#FindingFlow

[caesarandthecity]

Time in Prison

Since the dawn of mythology, time has always been seen as an absolute and relentless power. Saturn, also known as Chronos in Greek mythology, is the god who devours his own children, a metaphor for the inevitability of time that consumes everything. Chronos created time as an infinite current, a force that shapes life, ages, and destroys, never stopping or looking back.

However, the modern view of time gained new dimensions with Albert Einstein and his Theory of Relativity. Einstein taught us that time is not a straight line but something flexible—it can stretch and shrink, depending on speed and gravity. For some, time passes slowly; for others, too quickly. But one truth remains: we can never go back, only move forward.

It is in this paradox that time becomes more than just a concept—it becomes a lived experience, especially when incarcerated. Time in prison becomes its own entity, a prison within a prison—stretched, endless, relentless. Here, time is a cruel dance between Chronos and relativity, a battle fought daily, minute by minute.

Here’s a gift, some advice, a word of encouragement: the more you fill your time with activities that elevate you as a human being, the faster time passes. This is called the state of flow—that moment when you are so absorbed in what you’re doing that you don’t even notice time passing. I rediscovered my love for reading in prison; I would read a book a day. And I didn’t just read—I realized we consume so little of a book, so I marked the pages I loved most, and when I finished the book, I wrote an essay about it. I still have those writings with me.

I redid high school, studied all the subjects; it was a unique experience to go back and study everything I had learned as a young man, but now in another language. I even asked the prison for a calculator to better follow the math classes, but since there were none available, I did the calculations by hand! I studied personal development, religion, and watched the video “Chasing the Dragon” repeatedly, which shows addicts and ex-addicts and their battles against addiction. It helped me a lot to understand my own methamphetamine addiction and where it could lead me.

I decided to work out and started right there in my cell. Of course, my cellmate laughed at first, but I just didn’t care—I kept going. Slowly, I gained more confidence, and that confidence spread to other areas of my life. Even today, I meditate and do yoga every morning, just as I did in prison. I would wake up before the C.O. called us for breakfast. By the time it was time to serve breakfast, I had already meditated, done yoga, brushed my teeth, changed clothes, and combed my hair.

I did yoga straight on the floor, no mat, no blanket, no blocks. It helped me immensely every day, and I became much more aware of my body. And I didn’t care what others thought. To them, it wasn’t normal. How dare I enjoy that moment in prison when they were all there suffering, with their families suffering outside? I heard that many times. But the truth is, it all comes down to choices. I made mine; they made theirs.

I wrote in my diary every day, about the past, the present, and my hopes and dreams for the future. I wrote stories, fiction, and about the reality of my past. I cried a lot—every month, every week, almost every day. I cried asking for forgiveness, I cried accepting forgiveness, I cried always in gratitude, never asking for anything.

Sometimes, I felt like the day wasn’t long enough for all the activities I wanted to do. I even enjoyed the days we were locked in our cells all day, as it was an opportunity to read uninterrupted. Gradually, I created a routine, added new activities, replaced others, and time went by.

Until, one day, the last day finally arrived.

Filling my time and diving into this state of flow made me see the prison experience differently. The walls no longer felt like they were closing in, and the barred windows no longer stopped my mind from flying and building a better future for myself. I thought about creating a list of goals to achieve after prison, but I wanted something deeper than a simple list. I went to understand the etymology of the word "Meta." The word "Meta" comes from the ancient Greek "μετά" (metá), meaning "beyond," "target," or "purpose." Originally used to denote something that goes beyond the here and now, "Meta" carries the sense of transcending, of seeking something beyond the current point—a goal, a change, an evolution.

Understanding that to reach a goal, one must transcend and change, I wrote down all my goals knowing that, to achieve them, I would have to change my current state. With that understanding and knowing I was imprisoned, I chose to use my time to my advantage, filling it with as much flow as possible.

Encouraging Message:

Never underestimate the power of your time and what you can do with it. Even in the darkest places, it’s you who decides how to fill your days. Find your flow, immerse yourself in what helps you grow, and remember: time doesn’t have to be your enemy; it can be your ally in building a better future. No matter where you are, you are stronger than you think.

[sanetimental]

6 Tips For Finding Flow

Finding flow is the key to unlocking peak performance and deep satisfaction. It is a state of total immersion and focus that leads to optimal productivity and enjoyment.

Pursuing high-level goals often demands a significant amount of mental focus. However, achieving goal completion depends on more than just focus. It requires a multitude of factors, and one of the key components is the state of flow experienced during the pursuit of the goal. Being in a state of “flow,” refers to a mental state of complete immersion and focus in an activity. It is a state of…

[riptide98]

title: wishin’ you were kind enough to be cruel about it (from cool about it by boygenius)

word count: 4437

desc: the riptide captains have some chats. gillion stops breathing. chip opens up. jay socializes. we think.

there’s always something new to find on islands you haven’t been on before, especially if they’re as tiny as honeydew isle. gentle clouds, forever blossoming trees, warm breezes that feel like soft kisses against rough skin, small-town population where almost everyone knows each other, sweet smells filling the air....what’s not to love? it’s cozy, it’s somewhere where you can feel at home no matter if you live here or not, it’s beautiful.

it’s hard to see it all, though, when you’re floating in a pond and thinking about how you nearly killed your best friend. or, at the very least, trying not to.

gillion stares through the pink-white petals of the trees above him, watching them cascade down around his body, some fluttering gently to rest upon his skin as he floats on the surface of the small pond. its waters are shockingly clear, the small fish swimming around and plant life that thrive in the freshwater completely visible underneath him. he doesn’t exactly know how long he’s been out here, but it’s likely the majority of the day since he came out at sunrise and it’s close to sunset at this point; the clouds are beginning to clear, which, as he’s learned over the two days he’s already been here, is a sure sign the day is coming to a close. he takes a deep breath, exhaling before dropping down into the water for a moment—sitting, breathing, composing. after a few beats, no more than a minute, he surfaces and climbs out of the small body of water. the warm wind catches his wet hair, the green strands gently blowing around his face. he grabs the towel jay had brought out to him a few hours ago for some ungodly reason, because who would the moisture master be without his moisture? he barely runs it over his mop of seaweed-green locks so they’re not dripping everywhere, for the sake of everyone else, and begins his, as always, barefoot trek back to the house.

it’s quite large, said house, considering that it was originally meant to house just three—five? the twins’ stories were unclear—people, but it’s cozy nonetheless. like a large wood cabin, it has vines creeping up its sides with small white flowers curled in on themselves growing off them. the decor is what one would likely think of if you said “remote cabin in the woods,” lots of scenery paintings and fairy lights and plants galore. apparently, it’d been like this since before the twins were born, but gillion can’t help but think wren had at least a minor influence over it. he hip-checks the double-action back door open, leaving it to swing lazily behind him as he steps, still dripping, despite his very halfhearted attempt to dry, into the kitchen. it’s almost shockingly empty. he’d grown used to everyone else bustling around the house, working on various projects, lounging around, all in all being very lively. it reminds him of his own crew.

