shoulders when you asked where she could be.

you're pretty much moments away from reporting her as missing when you hear her familiar laugh in the park near your house. you wonder if you've gone crazy enough to start hearing things, but once glance out your bedroom window confirms that leah is, in fact, at the park. she's kicking a ball around with some girls you recognise as her friends from football, and you wonder why she hasn't invited you like she normally does.

despite every cell and fibre in your body telling you to close your window and pretend you never saw her, you find yourself clipping the lead onto your dog's collar and walking him across the road like you had a reason to be there apart from confronting your stubborn best friend on why she had seemingly disappeared all day.

leah doesn’t notice you — if she does, she ignores you — as you approach, your dog tugging the lead with the insane strength that only appears whenever he sees leah.

“hey, y/n!” one of leah’s friends waves, and that’s when the blonde finally looks your way.

leah reluctantly kicks the ball away, sending her friends chasing after it, and turns to you with an air of coldness that you had never been on the receiving end of before.

“haven’t see you all day,” you remark casually, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes dismissively. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, fine.” leah shrugs, patting your dog’s head lightly as he happily licks her hand.

“oh.” you’re not really sure what to say after that. you watch her for a moment, taking notice of the way she avoids your gaze. “did you want to talk about-“

“look, i’m really sorry but my coach says i don’t need any distractions. can you leave me alone?”

with that, your best friend (?) walks away, leaving you standing there in confusion.

“coach says i don’t need distractions.”

you wonder if leah sees you as a distraction, or simply just the kiss. you hope it’s neither, but the way she seems to avoid you like the plague for weeks after your conversation tells you it’s probably both. she spends all her time with football, and even in school she seems to find a way to distance herself.

and so you see less of your best friend as her passion for football grows, and you feel selfish when you find yourself missing her.

you don’t understand why you can’t just be happy for her, but a part of you deep down knows that it’s because you don’t want her to be happy without you.

she is, though. and that hurts more than anything. leah seems perfectly fine to spend all her time with her football friends, and you find that your late night talks have been replaced with an occasional text asking about homework that never leads to anything more than a 1 minute conversation.

leah doesn’t call anymore, and so you don’t either. she doesn’t knock on your door and beg you to come out, so you take the long way around town to avoid her house.

you still attend her matches — because no matter how upset you are at her, she’s still your best friend and you’d always support her — but she doesn’t run to you at the end of the games anymore, instead she sticks close to her teammates and barely glances in your direction.

drifting away from leah is a slow process, and yet you feel completely blindsided because one minute she was your leah, and the next it felt like you barely knew her at all.

you knew that i wanted you to bend the rules

how did i believe i had a hold on you?

losing leah feels like losing a part of yourself, and you hate that it’s because, technically, you are.

you had always been leah and y/n.

when one of you wasn’t in school, teachers would ask the other where your other half was. when your mum made dinner every evening, there was always enough for another plate because she knew that your best friend would be there whether she was invited or not. when leah’s mum booked that family holiday to spain in 2008, there was an extra ticket with your name on it because she would never dream of separating leah from her y/n. you would never find one without the other, and that’s the way it always had been.

leah and y/n.

you don’t know how to just be y/n.

you find yourself looking to your side to tell her a funny thought that popped in your head, only to be met with nothing because leah’s not around anymore.

your parents don’t understand when you tell them you’ve simply grown apart, and neither do you, because ‘growing apart’ wasn’t in the cards for leah and y/n.

leah and y/n were supposed to stay together until the very end, even when the street lights turned off. leah and y/n were meant to stand by each other’s side, even when you were being lectured for stealing dandelions from mr. miller’s garden. leah and y/n were forever and always, like you had promised when you were 7.

but you’re not 7 anymore, and leah hadn’t given you a dandelion in so long, you wonder if you still know how to make a wish.

you were stupid to think you were ever important to leah. how did you believe you had a hold on her?

you were always stronger than people suspected

underestimated and overprotected

you knew that leah joining the senior squad for arsenal was inevitable — she was an amazing player with passion for the game and a love for arsenal that could rival even the biggest gooners.

it doesn’t surprise you at all to hear through the grapevine about leah’s permanent move to london, but you think that fate isn’t on your side when you find out she lives close to your new london flat that you share with your friends from university.

you’re just grateful that your busy school schedule and leah’s packed football life means no accidental meetings in the big city.

except it does. because of course it does.

you think maybe it's because your body had been accustomed to being near leah your entire life that it seeks her out even when you know it shouldn't. you think that must be why you always seem to bump into her no matter where you go.

it certainly doesn't help that you can't resist attending her matches too. call it routine, or simply call it love, but you don't think there's a single world where you wouldn't support the girl you once considered your best friend. watching leah play football had been a staple in your life for as long as you can remember, and there had been too much change in your life for you to ever consider giving this comfort up.

you pretend you don’t notice the way her eyes always seem to find your figure in the mostly-empty stands, and you always make sure to wear a jacket over your williamson jersey just so she doesn’t know that she’s the only reason you’re still there when everyone else goes home.

after a particularly good match, a few months into the season, leah finally picks up the courage to approach you. it had been months of longing stares from the pitch, showing off whenever she was near your section, and trying to catch your eye at the end of a match, and leah was now finally ready to speak to you.

properly. for the first time since she decided to be a coward almost a year ago and tell you you were a distraction instead of saying the truth.

the truth was that she loved you.

leah had loved you for as long as she could remember, and she was sure that she’d love you for the rest of her life.

the only thing to do now was ensure that you’d actually be in her life, so she could love you up close again.

it’s after a pretty intense match that leah finally had enough to confidence to approach you (after a few words of encouragement from alex, of course). you were sat in the stands, talking animatedly with another girl about the game.

leah swallows the brief feeling of jealousy, and walks towards your seat. you look up almost immediately, like you can sense her, and your expression doesn’t change. you pull your jacket tighter over your body, and leah catches sight of the red jersey beneath.

she hopes it’s her last name across your back.

“big fan?” leah nods towards your jersey as she leans over the barriers slightly, her voice surprisingly not giving away the nerves she was feeling at being face-to-face with you again after so long.

“oh, absolutely,” you agree, your voice dripping with the sarcasm that she knows too well, “i just love vicky losada.”

leah scoffs, “you’re wearing #6, really? let me see.” she gestures for you to take your jacket off, and you shake your head.

“6 my favourite number.” you shrug.

“14 is better.” she taps the #14 on her shorts pointedly.

“ever so humble, williamson.”

“you know me well, dandelion.” the nickname falls from her lips as easily as it used to, as if no time had passed at all since the last time she said it.

like you were still leah and y/n.

she seems to think so too, because leah grabs her own jersey and pulls it over her head. “here,” she says, holding it out to you, “it’s not a #6, but one day it will be. for you.”

you hesitantly take the warm jersey, “i’ll hold you to that.”

“wait, let me sign it.” leah grabs a sharpie that someone had left in the seat beside you and you hold the jersey out for her, trying to keep your eyes solely on her hands and not anywhere else. “there.”

“how much do you think this would go for on ebay?” you ask, folding the jersey and tucking it under your arm.

“not funny.” leah frowns, the familiar crease forming between her eyebrows. “you have to keep that.”

“we’ll see.” you grin, waving goodbye as you step back.

“see you next week.” leah waves, watching you go.

it’s only when you get home do you realise what she’s written on the jersey.

‘call me?’ with her phone number attached.

your roommate wonders what has you smiling so widely for the rest of the evening.

—

things with leah don't go back to how they were — you doubt they ever will — but the new normal, you find, isn't so bad either. it definitely helped that leah had offered a sincere apology for what she had said and how she had been acting with a collection of your favourite snacks, your favourite movie, and a dandelion she had insisted you use to make a wish about her embarassing herself at her next match — which she seemed to think she deserved for how she had treated you.

you don't bother telling her that when you close your eyes and blow on the flower, you only wish for the best for her, like you always have.

you want the best for leah, and a part of you deep down knows that you don’t fit into that idea anymore.

you cherish the time you spend with your once-best friend, and you let her cart you around london with her teammates for months before you break the news that you’re leaving for good.

when i went away it was the only option

couldn't trust myself to proceed with caution

the job offer comes at the perfect time. if you didn’t know better, you’d probably say it was divine intervention or the years of dandelion wishes catching up to you and granting you this once and for all.

either way, you don’t dwell on what causes your boss to offer you a position in spain, you simply give a grateful smile and ask when you can start.

you try not to think about the fact that spain reminds you of leah — of that family holiday you were invited to back when you were 9. you try not to think of the hours you spent playing mermaids in the pool and getting sunburned while eating as much food as your little bodies could handle.

you think you’d be able to find a connection to leah no matter where in the world you are.

every time you walk past a group of children playing football, you’re taken back the hours of running around fields with your blonde best friend as she dribbled past you like you weren’t even there — and then letting you take the ball back moments later because she felt bad.

every time you go grocery shopping, your brain subconsciously reminds you which foods leah does and doesn’t like, as if she’ll be popping around for tea like you live on the same street again and not in a whole different country.

leah didn’t take that easily, either — the fact that you wouldn’t be within in walking distance of her anymore.

you remember the way her eyes shined with tears when you showed her your transfer email. you remember the way she begged you stay, insisting that the better pay and higher position wouldn’t matter if you moved in together. she promised she would take care of bills, and that all you’d have to do is stay.

she didn’t understand that it wasn’t like how it used to be.

leah wasn’t the sun. not anymore. your life had to revolve around something else now.

spain is quite sunny, anyway. you’re sure you’ll find something new.

the most that i could give to you was nothing at all

the best that i could offer was to miss your calls

you settle into your new home quickly, and when you ignore the constant ache in your chest, you find that spain makes you quite happy.

leah calls more than she did when you were in london, and you find yourself purposely ignoring them for the sake of letting her down easily. you lived in spain now, and leah lived in london. it just wouldn’t work.

you wish you were a big enough person to pick up the phone, but you knew that the second you hear her voice again, you’d be back to square one.

the most that you can give is nothing at all.

try to walk away but i come back to the start

and it happens over and over and over and over again

over and over and over and over again

i wish i was over it, over it, over it, over it

even in spain, you think of leah.

you always think of leah.

you watch her games whenever you can — both for england and for arsenal. you buy a williamson #6 jersey when she changes her number and you wear it proudly whenever you sit in front of the tv and watch her play the game you had become so accustomed to.

the signed jersey from all those years ago is the one you wear to sleep. leah’s message has long since faded, and it doesn’t smell like her anymore, but the comfort it brings is the same as it always was.

every birthday, you find yourself staring at the candles wondering what you should wish for. back when you had leah everything, you could always come up with something new to wish for. now, though, you don’t know. there’s only one thing you want, and you can’t have her it. when you close your eyes, the warmth of the candles in front of your face uncomfortably familiar, you only see images of leah. you see her smiling, laughing, and playing.

you wish for her happiness.

you’re not sure what that means for you.

a hidden gem, my own goldmine

you had the wide and wild eyes

leah isn’t just your favourite footballer anymore.

she’s an inspiration to thousands of people, one of the best in her field, and you know deep down that you’ve done the right thing by leaving.

she’s doing everything she ever wanted, what does it matter if she’s not doing it with you?

you’re sure she doesn’t miss you, anyway.

you pretend not to notice when leah views your instagram stories, and you act like it doesn’t make your ache to reach out to her.

but you can’t.

you were a secret to yourself

you couldn't keep from anyone else

now you're the biggest brightest flame

you are a fire that can’t be tamed

you're better than ever, but i knew you when

leah williamson, england captain. but you remember when she was simply leah, the girl with legs too long for her body and a smile too wide for someone in the middle getting told off for tracking mud into her mum's kitchen.

leah williamson, european champion. but you were there when she was just leah williamson, the teenager determined to prove herself and make her family proud.

you held her when she had a bad game, and you cheered on the sidelines when she played her first match as a gunner.

before she was anyone else, she was your best friend.

but...she had always been more than that, hadn't she?

she was always meant for more than you and your garden bouquets and your late night conversations.

she was always going to be more than that little street on milton keynes, and maybe you had always known that you were doomed for heartbreak.

leah williamson had never really been yours.

not even when you were 16, and she told you she liked you the way girls should like boys.

she wasn't yours when she tentatively pressed her lips against yours for the first time on your 17th birthday.

she wasn't even yours when she promised she was.

she had always been her own person, and you were simply the idiot on the sidelines with your arms open for whenever she felt like being someone else’s for a moment.

she had never been yours, but you had known since the day she first presented you with a stolen flower when you were 6 that you were hers.

leah wasn't yours, much like that dandelion wasn't really yours either. because she had ripped it from the ground outside mr. miller's house much like she had done to your heart when she told you that you were a distraction.

you’ve had a long time to get over leah, and an even longer time to find yourself outside of being her best friend. but either you simply don’t want to, or that birthday wish you made when you were turning 17 really did come true, because you find that leah’s the only person you want even after years apart. even after leah had broken your heart and failed to fix it, you still want her to hold you at the end of the night and tell you everything she thinks and feels, and you want nothing more than to listen to her voice and the steady beat of her heart and know that you’re home.

you think that maybe it’s not a bad thing to still want leah. maybe you can start over. you can be leah and y/n again.

it's bittersweet to see you again.

you spend most of your time home falling back into routine with leah, much like the one you had when you were 16.

and while the conversations no longer revolve around who of your classmates fancies who, or how badly you think you did on your recent exam, you feel the same warmth on your cheeks as you did when leah first held your hand so many years before.

your inside jokes still make you laugh harder than any comedy show you've been to, and leah's arm over your shoulder fits better than that tailored coat you got for your 21st birthday.

being back with leah feels right, and that terrifies you.

because it was wrong, wasn't it?

it was wrong to look at leah and see everything you could've had.

but when she catches your eye and glances down to your lips with pink cheeks, you think maybe you'll always be the girls in milton keynes, and maybe the flowers blooming the ground would belong to you once again.

the grin on her lips makes you hot in the face, hot blood in your pulsing veins.

heavy memories weigh on your brain as she presses her lips against yours like they were coming home, and you register her slide something soft into your palm as she kisses you.

reluctantly, you pull away with bated breath and open your hand, peering down curiously at what you now hold.

a dandelion.

