#I love this time of year because all the wildflowers start blooming and it’s incredible

[the-cheesemonger13]

something fun

[floramama]

Making a Tree Guild

For the past year I've been working on turning our family house's lawn garden into a self sustained permaculture garden. The physical work and energy that goes into tending lawn is incredible. In addition it needs a lot of water to keep it green all the time!

It's hard work to get rid of lawn at once. So I started making circles around the fruit trees and planting perennials.

////

Ağaç Birliği Oluşturmak

Bir seneye yakın bir süredir aile eviminizin çim bahçesini kendi kendine yeten bir permakültür bahçesine çevirmeye uğraşıyorum.

Çim bakımına harcanan fiziksel güç ve enerji inanılmaz dercede fazla! Üstüne üstlük çimi her daim yeşil tutmak için fazlasıyla su harcamak gerekiyor.

Çimden birdenbire kurtulmak çok zor olduğu için ben de meyve ağaçlarının etrafında günden güne genişleyen daireler açarak çok yıllık bitkiler ekmeye başladım.

1.COMFREY // Karakafes Otu

I heard about the benefits of comfrey a lot while reading about permaculture,but there was no way I can find it here. While I was walking around I found a native comfrey which is Symphytum orientalis. The only difference from the officinale one is that this one has white flowers and has no medicinal uses. I uprooted a couple of them from the sidewalk and planted them around the trees. Now and then I tear the leaves to make a mulch full of minerals. Also when they flower in April bees love them!

////

Karakafes otunun faydalarını permakültür kitaplarında çokça kez okumuştum.Ama bizim buralarda onu bulmak oldukça zordu.Gelin görün ki çevrede yürüyüş yaparken yol kenarında yerel bir karakafes otu gördüm (symphytum orientale). Officinale'den yani kitaplarda bahsedilenden tek farkı çiçeklerinin beyaz olması ve herhangi bir tıbbi kullanımının olmaması. Hemen kaldırım kenarından bir iki tanesini söktüm ve ağaçların etrafına diktim. Arada bir yapraklarını kopartıp, mineral dolu bir malç olarak toprağın üzerine bırakıyorum. Bir de Nisan'da çiçek açtıklarında arılar coşuyor!

2. ARTICHOKE // ENGİNAR

While I was living in Ayvalık right across Mitilini, I got very familiar with artichokes as they're being grown so much around the area. They are a living mulch with their large leaves that keep the soil moist and a wonderfully beneficial vegetable. They give out suckers (in Turkish they're called bastards) which can be planted elsewhere in the garden.Once you have 1 plant you can have many more!

///

Ayvalık'ta yaşarken enginarı bitki olarak tanıma fırsatım olmuştu. Her bahçede mutlaka birkaç tane olurdu. Enginar kocaman yapraklarıyla toprağı nemli tutar, kuruyan yapraklarından malç yapılır, hem toprağa hem de insana faydalı güzel mi güzel bir bitki! Bir de yanlarından çıkan sürgünler (piç deriz biz) sökülüp bahçenin başka yerlerine ekilebilir. Yani, eve geldim bir tane , bahçeye ektim bin tane diyebiliriz!

3.DAFFODILS // NERGİS

Daffodils are flowers that are grown from bulbs. They hold moisture and prevent nutrients from washing away with rains .I found some bulbs online, but it took nearly a month for it to get here because of covid-19. But they were still in shape and I planted them right away in February. It took a little while to see the shoots and I had to protect them from our jumping kittens but they made it through and bloomed so wonderfully! They cheered up me and the bees in the gloomy cold days.

////////////////////////////////

Nergisler soğanlı bitki türlerindendir. Topraktaki nemi tutar ve besinlerin yağmurlarla topraktan akmasını önlerler. Nergis soğanlarını internetten ısmarlamıştım ama covid'den dolayı gelmesi 1 ayı buldu.Neyse ki hala ekilebilir durumdaydılar ve Şubat'ta soğanları kayısı ağacının etrafına ektim. İlk sürgünlerin çıkması biraz uzun sürdü ve onları hoplayıp zıplayan yavru kedilerimizden korumak için çeşitli numaralar bulmam gerekti ama sonunda çiçekler açtı! Karanlık soğuk Mart günlerinde çiçekler beni ve arıları çok mutlu ettiler!

4.CALENDULA // AYNISEFA

Another of my favorite plants!( I have a litttle blog post dedicated to its benefits,you can read it here) . It attracts beneficial insects and deters pests. It's a self seeding plant and new seedlings come up all the time.So I just move the seedlings wherever I want. The best part is that they bloom nearly all year long!

///////

En sevdiğim bitkilerden bir tanesi! Kendisinden burada bahsetmiştim. Yararlı böcekleri kendine çekip zararlıları uzaklaştıran bir çiçek. Aynısefa kendi kendini tohumladığı için devamlı etrafta yeni filizler çıkıyor, ben de onları bahçenin muhtelif yerlerine taşıyıp dikiyorum. İşin en güzel tarafı da neredeyse senenin tamamında çiçek açması!

5.WILDFLOWERS // YABANİ ÇİÇEKLER

Once I cultivated the soil underneath the trees, all kinds of native flowers came up. They're bees’ favorites, add color and joy to otherwise boring lawn, some of them are ground covers that spread prolifically and they need no special attention: they can take care of themselves!

///////

Ağaçların etrrafındaki çimi kaldırdığım ve toprağı çapaladığım için birer birer yerel çiçekler ortaya çıktı. Arılar bu işe çok sevindi! Çim varken monoton görünen bahçeye renk ve neşe geldi. Çiçeklerden bazıları yer örtücüler, yayıldıkça yayılıyorlar (çim alanını azaltmak için ideal bir özellik) ve kendi kendilerine yetip özel bir ilgiye ihtiyaç duymuyorlar!

Lamium Purpureum (dead nettle) // Ballıbaba

Dead nettle was the star of the wildflowers! It was everywhere and I was so joyful to see all kinds of bees -especially bumblebees- buzzing around in cold March days. It's an edible plant with lots of healing properties.

///

Işte bahçedeki yabani çiçeklerin yıldızı ballıbaba! Bir anda heryerde çıktı,büyüdü ve çiçek açtı! Çeşit çeşit arıları vızır vızır çiçeklerinde gezinirken görmek soğuk Mart günlerinde neşeme neşe kattı! Ballıbaba yenebilir bir bitki ve saymakla bitmeyen tıbbi özellikleri var.

Cardamine hirsuta (Bittercress) // Acıtere

With its curly little leaves and tiny white flowers it was growing all around! It's edible and very pretty. It has a funny way of dispersing its seeds. Once the seedpods are dry, as soon as you touch them the seeds fly all over the place! At first I thought they were tiny little insects that were jumping around,but no! They were the jumping seeds!

///////

Acıtere kıvır kıvır yaprakları ve minik beyaz çiçekleriyle bahçenin her yanında belirdi! Yenebilir yaprakları olan şirin bir bitki. Tohumlarını çok komik bir yolla saçıyor. Tohum keseleri kuruyup iyice olgunlaştığında, dokunur dokunmaz tohumlar dört bir yana uçmaya başlıyor! İlk başta ne olduğunu anlamadım ,acaba ufak böcekler mi zıplıyor dedim ama hayır! Zıplayan tohumlardı bunlar! Böylelikle bahçedeki yerini garantiye almış oldu acıterecik.

Veronica persica (speedwell) // Mavişotu, cırcamuk

It almost took over the lawn.It's a creeping plant,a great ground cover and has tiny blue flowers which bees love! I just learned from juliasedibleweeds.com that Gypsies use this plant as a blood purifier. It also heals eyesores,removes excess mucus,soothes internal tissues,treats asthma,coughs..wow!

//////

Bu bitki neredeyse çimi ele geçirdi. Yayılıcı, minik mavi çiçekleri olan güzel bir bitki. Çiçekleri çok küçük olmasına rağmen arılar onu çok seviyor. Bu blog'tan öğrendiğime göre çingeneler mavişotunu kan temizleyici olarak kullanıyorlarmış.Üstelik göz enfeksiyonlarına iyi gelmesinin yanı sıra balgam söktürücü, doku iyileştirici, astımı ve öksürükleri dindirici etkileri varmış...vay be!

St.John's Wort (hypericum perforatum ) // Sarı Kantaron

I see it here and there and I keep it in protection. It's one of my favorite plants! I use its flowers for making an infused oil that I use for making salves. It heals burns and scrapes with incredible speed,like magic! Also an infused tea made of its flowers is an anti-depressant.It cheers you up without even noticing it!

When it's not flowering it develops roots and gives out shoots all round, which makes it a great ground cover.

///////

Bahçenin orasında burasında sarı kantaron bitkisini görüyorum ve hemen koruma altına alıyorum. En sevdiğim bitkilerden birisidir kendisi! Çiçeklerini zeytinyağında bekletip, o yağdan merhem yapıyorum.Yanıkları,kesikleri inanılmaz,sihirli bir hızla iyileştiriyor! Çiçeklerinden demlenen çay da depresyona çok iyi geliyor.Farkına bile varmadan bir bakmışsınız ki yerinizde dans etmeye başlamışsınız!

Bu bitki çiçek açmadığı zaman gücünü köklerine ve etrafa yayılmaya veriyor, bu da çim alanını azaltmak için güzel bir özellik.

Muscari armeniacum (grape hyacinth) // Arap sümbülü

In winter I noticed dark green allium like shoots coming up around the borders of the garden and I let them grow to see what will come out of them. At the end of March small flowers came up and there it was: grape hyacinth! It's such a delicate flower and YES it was also a native plant!

It's wonderful to see how many beautiful and beneficial plants lay underneath the boring lawn!

//////////

Kışın bahçenin kenar kısımlarında çıkan,koyu yeşil soğansı filizler dikkatimi çekti.Bıraktım büyüsünler ki çiçek açınca ne olduklarını anlayayım. Mart sonunda minik mor çiçekleri açtı ve anladım ki bu arap sümbülüymüş! O kadar kibar bir bitki ki...ve EVET o da yerel bir tür!

Çimin altında yatan onlarca güzel ve yararlı bitkiyle karşılaşmak harika bir his!

[from-seas-to-skies]

Farm Grown / Hawks x Reader ♕︎

uwu, I had the lovely @weirddpand4 draw this picture of cowboy Hawks for this work!!!

warnings: NSFW, spanking, cream pie

words: 4,802

-

“Oh, wow! Look at that! I’ve never seen grass so green before!” your friend, Urakaka Ochaco, exclaims.

Glancing up from your phone, you follow her line of vision; gracious hills of rich green grass stretch out far into the horizon, meeting with the brilliant shade of blue. It’s so unlike the skyscrapers and closely-knit houses you’re used to seeing. No, this is what pure beauty looks like, Mother Nature in one of her most wonderful forms. Although the fields are dotted with wildflowers and corn fields, you don’t miss the dirt road further up ahead, a large wooden sign planted next to it.