“‘knew you were a fish, but damn, you like the water, don’t you?” a now familiar drawl mumbles from the couches not too far away. gillion perks his head up, slinging the towel over his shoulder and approaching the couches. he peeks over and is met with the dark gaze of one leon dawson, buried under at least five different blankets and using around three different pillows, all at various points around his body. gillion can barely even make out his face from under the cushiony pile.

“it’s nice out there,” gillion offers as a reply, mustering a small smile even though it feels like his face muscles forgot how to.

leon lets out a small, approving exhale. “this whole place is nice. way different from where i’m from.”

gillion nods.

the two awkwardly look at each other in silence for a beat. and then another. and another. and—

“hey, your buddy’s been holed up in his room all day, too. nobody’s really seen either of ‘ya today.” leon sits up from his mess of bedding, shaking out his braids. “at least you’ve come in to get food at mealtime; chipper up there hasn’t come down at all.”

gillion freezes. just slightly. “he hasn’t?”

“nope.”

more awkward staring.

“you wanna....check on ‘im?” leon licks his lips, rubbing the crust out of the corners of his eyes.

gillion swallows. “uh....uh, yeah. yeah. i’ll....do that. yeah.”

gillion has now come to the conclusion leon has very nice eyes.

“alrighty.”

“yep.”

silence. staring. still.

leon awkwardly nods. “i’ll be here.”

“o-kay.”

gillion does not, in fact, move to go upstairs. he, instead, stands behind the couch, still staring at leon.

“you....gonna go up?” awkward eye shifting.

“yep.”

he still does not move.

“....anytime soon?”

gillion feels his gaze begin to slightly unfocus. still standing.

some moments pass, the awkward staring contest gillion, for some reason, can’t bring himself to break, well, not breaking. after what feels like an eternity, gillion takes a breath and moves his gaze to the stairs. his lungs feel like they’re crying with joy as he takes deep gulps of air. apparently, if the screaming in his chest means anything, he hadn’t been fully breathing. great.

after a few deep breaths, gillion moves his hand to grab the back of the couch, squeezing it almost like his life depends on it, and then begins to, hesitantly, walk to the stairs.

“alright, man, good luck, i, uh....i guess,” leon says behind him, blankets audibly shifting. gillion attempts to say something coherent in reply but just kind of squeaks.

gillion tidestrider, champion of the undersea, hero of the deep, world’s best conversationalist.

it’s not that gillion doesn’t want to see chip; of course he does, he’s his best friend! it’s that he doesn’t want to face how chip’s dealing with what gillion did to him. he doesn’t want him to look at him with disgust and hatred because it’ll feel like his training all over again plus chip is one of his absolute best friends in the world and he never even wanted to almost rip his guts out and smite him a billion times and watch him let loose that slight tension that was still in his body and his hands would shake and he’d start bawling all over again because as much as everyone says it’s not his fault it really honestly is and he hates that everyone’s lying to him because he hates lying especially when it’s to him and he knows that if he was fully aware of what was going on he could’ve prevented that in the first place if he hadn’t followed an obviously off wren—literally anyone could have seen something was up even if they didn’t know her—into the basement and realized what fucked up shit was happening he could’ve stopped it all from happening and chip would just be doing regular post-revival recovery and it wouldn’t be his fault and everything would be fine but it’s really not fine no matter how much he says it and how much everyone says it is and how much he’s told it’s going to be because he knows it’s not going to be and it’s going to affect everyone for the rest of forever and it’ll be his fault forever and always.

you know?

so there’s some hesitation as his hand hovers over the handle that leads to the room chip has been staying in. understandably, right? it’s not like gillion doesn’t almost want to curl into a ball and sob every time he imagines seeing chip again. yeah, he was with him no matter what when he was out, but now that’s he’s up and about again? gillion can’t bring himself to face him. it almost hurts physically, like he’s the one getting his heart ripped out and eaten by some crazy spider lady.

and of course he shocks himself when he, almost on autopilot, grabs the handle and clicks it down, opening the door.

the scene gillion is greeted with is so serene but so heavy with some sort of sadness it makes his gut twist just a bit tighter. the window is open, casting the first slivers of golden light across the bed and the hunched figure sitting on it.

chip’s back is mostly to the door as he’s facing the window, but gillion can see the slightest peek of his brown eyes, glowing almost like molten bronze in the muted yellow glow of the sun. his mahogany hair shines slightly red in the soft light, quite visibly unkempt, like he’d just woken up as it curls around his sleepy face and down onto his shoulders. he’s shirtless, exposing the flame tattoos gillion is so familiar with but also ones he forgot about, like the small coral crown and bluebird, and ones he’s never even seen, i.e the familiar “nk” crescent moon gillion constantly looks down at his own wrist on chip’s lower back. scars litter chip’s exposed, tanned skin, and his arms cradle an unfamiliar guitar so gently it’s like he’s holding something fragile, something easily breakable. his fingers expertly move up and down the frets, playing a soft yet melancholy tune that makes gillion’s shoulders relax just a bit. chip stares out the window at the forever blooming trees, his hands moving almost on their own, like he’d played this tune a million times before. maybe he had.

chip doesn’t look over when gillion clicks the door open.

he doesn’t look over when gillion stands and watches him in silence for several minutes, listening to the gentle plucking and strumming of the strings.

he does look over, however, when gillion makes another involuntary squeak.

chip whips around, his hair falling around his face in a way that the light almost gives him a flaming halo around his head, fingers falling silent on the neck of the guitar. “fuck, gil, how long have you been standing there?” his voice is hoarse, either from disuse or maybe sleep. it’s hard to tell since gillion is too busy trying to make himself not shut the door, run away, and hide that he can’t figure it out, much less respond.

chip blinks at him. “gil?”

“that’s me,” gillion squeaks out. definitely playing it cool. yep.

chip shifts his body around to face gillion, running a hand down his face, and it’s only then gillion notices how bloodshot his eyes are and the shimmering streaks down his face. shit. he’d been crying.

“is everything okay? you’re turning bluer than usual.” chip’s tone is somewhat playful, but his concern is obvious. and what does he mean by—?

ah. there’s his lungs squeezing again.

fuck.

gillion takes a deep breath—stupid brain making him forget to breathe again. “yeah. yep. i’m. fine.” way to go, tidestrider, definitely smooth with it!

he takes another deep breath, trying to compose himself. “i just heard you hadn’t come out of here all day and i wanted to....” he trails off. what exactly is he doing here?