“make a wish, y/n.”

you glance up at leah — your leah.

“i don’t think i need to.”

—

[ambers-archive]

what if all i need is you?

2 times the universe conspires against Spencer and the 1 time it doesn't. no use of y/n pt 2

"I think we’re lost," Spencer mumbled, stealing a glance at you, you’re in his passenger seat and you look like a dream he thinks. 

He hates driving, usually avoids it, but watching you smile next to him and hearing you sing along to his favorite songs makes him think it’s not all bad.

"You think?" You laugh, meeting his eye.

He had the date perfectly planned in his head – a tour around the city since you just moved here. Showcasing his favorite bookstore, two tickets to his favorite museum's exhibit, the whole thing.

However, things were not going as planned. He found himself driving in circles, twists and turns multiplying at every corner.

The universe was taunting him.

"I swear, these street signs are conspiring against me," he muttered.

“In the meantime, we should enjoy this,” you suggested, pointing to a barely visible café on the corner, proposing an impromptu coffee stop.

With a slight smile tugging his lips, Spencer nodded.

“You’re in Med school?

Spencer asked, trying to hide his amazement.

It all makes sense now, he thinks. Rarely does he find someone who matches him intellectually, even rarer for him to enjoy conversations with them.

“I am! I know it’s a cliché saying, but I just want to help people, I want to make a difference in the world.”

“It’s not cliché at all, that’s really noble.” Spencer replied, a genuine smile forming on his face. The passion in your voice is like a breath of fresh air for him.

You blushed at the compliment, warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Thank you. It's not easy, but it's worth it if I can make a positive impact, even in a small way."

As if you took the words right out of Spencer’s mouth, hearing you made him realize the reason he started the BAU. 

And oh how beautiful it is to have that passion.

For so long, his work had only consisted of repetition; the work that had brought him happiness was now draining him of it all. His thoughts are audible emanating from your lips.

To make a difference, and just for a little while, listening to you happily describe your passion, the horrors of his job, which once clutched his heart so deeply, slowly started to fade.

“Where to next, Doctor?” 

“I hope you like museums, I was able to get us tickets to one of my favorite exhibits.” 

“Lead the way.” 

“I agree; the universe is not happy with you right now,” you laughed, both stranded in the middle of nowhere as his car broke down under the afternoon sun.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” he sighed, opening your car door. Taking his hand you led him towards the field, there were worse places to be stranded in you thought. 

“If we call for a cab right now, we can reach the museum in an hour, depending on traffic. We’ll miss the first half hour or so, but—”

“Spencer, look! The sun is setting.” You walked off into the distance, taking a seat near a tree.

“We’re going to miss the show.” He said disappointed. You looked up at him and the orange glow casted a beautiful hue over your face. Just when he thought you couldn't get prettier.

“No matter how much you try in life, you’re bound to miss something. Just take in the moment right now.” You say, patting the seat on the grass next to you.

To his own surprise, he obliges. 

He doesn’t mean to profile you, but it’s a reflex, a defense mechanism. Being around serial killers and rapists, he needs to know their every move. But right now, being in your apartment as you give him a tour, he lets go.

Realizing he doesn’t have to know everything about you right away; he can take his time.

He expected your room to be something like a catalog magazine, but books, plants, and paintings you've made surrounded you.

Messy maximalist, you called it.

Spencer learns you hate minimalism, you hate gray white empty spaces that don't feel like home.

He is almost envious of how carefree you are, willing to wear your heart out on your sleeve. Your guard has been down the whole time, a luxury Spencer can’t afford.

“Can I offer you some tea? I recently perfected my mom’s recipe for chai,” You asked, already boiling the water and getting your tea bags together.

“Tea sounds amazing.”

He looks around, forming a profile in his brain.

You’re messy, but you somehow find beauty in it. It doesn’t bother you; it makes sense, he thinks.

Artistic people are commonly messy.

“What books do you like?” Spencer asks, watching you get two mismatched cups out.

“I love classic literature, Persuasion is one of my favorites. I love Jane Austen and the way she captures love in its most pure form."

“How would you define love?” It’s a question that has been nagging him, he wants to pick apart your brain and know every thought.

He can tell you’re a hopeless romantic, and he now wishes he had accepted Garcia’s movie night invitation to watch Jane Austen movies.

He already has a sense, knowing you love classic period pieces, but he just wants to hear your explanation for it. 

“In Med school they teach us that love is a complex emotion, a bunch of hormones: dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin in the brain. I can’t say much about hormones but love is life, and it's just peaceful like the slow water going down a stream. But an immediate phenomenon, much like life itself. It fills and empties you all at once, swirling like a river's water after a storm. Your hands, heart, stomach, and skin are just a few places on your body where you can feel it. And it overtakes you so intensely. You don’t even realize it until you’re in it. You can’t exist without it, love is like breathing.” You sigh, a shy smile overtaking your lips “Sorry i tend to rant a lot.” 

Spencer meets your smile. It feels nice to be on the receiving end of someone rambling.  “I don’t mind one bit. I knew you were an artist but I didn’t peg you for a writer.”

“Have you been profiling me, Doctor Reid?” you ask, he smiles avoiding your gaze.

“Most writers are artistic people; that is, they are imaginative, creative, and productive when working in an environment that promotes self-expression. Not to mention you mentioned journalism being your minor, also I saw you had a typewriter.”

“You're amazing, Spencer,” you say, taking the kettle off the stove, pouring two cups of chai.

Spencer whispers your name, and you look over, your name falls so easily through his lips. This is what was missing from your life, you think.

“I think you’re one of the most unique people I’ve ever met.”

He says, taking your hand, interlocking your fingers.

You graze your thumb over his knuckles squeezing his hand, meeting his brown eyes. And as if the universe was on his side for once you lean forward, your lips meeting his. Lips meddling into each other as if it was made just for you.

The morning sun is beating down on his small car, and there you are sitting in his passenger seat laughing at his horrible jokes.

Your favorite songs playing in the background. You smile at him, and Spencer is lost again, but not because of the street signs. He's just lost in your smile.

This is what was missing from his life Spencer thinks.

[oldwritingm]

oo that morro one HIT. thank you thank you

if you dont mind, can we get a part 2 with a premise of the day of departed lil short special?

for comfort i mean

Ofc dear!! Sorry this came out sorta long ^^”

Word count: 1.2k

Ninjago - Waiting for Your Morro

Part I here!

When Wu told you that today was all about remembering, there was no doubt that you’d come here. It was somewhere that reminded you of your old love; you spent your early years flying kites with him in this quiet meadow, and in later years he’d impress you with his wind powers by making the long grass flop this way and that.

You slowly tread through the grass, cool and soft in the night air, breathing in familiar scents of grass and wildflowers. You were used to the sky being a vibrant blue, but today it was black and speckled with stars. Still, you could remember everything vividly.

“Y/n, Y/n, are you watching?”

“I’m watching, Morro!”

“Okay, look at—that!”

“Oh wow! Did Wu teach you that?”

“Yup! My training’s going pretty well, eh?”

“Yeah… you’re gonna be a master in no time…”

The innocent dark head of hair flopped to one side quizzically, a sad look coming into those dark eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You won’t forget me when you’re all great and powerful, will you?”

“Y/n, how many times do I have to tell you? It’s you and me, forever and ever! No matter what!”

“I know, but…”

“Shh!” His hands grabbed your face, forcing your gaze up from your feet to his eyes. “When I’m the most powerful ninja, you’re going to be right there beside me. And if you’re not, I’m going to hunt you down and force you to be with me!”

You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you at that. “Okay then. But I’d never say no to you.”

“And I’d never let you go anyway.”

You picked a flower bud, still green as it had not bloomed yet, and twisted it between your fingers. You let out a shivering breath and tucked it behind your ear. It stung to remember, but you knew that this was what today was all about.

I refuse to forget you, Morro. Even if it hurts to remember.

You managed to dry the steady flow of tears that came from your eyes on your way back to the museum. You sniffed sharply when you realized you were the last one coming back; the other ninjas were already talking among themselves at the top of the steps.

As you hurried up to meet them, you noticed an air of trouble emulating from their serious faces and grim voices.

You were planning to ask what was wrong, but the looks they gave you when they saw you approaching silenced you before that could happen. They were first surprised to see you, then they each adopted a unique impression of awkwardness. They exchanged knowing looks and grimaced, and Kai kept glancing over behind them.

The way they were standing seemed to be shielding someone, and you guessed that whoever this person was, they were the reason that the ninjas were acting so awkward.

Jay was the first to say something. “Uh, we should be on our way, guys…”

He was met with (almost too eager) responses.

“Yup! Lots to do!”

“We’ll explain later, Y/n. See ya!”

“Bye bye now!”

“Have fun, you kids!”

That last response, which had come from Kai, caught you off guard. You turned to watch the ninjas as they scurried past you, quizzically quirking up your brow.

Suddenly it was all obvious. The final clue had come in the form of a voice, a voice you could never forget, the voice that played in your head whenever there was a second of silence.

“Y/n..?”

You whirled around, eyes huge. And there he was.

Your arms were around each other before either of you could even remember moving, and there was the sound of laughing sobs muffled in cloth as you buried your faces in each other.

“I knew—” you hiccuped, squeezing tighter, “I knew I’d see you again.”

“So did I. Nothing can keep us separated,” he mused, pulling away to give you a mischievous look. It was as if you never spent a day apart.

There was a moment of breathless silence. Morro was looking you over, his eyes shining with pure affection. “You’re beautiful.”

You smiled. “You said that before.”

“I’ll say it again. And again. And again, until the end of time. You’re beautiful,” he squeezed your hand.

You looked down at your interlocked fingers, a twinge of sadness tainting your joy.

“I waited for you, you know. Every day. Every night.”

He blinked at you; you weren’t quite sure if it was because he hadn’t expected such devotion, or if he just hadn’t expected the change in mood.

“I tried to come back. I… I wanted to see you, too.”

“Did you?” Your eyes were teary when they met his, and you looked away shamefully when you saw the same pain in his eyes.

“I did. But… there are rules. Rules that not even I can break. And you know how I like to break rules.”

You let out a weak laugh. “…I understand.”

You felt his fingers under your chin, and you were gently guided back to his gaze.

“Y/n, remember what I said? It’s you and me, forever and ever.”

You laughed again, more genuinely this time, but with tears trickling down your cheeks. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything I promised to you. And I live by those promises. Well, maybe not live anymore,” he smirked, but shook his head to dismiss the little jest. “We may be in different realms, but we’re still tied to each other. And one day, that long cord that separates us will grow shorter, and you’ll be at my side again. We just have to be patient.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, and you gave the slightest of nods.

“I knew you’d understand… you were always the reasonable one.”

You embraced again, limbs tight around each other. You breathed unsteadily into his shoulder for a long time, trying to collect yourself before facing him again, and at the same time basking in his touch.

When you came apart again you held on to each other’s forearms, your stomachs still pressed together with your faces fervently close.

“You’ve waited for me,” Morro whispered, his dark eyes dripping with wist and admiration, “but this is the last time I can come to you.”