When Ochaco originally came to you with the idea of being a farmhand, you thought she was crazy. You’ve finally graduated from high school, got the title of professional hero, and this is the first thing she wanted to do? However, as she further explained, it was a family friend who needed help during the summer months, and what were heroes for? Granted, you wanted to run around the cement jungle and provide help that way, but this “almost vacation” didn’t sound too bad – plus, with the puppy eyes Ochaco flashed at you, it was impossible to say no.

And so, here you are, sitting in the passenger side of a coupe with Ochaco behind the wheel. You have to admit; the surrounding atmosphere is beautiful, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to run barefoot through the grass. Clouds of dust rise as the car eventually comes to a stop outside of a weathered farmhouse. Ochako flashes you a smile, her large eyes twinkling.

“Look at how huge this place is! I know Uncle Iroh said he had a couple people helping out, but this is incredible! We’ll each have our own room!”

You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Ochaco’s always been easy to rile up, and the fact that she’s genuinely excited to spend quality “bonding time” with you is heartwarming. As the two of you step out of the car, the front door to the farmhouse opens, revealing an elderly man with a long beard and a kind expression. His face cracks into a smile when he and Ochaco make eye contact; the two hurry towards each other, warm greetings and bone-crushing hugs being shared between the two. It’s no wonder Ochaco was so excited to spend the summer here; with a relationship like that, you’d be happy to see the man too.

“Oh, come, come!” Iroh says, hurrying around the car and popping the trunk open. “You must be Ochaco’s friend, yes?” he asks, looking towards you. A wave of pleasant warmth washes over your being as he sends you that charming smile. “I appreciate the help! I only have my nephew and another man working here already, but the extra hands will come in handy.” He pauses then to chuckle at his own joke. “But I think it’s about you two get settled, yeah?”

“Right!” you respond, pulling out your own suitcase.

As you walk up towards the wraparound porch, you glance to the other trucks sitting out in front of the farmhouse. Iroh said two others were already here, so you figured the trucks must be theirs…

“Zuko!” Iroh booms. “Our guests are here!”

After a moment or so, a boy around your age staggers from the kitchen, a tray in his hands. From the looks of it, a teapot and some cups line its surface.

“Tea is our specialty, here,” Iroh says, nudging you with your shoulder. “Get something to drink and then we’ll show you your rooms.”

-

Later on that evening, you’re gazing out your window, watching the sun fall. Hues of orange, peach, and lilac paint the sky, bidding the world goodbye for the night. It’s definitely different to experience it here than back home, back where silhouettes were outlined by the golden glow. A steady breeze carries on, carrying the scent of wildflowers and musk; your curtains flap from the sheer force of it, but you pay it no mind. It’s like Ochaco brought you to a slice of paradise, even if it’s with the intention of putting in labor.

In the distance, you hear calls and the distinguished moos of cows. Shifting your gaze, you catch a herd of cows being moved towards a barn; a man riding a brown horse wrangles them in, a border collie by his side. The way he pulls it off is smooth, and it’s clear that he’s used to pulling such a feat. However, what really catches your attention is the pair of magnificent scarlet wings protruding from his back. Now, you’re used to seeing some rather flashy quirks, but this guy’s is just… Wow.

“Hey, Uncle Iroh wanted me to come get you,” Ochaco’s voice says suddenly. Turning around, you see her standing in the doorway, a pleasant expression playing on her face. “We’re having oyakodon for dinner! Doesn’t a hot meal sound delicious?” And, as if to amp up your spirits, Ochaco licks her lips and pats her tummy. “I’m so hungry from a long drive!”

You huff in amusement. “Yeah, I am too.” Turning around, you catch a glimpse of the cows disappearing into the barn, that mysterious cowboy stationed by the doors. “Hey, Ochaco,” you start before realizing it, “but who’s that other guy that lives here? The one with the wings?”

Walking over to where you stand, Ochaco peers out the window, following your line of sight. “Oh, him? That’s Keigo. Uncle Iroh says he’s only been here for the past year or so, but he’s really good at what he does! I heard all the animals like him a lot – maybe it’s because of the wings?”

“Don’t you think it’s… odd that’s only a farmhand? With a quirk like that, you’d think he’d be doing something else.”

Ochaco shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe you should ask him sometime? Oh, but I’m really hungry! Can we go eat, now?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just got distracted…”

And so, you soon find yourself sitting at a sturdy wooden table, a bowl of oyakodon sitting before you. It smells utterly delicious - and paired with the tea Iroh brewed, you know you’re in for a treat. Just then, you hear a door opening and closing; there’s a chatter of some sorts, but then there he is, right there in the flesh.

Strong build, wide shoulders, blond hair that looks permanently tousled, and oh yes, those magnificent wings. Perhaps you shouldn’t be staring so much, but the sharp line of his jaw and intense eyes make it nearly impossible to look away. You’ve heard of such things, read about them in stories, but maybe, just maybe, you might’ve fallen for the guy at first sight. That, or he’s just too damn attractive for his own good.

“Howdy! Oh, shit, who are these two cuties?”

Or maybe not.

“Oi! Keigo! Can’t you be respectful for once in your life?” Iroh barks, popping around the other. He scowls as he slaps a wing out of his way. “Make a good impression for yourself. These two are going to be here for the rest of the summer, so don’t be an ass.”

“C’mon, gramps,” Keigo drawls, “you know I’m better than that. Plus, if they don’t like my attitude, then it’s not really my fault, huh?”

“Nothing ever changes,” Zuko says lowly, his words followed by a deep sigh.

You and Ochaco share a look. It seems like your Prince Charming is nothing more than a sarcastic asshat. How befitting.

“Liven up, birdies,” Keigo says, sliding into the chair directly across from you. “I don’t bite.” He winks at you. “Yet.”

Your entire body jolts at his proclamation. This guy really is shameless, isn’t he? Still, you can’t help but feel undeniably attracted to him. Curse his charisma, dammit.

“Aw, sweet! Is this oyakodon? Hell yeah.”

To the side, Zuko facepalms. Iroh merely chuckles and shakes his head, much like he’s way too used to this kind of behavior and has accepted it as it is. Hell, even Ochako cracks a smile. You, on the other hand, stare at Keigo in confusion. He has a bird-based quirk, doesn’t he? Does it not bother him to not eat chicken…?

Keigo puts up a hand, an amused glint in his eyes. “Look, I already know what you’re gonna ask, kid. I can practically see the gears spinning in that pretty head of yours. I fucking love chicken.”

Oh… Well, that takes care of that, doesn’t it…

-

After that first fateful encounter, you’ve grown used to Keigo’s ways. It’s funny, though, how he and Zuko’s personalities basically sit on either end of the spectrum, yet Iroh treats the both of them like they’re his children. While Zuko is serious and straight-laced, Keigo is more of a chatty free spirit. That said, you’ve also gotten used to Keigo’s flirty side. You suspect it’s because he likes to get a rise out of everyone. Whether that’s the case or not, your eyes often wander after him, stare down the hard lines of his back. Even better, you itch to trail your lips over the scruff lining his jaw. The guy’s too damn hot and he knows it.

Over the past month, a game of cat and mouse has started between the two of you. Him, trying to act all chummy and overstepping numerous boundaries. You, trying not to give into the weird relationship that’s bloomed between you and him. Sure, you might have flirted back, but what were you supposed to do? After all, Keigo’s proved himself to be a rather cool guy.

“You can’t keep spacing out like that, kid,” Keigo says, snapping you from your thoughts. Glancing down at him, you attempt to suppress your embarrassment, but Keigo’s too smart for that. Despite his relaxed attitude, he’s surprisingly intelligent and quite observant.

Hands tightening around the saddle, you scoff. “I wasn’t spacing out…”

Keigo cocks an eyebrow. “You know, if I wasn’t holding onto the reins, Nugget would’ve bucked you off a long time ago.”

This time, you snicker. You know that he has an undying love for chicken, but every time he refers to his horse as Nugget, you can’t help but laugh. This guy really is like a child.

“Pffft. Laugh all you want, birdie. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s how to ride.” Narrowing his eyes, he flashes you a sultry look. “If you want, I can show you.”

All laughter dies on your tongue. A spark of heat erupts in your stomach, makes your heart thump against your ribcage. He always manages to fluster you, to plant naughty little thoughts into your head. You swallow thickly. “I think… I think I’ll stick with Nugget for now.”

At that, Keigo shrugs, his expression turning into something more nonchalant. “Suit yourself. Seriously, though; you should always keep your focus while riding a horse. Anything can happen, and you’ll only know you’re fucked until you’re being crushed. Better yet, you’re flying overhead and end up snapping your neck. Hate to break it to you, but you don’t have wings to break your fall.”

“Keigo.”

He looks back up at you. “What?”

“Your wings. It’s just that… Well… Why help out on farm?”

Keigo blinks at you, no words slipping out. “Hah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Shit,” you say quickly, mentally cursing yourself out, “that’s not what I meant. You can fly, can’t you? It just seems like you could’ve made a name for yourself…”

“And become a hero, right?” You wince at his words. He hit the nail right on the head. “Heh. Yeah, I guess you’re right. I could spew a whole bunch of shit from my mouth and call it a day, but that’s not my style. I’m a hero in my own right.”

You furrow your brows. Remaining silent, you wait for him to carry on.

Keigo sighs at your implication. “Not all heroes wear capes or whatever. What about cops? Firefighters? Nurses? People who help put food on your table and help that old man out? Just because I’m not stopping some robbery doesn’t mean I’m not important.”

His words come as a slap to the face. He has a good point; actually, scratch that. He has a fantastic fucking point.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a moment’s silence. “That was selfish of me.”

Keigo waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t beat yourself up, kid. Nugget gets nervous if you get into a bad mood.”

Absentmindedly, your hand drops onto the horse’s neck, giving it a couple of reassuring strokes. “He’s a beautiful horse.”

“Yeah – well, until I bathe him. Getting up close and personal to horse cock isn’t fun. A bit degrading, actually.”

Slapping a hand over your mouth, you try to muffle your sudden laughter. Air streams through the cracks of your fingers.

Instead of his usual smirk, Keigo flashes you a genuine smile. You’ve only seen it once or twice before, but it never fails to make your heart stop. His whole face scrunches, his pearly teeth a startling white compared to his sun-kissed skin. Okay, so maybe you’ve fallen in love with this guy. It’s no big deal; you’re only here for the summer, so there’s no point in chasing after something you can’t have.

“What, did ya find that funny? I’m here all week, folks.”

“You saying you’re a standup comedian now?” you shoot back. “I didn’t know they accepted clowns on farms.”

“Ohoho, so you do got a mouth. Where’s that been all this time, huh? Would’ve made things a lot more fun.” Reaching up, he knocks his cowboy hat further back, revealing more strands of sandy hair and bronzed skin. “Listen here, partner. This town ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

“Oh my god,” you say with a snort. “You’re such a dork.”

Keigo snickers. “You know you love me.”

Heh. Yeah…

If only he knew.

-

Maybe you should’ve taken his words more into consideration.