“what, check on me?” a small grin is etched on chip’s lips as he rubs his eyes again. “i’m fine, just havin’ an off day. am i allowed to have those?”

despite chip’s tone being lighthearted and joking, gillion can’t help the sinking in his gut at his words.

almost repeating the scene from earlier, the two of them stare at each other in silence.

“gil?”

gillion snaps out of it faster this time, blinking rapidly and finally fully entering the room, shutting the door behind him. “yeah, i came to check on you— sorry, am i being, like, weird? it’s an off day for me too, i was at a pond i found all day and i just kind of floated there for basically the whole day and really only left to eat— have you eaten today? i was told you hadn’t left here all day and that just hit, that you probably haven’t eaten, i mean—”

“gil, buddy, relax.” chip is suddenly in front of him, guitar strapped across his back, one of his hands on gillion’s shoulder and squeezing gently.

“when the fuck did you get there?” gillion whispers.

chip’s gaze is full of concern, those bloodshot brown eyes trying to meet gillion’s. gillion doesn’t let him. nuh uh. not. happening.

“gil. look at me.”

“why?” gillion’s voice begins to tremble, as do his hands.

“because i want you to?”

“i should be the one concerned about you, you’re the one i practically gutted and who hasn’t left his room all day, at least i was outside—”

“gil. gillion. gillion tidestrider.”

gillion’s gaze remains firmly locked on the ground. when did chip’s nails get painted? they look nice. black, but there’s this subtle red-orange glitter overtop that gives it a really cool fiery effect—

his shoulder is squeezed. “look at me. please.”

gillion keeps his head bent but flicks his eyes up to chip’s for less than a second before returning them to the ground.

“gillion.”

at the sound of guitar strings being hit and then muted, gillion feels a hand, chip’s hand, leave his shoulder for a moment, come back to cup his face, and tilt it upward—sometimes he forgets how tall chip is. he finally meets chip’s eyes, brown sand crashing into blue waters.

“what’s wrong?” chip practically whispers. gillion feels a pressure akin to banging against the backs of his eyes as chip runs a thumb across his cheek, as gentle as the wind outside.

“i fucked up,” gillion breathes. “with you. didn’t i?”

chip looks genuinely taken aback. “how did you fuck up with me?

“i stabbed you.”

“okay, well, dude, that—”

“that wasn’t my fault, it was the ghost or whatever they’re calling it, everyone knows i didn’t want or mean to, blah blah blah, yeah, i know, you don’t think jay or wren or everyone says that to me, like, every two seconds?”

“i’m just trying to help—”

gillion almost laughs, but it comes out as more of a strangled snort. “you shouldn’t be helping me, chip, i should be helping you! that’s the whole reason i came up here! to make sure you were okay and to let you talk to me if you weren’t and i’d go downstairs and raid the kitchen for us and maybe find jay and bring her up here and we’d snack and chat and do the silly stuff we always do! but of course i had to go and make a mess of things and make it all about me, didn’t i?” he throws his hands up, choking back tears—when did he start crying?—and almost collapsing back toward the wall. his back crashes against it as he slides down, sobs and hiccups slipping from his lips as he buries his head in his arms, face dripping. “i could’ve fucking killed you. why the fuck are you still being so nice to me?”

“because, gil. hey, just relax for a second.” chip crouches in front of gillion, pushing the latter’s hair out of his face. gillion shakes, hiccuping back tears. “you’re my best friend. plus, and as much as everyone has said this already—” he holds up a finger before gillion can speak up as he lifts his head. “—it wasn’t your fault. you’d never have done it otherwise, right?”

gillion remains silent, sniffing.

“gil?”

“no. i wouldn’t.”

“i didn’t think so.” chip sighs, sitting down properly in front of gillion. “gil, you’re one of the best people i’ve ever met. you wouldn’t do that without your hand being forced, i know that. we all know you wouldn’t. you like to psych yourself up over the smallest of mistakes for absolutely no reason, even when nobody’s mad at you for them. so. it wasn’t your fault, nobody’s holding it against you, so why are you getting all worked up about it?”

gillion brings his head up, looking chip dead in his eyes, vision swimming with more tears threatening to brim over. “because you should be mad, and you should be pissed at me— gods, chip, why are you being so nice about it?”

chip exhales gently, a soft, sad smile on his lips. “i don’t think you realize that i honestly can’t imagine a world where i’m mad at you for this. i’ve said it so many times, and i’ll say it again, man, it’s not your fault.” he brushes stray hairs away from gillion’s face. “remember when we lost felipe?”

gillion nods, but his face contorts with confusion. “yeah, but what does that have to do with any of—”

“you blamed yourself for his disappearance even though you couldn’t have prevented it. it all happened because of something out of your control, yet you still tried to pin all of it on yourself.” chip raises his eyebrows. “are we seeing a pattern yet?”

gillion drops his gaze. oh, he sees a pattern, all right. a perfectly reasonable one, because despite both of these situations happening because of things out of his control they’re still, basically, entirely his fault. and for some reason nobody is willing to admit that.

a heavy sigh. “gil. c’mon, man, hey. look at me.”

gillion bites his lip as tears spill over his cheeks again. his chest feels constricted, squeezed, as he tries to take a deep breath to steady himself. “i’m sorry.”

“you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, gil,” chip says. “nothing, okay? i don’t want to have to make the same points over and over again, so let me just say this one more time so it’ll stick in that fishy brain of yours.” he flicks gillion’s forehead playfully, and gillion lets out a wet, genuine chuckle, but drops it when chip speaks again. “this wasn’t your fault. this was out of your control. you had no way of preventing any of this from happening. it’s. not. your. fault.”

the sun, at this point, has set enough that behind chip, through the window, the sun glows golden. rays peek out from the soft strands of his hair and show through onto his face. it’s such a gentle scene that gillion has to choke back another sob.

gillion takes a deep breath, exhaling shakily and wiping the tears off his face with a nod. “okay.”

chip gives him a soft smile. “okay?”

gillion returns it. “yeah.”

“alright.” chip squeezes gillion’s shoulder again, rubbing his thumb back and forth gently.

“now can we do what i came up here to do?” gillion asks with a sniff.

chip gives him a wider grin. “and that is?”

“making sure you’re okay.”

that grin slips off of chip’s face almost in an instant. “i’m fine, gil.”

gillion steels his jaw. “you haven’t left your room all day.”

“because i’m recovering? and i’m fucking exhausted?” chip runs a hand down his face. “i’ll be perfectly fine, gil. again, just relax.”

gillion wipes off the remainder of his tears and wraps his hand around the one chip has cradling his face, pulling it down and leading him to the bed. he gently moves the guitar out of the way, bringing his own free hand up to chip’s face. “you can talk to me. if you let me say whatever the fuck i just said to you, you can talk about how you’re doing to me.”