You closed your eyes, your head dropping. Your forehead hit his, and he continued:

“Now it’s my turn to wait for you. And don’t you rush to get to me,” he chided, pressing his forehead firmly into yours in a show of affection. “Just try to live happily, okay?”

“Okay.” The word came out in a quivering rasp that was really not much more than a whisper.

You opened your eyes, finding a profound smile on Morro’s lips that somehow caught on your own face.

You knew it was time to say goodbye, but despite this your tears chose to stop flowing at this moment.

“Hey,” Morro said, clearly as an afterthought that would be the last thing he said to you in a long time, “guess what?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

You found yourself laughing, giving his shoulder a hardy punch as the attitude of old friends once more overtook your demeanor. “You’re an idiot.”

But just as he went to leave, you had to shout: “Hey!”

You knew that there would be no more tears; his promises put a new hope in your heart that far overpowered any sorrow you had. You knew you’d be together again someday, but now you were sure of it. And so you spoke with the voice of someone saying goodbye to a lover they’d see later that same day when you said:

“I love you too.”

Thanks so much for this request! And thanks for reading, take care sweet duckies!! <33

(divider by saradika)

[dinthoqaf]

Wilted Offerings

(Image of Zul'mashar in current Retail WoW) The Eastern Plaguelands were always a place of death anymore. Sure, the Crusaders were doing their best to mop up and rejuvenate the land, but despite these efforts, new ziggurats and new pockets of Scourge kept coming with it all and each offensive only made worse creations come about. This, however, wasn’t about either of them as Dinthoqaf came to wander through the foothills and mountains between the Dark Forest (now known as The Ghostlands) and the Eastweald (Area east of Lordaeron). Nestled back amongst it all in a hidden holler was a forgotten Mossflayer temple. The air around it smelled of stale death as no wind blew through the ever-dying trees. The ground and grass held an audible crunch of near-deathly dryness that protested Dinthoqaf’s more conventional method of approach. This was intentional if nothing else, as these lands were not his but another's and he knew he’d not only been felt on approach but somewhere here, always, was the presence of little buttoned eyes scurrying and watching in silence as hundreds of Voodoo Dolls wander and wobble their way place to place. They were his eyes and hands, much like The Nameless was Dinthoqaf’s. The Temple steps rose before him, allowing access into the boughs of its depths if one knew where to find it, knew where to look, or rather, how to find passage through its doorways. Within the air was staler, not quite rank but stagnant to the point one with any tastebuds could taste it simply by breathing it in through their nose. It was not a scent that merely disappeared because you wished it would.

(Image of The Sunken Temple in Retail WoW)

The inclined hall leading down into the earth was one lined with old troll architecture that dated back centuries, perhaps even millennia judging by the way that even down here, grooves had been left along the floor as naked soles passed across them. Stone once yelled now turned a brackish green from moss and age and dust began to accumulate in the corners so thick one couldn't tell if it was dust or dirt anymore. Despite this aging, it did not stop small wandering eyes from watching from forgotten little holes, vented wall gaps, and all manners of little alcoves that burlap or cottoned bodies could only fit within. It reminded him quite a bit of his years in meeting Nezzok, in meeting The Eventide Emperor too, a time that led to his wife and eventually a split that created the foundations of The Sanctum. In a sense, these halls were as near a walk down memory lane as he would be afforded.

(Image of The Sunken Temple in Retail WoW)

Down further and further, even here, the air began to grow humid and thick as the earth surrounding it insulated and well as protected. Bodies were kept preserved where possible, and some Dinthoqaf recognized, parts and specimens meant to be used for replacement parts for Nezzok should his undead vessel become overly damaged. A museum of sorts, but this is not where he needed to be nor was it a place he had a desire to gawk. Not because it made him uncomfortable or due to some issue with the process at all, but primarily because it held no actual interest for him as of current. No, what was needed was further within. Through twisting halls and corridors, rooms filled with working dolls, half-mummified bodies, and others being disposed of save for their hair being collected to be used later, Dinthoqaf walked. "Took ya long 'nough Bruddah. Wha'cha da, get stuck holdin' dah Weavah's shoppin' bags 'gain?" Nezzok now squat over the edge of a now dry 'pool' that once was used for some form of ritual baptism or something of the like. Maybe it had been blood, water, or something else entirely to commune with spirits or loa of some forgotten sort, but now, it housed two very specific things. Even in his given posture, the Troll was enormous and hulked over Dinthoqaf as he came to stand beside him. Nezzok's arms, the four of them, worked as the lower set knitted together hair from a pile nearby into what would later become fine cloths. Another arm perched on a knee at the elbow as the fourth worked on a Cigar that would come off as laughably large in the hands of The Defiler. Dinthoqaf would not answer this, knowing that The Collector and The Weaver would have tried to kill one another ages ago if it hadn't been for his position between the two of them. As much as they squabbled, they did not dare break that covenant and risk his ire. "And here I thought you were going to complain about me taking the scenic route here instead of doing something fancy to let myself in." He retorted, a little smirk coming about his face as he looked down into the pit. There against the wall, now that living flesh was here, were two Scourged Ghouls that belonged to the body of an elven woman and another an elven child. Their bodies were half-eaten with rot and the other half charred. Someone had tried to dispatch them and clearly failed.

(Image from Pride, Prejudice, & Zombies)

Dinthoqaf mused and like Nezzok, squat at the edge of the pool, holding a hand out over the two but not giving risk of being pulled in himself. No, this would take delicate magics to do as he wanted here. "Now this, this is a gift for the holidays..." Nezzok stood, his frame stretching up to the full twelve feet of undead brute force that he was and his limbs move him with the grace of a jungle cat. Not a noise was made as he left the hair behind to be tended to by the dolls and Dinthoqaf followed. Work was to be done. Hours would go by here, their work coming through the night and into the later hours of the next day as spells were sewn into newly applied flesh. Dark magics worked to regenerate or at least cleanse the undead rot to make the two look less undead. The charred flesh, however, remained and finally, at the end of the day what lay on a cold stone slab between Dinthoqaf and Nezzok was a revelation, a testament to patience but more so half nightmare, half dream. Woman and child alike had their rotten halves returned to them, hair regrown, flesh cleansed, eyes returned. If one were to catch either hiding around some corner in a game of tag, one would never know the other half was a burned nightmare of failure. "I know it's frowned upon to regift a gift, especially when the giver is present when the newest receiver obtains it but I think in this instance..." Dinthoqaf smiles, the features upon his face flickering with the torchlight in these hollowed halls. "... You'll want to be there when we reunite my dearest brother with his long-lost wife and babe..." "Wouldn't have it aneh othah way Bruddah." ( Continuation from a story from @nezzokthecollector and part of the background events for Guild Storyline for the Sanctum of the Forbidden. )

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Sisterly advice

Wake the Dead fanfic

Pairing: Brynn Archer / Eva Archer (sisters)

@choicesfebruary2024 Prompt: Family

Summary: Eva and Brynn Archer enjoy a rare day off in the Tower.

Word count: 1,200

Rating: Teen

Today has been an almost perfect day, Eva Archer reflects.

She’d had the day off from pest control. Brynn and her crew were also on a rare break from scouting.

She and Brynn had woken up late, enjoyed a half decent meal for a change – scavengers had brought back apples from a nearby grove – and spent the afternoon playing cards with Cassidy, Dirk, Troy and Mack.

Even Troy had refrained from cheating, mostly. He’d slipped her a couple of aces under the table when her pile of chips had run dangerously low, grinning charmingly at Cassidy’s amused smirk, the others oblivious to the maneuver.

This was about as perfect a day as she could hope for within the confines of the Tower.

Her wandering thoughts sour at that.

The Tower.

Forever cooped inside a large, windowless, oppressive bunker. Surrounded by too many people, all busy eking out a living, oblivious to the world around them, living and working under the flickering of artificial neon lights.

Of course, there were bright spots in that otherwise bleak world.

Her Sister Brynn and her scouting crew, Cassidy, Dirk, Brianna. Their quirky friend Mack. And Troy, her best friend and partner in crime. They had become her adopted family. Made her existence in the Tower more bearable.

Eva dreams of being able to head out and see the world. Feel the grass between her toes again. Visit some old world relics she faintly remembered from her childhood and would avidly read about in Troy’s magazines - amusement parks, libraries, museums... She wants to swim in the sea. Feel the warm, salty breeze on her face.

Eva barely remembers life before the drones, before the Tower. She had been so young when people had started to change, when they’d lost their fathers and had been forced to flee. Brynn, still a child herself, taking on the parenting role.

“Hey! Earth to Eva! What are you daydreaming about?”

It’s the main reason she wants to become a scout so bad. To Brynn’s immense displeasure. Too dangerous, she’d growl, shutting down every attempt at a conversation.

Brynn pulls her out of her reverie with a light tug. Both sisters are sitting cross-legged on Brynn’s bottom bunk, the older sister’s hands nimbly working on braiding Eva’s fiery red hair.

“Nothing... I just.. I’m realizing, I’m starting to forget what the outside world looks like, feels like...” Eva murmurs, looking at her hands.

Brynn freezes, a pained look on her face.

“Eva...”

“And I know what you’re going to say, outside is dangerous, full of drones. And I know you’re right, I’m not trying to minimize the danger. But still, you get to actually leave this place for a while, breathe fresh air, feel the sun on your face... The last time I saw any of the outside world was when Troy ...”

Eva clamps her mouth shut, realizing she’d said too much.

“When you what? Eva, when the hell did you see the outside world with Troy?!” Brynn rounds on her, furious.

“It’s not like we left the tower or anything, Brynn! A... a few months ago, he took me to see the northern lights up on one of the top floors. We may have snuck back up a few times since... but only at night, with no one around to see us, I swear!”

“Are you kidding me, Eva?! Do you have any idea what’ll happen if Blackstock’s people find you sneaking into off limit areas? And after curfew at that?! God, I don’t know who's the worst influence between the two of you.”

Brynn stares at her, furious, then lets out an amused chuckle.

“You know, I thought the two of you were sneaking around making out or something. Was working myself up to the birds and bees talk. I definitely did not suspect late night stargazing. You’re such dorks!”

“Making out?! Birds and - what on earth gave you that ridiculous idea?” Eva splutters, face heating up.

“Oh come on, little sis, I’m not blind. I can see how you look at each other. And the not-so-subtle flirting.”

Wait, what does Brynn mean about Troy looking at me like… Eva’s mind spins as she thinks back to their daily interactions. His charming smile, his soft brown eyes sparkling with mischief and affection…

Nah, he’s just being friendly, as he’s always been. My best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

Could they ever be something more?

She shakes the thoughts away.

Brynn smirks, enjoying her sister’s discomfort a little too much.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eva mumbles, “Troy's just a friend. Besides, he’s a huge flirt. And a goofball. And an ass more often than not. He’s really not my type.”

“Uh Huh. You keep telling yourself that.” Brynn smiles, amused.

“Okay, since we’re going there, what about you and Dirk? I see the way he looks at you. The guy worships the ground you walk on!” Eva turns towards her big sister, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

Brynn becomes serious, a little hesitant.

“Dirk and I... It’s complicated. I know he cares about me. And I do have… feelings. But when you’re out with someone risking your lives on a near daily basis, you need to fully trust them. Right now, we have a great dynamic going with him, Cassidy, Brianna. We have each other’s backs, but we also know none of us will hesitate to do the hard thing if one of us got bit. If Dirk and I became something more, I’m worried it’d cloud our judgement if things went south...”

Eva takes in the admission, brows knitted, then grabs her big sister in a crushing hug.

“Brynn, you deserve happiness. And love - even if it’s with someone as grumpy as Dirk.”

Brynn scoffs at that, but Eva continues.

“I swear, you’re always putting everyone’s needs and wellbeing ahead of yours. Even the damn job. You’re always looking out for me -”

“It’s my job, even though you don’t make it easy, you brat!”

“Well, if you weren’t such a stuck-up ass all the time ...”

“Watch it, lil sis...” Brynn growls, eyes narrowing in warning.

“Or what? You gonna -”

Eva squeals as Brynn lunges at her, jumping off the bed. She ducks as a pillow sails right above her head.

“I swear Eva, I don’t know how I even put up with you.” Brynn mutters, getting up to grab her boots.

“’It’s cause you loooove me!”

“You’re lucky we’re related or you’d be out on your ass. Now get a move on or we’ll miss evening rations.”

“Yeah yeah.” Eva smirks.

She suddenly turns serious, pensive.

“For what it’s worth, Brynn, I get your concern that letting someone in may… complicate an already good thing. But if you don’t, you can also miss out on the chance of something amazing.”

Brynn stops to ponder. Then smirks.