Your instincts are more attuned to what could happen in battle, not for words. Besides, Keigo is a sneaky bastard. Most of the things that spew from his mouth are innuendos and pure sarcasm. He doesn’t really come off as a genuine type of person.

It’s whatever. You don’t like to read into things too much, and maybe that’s your fault, maybe it’s not. Who knows?

Even so, your eyes continuously drift over to where he stands. He busies himself with hanging Nugget’s saddle and harness away, his body lax. If one’s thing for sure, he definitely seems a lot more comfortable around animals rather than actual human beings. You can’t blame him, but what about you? Is he comfortable around you?

Clearing your throat, you turn back to the task at hand. Brushing Nugget down, you trail your hand over the coarse hair, the hard muscle. You meant it when you said he’s beautiful. Shiny brown coat, straw colored hair – he seems like the perfect match for Keigo.

“Cowboy Keigo,” you mutter. “Tell me, Nugget,” you begin, “does Keigo treat you right? Feeds you apples and lumps of sugar? A pretty horse like you deserves to be spoiled.” At the mention of his master’s name, Nugget whinnies. “Is that a yes? You’re avoiding the question, man.”

“Are you seriously trying to sweettalk my horse?” Keigo pipes up. Stepping over the stall, he hoists himself up onto the gate and straddles the wood. Wings sweeping behind him, he flashes you a peculiar look. “Didn’t they teach you in school that you shouldn’t seduce a horse? I don’t know about you, kid, but bestiality isn’t smiled upon around here.”

“Then what does that say about you, bird boy?” you quip. “Surely you don’t put yourself in that category?”

“Ooo, degradation. How did you know that was one of my kinks? Were you looking through my search history?”

Rolling your eyes, you set the brush to the side and join him at the gate. Climbing up, you mimic his movements and straddle the wooden beam. “Kinky cowboy, huh? Kind of has a nice ring to it.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve got the bedazzled white boots and everything. I mean, I’m already wearing the assless chaps and everything.”

“You sound more like a stripper rather than a farmhand. What do you think, Nugget?” you ask, turning towards the horse. Nugget merely snorts and shakes his head.

“Hey, hey, don’t agree,” Keigo tells him. “I’ve got to keep my secret life a secret, you damned horse. Help a guy out.”

“I guess your partner would rather throw you under the bus,” you say with a chuckle. “Good horse.”

“Now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.”

“Cry me a river, bird boy. Or do I have to kiss your booboos?”

At that, Keigo falls quiet. The look in his eyes is unreadable, but the way his body tensed tells you something else entirely. Abruptly, he swings his leg over the gate and hops back down onto the ground. Aw, shit. Did you take it too far? It was only lighthearted flirting and yanking on his leg-

“C’mere,” Keigo says, offering you his hand. His voice is a lot more… soft.

With little to no hesitation, you take hold of his hand and get off the gate. You’re about to ask him what he wants, but then he’s abruptly pulling you to the side, further away from the stable’s open doors. Birds are singing outside, their sweet melody carrying along with the sweet summer breeze. It almost seems like an entire world away. A grunt escapes your lips as you’re shoved against the wall, the smell of straw and musk filling your senses. Keigo steps in close, the heat radiating off his body sending shivers down your spine.

“Listen here, pretty little birdie,” he drawls, his lips pulling back in a smirk, “but I may just have to take you up on that offer.”

Wait, what?

“What the hell, Keigo? Where is this coming from?” you question. It’s not like you’re against him being so damn close, it’s just… unexpected.

“Oh, right, like I’m supposed to pretend that you don’t gawk at me at any chance you get. You’re not very subtle, you know.”

Embarrassment heats up your insides, crawls up your neck. So this bastard is really going to rub it in your face, huh? Seems just like him.

“Then why didn’t you say anything about it before?” you hiss. “If it’s such a problem, don’t stay silent. You’re not the type to let things like that slide.”

“Who said it was problem?”

Keigo: 1 / you: 0

Spluttering, you try to gain control of your whirling emotions. This is not how you were expecting this conversation to go. Actually, you weren’t expecting this conversation at all!

“I know for a fact that you can’t get enough of me,” Keigo continues. “And if I’m being completely honest, I like it. You look so cute when you stare after me, birdie. Then you have the audacity to pretend like nothing happened whenever I catch you.”

“Is that what this is all about?” you huff. “Okay, fine. I admit it. Maybe I watch what you’re doing more than what’s necessary. It’s not my fault you walk around all the time without a shirt on or anything…”

“Normally, I’d say because it’s because I get hot when I’m working, but knowing that you were watching made it all the better.” He winks at you. “Gotta hand out a treat here and there, you know?”

“You really are a clown!” you squeak. Keigo laughs as you weakly shove at his chest. “You’ve been leading me on this entire time? What am I, a joke?”

“Hey now, don’t get ahead of yourself, kid. It’s not my fault you couldn’t come up to me like a civilized adult.”

Okay, now you’re fuming. “Keigo, you fucking idiot-“

Swooping in, Keigo cuts you off with a kiss. Unsurprisingly, his lips are soft; he tastes like citrus and salt, and before you know it, you’re looping your arms around his neck, knocking his hat off in the process. A huff of laughter fans across your lips as Keigo pulls back, his mouth hovering over yours. “Shit, I’ve been wanting to do that ever since your pretty ass sat at the kitchen table for the first time.”

You sigh. “You really do have a bird brain…”

You kiss him, again and again. Perhaps you should be ashamed that you have your tongue shoved down somebody’s throat rather than working, but there’s no way you’re stopping now. Like him, you’ve been waiting for this moment. The two of you have been tiptoeing around each other, rolling the tension back and forth like a goddamn snowball.

But fuck if it doesn’t feel good.

His hands aren’t shy, not in the slightest. Fingertips map out the ridges and dips of your body, seek out the spots that really make you tick. You bite back a giggle as he drops his mouth down your neck, the scruff covering his jawline tickling your skin. Your own hands trail over his body, tracing over the hard lines of muscle that hide beneath his clothes. Time and time again, whenever you’d see him without a shirt, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands all over him. This is your chance, now, and you’d be damned if you didn’t take it.

“Shit, shit, shit, not the wings,” Keigo pants into your neck. The scarlet feathers feel like silk beneath your fingertips; skimming over them, you follow their shape, feel how they get fluffier the closer they are to his shoulders. “Oh, fuck. You know just what you’re doing, huh, birdie? Playing around with me like that. Two can play at that game.”

Another grunt slips from your lips as he pushes you against the wall, harder this time. His hands shamelessly drift underneath your shirt, warm palms sliding over your skin. Your shirt comes off before you know it, being unceremoniously thrown to the ground.

“Fuck, birdie, aren’t a pretty one,” Keigo purrs, his nose bumping against your throat as he sucks another mark into your flesh. “I bet you’re real pretty down here, too…” Making quick work of your jeans, he easily slips them down your legs and you eagerly step out of them. “Don’t mind if I do, kid,” he murmurs into your ear before nipping at the lobe.

A weak moan breaks from your throat as a hand slips into your underwear and cups your sex. His hand is just so warm, and the roughness of his callouses causes your head to spin. Within no time, wet, sinful noises sound from between your legs, mixing with your heavy breaths and Keigo’s encouraging words.

“Yeah, you like that, birdie? My fingers feel good, huh? Wait until you get a feel of my cock.”

Spurred on by his words, you hastily unbutton his shirt, pushing the fabric to the side and running your hands over the swell of his pectorals, the ridges of his abdomen. A faint dusting of blond hairs covers his chest and arms; and, if you look close enough, more sticks out from the waistband of his jeans. Keigo hums as you continue to feel him up, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek.

“Like what you see? I bet you’ve been wanting to do this for a long time… Fuck! Not going to go easy on me, huh? I like someone who can bite back.”

“Has anybody ever told you that you talk too much?” you breathe. Fingers wrapped around his cock, your movements catch up to his in speed. “You should consider yourself lucky that I like your voice.”

“Oohoohoo, feisty. That mouth of yours is saying a lot of mean things today, isn’t it? Guess I’ll have to put you in your place.” He pauses, swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. “But, if I’m being entirely too honest, I don’t think I have the patience for that.”

“Keigo,” you pant, “I swear to Christ if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“On it, on it. Don’t get your panties in a twist, your majesty.” In hurried movements, he strips you of your underwear and shucks his chaps and jeans down. Large hands grip onto your thighs and then you’re being hoisted up, sandwiched between his rigid body and the wall. “Why, won’t you feel that,” he purrs, “I’d say it’s high noon.”

“Don’t talk about your dick like that, you dork,” you scoff. “Oh, fuck.” Another pleasured noise slips through your lips as you grind down against him, his cock just barely teasing your hole.

“What was that, birdie? You know what they say – sweetie on the farm, a freak in the barn.”

“You’re anything but sweet. Just – Keigo, please?”

“Alright, I get it, enough teasing.” Adjusting his hold on you, he flashes you a tiny smile. “Hold on, partner.”

A choked groan breaks free from your throat as his cock slides in, your velvety walls sucking him in greedily. That damned smirk of his stays on his face the entire time he fucks you, along with that devious glint in his eyes. His façade only cracks after you start stroking his wings and squeeze around his cock; if he wants to act like a cocky son of a bitch, then so can you.

“Shit, you’re fucking tight,” he pants. The smack of skin against skin fills your ears, right alongside Keigo’s breathy moans and muttered words. “Keep squeezing like that, birdie, and you’re gonna make me cum quicker than I want to.”

“You almost sound like that’s exactly what you want me to do,” you breathe. “A cowboy like you has got to have some stamina, right? Don’t tell me all of that work goes to nothing.”

“Jesus, and you called me talkative. Fuck, I can’t wait to shove my cock down your throat and shut you the hell up – I said don’t squeeze like that, holy hell. Dirty little head you got there, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumble, yanking him back into a kiss. Keigo only moans loudly as you continue to play with his wings, quickly finding out that the spot where they protrude from his flesh is the most sensitive.

“Milk my cock, birdie,” he mutters between broken kisses. “You’re so fucking good to me, oh yeah. I should’ve done this weeks ago.” A startled squeak bursts from your throat as he abruptly strikes your ass. Sucking air through his teeth, he does it again, relishing in the desperate noises spilling from your mouth. “That’s right, birdie. Come on, make me cum. I’m gonna cum so fucking hard for you, fill you up until your belly’s bloated.”

“Keigo-“  You moan as his hand drops down, fingers furiously rubbing at your sex.

“That’s right, say my name. Let the whole fucking world know who’s fucking you this good.”

“Keigo-“

Smack.

“KEIGO!”

The knot building up inside you snaps; with a cry, you cling even closer to him, your velvety walls spasming around his thick cock as you cum.

Slamming a hand against the wall, Keigo fucks into you harder, faster, the wet noises sounding from between your legs almost deafening. “Oh fuck yeah, oh fuck yeah, oh fuck, fuck, fuck – ah- ah- ugghnn…” Burying his face in your neck, his hips erratically jerk as warmth fills your insides. “Still… cumming… fuccckkk…”

Your eyes flutter as he shallowly thrusts into you, the sinful squelch of his cum leaking out around his cock filling your ears. Slowly, he comes to a stop, his hot breath fanning over your neck and the side of your face. Gingerly, you let him go, completely unaware that your fingernails had dug into him in the first place.