“i’m fine, gil. just tired.”

“the tears on your face when i came in say otherwise.”

“gillion. dude.”

“talk to me.”

“gil.”

“you did this same thing to me, didn’t you?”

“this is different, you were obviously in some fucked-up mental state— that’s a shitty thing to say, i’m sorry—”

“and you crying when i walked in? what’s that? not a fucked-up mental state?”

chip sighs, running a hand down his face and through his hair. “gil, all’s it is is that i’m hurting—physically—because this fucking revival makes me sore, like, all the time, plus i’m fucking exhausted, and i just need time to rest. okay? that’s all it is.”

gillion swallows. taking his hand off chip’s face and dropping it into his own lap. “are you sure? i’m not trying to force you to talk, i’m just....” he sighs trailing off and looking out the window at the golden sunset.

“giving me the option?” out of the corner of his eye, gillion sees chip give him a gentle smile.

“yeah. i just want you to know i’m here for you if you need me. since you were here for me. always.”

a gentle silence falls over the two of them. the quiet chirping of birds outside twirls through the air as the sun sinks lower, casting a molten orange light around the room.

“i just....feel useless, y’know?” chip says after a beat, biting at his cheek. “like everyone’s been treating me like i’m made of glass, like i’m fragile, like one small amount of pressure will break me just because i died and got brought back or what-the-fuck-ever.”

gillion blinks, shocked. “you’re not fragile! you’re just recovering and we’re just—”

chip bobs his head, basically nodding. “yeah, yeah. yeah. yeah, but you came in here—”

gillion reaches over and takes one of chip’s hands in his own. “i came in here worried you would be pissed at me and that i ruined everything, not worried i was going to break you, chip. okay? i wasn’t scared that i’d do anything to make it worse—that’s mostly because i honestly wasn’t even planning on getting close for fear i would hurt you again, but i do not think you’re fragile.”

chip sniffles, wiping his free hand down his face. “still, you guys are, like, walking on eggshells around me, like one wrong move and i’ll....” he chokes back a sob, almost aggressively wiping tears away. “fuck.”

“hey....” gillion swallows his own residual tears and takes his other hand to wipe away chip’s. “i’m sorry. especially for how i came in here, i was just anxious about how you felt about me after everything—”

chip exhales gently. “gil, you’re fine, seriously. i just hate feeling like i’m a liability now because—”

“you are not a liability, chip.” gillion rubs his thumb against chip’s cheekbone, wiping stray tears. “you’re one of the strongest of us! you’re incredibly far from a liability. you’re hurting. you were hurt. you’re not one hundred percent right now, and that’s okay. you don’t need to beat yourself up about it.”

“says you,” chip works out through soft sobs, laughing quietly.

gillion chuckles, rubbing away his own salty streaks. “it’s not wrong for you to feel fragile, but i just want you to know you aren’t.” gillion drops his hand on chip’s face down to his shoulder, squeezing. “right now, maybe. but always? of course not. we just need to give this time, give all three of us time, to recover and feel okay again. you’re not the only one who’s feeling shitty right now, and i’m not trying to override how you feel, but just know you’re not the only one upset and you don’t need to be alone, alright?”

chip nods, his smile having returned. “and you neither.” he pokes a finger into gillion’s arm playfully. “if you’re fucking yourself up over me being pissed at you or literally anything, man, come talk to me, okay?” he slings his arm around gillion’s shoulders, grin wide.

gillion laughs quietly, leaning his head against chip’s shoulder as the latter brings him closer. chip puts his own head on top of gillion’s as the two of them, shifting around to face it, watch the last dregs of the sun drop down below the horizon.

the door clicks open about maybe an hour later, gillion sleepily poking his head up from where it rests against chip’s shoulder. a sliver of red hair peeks through the door before all he sees is a wide grin and a blur of—

“where the fuck have you two been?” jay whisper-shouts as she slams onto the bed, her full weight pressing against gillion’s legs as chip groans behind him.

“sleeping, talking about our feelings, having breakdowns, what about you?” chip mumbles, lighthearted sarcasm dripping from his voice. jay peeks her head up from where she’d thrown it down, the smile that was wide on her face dropping down a bit.

“what d’you mean?” she says, sitting up with her legs crossed.

“just not feelin’ good today,” chip replies, a sleepy smile on his face. “i’m feelin’ better now, though.”

jay nods. “thats fair, it’s....a lot.” she looks over. “gil?”

gillion blinks, still half asleep. “wh.... oh! oh, i’m, yeah, i’m alright, just was a bit anxious.”

jay tilts her head slightly. “about....?”

“oh, you know, the usual ‘what if my best friend hates me because i almost killed him’ anxiousness.” gillion gives a playful smile, but drops it when jay’s doesn’t return.

“i’m here too, if either of you want to talk to me!” jay exclaims, that smile returning before she lightly tackles the both of them back down onto the bed.

“we would, if we had any clue where you are,” chip remarks, smirking. “you accuse us of going missing when nobody has any clue where you are, ms. jay ferin.”

jay rolls her eyes. “okay, first of all, shut the fuck up.” she lightly punches chip on the shoulder, eliciting a playful groan from him. “second of all, i’m literally just in town. you guys can come find me literally whenever; i’m just working on projects with quinni.”

“ah, made some friends while i was schnoozin’, i see.” chip smirks, yelping when jay reaches to muss his hair.

“yeah, no thanks to you—”

“all thanks to me, actually, we wouldn’t even be here without me.”

jay sticks her lip out in a pout but breaks into another grin. “alright, you guys are obviously ready to crash—” jay gestures to the two of them, still half curled around each other. “—and i’m liking the cuddle pile. may i?” she begins to climb around to chip’s other side, wrapping herself around his back and tucking her head in the divot in chip’s collarbone.

“guess you didn’t need permission,” gillion mumbles, smile wide on his face as he reaches over to muss jay’s fiery mess of hair. jay giggles, taking gillion’s hand and shaking it around lightly.

“bedtime, you weirdos. i said so.” jay smiles brightly before snuggling in, wrapping her arms around her co-captains and pulling them closer.

“g’night, jayjay.”

“good night.”

“i’m taking you guys around town tomorrow. no objections.”

“bet. sounds awesome.”

“are you being sarcastic?”

“genuinely, no—”

“good night, you both, i am tired, go to bed.”