“Wait, actual words of wisdom from my little sis? I guess you did learn something in between all your suspensions. Any chance you’ll follow your own advice?”

“… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Riiiight.”

Eva rolls her eyes, wrapping an arm around Brynn to give her a hug.

Brynn reaches up and playfully rubs her knuckles on her sister’s head.

“Ouch! Brat!”

Both sisters giggle and tease each other as they head out into the labyrinth of neon-lit hallways.

[eelhound]

"It’s easy to take the city’s parks for granted. But when more and more social interaction takes place from behind computer and phone screens; when fewer and fewer people meet their romantic partners through real-world social networks; when fewer Americans report having close friends than ever and more say they’re spending less time with those they do have and feeling increasingly lonely — the very existence of public spaces for leisure, open for all to enjoy free of charge, is something to cherish.

Those spaces haven’t always existed. In the United States and elsewhere, public parks, recreation centers, and swimming pools were the product of social turmoil and political struggle, with socialists often playing key roles in creating and defending such spaces. Nobody’s thinking about class struggle as they flip hotdogs on the public grill. But because they serve the collective good rather than private profits, public parks are a challenge to the logic of capitalism...

Because public parks and recreational venues are publicly owned, operated for the common good rather than private profit, and generally open to all without regard for ability to pay, they do not obey the logic of for-profit capitalist enterprises or commodities. And as socialists from Milwaukee to Malmö have recognized, they provide rare spaces for collective enjoyment, discussion, and education of the kind we’ll need to build a better world. Green spaces where we can toss frisbees or soak up the sun, it turns out, have political value too.

My first spring park excursion this year was an evening a couple months ago, when the air was still brisk but didn’t require a coat. I picked up a tall boy from a corner store and made my way past the food trucks in front of the Brooklyn Museum and the pedestrians and bikers crunching together near Grand Army Plaza, eventually getting onto the walking path that leads into Prospect Park from the north side.

After wending onto a small trail that led me to the main lawn, I found my friends drinking beers in a small circle, listening to music on a small speaker; similar groups were scattered around the grass, along with dogs and people playing catch and flying kites. It was a totally ordinary scene, but being there — enjoying the park’s respite from the atomized concrete chaos of the city — filled me with a sense of relief and gratitude. You only need a few moments like that on a warm spring evening to know that socialists have been right to care so much about public parks."

- Nick French, from "Socialists Love Public Parks Because They Belong to Everyone." Jacobin, 24 June 2023.

[verdemoun]

whats macsummers fav place to go on a date

So many. It's almost impossible for them to pick because a) Sean will consider any time he gets to be around Lenny a date and chance to woo his boyfriend all over again (which is hilarious because Lenny absolutely fell first and was the first to hit on Sean) and b) they have very different ideas of dates.

Lenny is a museum girly. He loves a good museum date, he loves the walking around, the overpriced coffee, the fact that so many exhibits are tactile and have some sort of interactive component now. Maybe it's the VDL showing through but he's very passionate about the death of the gallery and all about exhibits that encourage people to actually engage with history on a physical level instead of just looking at something old and reading info about it. And he feels so loved? Because Sean would absolutely never go to a museum by himself but if Lenny wants to Sean will be so enthusiastic his love language is entirely quality time he will ask questions and let Lenny ramble and stare at him in awe like just so in love with Lenny and how his brain works and listening to him talk/lecture.

Sean does love a good arcade/carnival/fairground date. The chaos of a crowd as an excuse to hold onto Lenny's hand tightly. Indulging in silliness and living out the cliches of being in love and young in a neither one of them really got to be. Shoving cotton candy in one another's mouths, being too competitive at games, laughing at each other endearingly only for the little acts of service that affirm how much they love each other eg combining tickets from arcade games so they can get whatever stupid prize they'd set their mind to, being able to laugh at failing physical challenges like absolutely stacking on ladder runs but also the second the tone shifts to genuinely check the other is okay before the energy returns to laughing at each other.

Combined? Nothing can beat the simple joy of a meal together. Whether it's splitting a pizza in a Dominos or a fancy restaurant they had to save for weeks just to get into - having a meal, conversation becoming rambles of whatever pops into their head but talking to each other no distractions the whole world melting away. A meandered walk back to the car, still talking, or the quiet comfort of one another's company. So lost in the other being their whole world that walking through a park dimly lit by distant street lights, grass damp in the cold evening air, and sunbleached faded playgrounds might as well be heaven.

[theretirementstory]

11/08/2024. Bonjour tout le monde, it’s 22c and we are due 33c today. I think I will be reading my book in a dark room, either that or I may just be 😴.

Although my garden has been neglected plants will still push through and flower. The hibiscus look beautiful and the Weigela shrub, which needs cutting back, is also flowering.

My hospital visit in Paris on Monday was quite eventful, I was told I needed just a platelet transfusion and was preparing myself to leave when the doctor came back, apologised and told me I needed haemoglobin too. Instead of leaving early it was another two hours for that transfusion. She also said I needed to go to Paris again on Thursday! Arriving home around 18:30 I then found I had left my phone charger! What a numpty! I rang up early the next morning to say I had left my charger and decided to ask about it on Thursday.

When I got up on Tuesday I was so pleased I had had the two transfusions as I was so full of energy, I stripped my bed, washed and ironed the bedding, went upstairs and cleaned my room and remade the bed. I made shopping lists for Anie and Monique and paid bills! My goodness that was a busy day for me!

So of course Wednesday I was not so energised, but I still managed to prepare for my trip to Paris. I think that three injections in one day is really too much for me. My abdomen and legs feel sore and the injections play havoc with my transit. Anie visited me around 5pm bringing with her the new lady who is going to do my cleaning. She said she would come on Friday so I was feeling rather happy.

The taxi arrived early on Thursday morning and I was at the hospital so early (which was nice), I asked about the charger and amazingly we were reunited. Today I did only need platelets although my blood pressure ended up being low and had to be taken a few times before it was deemed ok for me to go home. It was only 13:10 and after a visit to the pharmacy in town I was still home by 16:00. What a great surprise.

I had to buy a blood pressure monitor to take readings twice a day for the next 10 days. Next week I have two visits to the hospital in Troyes and am not back in Paris until the 19th of the month.

“The Photographer” has been back at work, after his holiday. He has his children this weekend and took them out for the day yesterday. They went to Beamish Open Air Museum, it’s lovely there, I took my boys a few times, the place is expanding all the time which is good as there is something new to see. It’s nice for them to go out and about while the weather is pleasant. My grandson has now got his passport so he can have a holiday abroad 😁.

“The Jetsetter” is busy working, saving the money for the next round of holidays I am sure. Although meals out, days at the races etc are being enjoyed and why not!

“The Trainee Solicitor” is moving up the workplace ladder. Showing what he is made of and what he has learned in the years he has studied. Yesterday was a first for him, he went to a prison for a visit (usually it’s the other way round for the inmates). Then he was eying up new clothes (no not striped prison clothes) and early evening a visit to the cinema. Wow that was a busy Saturday!

Yes “The Recovery Coordinator” also enjoyed the outing yesterday. The trip to the cinema had been to see a film she fancied. I know she is looking forward to her trip to France (they both are) I am hoping that the weather will be warm for them but not in the 30’s.

I am preparing food for these two people coming so that I don’t have to spend all my time in the kitchen. I made mincemeat tarts yesterday, that’s a dessert for myself and “The Recovery Coordinator”. I guess I will be making a chocolate cake for “The Trainee Solicitor” (it’s his favourite).

I need to arrange for the gardener to come and cut the hedges and the grass. I need to ring the plumber to come and repair the plunger on the upstairs washbasin as well as ring the roofer and find out when he will repair the flashing.

Now to the music part of the blog. The first song is “I Can Make You Feel Good” by Shalamar which was released in 1982.

The second song is “Amoureuse” by Kiki Dee this song was released in 1973 when I was younger than I care to remember 😂.

Now the sun is pouring through the windows in the lounge I think I will get ready for a little walk outside, then come back and bake the chocolate cake, make my sandwich for tomorrow and then take a few minutes to relax before I look for the next job.

Until the next time……..

[illegally-blind-and-deaf]

Young Tintin Headcanons Because I Can and I'm a Sentimental Person

Also, Tintin's mother is blind. That's my own headcanon

Tintin learnt Braille through his mother reading him Braille books while he sat on her lap. She also taught him to write formally using Braille and it's because of her that he became such a good journalist.

He loved to make paper planes and kites out of everything: newspapers, discarded letters, anything he could get his hands on. He loved to study the way birds' wings curve to catch the air and spent hours reading about how planes fly.

Every day, after school, Tintin and his mother would go to the market, buy some fruit (strawberries, oranges, apples, whatever was available) and would eat them in the park. Even when it was raining, they would eat then splash in the puddles.

Tintin's mother was kind off eccentric, but in the appreciate-the-little-things eccentric. When it stormed, she would open the windows until rain began to puddle on the floor. She would also lie in the floor a lot, either on the grass or on the carpet becay se she liked the feel of the ground below her. Tintin learnt to do the same, noticing the minutia of life that was truly special that so often gets overlooked. He loves the clouds especially.

Tintin used to ask a lot of questions (and then follow up with "why?" 5 times.) His mother never grew bored of it and always answered to the best of her ability. When she didn't know something, they would go to the library and Tintin would read aloud to her what he found.

One of Tintin's friends went to America and bought back "The Wizard of Oz" soundtrack on a record for him. His favourite song was "Over the Rainbow", but it wasn't until after the war that generalised just how sad the song was.

Tintin's hair started off a really warm, golden blond that had a couple of copper streaks when the light hit it. As he got older, his hair got darker until it grew into a solid ginger hue.

Museums. Enough said. Entire days spent wandering around, exploring the artifacts and paintings. Art museums, Natura history, modern history, science, anything. If it was a museum, Tintin had been at least once.

Tintin grew to really appreciate music. He had piano lessons, but stopped due to money and a certain war and never picked it back up again, but he loved listening to music on the radio or gramaphone, either dancing or lying on the floor staring at the ceiling. He especially loved Debussy and other impressionist musicians.

One of the reasons Tintin is such a phenomenal writer is because he became accustomed to describing the world around him and the little things happening to his mother. Describing without relying of visual explanations was difficult, but he managed to convey that sunshine was like fresh bread.

He read many classics, such as Tolkien, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Beatrix Potter, A A Milne, Mary Poppins, A Little Prince, etc. He was a very well-educated boy, despite hating school because everyone there were bullies and also he got bored very quickly writing simple sentences over and over again.

His baby teeth were crooked: his front two teeth were larger that the rest and overlapped with the other teeth. His adult teeth do the same, but much more subtly. You only notice if you stare hard enough.

Freckles. So many. That is all. Freckles.

He loved to dance. Just waving his arms about, twirling around in the living room, moving his body in any way he could to music or even just because.

He was in the Belgian resistance (Dutch-Paris network, 20th convoy and le faux soir) but if I say any more this will become too long and you will all hate me

Remember how Haddock asked Tintin if he could fly the plane and Tintin replied with "I interviewed a pilot once?" It was more of an interrogation between a British RAF pilot who had been shot down and a determined 11 year old Belgian boy in a dark basement somewhere on Rue Franklin as the pilot waited for his escape to Switzerland. Tintin had a book on planes and pestered the pilot to teach him how to fly planes until they had regular meetups in a broken garble of French and English.

[pbandjesse]

Today was a really good day. I had a surprisingly good day at the market and I am not as exhausted as I expected to be after working both the market and at the museum. I actually feel pretty good.

I did not sleep great last night though. I woke up a few times because there was loud banging outside that startled me and then I got overheated. It wasn't even warm But the air felt stale. I asked James to take the air conditioners out of the windows today so hopefully we can get more of a cross breeze.

I forgot to set my alarm but I still woke up at 7:00. Thank you internal clock. And I would go and get dressed and I feel pretty cute. My hair is not as annoying as it has been. I fixed my part and I think that helped. And we left here and went to get McDonald's hash browns.

I was really tired once we got to the market though and and kept saying that I was being cute saying that it's impossible to work 8 hours a day. But it's feels very true. How do people do things. But I would eventually wake up and things were good.

I worked on my knitting and I made a whole bunch of sales. People were very into the stickers today. And I just had some really nice conversations with people. I also really enjoyed talking to the woman that was there with the flag house museum. And she gave me her email because she wants to sell some of my stickers in their gift shop. So that was really exciting.