“Well,” he starts, lifting his head and flicking away sweaty strands of hair, “that was eventful, wasn’t it?”

You scoff. “Tell me why I like you again…?”

“Oh, darling,” he drawls, leaning in and pecking the corner of your mouth. “I don’t think you like me. I think you love me. You aren’t very subtle.” He laughs as you smack him on the chest.

“Okay, fine. You’re lucky I love you, bird brain. Don’t go rubbing it in.”

“Silly birdie,” Keigo hums, his face scrunching into that wonderful smile of his. “I may just love you too.”

Wait, seriously?

“And no, I’m not joking or being an ass,” he continues, as if reading your mind. “What’s it called? Love at first sight? I dunno, seems like cheesy bullshit to me, but I… I like the appeal of it. It sounds nice when you’re involved.”

Your heart thumps against your chest.

Oh, fuck.

[pilothusband]

it’s in my honey, it’s in my milk

Rating: G

Pairing: Frankie Morales x reader

Warnings: HOLY ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST. Grief, hurt/comfort, mentions of loss and death (doesn’t get specific as to who it is), wine is mentioned once but not ingested. This one is really heavy folks, just be warned. 

Word count: 1.1k

Description: Grief is an ever-present, all-encompassing emotion that swallows up everything in its path and dulls the senses. Frankie does all he can to help you navigate it, but he can only do so much when you start to break away from him.

Author’s note:  Without getting too into it, I lost an incredibly important person recently. I wrote this to process my grief, conceptualize it and find a way to accept small comforts, even on the bad days. If this subject matter is too heavy for you, please don’t feel pressured to read it.

Sometimes the darkness threatened to swallow you where you stood, like the floor was going to open up underneath you. There was a person-shaped hole in your heart that couldn’t be replaced. There wasn’t any other kind of pain in the world that was comparable to this.

You had been dating Frankie for about 6 months now, and he knew what you had been through in the last year. He was endlessly patient with you on your bad days. Despite Frankie’s best efforts to cheer you up and support you through your grief, you still felt like you were drowning, unable to muster the energy to kick your way back up above the surface.

The grief normally came in waves. You would have a bad day here and there, but bounce back fairly quickly. This wave seemed to stretch on for weeks, just how it had been when the loss was fresh. Every morning your body felt like it was filled with rocks, you couldn’t get out of bed. You were so tired, so weary to the bone, that eventually you gave up trying.

The worst part of it was the toll it took on Frankie. Sweet, steadfast Frankie, who was the strongest person you knew, who deserved the entire fucking world. He could sense you had pulled away, hell, you sensed it too despite the permanent haze you were suspended in. 

You saw the pain bloom within him– there was the constant furrow in his brow, the furtive glances when you fell quiet, the way he chewed on his lip when you looked down at your feet. He did small things to put a smile on your face. He bought you flowers on his way to your apartment to brighten up your kitchen table for your dinner date. It was an arrangement of wildflowers and they bursted with hues of purple, orange and pink. One night he picked up a bottle of full-bodied red wine because he saw the dog on the label and he knew how much you loved dogs (and wine).

He didn’t deserve this treatment. He didn’t deserve to be dragged down into the rip tide.You had become a vacuum, or a black hole, sucking up everything around you until there was nothing left. It would be unforgivable to snuff out his light just because you had lost yours. You started reaching out less. Texts went unanswered, calls silenced. 

“This is for the best,” you thought, arms clutched around your knees, curled up inside yourself. You picked at a thread on the cushion by your feet, briefly visualizing the entire couch unravelled, the insides of it spilled all over your living room floor.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting there, staring at the loose thread when you snapped out of it, jarred by the sound of the lock on your front door, followed by a gust of wind as the heavy wood swung open. Frankie stood in the entry; he held the spare key you had given him a couple months ago in his shaking hands. 

He looked disheveled, more so than usual. His orange and tan flannel shirt was wrinkled and his beloved baseball cap was nowhere to be seen. His hair was a wild tangle of curls perched atop his head that fell down in sections on his forehead. He must have tugged on his hair on the drive over, something he did often when he was distressed.

He closed the door gently to prevent it from slamming shut, carefully walked over to where you were huddled against the arm of your couch, and lowered himself to his knees to appear smaller, as if he thought he was going to frighten you.

“Frankie,” you croaked, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t look him in the eyes. You couldn’t do this.

Frankie placed his hand on your knee and squeezed it lightly. His hand was large and warm as it wrapped around your leg, a familiar and reassuring touch that tethered you to the moment.

His other hand touched your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze. You felt a stab of agony deep in your chest as you looked into his dark eyes, rimmed with moisture. He looked absolutely wrecked, the expression on his face was open and raw, as if you had just slapped him. You were startled by how exposed he looked, normally he was stoic and pensive.

“If you’re doing this because you don’t want me around, I’ll leave. No questions asked,” He said, his voice firm, despite the tremble in his lip. “But if you’re doing this because you feel guilty, I’m staying here with you through it all.”

The tears cascaded down your face in fat droplets. Your throat burned from the fire that was ignited in your chest.

“I can’t keep doing this to you.” You sobbed, unable to hold in the deluge any longer as you hiccuped into his shoulder. Tears soaked through his flannel shirt as he rubbed soothing circles on your back and held you through it.

“Baby,” Frankie cradled the back of your head and leaned back so you could see him. His eyes searched yours out, watery and soft. “You have to stop beating yourself up like this. I’m here for you for all of it, not just the fun parts.”

You had spent so much time picturing your grief as a blanket that smothered everyone around you, when in reality the only person who was smothered was you.

Frankie placed a tender kiss on your forehead. You gasped at the warm feeling that pulsed through you from the gesture.

Frankie shifted to stand and used the cushion in front of him as leverage. His knees cracked a little at the effort and he grunted.

“I’m going to make you a cup of tea, grab that soft blanket you love and some tissues, and I want you to tell me all about them if you’re up for it. Anything you want to talk about– the good and the bad.”

You swallowed painfully around the lump in your throat and nodded as you gave him a frail smile. Frankie gave you one in return, wide and genuine.

“That’s my girl.” He squeezed your shoulder and set off to the kitchen to fill up the kettle.

You sat there for a moment and slowly unfurled your limbs like a flower in early spring.

You didn’t know what you did to deserve Francisco Morales, but you knew deep in your bones that you found each other by cosmic intervention, as if someone had searched him out for you and ensured he would stumble into your path. You were certain you knew who was behind it. A fresh set of tears escaped from your eyes as you whispered a quiet “thank you,” hoping wherever they were, they heard you.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @manalg14 @comphersjost @a-skov​ @sheresh0y

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Sweet, Like Daisies

Pairing:  Usagiyama Rumi (Miruko) x Gender Neutral Reader

Story Rating: Teen

Genre: Fluff / Humor

Story Warnings: Some cursing and flirting, but mostly just cuteness that could rot your teeth.

a/n: This is my art of the bnharem Discord server SFW collab, with the theme of Flowers! I decided to base my part around Daisies, which represent innocence. Rumi can be a cute and fluffy bunny just as much as she can be super fierce and I love her to death. This story also marks my beginning of writing for characters other than Bakugou! I will be posting them on this blog. If there’s anything you’d like to see, lmk! (♡´౪`♡)

Thank you so much to everyone in the server for this wonderful experience! I had so much fun and I can’t wait for the next one! 

*｡Collab Masterlist *｡

--Full art piece--

“Let’s go, let’s go! Don’t tell me you’re all tuckered out already!”  

“Rumi, you gotta- oh damn, my legs are on fire! What is with this hill?!”  

Coming to a stop as you pulled yourself up onto a boulder jetting out of the hillside, you flopped to sit onto your butt, rubbing your burning thigh vigorously. It was a miracle that you had even made it this far, your body not exactly used to these physically challenging hikes that your girlfriend just loved to drag you on. They were easy for her, considering that she was not only one of the top pro heroes in the country, but her quirk gave her incredibly strong legs and just overall physical strength. Her bunny legs allowed her to hop over any difficult obstacle, but you? All you could do was drag yourself along, barely keeping up with her by the skin of your teeth.  

“Don’t be a wimp! You’re almost there!” Squatting down at the edge of her current perch, Rumi had that typical wicked and expectant grin on her face, a few loose strands of her white hair falling around her forehead and cheeks. “You got this, Carrot!”  

“Carrot… Out of all nicknames, why did you have to pick that one.” With a huff, you pulled yourself up to your feet, using the roots and rocks to help you up the steep incline.  

“Oh, because I could just eat you up, of course!” Rumi gave a teasing scrunch of her nose, one of her long rabbit ears giving a twitch in satisfaction of her response. You, however, immediately grew embarrassed, losing your footing. Scrambling to catch yourself, you got secure again before turning your glare up towards her, your face burning fiercely as she laughed at your reaction. She had a talent for making you so embarrassed you could barely stand it, but really, who could blame you?  

Rumi was witty and intelligent. Confident and strong. Beautiful and caring. There wasn’t an ounce of timidness in her, which is not what people would expect when they hear the word ‘rabbit’. They would think quiet, reserved, innocent, fearful, and adorable. She was adorable, to be sure, but none of those other qualities showed themselves. Actually, they showed themselves in you.  

Before you had met Rumi, you were very shy, easily overwhelmed and lacking in confidence. And still, somehow, this bright and extravagant woman had taken great interest in you, building you up higher and higher until you were finally beginning to see the sun for the first time in so many years. She pushed you to better yourself, to grow stronger and happier in your own skin, and although what she encouraged was hard, it was worth every moment and struggle.  

Even if she could make you so flustered you’d want to go hide under a rock sometimes.  

“Rumi! Stop that, don’t try to embarrass me while I’m climbing, I could fall!”  

“You dumbass, ya think I’d let you fall? Never!” When you finally got close, Rumi reached down and took hold of your forearm, waiting until you got your own grip on hers before she helped to hoist you up. Her effortless strength astounded you as always, but you didn’t have much time to admire it, as she began to move down the past the instant you were steady on your feet. “C’mon, Carrot, move that tush!”  

Sighing heavily in exhaustion, you forced your burning legs to walk forward, wiping your dirt stained hands on your similarly dirtied khaki shorts. “We’re almost to a resting point, right?”  

“Yes. There’s a nice little clearing here, we can take a break!” Rumi lifted her arms up over her head, giving a drawn out and satisfied groan as she stretched. Nestled at her lower back, her white fluffy tail puffed out and shook in the same moment, bringing a smile to your lips. She was just so incredibly perfect, and you couldn’t help but feel so lucky.  

After walking for a while in silence to enjoy the sounds of nature, Rumi came to a stop, starting to maneuver her way through the trees and brush. “We have to go off the path a bit. Watch out for spiders ‘n shit. And stinging nettle. I’m not gonna rub that ointment all over your body if you fall in it again!”  