[cherrymoonflowers]

ASK THE CAST OF FINDINGFLOWERS!!

findingflowers is a project that lives in the head of @blackrosepirates and now you can send things to (some of) the cast!!

tag system:

#letters from the isle - og posts

#honeydew messages - asks

#waves on the shore - rp reblog

#flower sprouts - rbs

#this random guy just showed up - half ooc

#the random guy - ooc

character tag system (aka who you can ask!):

#captain flowers 🌙 - elodie

#world’s worst first mate 🪵 - leon

#seasick chords 🎻 - ashlynn

#from the ground up 🍂 - kennedy

#bandaged fins 🫧 - kaito

#garden of flowers 🪻 - wren

#cogs and gears ⚙️ - quinni

[riptide98]

oh my god if I could get into how this affects chip physically and the other two mentally I would write an entire essay GOD

there’s a lot of lore that isn’t explained bcus this is basically me adding the sillies into a potential campaign of my own and just AUGHH. there’s so much man

also fun fact about chips condition. He passes out for at least 3 days ❤️

glad you’re enjoying findingflowers 👍 I have such minimal content made for it but I’m glad you enjoyed the one thing that’s going out public anytime soon

I really enjoyed it!!

I don't really know where they are or how they got into that situation with the spirit but i still absolutely loved the story ,, especially the description of gillion getting possessed/mind altered by the spirit and d-blade trying to help him fight back and every part of him killing chip down to the expressions on his face and gill snapping back into himself and realizing what he'd done hit Hard,

and i love love loved the subtle detail of "yeah he died and was just brought back to life with a somewhat rushed spell, no of course he's not going to be perfectly fine right away" like the fact that he's still very much Going Through It physically and still needs treatment is Awesome!!

[overlystoked]

Update: I DID IT!! I finally got myself moving again. The trick for me was to just let it flow. No tutorials, no rules, no perfect guideline to follow. Over the last few days I’ve been mixing ballet, yoga, and freeform dance into whatever combination I’m feeling for the day and it’s just what I needed to find joy in movement. Resistance happens to everyone, but it’s up to you to decide when you tell resistance to shove it 💪🏽 🎵 Wander - @iksonofficial . . . . #yoga #yogapractice #flow #findingflow #healing #betigrewup https://www.instagram.com/p/B_S6mYIAV-w/?igshid=1up5c3mq0efeo

[cherylebannon]

Nature has a way of shifting us back into balance. Add water and feel the sense of calm flow through you. That reminder to allow the flow… downstream. I needed that nature connection this morning….to help me find my centre. So grateful for the sunshine and mo@ents of connection - , bees, birds and waterways. How do you get back into flow when life upsets your balance? #gratitudeearth #gratitude #natureheaks#findingflow# (at Westerfolds parkrun) https://www.instagram.com/p/CWDha3PvbST/?utm_medium=tumblr

[hippie-trippy-on-the-henney]

It’s a land anemonem.....Anemonemone 🐠 #findingflowers #anemones #prettyinpurple #inspiredbypetals #botanicalbeauty (at Flowers by Reni) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bvt-0E3ni-z/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1t4d7o3pe7l4f

[riptide98]

that is so fair!!

QUESTION!! So if we wanted to submit an aita related to our fic right, would we link the fic ourselves or what? :>

i would say you would link it yourself!! -acer

[mycraftynell]

Fun tester page for my new Derwent Inktense pencils. I hardly buy any new art supplies these days but these bad boys have been on my wish list for ages.. well worth the wait 🌈😀🌈😀 #derwent #derwentinktense #inktensepencils #ink #lovethese #doodle #doodlesketch #doodleart #uniball #watercolour #sketchbook #sketchy #sketch_daily #sketch_book #mycraftynell #accidentalrainbow #rainbowart #rainbow_wall #rainbow #aquarelle #findingflow #colorstory #abmlifeiscolorful

[whoizjackburton]

Drums.... #woodshedding #practicesession #memorizing #findingflow #drumming #music #musician #drums #sakodrums #paistecymbals #losangeles #whoizjackburton #makejoyfulnoise #StayPunktual (at Jkicker Productions)

[iollagrace-blog1]

Day 5

23/02/18

Our last day began with our balancing exercises; it was amazing to have experienced such an improvement when we had only done 5 minutes each morning. To prepare for the afternoons Mini Fest we drew a diagram of the key themes we explored during the week:

We each contributed something we had taken from the week that was of great value to us.

John acknowledged that what we had been exploring during the week is somewhat a paradox; we want to feel lighter as performers but at the same time we must appreciate the reality of our weight and give that weight to the ground.

 John talked about his first experience of performing with “flow”: He was playing in a quartet at around the age of 15 and felt a real sense of freedom and no effort. The cellist asked him ‘How do you do that?’ and he responded, ‘I just breath’. That was his spontaneous response, without great thought or analysis, ‘I just breath.’.

 We then discussed as a group how it is difficult in today’s society to remain grounded when the world is so fast-paced and there is constant distraction. A lot of us live in a bubble and the world has ceased to be something we view as a living thing.

 After our morning break we went into more detail about how we could incorporate what we had learnt over the week into our practise sessions. John suggested we explore squatting or sitting whilst playing/singing so that our attention includes more than just the activity of playing.

 We later talked about goals and how often when the reality of those goals presents itself, it doesn’t actually lead to fulfilment, or at least it’s not the goal that fulfils. Our own work with ourselves can achieve much more self-satisfaction and fulfilment than external rewards. Someone in the group made an important point that we are all programmed to have an idea of what success means and working/training to achieve “success” can be a very artificial experience when we believe success is only manifested in one way and in actual fact there are so many ways to be a successful musician. John left the discussion on a quote from a colleague that was certainly food for thought: “You are the world’s leading expert in playing like you”.

We finished the day with our Mini fest, a short workshop that summarised what we had been exploring during the week. The change in each and every one of us was quite clear to see and the importance of just ‘being’ now resonates with me on a much deeper level.

[sanetimental]

6 Tips For Finding Flow

Finding flow is the key to unlocking peak performance and deep satisfaction. It is a state of total immersion and focus that leads to optimal productivity and enjoyment.

Pursuing high-level goals often demands a significant amount of mental focus. However, achieving goal completion depends on more than just focus. It requires a multitude of factors, and one of the key components is the state of flow experienced during the pursuit of the goal. Being in a state of “flow,” refers to a mental state of complete immersion and focus in an activity. It is a state of…

[riptide98]

REPOST OF THE FINDINGFLOWERS FIC BECAUSE I EDITED IT LIKE A WHOLE LOT TODAY!!

title: like a wave that crashed and melted on the shore (from i know the end by phoebe bridgers)

desc: the captains of the riptide pirates get out of their own control. gillion makes an oopsie. jay stays calm. chip takes a nap.

word count: 4040

warnings: angst, violence, description of injury

it had been going so well. it really had.

this spirit had fucked with the wrong group. he knew that. they’d all been fighting it as much as possible, doing everything in their power to make sure that chip wasn’t hurt any more than he already was, taking all of the brunt force themselves, keeping him out of it. 

it doesn’t help when spirits possess people, does it?

no. it really doesn’t. that may have been the whole fight, but still. it only makes things worse.

gillion feels like his chest is being squeezed by some unknown force almost sitting on it. like someone is pressing down on it with all their weight, crushing his insides slowly in a feeble effort to bring him down. that pressure feels like it moves up to his head, making his vision go spotty as he stumbles back. somewhere distant, someone shouts, maybe to him, because it sounds vaguely like his name.