It was a beautiful day though. And I really was just enjoying being outside. Making sales was just a bonus. A lot of the sales came later in the morning which was surprising. Rod sold out of his bread like really really early so I wasn't sure I was going to make any sales but more people came through and it was great. I also just really was enjoying helping people today. There was a couple people that were there for the downtown sailing center that were in wheelchairs that were dropping things and the one guy, I think his name was Dale or Darren, was really sweet to me and he was kind of overheated and asked if I could get him a couple of ice and so I went over to the nice Mexican ladies and got him that and we just chatted for a bit. And then one of the other guys who I have had conversations with many times was telling me that he was having trouble breathing and so I was like okay I'll go find your mom and so I ran into the parking lot and found her and she was like oh yeah he's just being dramatic. But she appreciated that I did that. And she was so sweet she asked about my dad because we have been talking about his prosthetic a few months ago and she remembered and I thought that was so sweet.

James texted me and asked if I could bring them a quesadilla for lunch but when I went over there they were out of tortillas. So instead they made James a crepe chorizo. And it smelled very good. I hope it tasted as good as it smelled.

I dropped that off to James inside and I finished up my last hour. I had excellent conversations with the woman from the museum about art and this piece that I recently seen about the tea towel that was used as the flag of surrender during the civil war. And it was crazy cuz neither of us ever heard of it and both of us know so much about the civil war so that was really cool to find out something new. And at 1:00 I packed up and it was time to go.

I went to go inside to find you so they weren't there and Deborah who was waiting at the front desk told me that James had gone outside so we had to go find each other and we ran into each other into the parking lot and had a big hug It was a very silly. But it was also very sweet. I love my husband so much.

I was tired but not as tired as sometimes I have been. I had a pretty easy drive back and And I ate the muffin that I got from Jenny while I was driving. When I got back here I threw some of the muffin that I did not want anymore into the grass around the trees on the side of the road for the birds. And then I came inside and I got changed and I laid down.

I watch the video for a while and eventually I did fall asleep. I woke up at 4:00 when my alarm went off and was not as dizzy as sometimes I am. And I got dressed and very soon James was home. They had a package for me. It was my lash lift kit that I bought. I'm going to try to do it tonight and I'm very nervous. But I was excited to get a package.

Before I left I sat and read all the directions and me and James talked for a few minutes. And then they went to go take the ACs out of the window and I said goodbye and headed to the museum.

When I got there I got a little annoyed when the coordinator for the event try to stop me from going to the museum because she didn't understand that I worked there even though I kept saying I'm here because I'm working the event. But it was whatever. It just kind of put a bad taste in my mouth for a moment but everyone else that I talk to tonight was lovely. I had some trouble setting up a chase because I wasn't sure what it should say. So instead I made two smaller ones. And I think it looked great and everyone that I talked to seem to really like it. But the problem was that this event was huge and was actually spanning the pavilion and the museum and the food was all over the pavilion. So while people were coming in they were mostly directly going over there after they checked in at the front. And then the people who were there to run the casino tables that they had set up didn't have any people come through by 8:00 when I left. I did have some really nice conversations with the few people that did come in but mostly it seems like the time it was all thrown off. Their schedule said that we were going to be having the museum open till 11:00 which was not ever part of the deal. And the actual casino tables weren't supposed to open till 7:30 and they didn't have a bar in the museum only over at the other place I think it was really weird. But everyone seemed to be having a great time and that's all that really matters.

I did have a very bizarre conversation with a guest. Specifically because this was a charity event for the homeless and he seemed very angry about homeless people. I don't know He's just seemed like maybe a tough love type of guy but I was a little like isn't this an event to support homeless people why are you so mad. But he was really interested in print and I was able to very gently and to the conversation and start talking to some other guests and once all the guests were gone I had a really nice conversation with the casino people and I got to tell them all about history and making and stuff and it was really cool. They were very sweet.

And then at 8:00 I went home. And that's where I am now. I'm about to go take a shower and then I'm going to attempt to use the slash kit. James is out of baseball game and it looks like we're doing very well. So I hope they're having a lot of fun.

And then tomorrow I have my class with art with a heart and I'm so excited to see peeps again. And then I'm going to have a late lunch early dinner with CJ and that's going to be awesome. I just hope that it's a really nice day. And I hope that you guys will have a great night. Sleep well everyone. Until next time.

[rosecarlsonmemoirs]

Rise up this mornin’, smiled with the risin’ sun, Three little birds by my doorstep Singing sweet songs, melodies pure and true, Sayin’, “This is my message to you, ooh-ooh, yeah”.

Comfort is a blanket of sound, draped low and loose, an anodyne incantation to drown out the mess caused by the cacophony of the world. I want nothing more to do with it. The sea of selfishness crashing relentlessly upon the sacred space I once offered up to it like a willing supplicant. How foolish was I? Standing statue still, inviting the wild wash in, arms outstretched, welcoming the briny breeze, blinded by her churning majesty.

She doesn’t come to play fair. This was never an even exchange. The lord giveth . . . I should have been more vigilant. The same tapestry celebrated by fools is just a red curtain to me. Am I supposed to hate them? It would be better if I did.

Their wanton relentless search to fill voids is rendered unfillable by the very act of doing so. I knew as much. I tried harder. I sought love. I choose to be unconditional love. To give, to keep giving. To always give, with hope. Hope is a mantra. Hope is a redwood, deeply penetrating to preserve her precious place. Gnarled roots boring through compacted elements, forcing themselves upon her, finding weakness, making way, taking what is needed but giving in return. There is synergy. There is energy. There is a love there, unspoken and unseen. Isn’t that what we should be?

The creatures surrounding me don’t view it that way, I should think. The creatures around me have come to destroy. They take. Take and take and they took the last breathe from me. Stolen, as it were, stolen because it doesn’t belong there. It doesn’t belong in their power. It’s not for them, I should think.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

The opposite of love is not hate, it’s been said. Hate being a churning sea of rage spitting at the earth, slapping against her face, taking chunks, always taking, and pulling away, bit by bit, her essence. A form carved from the loving wash that crept in slow, seeping into crevices, trickling through sandstone, leaving tendrils for vigilante eyes to worship and savor, transmuting the forms into life—gods we plant in homes and museums and worship the creator saying here is a proof that he walks on earth. Here is the proof that he resides here, what else could this beauty be for?

God was instilled in me much the same. Only, I quickly learned, it wasn’t for awe, it was for fear. The god that my mother gave me was a god who taketh away. In the winter, when leaves fall and the earth transforms into some type of transient death state, it settled like ice in my veins. Frozen blankets coat everything and the brisk air laced with ice crystals numbs the airway and sent me into hibernation. I miss that. I never throught I’d miss that but I miss it more than anything now. Because with death come rebirth.

Each spring, when the blanket melts away it reveals something new. Damp earth coated by musty rotted detritus that gives way to bright colored grasses hitting the palate with notes of forest floor. Some travel miles for that sort of allure. It’s a rarity.

Somewhere I went horribly awry. I thought escaping the cold would heal me, but no matter where I go, here I am.

God was everywhere there, inescapable, omnipotent, a rock. So I ran away to the shore. Not to escape him, per se, but to find a new way, for me. A way that I thought would reveal a new me. Unbridled and free and allowed to stick my roots into the ground and grow in a place I felt liberty. Little did I know how uninhabititable and uninviting the west would be.

Little did I know this land was littered with detritus long before we were here. And clashing creatures fighting for their rights to be here, brutal, relentless, uncaring dark hearts. Dark arts. I didn’t believe it before, but I do now. If I believe in god then I believe in the devil, and I think I’ve finally met her. Where is God now by the shore?

I came here and I found my own way. I found it in the words and melodies, the sweet sounds that trickle through my veins. The wash. The wax and wane and flow that caresses me. The narrow winding roads, the descents, the shadows. The cool morning breezes lacquered with marine mist. In David. In the life we were building, together. The dream of union and synergy, of two kindred souls uniting to face the world whole. I grasped it, but I can no longer bear it.

That was then, this is now. Smoke tendrils and ethereal incantations assure me this is how it has to go.

Singing’ don’t worry ‘bout a thing, cause every little thing gonna be alright.

What else can I do?

With all her force, nature came at me. Screaming, flapping her angry arms in windstorm songs ripping at my ears, pulling at the membrane until it inverted and now the sound is trapped inside. It resides there now. Inside me. There is peace there. I’m safe. I know now what I have to do.

If the devil wants to come and take everything, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to fight the devil when god is nowhere to be found? My mother would have insisted prayer is the way to go. God speed, young soul—be a prayer warrior, love warrior, we are warriors for God. God wasn’t building an army. God was building a great house for souls. My god is calling me home now.

I won’t sit here and fight with bruised knees and silent words, clenched shut eye lids, forehead furrowed in intensity. There is no great power flowing from within me stretching out to fight enemies in the spiritual realm. I am not an immortal.

There is here. There is now. This is the place in which I have control. God has given me hands and freewill. Hands and free will and Chardonnay and pills. The devil has taken my breath and my love and I have become their vessel. Nothing good flows within me now. I should think this is not an act of failure, not failure on that magnitude that I have failed. I’m removing myself from the equation. My enemies have me surrounded. They are unwilling to let up. I won’t let them feast on my flesh anymore; that is all.

The opposite of love is not hate, I’ve been told. And I have to let this go. Love was my vanity. My selfish pursuit. Let it end with apathy. The lord giveth . . . I should have known.

[anderseva]

cowboy, take me away || morgeva

WHO: Morgan Weston @morgan-weston, & Eva Anderson

WHERE: Morgan's Ranch

WHEN: idek, like August 1st or 2nd, 2024

WHY: Morgan offers to take Eva for her first ride on a horse, followed by lunch that he cooked all by himself because the man is fucking perfect 🤠

MORGAN WESTON

It was a beautiful day on the ranch. The grass had never been greener, thanks to the winter and spring showers, and the sky was blue – typical California weather. Morgan was still adjusting, but he liked it. The day had been spent with work; training and taking care of his horses. The summer course that he was attending at PSU was twice a week, and when he was busy with that, he had people taking care of things on the ranch. It felt both liberating and nerve-wracking to be able to take classes, whilst also running a business with two employees. Morgan had sent them home for the day – it wasn’t just a regular working day. No, he was getting a visitor. It was someone who’d become quite a prominent figure in his life. Someone that he really liked spending time with. Clad in his blue jeans, a black shirt tucked into them, with a brown belt making sure they weren’t going anywhere, Morgan watched as the dust settled on his brown boots, as he made his way across the courtyard, with a picnic basket in one hand and a cowboy hat in the other. As he heard the sound of an engine coming up his driveway, he finally looked up, his own cowboy hat acting as the perfect shade for the sun. He smiled to himself, as he made out the figure and watched her pull up. Was that a little skip of his heart? His throat closed up for a second, but he finally managed to push air through, and get himself together. "Perfect timing, Ms. Anderson.”

EVA ANDERSON

To say that Eva was experiencing a mix of emotions today was a whirlwind. She had never been on a ranch, let alone a horse, so she didn't fully know how this little adventure would go, but she was excited for it nonetheless. What she was most ecstatic about was spending more time with Morgan. Even if she wasn't the relationship type and normally didn't even get attached to anyone, she could admit that she was enjoying Morgan's company. The obvious sexual tension also helped add fuel to the fire, but she had managed to mostly behave herself up until now and was still trying not to turn this into her usual hit it and quit it situation. She'd even had to dress down for this, donning an old pair of jeans, a Zara crop top, and a pair of old boots, Eva pulled up at the ranch and grinned when she spotted the cowboy. She parked and hopped out, still cheesing far too hard as she stepped towards him. "Looks like you missed me, Mr. Weston." She teased before glancing down at the basket in his hand. "Is that food you cooked, or did you just order UberEats and then put it in a basket?" She questioned curiously.

MORGAN WESTON

She looked absolutely breathtaking. The first time he'd seen her, she'd been all styled out, looking glamorous and elegant in her dress that complimented her skin tone. She was like a goddess. But even just wearing something way more casual, like she was now, with jeans and a crop top, she still managed to have Morgan be speechless. It was like she had been carved out of marble several hundred years ago, and belonged in a museum where everyone could awe at her beauty. He snapped out of it, as he heard her comments, and he looked down at the basket in his hand, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Would ya be disappointed if I said it was homecooked, and not a double-double from In-N-Out?" Morgan teased back with a slight smirk, as he looked back up and caught Eva's eyes. It was so easy with her, the teasing and flirting. "Here," He held out the brown cowboy hat for her to take. "It matches your eyes." Morgan motioned for them to start walking. "I saddled up Clover. She's the calmest horse we have - I figured you'd probably appreciate it." He teased lightly, but with sincerity in his voice, and headed towards the stables. He could understand if she was hesitant about this - horses were intimidating after all.