Remembering the painful experience of falling face first into a batch of stinging nettle the last time you went hiking, you were sure to observe your surroundings thoroughly before following her. The brush and twigs scratched and poked your legs uncomfortably, but your thick hiking boots helped you to trudge through it without much problem. When you finally breached the edge of the forest into the clearing, you had to squint a bit from the brightness of the morning sun, bringing a hand up to shield your eyes.  

When your eyes finally adjusted, you found yourself standing at the edge of a large field of wildflowers and tall grass, which swayed with the cool spring breeze. It felt so heavenly against your hot and sweaty skin, and the brilliant view of the hills and trees in the distance brought a smile to your lips. Being out in the wilderness wasn’t exactly your favorite thing, but you could admit that it truly was beautiful.  

“How’s this for a resting spot, eh?” Rumi quite literally knocked you back into reality with a rough, playful nudge to your side, grinning up at you. “Will this do, your highness?”  

“Hey, don’t patronize me like that! I get tired, I don’t have thighs of steel like you do.” You took her hand tenderly in yours as she grabbed it, your fingers lacing instinctively.  

“Excuses! C’mon, let’s sit under that tree, it has shade.” Leading you forward as always, Rumi nearly had a skip in her step, her white hair bobbing in its high, messy ponytail. The tree that was chosen was a lonely one, growing out in the field alone. With all the extra room, the roots were large and snaked in and out of the ground like tentacles, and lush green leaves were at full bloom. It was comfortable and beautiful.  

Shrugging off your pack, you rested it up against the tree trunk next to Rumi’s, pulling your water bottle out of the side pocket to take a healthy swig. “This really is a nice area, Rumi. How’d you find it?” Sitting down in the grass beside her, you offered her the water bottle, which she took.  

“I’ve been hikin’ this trail awhile. It’s challenging, so not a lot of losers try to take it, only those that are strong enough.” After taking a sip of water, Rumi leaned her head back, squeezing the bottle so water trickled lightly onto her face and top of her head. “It is warm today, though! Especially for being spring.”  

“Ah, well I can relate to those losers, I shouldn’t be on this hill either-- ACK, hey!” Suddenly, you were sprayed in the face with water, perpetrated by a very annoyed bunny.  

“Don’t belittle yourself like that! Be proud, you killed that fucking hill!”  

Grumbling from defeat, you ran your hand down your face to wipe the water away, glowering at your lover as she glared right back up at you with a pout that boarded on adorable. Calming down, you smiled, nodding in agreement. “Ah, sorry, sorry. You’re right. I should be proud of myself.”  

“You should! My baby isn’t a loser.” Leaning up, Rumi placed a rough kiss against your cheek, her hand pressing against your other to make sure you couldn’t flee. You’d never want to, of course, so you let her punish you with the kiss, which was followed by a much more tender one before she set you free.  

Smiling, you turned your attention to the grass around your legs, which was peppered with daisies and dandelions. You felt so calm and at peace in the silence of nature, and with your lover by your side, you were feeling quite… soft. That’s the only way you could describe your current emotions, so you soaked in it for a while, leaning back and supporting yourself with your hands.  

After a while of peace, you leaned forward again to give your arms a rest, turning your attention back to the flowers around you. Carefully, you began to pluck the daisies out of the ground, making sure to keep their stem long. As if in a trance, you slowly began working on winding the stems of the flowers together, growing too focused on your work and the rustling of the wind to notice that you were being watched closely. In fact, you were so startled by Rumi’s voice that you jumped, nearly crushing your delicate flower arrangement in surprise.  

“What’cha makin’ there, Carrot?”  

“Erm… uh, a flower crown. I guess?” You brought both ends of the strip of flowers together to check the size, finding that it still wasn’t quite long enough to fit an adult head. “I used to make them as a kid. It’s been a while since I’ve been near so many daisies.”  

With another sly smile, Rumi leaned against your side, resting her head on your shoulder. “Oooh, how grossly cute and sweet! Should I start calling you Baby Carrot?”  

“W-what?! No, no, don’t do that, you’re gonna make me want to puke. Why don’t you call me something normal like… babe or hun.”  

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy!” After giving you a playful nudge to the arm, Rumi turned her attention to the flowers around you both, plucking a daisy from its stem and bringing it up to her nose. “Y’know, for such a cute little flower, they have an awful smell. But damn, they’re tasty.” To your horror, Rumi chomped the entire bloomed flower head off the stem, making you yelp in disgust and cover your mouth.  

“Rumi! That’s a wildflower! You can’t just eat it!”  

“Hm?” Rumi looked up at you curiously, batting her long lashes in confusion. “I eat flowers all the time. I love their taste! They aren’t bitter to me at all. Restaurants sell them!”  

“Y-yeah, but baby, they wash them first at least…” You felt your stomach churn as she picked up another flower, dousing it with water from your bottle. “Rumi! Don’t be a smart ass!”  

“What, this one’s not for me!” Smirking, she held the now soggy and dripping flower up to your lips, making you cringe backwards with a sour expression. “Open up!”  

“No way!” You covered your mouth with your hand, knowing that she would shove it in at the first opportunity. “There’s no way I’m eating a flower! At least not one that hadn’t been cleaned or anything properly! You have the stomach of a rabbit, you can handle it, I can’t!”  

“What, you scared of getting worms?!” She poked you on the nose with the flower, leaning more against you. “You won’t get anything that’ll kill you!”  

“I would, I just know it!” With a final wave of your hand, Rumi took the flower away, tossing it over her shoulder and back into the grass. “You wasted it?”  

“Putting water on it made it soggy, I ain’t gonna eat that! Hey, show me how to make one of these!” Scooting around to face you, Rumi gazed down curiously at the still unfinished crown in your lap. “This shit is stupid; it has to be easy!”  

“Well, it’s kind of hard, you have to be pretty gentle with the flowers. Here,” You plucked four daisies with a long stem, handing them to her before you plucked two more of your own. With detailed instruction, you showed her exactly how to twist and wind the stems, but you could see that she was already struggling with the delicate procedure. The frustrated pout was permanently plastered on her fair face, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowed. Still, she was trying and as focused as she could be.  

“How the hell are you doing that so perfectly?!” Rumi eventually snapped, leaning over you a bit to really see your almost finished crown up close. “Look at that! It almost looks fake!”  

Laughing softly, you finished off by connecting the two ends of the crown together, holding it up a bit to look at it clearly in the sun. “I told you, I’ve done this before. It’s not that big of a deal, babe. Here,” Turning to face her, you plopped the flower crown onto her the top of her head between her ears, making them flatten out backwards in immediate embarrassment and the tickling of the flowers against the sensitive skin.  

Cheeks flushing dark, Rumi scoffed, glaring up at you as she resisted the urge to reach up and rip it off. “Get this thing off of me, I’m not some damn fairy!”  

“Aw, but you look so adorable with it on.” You couldn’t resist the wide smile on your lips, especially as Rumi only grew more flustered, her ears snapping up in agitation and making the flower crown bend a bit, though it didn’t fall from her head. “It just makes you look so cute and innocent!”  

“I’m not!” Rumi scooted herself closer so that she was sitting right up against your crossed legs, letting hers rest on either side of your hips. “Call me cute and innocent again and I’ll make you regret it!” As if it were a punishment, Rumi reached up and plopped her sloppy excuse for a flower crown onto the top of your head. The instant it landed, it broke apart, showering you with crumpled daisies. Unable to help it, you began to laugh, which only grew harder as Rumi began to rage and stutter. “Dammit! Fucking flowers! This is why I just eat the damn things! Stop laughing at me, Carrot!”  

Covering your mouth, you gave a defeated shake of your head, holding your other hand up in defense. “I’m sorry, Rumi, it was just too funny! And so cute!”  

Before you could even find the time to react, you were tackled down into the grass, immediately smothered by the feral animal before you. Latching onto her instinctively, you were at her mercy as she gripped your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks and forcing your lips to pucker, even as your laughter continued.  

“I told you! You call me cute, you’re gonna die! I-” Suddenly, the flower crown slipped off the top of her head and onto your face, framing it perfectly. The shock silenced you immediately, staring up at Rumi in surprise. She was just as perturbed as you were, but after a moment her wonder broke into a grin, chuckling as she released your cheeks. “Look who’s all cute and innocent now! Ya dork.”  

Not bothering to remove the crown, you smiled softly, reaching up to caress Rumi’s cheeks tenderly. “No one in this entire world is cuter than you, baby.”  

“Says the person with a flower crown on their face and daisies stuck in their hair. Hey!”  

Rumi’s ears parted again as you took the crown off your face, placing it carefully on her head again to where it wouldn’t fall. This time, instead of getting angry, Rumi’s cheeks flushed again, and a cheeky smile stretched across her lips. “You aren’t gonna give up, are ya?”  

“Never. Besides, innocence is a great look for you. Just please don’t eat anymore daisies.”  

“Nah, flowers aren’t all that appetizing. I think I’m in the mood for some Carrot, instead.”

[hippohead]

A Foggy Garden Around Them

hello. i was feeling restless and pulled up a prompt generator and then. well. this happened. i’m not entirely sure what it is, but this is what my brain produced based on this randomised prompt:

setting: locker room genre: fluff trope: superhero/superpowers prompt: time travel

Kurt pushes through into the locker room, anger coursing through his veins and he’s desperately trying to stop it from turning into roots, or thorns.  

Blaine is standing on the opposite side of the room, his gear on the bench next to him and his forehead pressed into the wall. His breaths are heaving, sounding heavy and hard to take, and the mist surrounding his body is swirling erratically, and thin. 

It always takes it out of him, when he uses it.  

And then Kurt remembers why he’s angry; because he used it. And it spurs him on, crossing over to Blaine with large strides and if Blaine hears him, he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t turn, doesn’t move. Kurt snaps off the branch that has starting growing out of his palm involuntarily and makes a mental note to work on keeping his hands in check when he’s mad, and then he grabs Blaine’s shoulders, flips him, ignores the chill in the mist that’s surrounding him now, too. 

He pushes his arm against the length of Blaine’s chest and into the wall, keeping him there and under his grip without inflicting any actual pain, and now he can feel Blaine’s breathing underneath him, uneven. The dirt on his forearm is mixing with the sweat on Blaine’s collarbone, and all Blaine does is look at him. Steady. Waiting.  

“What the fuck was that, Blaine? You weren’t supposed to use your time fuckery in that match,” and it comes out like a growl. He closes his fist against another branch that is threatening to break through his skin and grow.  

And finally, there’s an expression on Blaine’s face. It’s amusement, which does nothing to quell the anger Kurt is feeling. In fact, it just prods it on, gives it even more motivation.  

“Time fuckery?” and when he laughs, the mist around them blows out and disappears. It’s not as cold anymore. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“Ugh,” Kurt huffs, and pushes off his boyfriend, putting a decent amount of space between them. He’s being insufferable, and it’s making Kurt feel wild and immature because he desperately wants to whine; that wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t fair – Professor Figgins had stated before anyone even stepped into the arena that Doubles were supposed to pick only one power to use. Blaine had picked Vapor, so when he used his Time Manipulation half way through their battle, it had thrown Kurt off. Off enough that he couldn’t regain his footing, and Blaine had won. “You know what I mean. Time Manipulation. Whatever.”