(you know what’s happening.)

his breathing feels almost laboured, choked, as he shakes his head, attempting in vain to clear it. that squeezing, pressing feeling only gets stronger with each shake, however.

(you need to shrug this off. we need to get done what we’re here to do.)

he clamps his eyes shut, taking in deep inhalations in an effort to steel himself.

(we have to save him, gillion.)

his head spins. everything spins.

and then finally clicks back into focus.

(shit.)

“gil?” jay’s voice is hesitant, laced with pain. it sounds so far away but so close at the same time. gillion flicks his gaze over behind his shoulder, eyes landing on a mostly limp figure. undead. fully exposed.

“gil, what’re you doing?” jay says, voice raising in panic. he feels a hand rest on his shoulder, but it immediately jerks back when he glares at jay from the corner of his eye.

(gods, this is bad.)

“gil?”  jay’s voice is almost shrill as she takes a step back. “gil, snap out of it, what are you doing?”

gillion turns around. he takes a step toward his target.

(don’t.)

destiny’s blade hums in his hand, crackling with energy.

(you wouldn’t.)

he’s doing as he’s always known. the undead, the unholy, are what he’s meant to slay. it’s always been his destiny, hasn’t it? it’s what he’s been taught all his life. what reason does he have to go against that?

(there’s so many reasons. you know that.)

his hands are steady as he raises his blade, light refracting off of it and catching the unholy figure laid out before him. the enemy. always has been. always will be.

(fight this, gillion. this is what we swore to fight against. to sever the thread of fate.)

he steels his jaw.

(don’t follow this one.)

and brings it down.

the room crackles with energy as the blade slices into the gut of the body before him. it goes in cleanly with barely a sound as light pierces the flesh, the figure jolting. it lets out a strangled moan, eyes meeting gillion’s for but a second, filled with hurt, confusion, and, in the end, realization, before rolling back and fluttering closed. faintly, he hears a yelp behind him. he drags the sword out, expression stony as he looks down at the black-red blood dripping from it. looks back up at where it’s from. looks back down at his blade.

at that, his vision truly snaps back into focus.

gillion lets out a strangled gasp, hands immediately beginning to shake and his eyes going wide. destiny’s blade clatters to the ground as those shaking hands come up to cover his mouth in horror of what he’d done. the way he’d been thinking, how he didn’t even realize who was there, it rocks him so terribly he can barely keep balanced. he stumbles backward, almost knocking over an entire table in the process, continuing to back closer to the wall.

it’s fuzzy around him; he can feel jay putting hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him and asking something about what happened, he can see the twins scrambling around the room, the faint glow of some form of magic around them, the hasty words of spells. all these sounds, all these images, all these feelings, and he can’t focus on them at all.

the only thing he sees clearly is chip’s limp, bleeding body laid out on that table. the one he stabbed, smited, because....

he felt it was what he was supposed to do. he’d regressed back into his old training days, before he’d even known his best friend, before he’d chosen to make his own destiny, only knowing that the undead are unholy and must be eradicated immediately. the question is why?

obviously it’s the damn ghost’s fault. fucking ghost. gillion now officially hates ghosts.

he’s shaken again, gently, and he almost painfully tears his eyes away from chip laying limp and meets jay’s gaze. those two-tone eyes are watery, concerned, confused, panicked, so many things, as they scan gillion’s face.

“gil, hey, hey, what the fuck just happened?” she whispers, rubbing her thumb against gillion’s shoulder where her hand rests.

“i- i- i don’t know, i think it was-” gillion takes a strangled inhale, choking out a sob as tears flow from his eyes. he stumbles back again, away from jay, this time crashing against the wall and sliding his back down it. he collapses onto the floor, tears streaming down his face as he hiccups and buries it in his knees. jay rushes to him, placing her hands on his shoulders again, this time more firmly, lifting his head up to face her.

“gil, hey, i know, bud, just stay with me for a second, okay?” she says, voice still low. “do you know what happened?”

“the fucking-” another sob racks gillion’s body. he limply gestures to the rest of the room, where the twins catch their breath as they seem to be trying to stabilize chip at least a little, wisps of magic curling in the air. “ghost. whatever. i think- shit-” more tears flood his face as he curls into himself, voice cracking.

“oh, gil....” jay bites her lip, seeming to be fighting back her own tears. “oh, hey, c’mere. i’m so sorry.” jay wraps her arms around gillion’s shoulders, bringing his shaking body in for a hug. gillion hesitates for a moment before wrapping his own arms around her, nails likely nearly digging into her shoulders. his whole frame trembles as he hiccups out sob after sob, grief and regret and fear pouring from his body in almost waves. it’s almost like he’s unraveling from the inside out, all his ideals and motivations and everything all becoming muddied together as he cries. jay still holds him through all of this, quietly whispering to him, running her nails along his back as gillion feels her own tears wet his shoulder. he can’t tell if it’s because he’s shaking so violently that he feels like jay is as well, or if she actually is. they sit there for a few moments, holding each other like lifelines, like if the other left they’d fall apart.

and maybe that was true, in gillion’s case, but he knew in his gut he needed to stand.

gillion rises to his feet, still half holding jay, moreso for support since his body still shook violently, and clears his throat. “diamonds. we need diamonds.”

the twins nearly snap their heads over to him as he speaks. wren nods, turning to open a cabinet and saying something to elodie in a language gillion doesn’t recognise. the latter twin nods in reply, turning to the other side of the room. wren shifts through her cabinet, gesturing at gillion to come over to the table. the latter turns his head to face jay, praying his expression conveyed how much he needed her to come with him. she squeezes his shoulder, leading him over to the table without so much as a word passed between them.

gillion rests his hands against the edge of the table as he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, opening them only to land on chip’s limp hand, cold and slick with his own blood. gillion stifles a sob as he looks up, seeing wren’s scarred hand offering him two small gems.

“worth about fifty gold each. will this work?” she asks with a tone like she knows what he’s trying to do. she likely does, considering she does things like this for a living as a cleric. gillion nods, letting her drop them in his hand. he turns to jay, who’s taking tools from elodie as she looks at him with a gentle smile, extending her hand for the diamonds. he places them in her hand, giving a shaky exhale before turning back to wren.