EVA ANDERSON

Eva couldn't help the way she grinned at Morgan's answer to her question. He had insisted that he could cook so she was looking forward to the home cooked meals over something fast food anyways. "I'm slightly offended that you think someone with this figure would be scarfing down a double-double, but I'm more offended that you're doubting my desire to have a man as handsome as yourself to spoil me but cooking for me." After all, it wasn't every day that someone who was great with their hands was offering to treat her to recipes his grandmother had passed down. Raising a brow at the offered hat, she hadn't been expecting it but happily took possession of it anyways and put it on. "Thank you, cowboy." She stated and winked before she started walking alongside him. Eva wasn't one to be in awe of many people, but Morgan Weston was different. Maybe she just hadn't been around too many men before that were this gentle, with women and horses, but it was refreshing, to say the least. It also helped to settle her nerves about riding his horse, which she'd needed. "I do appreciate that, so thank you." Glancing around the stable, she could also understand why Morgan was doing the summer course route to be a better businessman, that was for sure. "So how long have you had Clover?"

MORGAN WESTON

Eva's quick wit and her fast replies amused Morgan to no end. She was good at this game - one that Morgan rarely got to play, because they couldn't catch up with him. But here was a fair opponent, worthy of only Morgan's best efforts. "Hey, I quickly learnt, after moving here, there ain't nothin' wrong with a double-double! Does it beat granny's potato salad, and my own slider recipe?" Morgan squealed as he pretend-thought about it, before continuing. "Some food critics would probably say so - but they're not here to eat it, so screw 'em!" Morgan grinned. The stables they walked into were nice and clean, but also empty, with the other horses out on the pasture. It was only Clover, the beautiful palomino horse with the blonde hair, that was stood, all ready to go, and eating from its hay rack. He hummed as he thought about it for a bit. "I've had her since she was born, so that's gotta make it...twelve years." He said, grabbing the reins and leading her out into the field. "She's always had the kindest, and sweetest soul. You can do nothin' wrong by her." Morgan set the picnic basket down, and sorted out the last few things with the saddle, making sure that everything was comfortable and safe. He turned to the girl, and gave her a gentle smile, not wanting to seem too pushy, but also believing that she would absolutely love it, once she was up on the horse. "Try and put your left foot up on this stirrup here, and then I'll help ya up, okay?" He said, looking at Eva to make sure she was okay with what was happening.

EVA ANDERSON

"After you've had In-N-Out for years, it starts to taste mediocre and I can name a ton of places where you can get a much better burger." Sure, Eva had given into the hype back during her college days, but she certainly hadn't been a double-double kind of girl that often. She rolled her eyes playfully at his teasing. "Food critics in LA would choose anything gluten free, especially if it's got avocado or something in it, but there's no way fast food could beat anything you or your granny could make." Or so she hoped, anyways, but she was being hopeful until she tasted whatever he'd packed in that basket. She smiled once they reached the horse, which already seemed more calm than she had anticipated. "So essentially, she's your fur baby?" Eva hummed as she let him take Clover out of her stable and followed them out to the yard. So far, the horse was living up to everything he'd just said about her, so her nerves were mostly calm now. When Morgan gave her instructions, she nodded, bracing a hand on his shoulder as she put a foot into the stirrup. "Like this?"

MORGAN WESTON

Humming delightfully, Morgan saw another opportunity in Eva's comment. "That just means ya gotta take me to 'em." The more time he could spend with her, the better. Selfishly, he wanted to spend all of his time with her. He didn't know what it was; she was so enticing. There had been a while where he hadn't thought about anything else, but work, and he'd grown tired of that. Eva was definitely making life a lot more interesting now. "I really hope I can live up to your high expectations," he grinned, although he was fairly confident in his cooking. "Mhmm, I can't deny that, can I? She's been with me since I pretty much started this whole rodeo," he said quite literally. "She means everything to me. They all do. But she's just got somethin', y'know?" Morgan patted her neck, looking into the horse's eyes for a while, as it stood still, just waiting for the two people to take her for a ride. "Exactly," Morgan said, "and then pull your body up," he guided her, and moved so he could put his hands underneath her other boot, to lift her up. "Swing that leg up and over onto the other side," as he felt that she was halfway over and onto the horse, he let a hand wander to her backside, smirking when it lightly grazed her ass. But before she could say anything, he made sure she was seated nicely on the saddle, before grabbing the picnic basket and handing it to her. "Hold this," he said, before doing exactly what he'd shown her, and moved to sit behind her on the horse. Morgan's arms moved around Eva, so he could grab the reins in one hand, and the picnic basket in the other, and then he lightly clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth twice, to signal to Clover that they could walk ahead. "See? This ain't so bad, is it?"

EVA ANDERSON

Without hesitation, Eva nodded eagerly, already mentally thinking up plans for this. "Didn't I already promise to show you around anyways? We'll make it a full food and city tour." She decided, and she probably could have truly stacked them up with plans to last them for the next month or so. She didn't have much of anything to do until the fall semester started, so why not? "Anything you make will be better than anything I can cook, so the bar is pretty low." She wasn't that worried since his grandmother had taught him how to cook, and those older women were always known for their skills in the kitchen, after all. Smiling as he talked about Clover, she could at least tell that the two had quite the bond, which was fucking precious and left her feeling more at ease about Clover. She was oddly gentle and hadn't tried to push Eva away yet, so that was as good of a start as any. "You two seem like the best of friends." She hummed, and when he reassured her that she was doing this right, she nodded at the next instruction and let him keep her steady as she swung her foot over and started pushing herself up. The light touch on her ass didn't go unnoticed, yet she chose not to mention it as she took the basket. Morgan being such a gentleman should not have been this much of a turn on, yet here Eva was still getting flushed over it nonetheless. Once Morgan was in place behind her and wrapping his arms around her, she leaned into his embrace and let him take over here. "How did you train her to know what that click means?" Eva asked as Clover started moving at a slow enough pace that didn't accelerate her heart rate. "Yeah, this actually isn't bad at all, but I'm also a little biased. I feel safe with your arms around me." She admitted.

MORGAN WESTON

Morgan was happy to hear that Eva still wanted to give him a tour of LA, even if they'd already done a little bit of it. It wasn't that he was insecure about it, but it was always a nice confidence boost that she found his company to be decent enough to hang out with him again - especially when he was almost desperate to see her, whenever he could. "Might as well make it a full state tour, Ms Anderson. Disneyland, Malibu, Redwood National Park," He listed off, really just wanting an excuse to be around the girl. If Eva was feeling any kind of fear or intimidation, she did a damn good job of hiding it, because Morgan could feel the way her body naturally moved with Clover's movements, his chest against her back. The sweet smell of her perfume gently hit the man, and traveled up to caress that sweet spot in his brain that released dopamine. He was looking right over her shoulder, making sure to steer the horse in the right direction, and he couldn't help but catch the smell of her. 'So damn enticing!' His brain repeated to himself, before his thought-process thankfully got interrupted by Eva's question. "The same way you train a dog to sit or fetch. You do the same motion or, in this case, say the same thing, and reward them for getting it right - and eventually, they'll find out what it is that I want from 'em. Sound is a really effective method. It's the only tool I use." He told her. "Hold on to the reins or to me," Morgan warned, and after a moment, he clicked his tongue again, and Clover sped up slightly, going into a trot. "Is this okay?"

EVA ANDERSON

A full state tour would certainly require them to spend a lot more time together, which Morgan seemed to want just as much as she did, so Eva wasn't going to shoot it down. "Challenge accepted, Mr. Weston. We'll hit every single attraction and restaurant in the state until we go to everyone, or until you finally get tired of me." She offered, though she was hoping the latter didn't happen. With her fear long gone now, she was practically settling into this horseback riding thing now, letting her body fully loosen up now. It was probably due to being wrapped up in Morgan like this, to the point where she could even feel the warmth of his breath on her neck, leaving her own body with slight chills. She had never even lost her nerve around anyone else before but the cowboy just did something to her she couldn't explain. Nodding along as he confirmed how he managed to train his horses, using a gentle touch as opposed to the alternative that she'd heard some animal trainers used, she found herself smiling at that. "That's really sweet, and clearly it works well since Clover responded instantly. Guess your charm works on women and horses." She teased. Opting to hold on to Morgan, both of her hands gripped his arms (his robust arms that may or may not have liked touching anyways) as Clover switched to trotting instead of just walking. "Yeah, this is good." She reassured him, turning her head ever so slightly to look at that handsome face. "I trust you, and Clover."

MORGAN WESTON

"I can already guarantee ya now, that ain't happenin'," He promised her with a wink, knowing damn well that getting tired of Eva was like having a week with two Tuesdays in it, or a february ending on the 30th. She kept him on his toes; she matched his teasing and flirting, and there was still so much more that he wanted to know about her. Having her so close to him, feeling her back against his chest, he could tell how soft and gentle Eva was; almost fragile, but not in a way where he'd ever be scared of hurting her. Just in a way that was so elegant and light. Happy to have his arm around her and keeping her secure, he was confident about his capabilities in showing her how nice riding a horse was. He couldn't help but chuckle at her compliment, and he shook his head at how ridiculous she was. "Those are the obvious two targets for any man, y'know? Women and horses - in no particular order." Morgan felt her small hands on his arm, and he got her approval that this was okay. When he felt her turn her head, he turned his slightly too, so he could catch her eyes, and then he heard her words. That was enough for Morgan to be 110% sure that he had everything under control. The combination of the way she looked at him, and the message she delivered sent Morgan spiraling, and had it not been for the awkward angle, and the slight danger, he would've kissed her right then and there. Maintaining eye-contact though, he told her, in almost a growl from the desperation of wanting to kiss her, "Good. Because you'll never get a feeling like this from anyone else," before clicking his tongue again, sending Clover into a gallop, and turning his head to focus on where they were going, knowing that this was fast, and hoping that it was making feel as excited about it, as Morgan had the first time he'd gone galloping on a horse.

August 5, 2024

EVA ANDERSON

Eva didn't know why her entire body felt like it was on fire at Morgan's promise, but boy, if she wasn't on cloud nine right now. "Morgan, if you want me to fall in love with you and never leave you alone, just say that." She teased. Luckily the feeling was mutual and she didn't see herself ever getting sick of the man. Spending time and getting to know him had been a nice change of pace from her usual routine, and she wasn't complaining at all. She smiled at him agreeing to her bullshit about his charm, though she was 100% sure that his charm could work on just about anyone, human or animal alike. "I didn't know that, but I also feel like the horses come first for you, and then the women." Not that she could even blame him since he had been working with horses probably his entire life, but that charm was hard not to even fall for no matter what. Or at least that was her own explanation for why she'd somehow tripped and fallen right into his arms (figuratively, for now). Morgan gazing back into her eyes shouldn't have left Eva's heart rate increasing yet again, but here they were. She'd barely made it through every hangout with the man without jumping his bones, let alone even giving him a kiss, but she was damn near unraveling now. But unfortunately, he signaled for Clover to go faster, and she would have groaned had she not turned her head back around to watch where they were going. As long as Morgan still had the reins, Eva was still mostly relaxed even with the galloping now. "Where are we going?" She asked, raising her voice to be sure he could hear her. "Or where exactly are we having this picnic?"

MORGAN WESTON

Morgan really wasn't the type of guy who fell in love easily. He'd had a few relationships, his longest and most serious one being back in Montana, right before he moved; and even that obviously hadn't lasted. He'd just never had the proper time for it, with him working his grandparents' ranch, and now establishing his business - but somehow, Eva had him reconsidering everything and thinking about how much nicer those lonely nights in front of the TV would be, with her head in his lap, or a blanket draped over their bodies. That's why his mouth got ahead of his brain when he said, "I want you to fall in love with me and never leave me alone." That never happened! Normally, he thought about everything before saying it! But precisely 2.73 seconds later, he realized what he'd said, and tried to cover it up with a smirk, hoping it was convincing enough. Flirting, teasing, the sexual tension - it was much easier than a relationship. He shrugged his shoulders at her comment, one corner of his mouth lifting up into a half-smirk. "Horses don't complain about the quality of the braids you give 'em," he teased back, chuckling as he said it. As they galloped through the field, Morgan passed by the other horses; some that started running with them, others that just kept grazing. Hearing her question, Morgan attempted to point with the hand that was holding onto the picnic basket, towards an area. "D'ya see that lake over there?" He asked her, as they got closer and closer to it. There was an opening to it, with trees on one side, and hills on the other. They were completely surrounded by nature. "That's where we're gonna have some lunch." Nearing it, Morgan pulled the reins gently, naturally slowing Clover down, and turning the gallop into a walk again. "I hope you're hungry." He said, stopping the horse and getting off, setting the basket on the ground, and immediately standing to help Eva down, both of his hands held out to catch her.