All of a sudden, Kurt is being pulled by a force outside of him and it stings his skin for a second, and then he blinks his eyes open. He’s back standing in the position he was in just before, arm pressed against Blaine’s chest and, he’s just realised, impossibly close in every other way, too. Thighs touching, ankles tangled, face quite near to Blaine’s. 

“Did you just do it again?”

Blaine’s hands find Kurt’s waist and he pulls him even closer, then leans forward until their foreheads are connected. “I’m sorry, I just missed you this close to me.”

Kurt sighs. Blaine always gets clingy after they’re paired up for a fight. Whether it’s because he’s won and needs to know that Kurt isn’t mad, or he’s lost and needs the reassurance. This time, though, Kurt suspects it’s because he’s feeling guilty about cheating. “It’s not fair,” he finally says, but he manages to keep the whine out.

“I know,” Blaine says quickly, “I’m so sorry. I could feel myself losing and I lost control. I’ll tell Figgins to organise a rematch, or to change your grade.”  

And just like that, his anger falls away. He wasn’t even really that committed to it, anyway; he knew Blaine wasn’t the type to purposefully cheat, and definitely not when Kurt was his opponent. “We’ll have a rematch,” he decides. “I want to beat you fair and square.”

He moves his arm, no longer wanting the aggressive position and instead winds it around Blaine’s shoulder, letting it hang loosely and this feels better. This feels more like them.  

“Okay. Sounds good,” and then Blaine kisses him, tender and caring and deeper than Kurt was expecting. He revels in the soft fog that starts to pool around Blaine’s chest – it always does that when his heart starts beating faster and he’s too preoccupied to stop it from happening. And the fog is warm, sitting between them, a literal representation of the love Blaine has for Kurt pouring out of him.  

Kurt breaks the kiss and turns his head slightly, a little overwhelmed at the way he came in here full of resentment and is nothing but fondness now. “Can you show me, again?”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, trying to be responsible. “We have to get to our next class.”

“Just quickly,” and it’s not a beg, not really, just a little nudge because he’s willing to be late – his next class is just Tactics, anyway, and Ms. Holliday is always super lenient.

Blaine chuckles, “Okay, but after this time I’m making a rule that I’ll only take you traveling with me outside of school hours.”

“Deal,” he smiles.  

Kurt steps back, knowing he needs to for this to work, and lets Blaine get into the right headspace. His eyes are closed and he looks focused, everything in his mind narrowing and tightening, but there’s a smile playing on his lips at the memories Kurt knows he’s pulling up.  

And then he says, “Okay,” quietly, like if he speaks too loudly it’ll knock him off-balance, and reaches out for Kurt’s hand. The second their palms connect, Kurt feels the force and the sting again, and then it stops. He opens his eyes and -  

They’re standing in the Dalton cafeteria, students in blazers wandering around and looking like any normal student body. And they would be, if it weren’t for the balls of fire that Puck is playing with in his hands, or the way Santana pulls out her seat to sit down in without touching it.  

Blaine has taken them to Kurt’s first day – he transferred to Dalton half way through last year after the incident at his old school. His dad had always known about his powers, of course, but Kurt had managed to get away with fading into the background, and avoiding any attention. He could keep it all under control when that was the case. But then the bullying had started, and the kiss had happened. The unwanted kiss, the one that was stolen from him, and he hadn’t meant for the vines to twine themselves around Karofsky’s neck, not consciously.  

Karofsky was fine; Kurt hadn’t done any serious or lasting damage. And he did get expelled for assaulting Kurt, but Burt had still decided that it was time for Kurt to go to a school that could help him with his powers, rather than force him to hide them. 

They’re just behind the Blaine from that day, and he’s carrying a tray of food over to a lunch table when he sees him – the Kurt from that day. He’s sitting by himself, reading a book, his fingers mindlessly twirling over a small pile of dirt on the table next to him. And with each circle motion of his hand, another daisy grows. They watch Blaine’s chest lift, eyes on Kurt and his tiny garden, and then watch the small, incredibly soft smile that grows on Blaine’s face. A similar one grows on current-Kurt's face, and then current-Blaine grabs his hand again.  

This time they’re in the doorway of the common room, past versions of themselves being the only ones in there. Kurt watches as the fog envelopes around their first kiss and remembers the way it had felt – so warm and encompassing and perfect. And he waits for it, the moment the tiny wildflowers grow from the backs of his hands, his neck, the tips of his ears; anywhere there was skin to bloom.  

There’s more force and sting, and then they’re standing in Blaine’s dorm room. It’s just past-Blaine in there and Kurt frowns; Blaine’s never taken him to this memory before and he can’t see past-Kurt anywhere. But then he emerges from the bathroom, blushing and on edge, anticipation in the edges of him, and oh. Kurt knows exactly what memory this is.

“I can’t believe you’ve brought us back here.”

“Shh,” Blaine replies cheekily, watching as past-them fall onto the bed together.  

“Pervert,” he retorts, but he watches them for a little while, too. It’s kind of sweet, seeing the start of their first time, all tentative touches and giggling and marveling. And then past-Blaine takes off his shirt and he squeezes Blaine’s hand in a plea to move to the next one. If they wait any longer, they’re going to be essentially watching their own sex tape.  

Blaine takes them back to their first party together, drunk and shining and happy. He takes them to the time they planted trees together in Blaine’s backyard at his parent’s place, Blaine picking the type of tree and Kurt growing it on the spot. He takes them to the time Kurt had agreed to go on a picnic with Blaine in the middle of December, and he’d kept them warm with a cloud around them.  

He takes them back to a couple of nights ago, when Kurt had snuck into Blaine’s room after the prefects had finished patrolling the hallways, and how they’d fallen asleep together, a foggy garden around them in the sheets, because they couldn’t help but show their content through their powers.  

Blaine grabs his hand one last time, and he feels the pull again, and when he opens his eyes, they’re back in the locker room. It’s just them, no past selves to keep them company, and Kurt can feel the yellow and red roses growing from his fingertips. 

“I guess these are for you,” he laughs, and he wonders what it is about Blaine that makes him so transparent; what is it that makes him lose control of his abilities. He just makes him feel so much, more than he’s ever felt, and he can’t stop the flowers from appearing.  

Blaine seems worn out but he bundles the roses together and tugs, knowing it doesn’t hurt Kurt to snap them, and smiles. “Thank you,” and then he looks at his watch, “Shit. We’re going to be so late.”  

Kurt kisses Blaine quickly and then jumps into one of the shower cubicles to rinse off from their match, which is what they’d headed in here to do in the first place. The water comes out cold and Kurt curses, shocked at the temperature. And he waits a moment, but it doesn’t heat up. “Blaine?” he asks, hearing the shower to his left turning on. “The water’s cold.”  

And it’s not a line, or a move; the water really is cold. 

But then there’s a knock on his door and Blaine is huddling into his stall, completely naked and mumbling jokingly about Kurt trying to get him expelled, and he starts to warm up the water with his hands. And Kurt can’t quite find it within himself to annoyed about the original temperature anymore; this is much better.  

He’ll get to class eventually.

[lothirielswanwarcraft]

“My Secret Is Cucumbers” [25] (KHADGAR NIGHTMARE)

Join the journey on AO3!

Quest Objective: Learn how to ride a Gryphon.

~Khadgar, Outland~

“I'm going to do it.”

“Hmph. You’ve said that for years.”

“I mean it this time,” Turalyon pressed across the table. The ashen walls of Shattrath City surrounded us with the mute sounds of refugees. It was a solemn and hopeful place. I couldn't recall why we were here, but it felt right.

“I'm going to ask Alleria to marry me.”

“You’re serious?” My eyebrow teetered with disbelief.

Lyon snorted and stood from the table. His blond hair glittered like the light of the naaru that gleamed up in a fantastic spiral towards the sky. “Watch me.”

“The floor is yours, ringmaster.”

Alleria strode to our abode. Despite her slender form, she was the most intimidating of our party. Blue tattoos marked her face. Regal demeanour. The hard stare of the hunter. She had an eternal youth about her, but something seemed amiss. There was more...light. A flicker in her eyes. I felt like they hadn't appeared that way in years.

“My lady,” Lyon gathered her hands and placed light kisses on them. I tried to ignore how uncomfortable the gesture made the atmosphere. “I would like to ask for a moment of your time.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“To ask you to share every moment after.” Lyon tossed me a wink. My eyes widened with Alleria’s as he kneeled before his sun, his immortal deity that he worshipped every passing day.

“I’ve loved you for a while now…” For some reason, I couldn't remember how long exactly. Lyon continued,  “and I will continue to love you for the rest of my life.”

“You’re proposing?” Alleria cut him off. It shocked me how nothing could rattle her.

“Erm...yes.” Turalyon hissed out the last word, caught off guard.

Alleria blinked. Then a small smirk spread across her pale pink lips, “Took you long enough. I swore I would have to ask.”

Lyon glanced at me, as if asking me what to do with his gaze. I shrugged, “They say time makes the heart yearn.”

“Right,” Turalyon looked back up into Alleria’s stunning orbs for eyes. “What he said.”

“And we already share a child, Lyon.”

“Uh...Khadgar…”

“Even after raising a child together, you still love her. That is an impressive accomplishment. Put that in the win column.”

Alleria chuckled, squeezing his hands. “Yes. My answer is yes.”

Turalyon leapt to his feet and punched the air with a wide grin on his face. “Yes!”

The two embraced and shared a loving kiss.

~Stormwind, Cathedral of Light~

Lilies sprouted at the end of every pew. I stood behind Turalyon, underneath the massive arch of blooming blossoms. Prophet Velen hummed under his breath as trumpets sounded.

Lyon leaned backwards towards me, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “This is the best day of my life.”

I beamed at him. “You deserve happiness, my friend.”

He laughed quietly. “Thank you, my friend.”

Arator stood at my side, casting a look out at the many eager faces. The double doors at the end of the hall of light creaked open.

Alleria did not wear white lace or layers of silk. Her armor gleamed like a thousand shimmering crystals. A longer cloak trailed after Alleria, and wildflowers entwined through her hair and leather garb.

I looked over at Turalyon. He had the face of someone gazing out at a breathtaking sunset, the kind that brought tears to the eyes that life could be so beautiful. Turalyon wore that expression, and so did the woman walking down the aisle.

They exchanged short yet heartfelt vows (I ended up writing both of them) before sharing a kiss, and the cathedral rose with applause. Pink petals fell from the ceiling like freshly fallen snow.

The reception was to take place outside, near the edge of Elwynn Forest. There weren't many traditional qualities to the wedding, but nothing about Alleria and Turalyon’s relationship was traditional.

I sat at one of the many round tables with white skirts, sipping wine idly as I stared at the happy couple.