“i’ve never done this before,” gillion admits in a hushed whisper. a small, wet laugh escapes his throat as he tears his gaze away from the brunette twin and down onto the body in front of him. he takes a shuddering breath.

“done which part?” wren’s tone is gentle, lighthearted, as she reaches over and squeezes one of his hands comfortingly. her hands are soft yet heavily scarred, along every finger, across the palm, on the back, up her arm, and gillion can’t help but wonder why.

he smiles weakly. “the revival. i think i’ve come close to killing him a few times, accidentally or on purpose.” wren smiles back and exhales a laugh in response. gillion chuckles quietly alongside her. “it’s a long story.”

“i’m sure it is.” wren’s smile is warm and gentle. “sorry we didn’t have any dust on hand.”

“no, no, it’s alright, just-” gillion chokes back a sob as he attempts to move his gaze up to chip’s face and away from the slice in his gut, smile dropping. just looking at his face, so peaceful and serene, the way the dead always seem to look, it’s the sensation like his heart dropping into his stomach that makes him almost nauseous. he moves his view up to wren’s face instead. “was that ghost or whatever lying when it said you guys have a heart? when it was....?” wren sighs softly, turning around and opening a large, metal cabinet and mumbling to herself quietly. wisps of cold swirl from it as it opens and wren removes something from it. 

“we’ve kept this in stasis for future usage by magic, so no worries about it not being able to function. it just needs to defrost a bit.” she turns around, a small box in her grasp and a small smile on her lips. she kicks the cabinet shut, opening the box in her hands and revealing....quite literally, just a human heart, coated in a magical film of frost.

“how the hell do you have this?” gillion breathes in disbelief.

“when mine and el’s mom was near passing, she asked us to keep parts of her in stasis in case a patient needed an organ or something. we carried out her wishes, and they have actually come to use before!” wren explains, weirdly nonchalant about the whole ass heart in the box - again, likely because this is her line of work, but seriously? her mom’s heart? and she’s this calm about it? “obviously we didn’t do....the removing. that would be a bit excessive. and more fucked up than it already is.” her face flushes when she meets gillion’s eyes, probably catching the look of horror that was likely plastered on his face. “sorry, this is really weird. i’ll. stop now. sorry.”

“it’s alright, i just didn’t expect....that.” gillion swallows and gives her a weak smile before jay returns, holding out a bowl filled with diamond dust.

“you ready for this?” jay asks, looking down at him, two-tone eyes shining with tears and anxiety. gillion gives a shaky nod, taking the bowl and exhaling, gaze dropping to chip’s chest.

here goes nothing.

painstaking minutes go by as the spell is cast. tears prick the corners of gillion’s eyes as he works the spell into chip, praying it works, praying it’s not too late, praying he didn’t fuck it all up. he lets his hands rest on chip’s chest, hoping he’ll feel it rise and fall any moment now. his hands glow with gentle white magic, swirling around the room, closing wounds that had been open on chip’s body for the longest time, around the heart that rests within his chest as the hole begins to close. the patches of skin and muscle that were missing had begun to reform and gain colour with the rest of his body when jay quietly speaks up.

“he’s gonna be okay, gil. i promise.” her voice is gentle, determined.

gillion swallows. “don’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”

out of the corner of his eye, gillion sees jay bite her lip, looking down at chip still fighting back tears, and nod. she’s visibly wounded, slices littering her arms and sides and even her legs from where she’d been slashed by possessed gillion and elodie, dripping blood she routinely wipes off, still unhealed, likely due to a low supply of magic. she still shakes, taking deep breaths; in and out, over and over. she looks back over at gillion and gives him a weak smile. he tries to smile back, but he just can’t bring himself to.

gillion’s hands shake as his tears begin to drip onto chip’s limp chest. it’s like a movie begins to play behind his eyes of all his experiences with chip; the day he extended his hand to gillion and brought him aboard the big chipper, their escapade through zero, freeing loffinlot, desire island, their fun at joaldo, their time in edison kingdom, the b.l.o.c.k, allport, noctis, liquidus, the feywild....the separation, the pearl, how chip had risked his life to save gillion’s, training chip’s magic, those days out at sea before returning to zero, the trip to featherbrook, that fight against the navy and what came after....the black sea, the fight against captain widow, seeing chip lay limp before him as he arrived too late, watching him rise again undead, the way he would look so wrong afterward, even at his happiest....

as these memories run through gillion’s mind, he realizes there’s always been something different about chip deep in his gut, some connection he can’t even begin to decipher, and it’s all that he can think about as words begin to tumble out of his mouth.

“i think i’ve loved you from the start. you gave me your hand and i think that’s when i knew, deep down, that if there truly is a destiny, it gave me you. our stories may have been intertwined from the beginning, but i think even if they weren’t we would have found each other, one way or another. sometimes i look at my banishment as a blessing in disguise, because if it hadn’t happened i wouldn’t have you with me now. and i think i needed you now, at this point in my life, because if i didn’t have you, i think i would be so much more lost. you’re my compass, my map back to myself. you show me things i never knew existed. you show me versions of myself i didn’t know there was. you see the beauty in things. you’re learning to be a better person and i’m so incredibly proud of you for that. you don’t realize how many lives you’ve changed for the better.” he sniffs. “i want you to, though. i need you to see the impact you’re leaving on this world in the way i see it. i need you to know how many lives you’ve saved.” gillion chokes back a sob, feeling his tears fall down his cheeks, watching them drip onto chip’s bare chest.

“i need you to know you saved mine. so let me save yours.”

and beneath his shaking hands, wet more than usual from his tears, slick with blood, still shimmering with faint magic, he feels a rise. 

and then a fall.

(that’s my boy.)

gillion almost screams with relief, a strangled sound raking its way out of his throat. he laughs to himself, a wide smile breaking out on his face as his tears turn from ones of fear and grief to ones of joy. he rests his hands gently on chip’s chest still, feeling his soft breaths rise and fall in his chest. he hears jay lets out an exhale that sounded like it’d been pent up for a while as chip’s breaths become more visible, her head resting on top of gillion’s as she takes her own shaky inhales.

a few minutes go by as chip breathes, a steady heartbeat beginning to pump under gillion’s hands, until his eyelids begin to flutter. those deep brown eyes gillion’s grown so fond of blink up at him, so heavy, so tired, but still sparkling with the light in them he hadn’t had for so long that makes them so distinctly chip. his lips quirk up in a gentle smile as he locks gazes with gillion.

“hey, you,” chip whispers, voice hoarse like he’d just woken up from the best sleep of his life.

gillion laughs quietly again, sniffing. “hey, you,” he whispers back, smile wet but oh so wide.

“had a good nap. really needed it.” chip cracks a wider grin. gillion chuckles, lowering his forehead down onto chip’s, closing his eyes and sniffing back tears. a hand rests on top of one of his, cold but warming, slightly shaky, as he feels chip shift ever so lightly as another body presses against his.