EVA ANDERSON

In Eva's mind, this all had to be some sort of fluke. She didn't do relationships, not intentionally anyways, and it had just been a while since anyone had made her feel like Morgan did. She normally didn't even try to carry herself as more than a fuck buddy, nor did she last one 'date' without making a move, but there had been something about Morgan that had her taking things slower than normal, and she would have hated it had things not started becoming a lot more than just some flirtationship. And she clearly wasn't alone in however she felt, and she had to bite back the way her face almost contorted when he repeated her phrase back to her. It had been startling, but also kind of exhilarating, and she didn't have a clue how to verbally respond to that. His smirk put her more at ease, for now, so she just put it aside for now, smiling back at him when he spoke again to change the subject. "I can teach you how to be better at the braids." She teased. As Clover kept guiding them along, Eva could appreciate the beautiful scenery of the ranch, and she could imagine spending a lot more time here. But that was getting carried away, so she snapped out of those thoughts as she listened to the cowboy. The lake was just as gorgeous as the rest of the damn place, and she was even more stoked to be having lunch by it. "You really know how to woo a woman." Once they finally came to a stop, she held onto the horse as Morgan hopped off first, and then she took his hands and slowly dismounted the horse. "I'm starving now." Eva answered as she smiled up at him. "I've also been dying for one of your home cooked meals, so this might be the highlight of my whole week."

MORGAN WESTON

It wasn't that Morgan was strictly after a 'friends with benefits'-type of relationship, at all. It was only that he had never tied himself down completely enough, in a relationship, in order to know that that was actually what he wanted in life. His previous girlfriend had wanted the kind of commitment out of him, that he at that time was only able to give to his work, his career. So it was almost like there was a mental block that he couldn't get past, enough to settle down. And that, along with the fact that Morgan moved to LA, was enough for them to break up. But Eva was right there in front of him, looking at him with those big, brown eyes, and those full lips, and telling him that she trusted him, and wanted to spend time with him - how the hell was he supposed to not completely swoon at that? Hearing her comment, he snapped out of the thought process, and let out a laugh. "I'm sure my girls will appreciate that a whole lot more, than what I can offer them right now," He countered back, with a little nod and a grin. Once Eva was on the ground, he reached for the picnic basket with one hand, while the other held on to her petite one, feeling the softness of her fingers against his rough, calloused pads. "Thank you - I googled 'how to woo a woman' earlier today, so you can thank the internet for that." he grinned at her, and walked towards the area that he had set up. He'd already been out to the area earlier, and had laid out a blanket, and put a bottle of white wine into an ice bucket, before Eva had arrived. "Hey, if feeding you is all it takes, then I'll be happy to do it, every week." Morgan knelt down onto the blanket, and started unpacking the basket, revealing the homemade mac and cheese, sliders, salads, fruits and all the necessary equipment to eat it all. Looking at her, he sent her a cheeky smile. "I'll send you home with leftovers, if there are any. Wine?"

EVA ANDERSON

The last thing Eva needed to be contemplating was serious feelings, relationships, or someone making her swoon hard enough to possibly fall in love; however, it was hard not to think along those lines with Morgan. Maybe it was the charm, or the way he handled her like no one else had before. She didn't even know if she was capable of being tied down, yet if things kept progressing like they were, she wouldn't have much of a choice but to rethink her bullshit anyways. But they could cross that bridge if and when they got there. She smiled as his laugh took her back out of those deep thoughts again, which she'd needed. "Don't worry, I'll turn you into a pro-braider in no time, you have my word." She promised with a wink. Letting him keep his hold on her hand, Eva hummed as they walked over to the blanket and wine. "Damn, you really were aiming to woo me. I'm flattered that you'd even Google that and then do all of this just for little old me." As if it weren't obvious, she truly was surprised that anyone would put this much thought into a date (or at least that's what she assumed this way) with her. Kneeling down next to her, she raised a brow as he started taking everything out of the basket. "You want to feed me like this every week?" She asked, taking in Morgan's words as she studied the food he'd laid out for them. The smell and the presentation alone had her drooling already, so she was sure that Morgan's cooking skills were superb. "Deal, and of course I want wine!" She beamed as she opened up the mac and cheese container and took a whiff of it, already bursting with excitement to taste it. "How many other women do you go all out for like this?"

MORGAN WESTON

Morgan did a mini-celebration, after Eva promised him that she'd make him a pro-braider, with a gentle fist pump towards himself and a slight blush on his cheeks, from the girl's wink. "'Little old you'?" Morgan scoffed, and placed his hands on his hips, almost offended that he wouldn't do this for her. "The Eva Anderson, marketing and communications professor, former beauty influencer and executive at a talent agency? The Eva Anderson who knows how to look both gorgeous and elegant in a damn satin dress, but also fucking sexy in jeans and a t-shirt? The Eva Anderson who knows how to make this cowboy's dreams - not just during the day, but especially at night - only be about her?" Morgan shook his head in playful disappointment. He knew very well that he was laying it on thick - but he meant every word of it. "There ain't no 'little ol' you', here. There's 'stunnin' and delectable goddess', and I would do anything that Google told me to do, for you." He strictly told her with raised eyebrows and a playful smile, and started pouring the cold wine. He hummed to himself at her question, and smirked. "Lemme see, there's...Faith, LeAnn, Reba, Shania...Dolly! I don't know, I've stopped counting." Morgan joked, and quit listing off famous country musicians, as he handed her the glass of white wine. "Okay, so we have mac and cheese with cheddar, monterrey jack and mozz. Sliders with American cheese, mayo with a little stout beer in it, and a pickle, on hawaiian rolls," Morgan continued, and pointed at all of the containers with food. "Caesar salad, some coleslaw. And over there, we've got some watermelon and some strawberries. Dig in, Ms Anderson- Oh!" Morgan got up from his spot on the blanket, and walk back into the field, looking around for a bit, before bending down. He quickly returned to the blanket with a little red poppy and handed it to Eva. "Can't have a date without flowers."

EVA ANDERSON

Eva grinned at his reaction, which was somehow the cutest and hottest thing she'd ever seen before. Well, aside from the blushing. How she managed to make such a man blush, she'd never know, but it was stroking her ego. While she had only been kidding about the 'little old me' comment, Morgan's immediate response to completely shoot that shit down left her face turning bright red as she tried (and failed miserably) not to read too much into such high regard for her. No one else would explain her in such great lengths over a comment she hadn't even meant, but she was certainly swooning even harder for the man now. Him referring to her as a 'stunnin' and delectable goddess' took the cake though, and any doubts she'd had about clearly feeling something for the man were confirmed now. "I've never been called a goddess like that before, but thank you." That was all she could even get out right now without turning into a total sap, so it would have to suffice for now. She rolled her eyes playfully as he named off the country artists he had also wooed, taking the offered glass of wine and taking a sip. Of course he'd be teasing her right now. Once he rambled off everything he'd packed for their little picnic, she smiled. "This all looks and smells amazing, Mr. Weston. I'm flattered that you did all of this just for me." Eva was about to dig in until Morgan hopped up and went to grab her a flower, which only made her blush even harder. "Seriously? You do realize that you're spoiling me now, and anyone who tries this after you has quite the bar to try to pass." She pointed out before she dug into one of the sliders first, taking a small bite and letting out a soft moan of appreciation at the taste. "Shit, your grandma is going to be proud. This is amazing, Morgan." If she were checking off boxes here, the man was quite literally perfect. "Have you always been a gentleman? I mean, with the women you're this fond of, anyways?"

MORGAN WESTON

It was a complete ego boost to see Eva's face turn red. She seemed so calm, cool and collected, and what he'd heard about her from around town (yes, he'd asked a few people at PSU), she sounded like she was in great control of her feelings. So yes, Morgan took it as a huge compliment that he was able to get her to blush, knowing very well that she should feel the same way, with his facial reactions to her own flattery for him. "No? Well, that's a mistake then," Morgan told her, and opened the containers so he could scoop some food onto his plate. His eyes were on it, not once looking up, as he continued nonchalantly. "You oughta be called 'goddess', like that, every day. Simply be worshiped." He licked some of the coleslaw dressing off of his thumb, and looked up at the girl in front of him. Each time he did so, it was like the first time; he could keep taking in her beauty, after every blink, and never be bored. He smiled, as he took a bite out of the salad, feeling a little proud of himself. "Well, that's the goal 'ere, if you hadn't noticed. To keep you comin' back for more, because no one else will be good enough." The wine hit his lips, still cold, and he allowed it into his mouth after his little confession. During the whole time, Morgan maintained eye contact with Eva. He wanted her to know that he was serious; that she only deserved the best kind of treatment. Humming as he put the glass down, he thought about her question for a bit. "No." His dirty laundry was coming out now, and he didn't really care. "It's not been until recently that I learnt that there's more to life than work. But up until then, I definitely didn't go all out, like this," He motioned to the picnic blanket and the food. "I could've done a lot better." But he didn't want to dwell on the past, he wanted to move forward now. "How d'ya like horses now, by the way?"

EVA ANDERSON

Taking another bite of the slider, mostly to stop herself from cheesing in hopes that the now permanent tint on her cheeks wasn't as rosy would calm itself down. She doubted it, but it was worth a shot anyway. Every time she expected Morgan to just be kidding or saying some shit to charm her, his body language and his tone proved her wrong every single time. "You can worship me, but only if I get to return the favor." She countered, and it was a fair trade in her opinion. Not that she even knew how to worship someone, yet she'd figure it out for Morgan. Making eye contact with the man yet again, she was sure that she was practically melting every time he insisted that his goal was to keep her coming back. "That's a big game you're talking, Mr. Weston, but keep it up." She teased, though him doing so would surely have her feet planted on his farm long term at this rate. Eva wasn't the long term or the farm type, but the cowboy was making her rethink a lot of things, even if this was out of the norm for her. Washing the food in her mouth down with more wine, which was a damn good brand and had her even more intrigued about the rest of his tastes, yet she'd get into the rest of those later. Letting him explain what he was like with other women, she couldn't really fault him for it, not when he was so passionate about his horses and his ranch. He was a businessman first, and she understood that better than anyone else. She took a few more bites of one, sampling everything to make sure it was just as incredible as the last, as she let him change subjects too. "I love Clover, since she listens to you and she's well behaved. The jury's still out on all horses." She teased. "But for the record, there's nothing wrong with drowning yourself in work. A lot of our parents did it while they had kids at home. It just takes time to be able to learn how to balance it all, or to get to a place where you're ready to do that. I'm sure your ex, or exes, would understand that."

MORGAN WESTON

'You can worship me, but only if I get to return the favor.' That sent Morgan's head reeling. He didn't know if Eva meant it the way that he thought she did, but even if she didn't, he figured there would be some small part of it involved. And if it didn't, it didn't matter either way, because he had his imagination, and his hand, and that was enough- actually, it wasn't, if he had to be honest with himself. He craved Eva, in ways he'd never experienced before. He wanted her so badly. Everything she did and said only had him longing for her, to be as physically close as they had been at the mixer. Swallowing hard, Morgan couldn't tear his eyes away from her; he'd been left speechless, after her comment. Her answer woke him up though, and he had to tear his eyes away from her, and mentally take a moment to understand what it was she'd just said. Once it finally clicked, he couldn't help but laugh and nod. "Then it's a good thing you have 'bout 19 other horses to meet, just here," Morgan teased back, and had to take a big sip of his wine, to properly get over what had happened before. Her understanding of his priorities was sweet. How was she so sweet? She wasn't real. Biting down on his bottom lip, he nodded. He couldn't exactly agree on her last statement, but he didn't want to focus on that. Not while he was making this out to be a date with her. "I think I'm beginning to know how to balance it." He'd missed and longed for more in his life lately, just not knowing exactly what that more was. But he was starting to figure it out. Scooting a bit closer to Eva, he was starting to catch that perfume of hers again. So damn sweet. It was almost like a need to be close to her again, like at the mixer. "Did you know that you are incredibly captivatin', Ms. Anderson?"