“Khadgar? Is that really you, after all these years?”

What in the Light’s name—? The familiar voice made my head snap up—but not too far.

Eona’s mother, Zeldormu, stood before me.

She didn't stand too far from the ground; her half-orc, half-dwarven form was short and muscled. Everything looked the same: the dark hair with crimson tips, the tiny tusks poking out at her lips…

Zelda smiled. That smile...I hadn't seen it in...I couldn't remember how long. But I knew it was a while. I hadn't seen her this jubilant since...what was his name? He was very important, very clever…

“You haven't aged a day,” Zelda teased and took the chair next to mine.

“My secret is cucumbers—don’t tell anyone,” I raised a mock finger to my lips.

Zelda laughed. I felt like I hadn't heard it in years. “I’ve really missed you, Khadgar.”

“And I you, Zelda.” I bowed my head. I had missed Zelda. I missed her strength, her unbreakable will—we had been through much together, but I couldn't recall any of it at the moment. Something to do with the Betrayer…I heard whispers…

  ‘I'm stuck here, on this new planet I don't even know, pregnant. This is not where I was supposed to be in my life right now.’

‘I suppose we’re both stuck in our lives, in places we aren't supposed to be.’

Zelda had always felt like an equal. There had always been an unique understanding between us, uncommon to every other friendship I had. Nothing compared to Zelda.

“It's been so long—it’s good to see you.” The emotion made my words thick. “It really is. How are you? You look so…”

“Happy?” She guessed. She laughed again. “It's the strangest thing. I never thought I would be after everything...but I am. Thrall sends his regards—his children are lovely. I had a drink with Arthas on my journey here, I never thought I’d say this, but...he might actually be pulling off this king-thing. Jaina’s a good match for him.”

“And him?”

“Who? Oh…” Zelda glanced down. “You mean…”

“Yes.”

Her lips curved up. “He's perfect.”

Warmth seeped through my chest at her joy. Zelda was completely content. For one brief moment, there seemed to be justice in the world. Everything was—

“Khadgar! Come meet this young man, I think you’ll like him.”

My fingers clutched the stem of my wine glass as I stood from my seat. I looked over at Turalyon, “Who is it—?”

I stopped short. All of the breath in my lungs emptied, like it had been knocked out of me in battle. Turyalon’s hand clapped the shoulder of a thin man draped in simple robes. His hair was dark, like the feathers of a raven. His skin was marble, polished and gleaming with youth. His blue eyes were familiar.

Because I saw them every single time I looked in a mirror.

“This youth is a mage,” Turalyon introduced him, shaking his entire body as he patted his thin shoulder.

“There will be no introductions.” The dark-haired mage said. His voice was not commanding. It was soft yet sure. “We’ve met before.”

The dark-haired mage left Turalyon’s side. He walked towards me. He made no sound as he moved across the grass, silent as a snake.

“We met long ago, when memories were young and dreams were big and grand.” The dark-haired mage declared.

A shriek cut the silence of the forest. A flash of black flew before my eyes. Startled, I looked down at my feet. The raven’s feathers were sleek and shiny with its own blood. The body was twisted and mangled, broken beyond compare.

When I looked up, the dark-haired mage stood before me.

“Yes. We have met before.”

The forest had disappeared. The air was chilly and electric with arcane. The wind tugged at my robes.

We were atop the tower of Karazhan.

“Do you honestly think you fit in with that world? Weddings, smiles, joy.” The dark-haired mage spat the merry words.

Wind shrieked in my ears like a wailing child. My lips had pursed into grim line. “I know who you are.”

“The past. Regret. What you could have had, all of the opportunities. They’re gone now.” His eyes glowed blue.

“There is knowledge—” I began.

“That is all you have now. Books. Little fantasies to drown out the truth, to make it hurt less,” The mage’s breath hissed as he drew closer. “They mock you. They let you escape your mind, but not your body.”

I started to retreat as he advanced. My boots scraped against the dark stone as I moved backwards.

I was suddenly more aware of the wind. How strong it was—or how incredibly weak I was. The wind was like time, and I was at its mercy. Would there ever be true justice? When would the blizzards cease, and breathe a soft summer breeze?

The wind tousled through Young Khadgar’s hair. “Enjoy the books. There is no happy ending.”

His wrinkle-less hands rose and a beam of arcane shot out. Pain erupted in my chest. I stumbled backward—

And my foot jerked in the open air.

I screamed as I toppled off the side of Karazhan, like a raven with broken wings.

The wind burned as I fell. It tugged and pulled with invisible claws as I kept falling, falling, falling…

“Haunted by the past, tormented by it's empty promises. Khadgar, the most powerful, and the most powerless.” A blood-curdling voice entered my mind.

“I will set you free. Release me, and I release you from the harshness of reality.”

I knew that voice. Yes! Sael’orn! It felt like ages ago since our scuffle in Dalaran. Was all of this her…?

I can't set her free. Then everyone else is tortured by their reality.

Silently, I fell, fell, fell…

[mugsywrites]

Just for Fun

Based on this post:

Tougher than the Rest (Non Zombie AU, meet cute)

Paul Rovia tries to visit his mom and sisters at least a few times a month just to say hello and let them know how he’s doing. Easy enough to do, and a nice bonus is that Decatur Cemetery is a great spot to go for a run. The historic section is beautiful, the paths are well-maintained, and it’s conveniently located a few blocks from the MARTA station. All he has to do is change into his running clothes before he leaves work, ride for a few extra stops, and meander down to the cemetery.

He says hello to Mom and the girls first; after more than twenty years and a fuckload of therapy he’s rarely made sad or angry by his visits. Usually it’s peaceful more than anything else. Usually.

On the occasions it’s not peaceful a run helps to clear his mind.

When Paul arrives at that familiar spot in the cemetery on the day his life changes forever there’s a man kneeling over Tricia’s grave. Paul slams to a confused halt; thinking for a split second this is a caretaker of some kind before remembering it’s past six and the cemetery workers have been gone for hours. Plus this guy isn’t dressed like a caretaker—his back is to Paul and he gets an impression of broad shoulders underneath a black leather vest with angel wing patches. Paul tries to figure out who the hell this guy could be; he is muttering something to the graves and laying a white flower in a mason jar in front of Tricia’s headstone, Mom and Katie’s already have one.

Finally he says, “Um. Excuse me. I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

The guy jumps and clambers to his feet, spinning around and blinking. Paul’s eyes flicker over him automatically—hot, in a scruffy redneck biker way. Dark hair, narrow blue eyes, and nice cheekbones. The guy’s eyes widen and he freezes. His cheeks turn red and his eyes drop, fingers twiddling.

“Uh, sorry,” the guy says, “Jus’ payin’ my respects.” His accent has a twang of Appalachia in it, making Paul think of his grandfather for the first time in a years.

Paul folds his arms in front of him and raises an eyebrow. “No need to apologize, but I’m the only one who comes around here these days. Did you know my mom?” The guy looks anywhere from ten to fifteen years older than Paul, he could’ve been one of her students if he went to high school in the area.

The guy looks even more mortified. He rubs the back of his neck and doesn’t meet Paul’s eyes when he stammers out, “Sorry. I…it’s kinda weird.”  The guy flushes a dark shade of red and Paul thinks he’s fucking adorable. If he saw this guy in a gay bar he’d ask for his number, although he doubts that scenario was even within the realm of possibility. Paul’s dated enough guys to know that not everyone conforms to gay stereotypes but by numbers alone this man is probably straight. Even if he wasn’t Paul doesn’t think standing over the graves of his entire family is the best place to ask for a date.

“I’m Daryl,” the guy finally says, eyes darting everywhere but Paul’s face, “Um. Daryl Dixon. He fidgets a minute before blurting out, “My brother’s buried in Mountain View Baptist up in Salina.”

“I’m sorry,” Paul says automatically, before he realizes why the name of the cemetery sounds familiar. “Oh.”

Daryl’s eyes finally meet Paul’s own for a split second before continuing, “Merle died ‘bout five years ago. When I first started visiting I saw this grave next to his. Samuel Monroe.”

“Oh,” Paul says again. He knows where his father is buried but has never paid a visit, not even to piss on his grave.

Daryl looks at his shoes and mutters, “I felt bad for ‘im. Never saw nobody coming to put flowers or nothing on his grave. He was my age when he died, and I dunno…I was kinda messed up right after Merle passed. Started leaving a few flowers on Samuel Monroe’s grave when I went to see Merle, or stopping to clean it up sometimes. Included ‘im sometimes when I talked to Merle even, I know it sounds crazy—“

“I talk to my mom and sisters all the time,” Paul says mildly, “It’s not crazy.”

“Anyhow,” Daryl says, “My friend’s kid looked Samuel Monroe up on google when I told ‘im the story, and I saw…I found out what he did.”

“I’m sorry your brother has to be buried next to him,” Paul says sincerely.

“Well,” Daryl says, kicking at the ground, “I just felt bad, is all. Wanted to apologize to yer mama and them little girls, so Carl helped me track down where they’s buried.”

Paul doesn’t believe in love at first sight or even at first conversation. Something still blooms to life in his chest anyways that he can’t deny. Looking at this scruffy biker in his leather vest and battered jeans you would never guess he was the sort of man to leave flowers on a stranger’s grave. Never guess he was the sort of man who would go out of his way to apologize to the victims when he found out that stranger was a murdering piece of shit. Paul finds himself grinning, “You’re right, that’s weird. But it’s pretty cute too, so don’t worry.”

It comes out far more flirtatious than he meant it, enough that Daryl picks up on it, if the way the other man’s eyes widen when he looks at Paul again are any indication. Paul curses to himself, and begs the universe for Daryl to be cool or at least so guilty and embarrassed he could keep his homophobia in check.

Then Paul sees the way Daryl’s eyes flash over his body. It is one of the last hot days of the summer, Paul is wearing a sleeveless and fitted shirt for running, and while he isn’t vain he knows he looks good. Daryl mumbles something else, looking like he was going to spontaneously combust, and Paul figures what the hell. He has on his running shoes if he’s wrong about the way Daryl looked at him. “This is a long shot,” he says, “But are you gay?”

Daryl’s jaw literally drops as he stares at Paul, “I…what?”

“Are you gay?” Paul says patiently, “Because I am, and if you are I’d like to buy you a drink.”

Daryl goggles at him. His eyes flicker over Paul’s body again, all but confirming his stab in the dark was the correct one. Daryl’s eyes flick back to the graves, “You want to buy me a drink? Like…like a fucking date?”

“Yeah,” Paul says, “If you’re into guys, that is. If you’re not I’d still like to buy you a drink in a platonic way. I promise to behave myself.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Daryl asks.

“No,” Paul says. He’s not sure if he should laugh or start running.

Daryl looks like he’s trying to decide whether or not Paul is making fun of him, or having him on. Finally he swallows and drops his eyes, “I…yeah. I am.”

My gaydar is a thing of beauty, Paul thinks to himself, “So? Can I buy you a drink?” he frowns, “If you don’t have a boyfriend or anything like that.”