“glad you’re back,” jay whispers next to him, and gillion opens his eyes, shifting his gaze over to her. she’s squatting next to the table, a hand holding chip’s. his other hand is the one resting on gillion’s.

“i’m glad i am too.” chip presses his forehead more against gillion’s, and it’s like a bubble forms around the three of them, a tangle of arms and hands and heads all holding each other and just so full of relief.

gillion.

gillion whips his head up, looking around. chip and jay raise eyebrows at him.

it’s me, gillion, stop fretting.

gillion looks over his shoulder at his sword, which pulses with a gentle light. “oh.”

apologies for spooking you.

“hey, no worries, i’m just very on edge- ” gillion freezes, realizing he’s been speaking out loud. and also what he used earlier.

he switches to his thoughts. oh shit, destiny’s blade - it still feels so weird to call you that, sorry - but anyways, i am so sorry about what just happened-

no need for apologies, chosen one. you weren’t yourself, although i’m a little disappointed we didn’t cut this thread of fate.

gillion tenses slightly. does this break our oath?

the blade chuckles in his mind. i wouldn’t count that, no. you had no way of resistance.

by the way, were you talking to me during all that? i wasn’t sure if i was, like, hallucinating or something because that was insane and everything was kind of crazy.

indeed i was. i attempted to keep you in your right mind, but this was powerful. i apologize i couldn’t help more.

no, no, it’s not your fault, it’s mine, i should have—

the blade pulses behind him. gillion. no sense in dwelling on what you could have done.

right. yeah.

i’m quite proud of you, you know.

gillion’s eyebrows raise. for what?

you pushed through. you didn’t let the regret of what you’d done hold you back from pushing forward to fix the problem. you persevered, gillion tidestrider. that's something to be proud of.

gillion sniffs. it is?

your quick thinking may have just saved his life, in a sense.

“‘fuck’s goin’ on with your sword?” chip rasps, teasing and soft, startling gillion.

the triton blinks, confused for a second. then realizes. “oh. talking.”

“oh, you and your talking sword. right.” chip teasingly rolls his eyes.

gillion raises his eyebrow in mock offense, though his heart isn’t fully in it. “didn’t you say you spoke to him at one point?”

chip smiles wide, not giving an answer.

destiny’s blade speaks up in gillion’s mind. i’ll let you have your reunion now. tell him i said i’m glad he’s alright when you get a chance.

will do.

speak soon, gillion.

“so what’d i miss?” chip says as the connection between gillion and his sword goes quiet.

jay, still squatting, cracks a small smile. “nothing huge.”

“lies. you are lying to me.” chip teasingly glares at her, cracks a smile, then turns his gaze to the ceiling. his playful expression turns more serious, more exhausted, as he shuts his eyes for a moment, squeezing before opening them again.

gillion bites his lip gently, anxiety building up once more. “everything okay?”

“i died and came back to life but not exactly alive, and then i almost died again, and now i’m back to life for real this time, so yeah, i’m doing great.” chip’s tone drips sarcasm, but he turns his head toward gillion with a soft smile. “i’ll be al-”

he’s cut off by a hacking cough, something spurting out of his mouth as he immediately struggles to sit up. jay assists him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and easing him up as he continues to cough. gillion takes his hand as the fit winds down, noticing the spatters of blood on his fist.

“update. not exactly alright,” chip jokes, but his voice is like sandpaper, dry and scratchy. he winces, holding his temples with slightly shaking hands. “heartbeats aren’t normally this intense- god, this feels disgusting.”

jay begins to rub chip’s back, pulling his hair out of his face. “hey, hey, why don’t we find you somewhere to rest-” she shoots the twins a look, and the two of them nod, “-and get you taken care of, alright?”

chip looks as though he’s going to protest, but a gag works its way out of him and he nods. jay moves over to wren, helping her grab medicines and bandages and potions and whatever else. gillion takes one of chip’s hands, startling at how warm it is. he’d grown so used to chip being cold and dead, as much as he hates to admit it. it’s good, though. it shows he’s alive. he’s here. he’s okay.

chip looks up at gillion, his expression pained and nauseous, but he manages a small smile. “it’s not your fault, by the way,” he whispers.

gillion blinks, startled. “what?”

“i remember, y’know. before i conked out.” chip gestures to his gut, which has since closed and is now just a scar. gillion tenses, but relaxes slightly when chip squeezes the hand he holds. “i know that wasn’t you. don’t blame yourself.”

“i-”

“no, gil, shut up, i know you.” chip flicks gillion’s forehead playfully, a strained smile on his lips. “you take the blame when someone gets hurt and you were in close proximity to them even when you had nothing to do with it, man. i may have been on the verge of passing out, but i saw it in your eyes that that wasn’t you in control. don’t blame yourself.” gillion sniffs, holding back the tears that threaten to spill once more. chip leans forward, resting his head on gillion’s shoulder with his eyes shut. “i’m tired. i don't have the energy to yell at you anymore. you gotta yell at yourself now.”

gillion laughs, leaning his head against chip’s. “jay and the twins are getting stuff together and then you can sleep, alright? just hold on for a little longer.”

chip is quiet.

panic almost immediately claws at gillion’s throat as he shifts chip slightly, the latter’s body limp and heavy. the panic only subsides when chip’s body vibrates with a soft snore, even breaths still pumping in his chest. gillion smiles in relief, bringing chip closer into him once more and simply holding him in a hug, drinking in that citrusy, spicy, smoky scent that’s explicitly chip.

and for the first time in a while, gillion was calm.

[cherrymoonflowers]

ooc post

saying this here so y'all know! i have a severe lack of motivation lately and i may not respond to asks for a bit! (spade i see you. i WILL get to you. i prommy. why did you hit me up /silly) so if you send an ask during probably this whole week, maybe into next week, i may not answer since i want to give my all when posting for this blog now.

some changes that will occur when i get this blog up and running fully again:

better posts: i'll be making more lore-adjacent og posts where you guys can slowly learn the story of findingflowers :)

more character depth: i'm working so hard on solidifying personalities for these guys and working out all the kinks in backstories and such. think of this like a mini production hiatus. just like jrwi! /silly

profile theme: i'm working on getting art done by my wonderful friend wisp arachnid-party when they've got the time and motivation so we can have a cool banner! and i may try to get someone to help me work out a jolly roger for these fuckers for an icon

just all around better content. i really wanna make this blog good since the source material for this is a passion project of mine and i really want to present it at its best :) thank you so much for understanding, and i hope y'all have a good one ❤

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

hey its me the findingflowers guy. new fic just dropped for it if you wanna see it,,,,,,

YIPPEEE FUCK YEAAHHHH