EVA ANDERSON

Eva could practically see the wheels turning in Morgan's head, yet she didn't know where exactly they were aiming. Maybe she wasn't thinking of worshiping him in that way, not that she wouldn't and didn't want to anyways, but she was trying to behave — mostly anyways — so she hadn't even considered how the words could be taken. They hadn't even discussed anything sexual yet, so she was treading lightly there for the time being. She only furrowed her brows as she waited for him to snap back, and once he did and spoke up, she grinned and nodded in agreement. "Well, you do want me to stick around, so I guess that's about...19 more of these dates we'll have to plan, hm?" Would she actually ride all of them? Probably not. But would she use it as an excuse to come back to the ranch if he didn't beat her to it anyways. Sipping on some more of her wine as he drank more of his, she couldn't say she understood exactly how the dating thing worked for him, or at least how it had worked before. She had her own dating issues that were another thing in themselves, yet she hadn't quite let work be a reason why she couldn't give her all in one. Eva would have simply needed a solid relationship to balance out with work, and that had been her issue instead. She could be persuaded to be more open to the idea, or at least someone like Morgan seemed to be on the right track at pushing her into it. She raised a brow as she watched him move in closer to her, and she couldn't help the way she lost herself in his eyes once more. Leave it to a cowboy to keep being a smooth talker and making a gal blush once more. "I did know that, Mr. Weston." She nodded, sitting her glass down before she decided to lean in closer to him. "Honestly, I think this is the longest I've gone without making a move on someone that I really want."

MORGAN WESTON

The idea of Eva actually humoring Morgan, and voluntarily coming around at least nineteen times more had the cowboy grinning from ear to ear. He couldn't believe his luck, getting to sit here in front of a woman who was so quick with her wit, and had the right mix of flirty and teasing. "What're you doin' for the next 19 days then?" He matched her teasing. Of course there was no way she was going to be around continuously like that, he knew that she had other priorities and spending that long together so soon after meeting was absolutely insane, but on the other side, it was exciting, knowing that she at least wanted to spend more time with him, even if it might not be nineteen days of her meeting a new horse every time. Morgan cracked a soft smile as he heard her answer to his question. He was so glad that she knew her worth; that she was captivating. Her confidence made her so damn hot, and he knew that it meant she wouldn't go for some complete asshole. Morgan maintained eye contact with her, getting lost in umber color. They were like an expensive whiskey: soft in its taste, carefully indulged, and so damn intoxicating. And though he got lost in them, feeling like he was wandering around a maze, and being allowed to walk there for an eternity without ever getting out, he could see that she leaned in. 'Someone that I really want' had the cowboy lose his breath for a short moment, his hand instinctively reaching up to tug a strand of hair behind her ear, and his thumb ghosted over her cheek. He finally tore his eyes away from hers, but they didn't make it further than to her lips, looking at one specific drop of white wine on them. "Why?" All he wanted to do was lean in, and taste the alcohol on her.

EVA ANDERSON

One thing Eva was a sucker for was anyone who could match her wit, especially since hers just came naturally and she couldn't quite help herself even if she'd wanted to. As soon as Morgan asked the question, she was shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm pretty free until classes start." She pointed out, which wasn't even a line this time as she practically was just making plans as they came since she had no set schedule until the fall semester started, which did leave her with plenty of time to get acquainted with his other 19 horses. Not to mention that it came with more time to spend with Morgan, so she'd be a fucking fool to ever turn that down. While she could be rather cocky, and even stroked her own ego every now and then, it was still quite flattering to know that the cowboy thought so highly of her as well. In fact, she was quite fond of it, giving her yet another reason to stick around. Licking her lips as she held his gaze, she could feel the goosebumps on her flesh, signaling that this was certainly breaking what restraint she'd been fighting to have. She smiled as he tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, and damn if she didn't need him right now. And as soon as his eyes drifted to her lips, Eva was practically a goner. The question was a damn good one, and instead of verbally responding to it, she decided to just fucking go for it as she leaned in and captures his lips in a searing kiss. Making the first move wasn't always her thing but the woman was impatient, and it was necessary.

MORGAN WESTON

Finally! It felt like Morgan could breathe again. It felt like the sky was a constant blue. It felt like his pillow was always cold. It felt like the best damn thing he’d ever experienced! Eva kissed him! He could shout to the whole world about just how lucky he was, if he was allowed to. And for a moment – for just a few seconds – everything was quiet around him. His brain wasn’t shouting at him to say something, and he wasn’t thinking everything through. The leaves on the trees weren’t rustling, and the horses around them weren’t blowing air or neighing. No, he was just there in that moment, feeling those incredibly soft lips of hers on his own, and everything was just right, until he realized that he should probably respond to it. His lips moved with hers just as passionately, his hand tangling into her hair, and his body moving closer. As he suspected, he could taste the sweet wine and all of the aromas that rested on her lips. He’d wanted this since their first meeting, and while he didn’t exactly know why he’d held out like this, he was ecstatic that he had, because the build-up made it so damn good, and so damn worth it. Their lips dancing together so intensely had the hairs on his neck standing up, and he couldn’t help himself when he put his other hand on Eva’s waist, wanting to get to know every inch of her with his fingertips. He wished so desperately he wasn’t running out of breath, so that he could keep kissing her, but after a moment, Morgan had to pull away, his eyes opening to look at the girl, and his fingers detangling from her hair, and instead running down her cheek, settling on her neck. “It's my turn to make a move on you." Morgan almost growled in a whisper, before leaning back in and closing the space between them again.

EVA ANDERSON

Although her goal for the day hadn't been to show up and finally make a move on Morgan, Eva couldn't have been more elated that they were finally here. She had never been good with waiting or pacing herself when she wanted something from someone, and she'd been desperately waiting for the right moment in which one of them would have made a proper move, so that moment finally being here was...well, lonesome, at first. For a second, she was thinking that maybe she'd misinterpreted things between them and Morgan had only been polite to her in that charming western way he knew how, but hadn't wanted this to happen just yet. Luckily he didn't leave her hanging for too long, and once his body reacted, even the hand in her perfectly straightened hair didn't bother her one bit as their lips moved in sync, quite literally sucking the breath right out of her lungs. God, how she'd lasted this long without feeling his lips against hers, she would never understand. The hand on her waist was further indication that they were for sure on the same page, at least to enough of an extent that she was for sure coming back to this damn ranch as many times as the man wanted her to. Once the need for air became too much and Morgan was the one to break the kiss, Eva grinned as his hand cupped her cheek instead. Thankful that he was finally wanting to take the lead here, she nodded just as he connected their lips again, and she whimpered just softly against his mouth as she started to move her own lips against his. While his hands were callous and the rest of his body was handcrafted to make him out to be a damn God, his lips were soft, and he was kissing her a lot more gently than she was used to, but it was nice, for lack of a better word at the moment. Eventually she had to pull away though, and Eva was sure that her face was beaming right now. "I think you just figured out how to make sure I never leave you, Mr. Weston." She teased.

MORGAN WESTON

The sounds that were coming out of Eva weren't enough for a team of wild horses to keep Morgan from deepening the kiss, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. She could make the grown man do just about anything she asked for, if she kept it up with the pleased noises. There had been an instant attraction to Eva. When he first laid eyes on her at the mixer event at PSU, and she was in that orange satin dress that he hadn't been able to get out of his head for days. He'd regretted not making more of a move on her then, but at the same time, he needed an excuse to keep her coming back for more. Whether that was her showing him the best restaurants around town, and getting to know her during an evening like that, or him cooking for her, and showing her just how well he could treat her. Now here she was, and the moves were finally being made, and it felt like heaven. As they kissed for a second time, Morgan felt how perfectly her lips responded to his; how her lower lip rested just right in between both of his, how in tune their movements were, how they seemed to run out of breath simultaneously. He didn't want these kisses to end, and when she pulled away, his eyebrows furrowed at the loss. But he also got a chance to breathe. Or so he thought. Because Eva's next comment left him breathless again, and all he could do was grin, and move so he could place his hand on her ass and lift her up, and place her in his lap. "Good thing I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve to make sure ya don't change your mind." Morgan smirked, and placed a hand on Eva's back to steady her, whilst the other remained on that sweet spot just under her ass, and he kissed her again. He could keep doing that. And based off of what Eva told him, he figured that he would be allowed to, for quite some time.

[venicebcomplex]

it's delusion but it's peaceful that this body is not you own

there is a certain tone ringing on the very inside of your ears that makes you instantly fly back to where life began to feel different. there is a smell in the air of nights that can't be comprehended if it wasn't your night to remember that had it. make it turn real, make it seem more concrete and not so superficial. ok, then. i go to a friends house, it all seems like play pretend. everything is small and made of plastic. i look through her window and i see my teen years play out. there i was, laughing,crying, begging, drinking, dying, forgiving, lying, cheating, searching, craving, losing, choosing, leaving. i have pictures, i can prove it. it tastes like something you'd never eat. i almost love you but, as i sip my coffee, i wonder if you'd ever want to talk about it. i've spent years thinking about it, how i don't consider myself as kind and gentle as i thought i was. i met my boyfriend and he changed me. he made it so clear, i could be so cruel. i haven't been like that, since then. i barely drink now. who was i? i wonder, i can't even grasp the idea of living in such body, drinking of cups overflowing with judgement and lack of self respect. now i drink tea and think about my twenties. do i respect myself now? i have a karmic relationship with my own body, so much shame and hiding and it came even before everything that happened to me. it seems like i cannot have a relationship in which it can be fully respected. even during rest time, it happens and it's bitter, it's fucked. i want to respect myself. i sometimes don't understand why i imagined big things for myself but i do get it when i do things. so i have been doing everything in hopes that the good things come, even if it kills me for the moment. i allowed myself to be killed for less. way way less, for nothing even. i walked through the halls of the museum, thinking about how much of a grown up i was for being there under my own choice, reading the tiny letters by the side of the paintings. i still don't understand a thing, i laid in the grass with my boyfriend afterwards and we took a nap. i wonder if you understand what i mean, i get that feeling when we talk, we understand each other in it's essence, not in the actual thing. it's like, we understand each other in soul terms. not words or actions. it's as simple as it is. i felt like a teenager laughing semi drunk on a strangers couch with friends i barely know, we woke up the other day in a bad mood in a way too hot of a room, barely speaking. soul level. as we grow up, we start understanding the importance of people in more subtle ways. i had it way too intense back in the day, though every relationship and friendship had to be permeated by passion, lust and jealousy. most of the times, it is so, so much simpler. so, as i looked through the window and saw it all, i said: "such a pretty view". you agreed and i smiled.

02/06

[ashleysingermfablog]

Wk 16, 14th of May, 2024 Artist Reference

The Observatory by Robert Morris

Robert Morris, Birds Eye View of The Site and The Observatory entrance, 1971, land art

From the text: The Observatory by Robert Morris (1971) by Mariabruna Fabrizi...

The Observatory is a land-art piece by Robert Morris located in Flevoland, in the Netherlands. The first version of the project was created by the artist in 1971 for the open air exhibition “Sonsbeek buiten de perken” (“Sonsbeek out of bounds”) and built in the dunes near Velsen. A year later, the artwork was dismantled and then it was rebuilt in 1977 in Flevoland.

The Observatory (here on google maps) consists of two concentric earth mounds (the exterior measuring a diameter of 71 m) crossed by three V-span openings and divided by a ditch. The interior circle is made by a wood structure which supports earth covered in grass and includes four openings, one of them being the entry. Coming through a triangle-shaped tunnel it is possible to get through the exterior circle right through the middle of the land-art work through the East-West axe. The other three openings in the central circle are oriented in order to frame the sunrise in some specific times of the year. The middle steel visor shows the sunrise at the equinoxes. On the northest and southest sides of the circles are two stone wedges, through which the sunrise on the 21 June and on the 21 December are visible.

Morris wanted his observatory to be easily accessible: of his first version of the Observatory, 1971, he says: “I was pleased with the site because people could get to it, and insofar as I do something like that, that is physical I want it to be experienced for what it is. It is important to me that it is there and available”

Since 1965, Morris began his studies on the astronomic observatories of the Neolitic age and this is his first built work which allowed him to materialize these researches. The explicit references to Neolitic sources, especially Stonehenge, converge in this centric structure, which isolated the spectator while projecting him in the faraway landscape and even the celestial sphere, in close relationship with the cicle of the year and with his ancient history.

Robert Morris, The Observatory entrance, 1971, land art

Rosalind Krauss relates the Observatory to Stonehenge:

Morris had begun to think about the structures both made (like Stonehenge) and found (like caves) by prehistoric societies to convert the arc of the sun’s revolutions into the straight line of  the intelligible, arrowlike trajectory, and thus to ‘read’ the  solstices. Observatory (1971) is a massive project through which to  think and to experience this culturally ancient notion of marking, which is to say, of entering into a text that one has not oneself written, and that will continue to be produced to the end of solar time. (Rosalind Krauss, “The Mind/Body Problem: Robert Morris in Series, ” Robert Morris. The Mind/Body Problem, Robert Morris (New York: Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum. January-Aprii 1994))

Robert Morris, Sculpture from The Observatory, 1971, tin and supports

https://socks-studio.com/2014/10/29/the-observatory-by-robert-morris-1971/