Daryl stares at him, then back at the graves, “Why would you want…”

“You’re hot and you seem incredibly sweet, if those flowers are anything to go by,” Paul says, nodding to the little white flowers in their rough mason jars. They look like wildflowers, something Daryl had picked himself to bring to a trio of strangers’ graves. Paul hesitates and says, “Sorry, I know asking you here is morbid as fuck.”

“A bit,” Daryl says dryly, raises his eyes to study Paul’s face, “Weird place to ask for a date.”

Paul shrugs, “The worst part of dating a new guy is figuring out how and when I’m going to tell him about this. A lot of guys lose interest after.”

“Sound like fucking idiots,” Daryl mutters, blushing everywhere.

“Well, I am kinda fucked up,” Paul says, “And some guys are scared I’ll take after my father. Can’t blame them; I used to be scared of that too.”

Daryl looks at him then, really looks at him. Finally he says, “I’m kinda fucked up too. My daddy…” he swallows and drops his eyes, “There was times I was scared he’d get carried away and kill me or Merle.” He looks up at Paul again, “Ok. Where’s good around here for a drink?”

Paul grins, “There’s a ton of places on the square we can check out. I’m Paul, by the way. Paul Rovia.” He’d changed his last name to his mother’s maiden name as soon as he’d turned eighteen, “My friends call me Jesus, though. Your pick.”

“Ain’t callin’ ya Jesus,” Daryl mutters, “Nice t’meet you.”

*********************

Three years later when they’re lined up at the courthouse to get married the adorable pair of lesbians ahead of them asks how they met. Daryl is too embarrassed for the truth and mutters something about “mutual friends” setting them up.

Not that far from the truth, Paul supposes.

[purplebenjy]

2005-Part 2

There’s six patients at his next session. Then nine. Then twelve. Dorcas has stopped participating to give up her spot to the thirteenth member, new today, a girl with nails that are bloody stumps and a smile that doesn’t reach her glazed over eyes. She gets her long dirty red hair in the paint and Dorcas has to gently help her tie it back.

RJ had missed last week’s but was back again, sitting determinedly next to a boy who looked maybe a year or two older than him, and twice as nervous. Katie, ever the faithful student, was still remarkably skinny, though Benjy could see a noticeable difference in five weeks of classes. Deena was in her usual spot in the back, but Benjy noticed she was quieter than usual that day, only heckling Benjy twice through his muddled lesson. Their sessions have extended to an hour and a half, so all of them spend the first sixty minutes putting paint on paper. He makes the rounds after that, pausing and smiling big when Rj tugs on his flannel to show him what he’s made. 

“You uh, get it?”

Benjy laughs delightedly. It was a painting of a young boy with the head of a cow, floating in space. 

“Space Cow Boy. Amazing and really well done. Rj you’re really talented.” He blushes, the tips of his ears turning bright pink. The boy next to him smiles shyly at RJ when he looks down.

“I’m glad you came back.”

“Me too. Vance told me I should.”

Benjy introduces himself to Vance and tries not read into the shy, borderline flirty smiles the boys are exchanging. Katie and her friend also from the ED program, Shawna, have both painted sunflowers. Her strokes are finally looser, slightly less perfect, though Benjy knows she’s got a long battle ahead of her. 

When he finally makes his way back to Deena, he’s surprised. Every session after their first one had depicted some sort of flying penis motif, but not this time. She’s painted a field, with mountains in the background. Her talent is obvious, it’s a semi-photo realistic style that Benjy has never even really been able to master himself. In the field there are all sorts of wildflowers and walking through them are a little girl with unruly tangled hair and a woman with slightly less wild curls. They’re facing the mountains, only the backs of them visible, their blue dresses picked up by a breeze Benjy can almost feel. Deena’s coloring in the raised arm of the mother, and she glances up at Benjy when he sits down beside her. 

“Deena...”

“I’m more than just flying dicks you know.”

She’s studying him now, Benjy can feel it. Waiting for his approval-a feeling he knows all too well, he can feel it coming off of her almost in waves. It’s bizarre to be in this position, to be on the other side of the canvas as it were, but he’s here, and Deena’s eyes are boring into him. 

“I know. I just didn’t know...you’re incredible.”

She scoffs. Without thinking, Benjy grabs her hand. “I mean it.”

She smiles, a real smile. A rare smile. She squeezes his hand once and lets it go.

“Thank you. I was..I mean I’m going to be again, in a program for art. It was just...a lot. My parents are splitting up and I...”

She trails off, glancing around the room. It’s alive with chatter and activity of the other patients and the two other nurses Dorcas rounded up to help her. No one’s hearing her, so Deena lets the wall down, just a little.

“It’s been hard. But I’m-I go home tomorrow, Benjy.”

He hears the excitement and fear in her voice as pride swoops through his heart.

“D, that’s great.”

“I’m terrified.”

“That’s a good thing.”

Deena snorts. “Oh yeah? When was the last time you were terrified?”

“When was my first session here again?”

That makes her smile again. 

“I hope it’s a good thing. I’m uh...” She drops her gaze to the painting. “I’m gonna miss you.”

The pride turns into affection.

“I’m gonna miss you too. But I can talk to Bernie about an outpatient program maybe...”

Deena shakes her head.

“No uh, other people need you more than me.”

“I mean, clearly.” Benjy says, nodding at her painting. “I can’t do that shit. You’re remarkable.”

“Not like you are.” She says, looking at him again. She clears her throat.

“You know how whenever you talk about your mom, you say she’s the best person in the world?”

“I talk about my mom that much?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, I’m really cool.”

Deena laughs.

“Well, uh, my mom’s the best person in the world too. She got me in here, came to visit as much as they let her and...well after you came the first time, I finally could talk to her. It was just about the session at first but then…” She smiles. 

“I told her about you. About what you do. She asked me what your name was and she uh, knew you?”

Wildly, for a second that doesn’t make sense, Benjy wonders if Deena is one of Forest’s daughters. He shakes himself. At most they were middle schoolers right now, barely if that. Still, his chuckle is nervous when he speaks. 

“Um, how?”

“Her name’s Donna-uh, Donna Pierce?” 

Deena keeps talking but Benjy feels a little piece of him die. Donna Pierce was arguably one of the most influential art agents in not only the Bay Area, but the whole fucking state. She’d been at his showcase. She’d shaken his hand and taken a sample of his portfolio-he found out later he was one of only two she’d done that with. And she was one of the agents’ whose assistants had told him they’d call him, but he hadn’t heard anything.

“She saw me at school.” He says dumbly. Deena laughs.

“That’s what I just said. Anyway we’ve sort of just...talked about you and painting and stuff when talking about the other stuff was too hard. She wants to meet you again-she left her personal card for you at the front desk. I hope uh-I hope that’s okay. You obviously don’t have to call her if you don’t want to.”

“I think I’m going into shock.”

Deena laughs.

“Yeah uh, she’s a pretty big deal. That’s part of why all of this was just….like I’m her kid and if I fuck up it’s twice as bad, you know?”

Benjy softens, snapping out of his surprise for a moment.

“I doubt she’d ever see you as a fuck-up.”

Deena grins.

“That’s what she said too.”

~~

Cass glances nervously towards the corner booth. He’s been cleaning the same mug for the past 20 minutes, which happens to be about as long as Benjy has been having a conversation with Donna Pierce. She’d almost look out of place in the Spacey KC’s if it weren’t for her wild collection of curls. Her sharp red blazer stands out  aggressively against the seafoam green of the wall she sits in front of. Cass smiles to himself when Benjy says something that makes her laugh, the sound crossing the cafe and hitting him at the  rainbow bar. She’s got black cat eye glasses and light green eyes that look like they could easily turn cold, but they look like they’re at least entertained by his boyfriend as he sits across from her. He can only see the back of Benjy’s head but he studies it all the same, a smile crosses his face for a moment when he notices the blue streak is fading back to the almost white bleach they’d put in it. He’s not messing with his hair too much, which either means he’s not nervous at all or too nervous to do it. Benjy’s jean clad leg is bouncing under the table but it always was. He’d worn the “Kinda Gay” shirt today after almost 20 minutes of debating with himself. He’d finally decided on it, not wanting to hide himself, even if it meant risking what this opportunity could be. Cass was proud of him either way, and of course he knew Benjy knew that. He knew Benjy was talented and if things didn’t work out with Donna, they’d work out with someone else. But still-he’d been lower than either of them had really realized before he’d started volunteering to do the therapy sessions. Cass had watched Benjy come back to life after each of them, his self assurance blooming again, his confidence rising, wounds that were still painful healing a little more each time. If Benjy could get an agent...well, when he does get an agent, Cass was sure he’d be completely unstoppable. He already was of course, but he needed something to remind him, to fully light that fire again-

“Shit.”

Cass quickly averts his eyes as Benjy turns around to look at the counter, grinning like an idiot at the too clean mug in his hands when a snippet of what Benjy is saying drifts over to him.

“That beautiful tall one? Who doesn’t fit in at all with the Rainbow Brite thing that’s going on? That’s the love of my life.”

“Um, hello?”

Cass whips his attention to cash register and smiles sheepishly at the customer. Well, not customer. It’s Carly-one of the co-owners and his boss.

“Hey, hey, Car. Sorry.”

“Is that her?”

Everyone at work knew about Benjy’s meeting today, mostly because he couldn’t stop nervous babbling about it to anyone who would listen, and whenever Cass was at KC’s, Benjy wasn’t far away. Cass just nods, playing it cool and Carly, mercifully, picks up on the hint. Kat, her wife, was far less subtle, and probably would’ve gone over to also introduce herself. Cass makes Carly the weird herbal tea she stocks for pretty much only for her own use and she settles at the robin egg blue part of the bar, close to the register-doing the books but also listening in. 

When Cass goes back to his mug, Donna and Benjy stand up. They shake hands, and then, in something that appears to surprise them both, Donna pulls Benjy in for a quick, maternal hug. She laughs a little sheepishly, but Benjy says something to her that makes her instantly relax. They speak in low voices, probably because Benjy was highly aware of eavesdroppers. Donna Pierce straightens her blazer and with a nod to Cass, who doesn’t even pretend to not be staring, she leaves the cafe.

His eyes find Benjy’s as he walks over to the counter, hands in his pockets, body language casual.

“Hi baby.” 

“Hi…”

Benjy smiles at him in a way that really shouldn’t be legal and Cass can barely resist the urge to reach over the bar and pull him in for a kiss.

“Do I look different?”

Benjy cocks his head to the side slightly when he asks, the small gold earring in his ear catching the light. Cass’s eyebrows come together; that wasn’t what he was expecting him to say.

But he should know by now; Benjy Fenwick is anything but what’s expected of him. 

“Uh, no? Not really? Should you?”

“Well I thought you know, landing an agent, therefore making me an official professional artise would make me a bit more-”

Benjy doesn’t get to finish his thought because Cass lets out a cry of delight and gives into temptation, grabbing the sides of his face and bending ¾ of his body over the bar to kiss Benjy victoriously, swallowing his laughter and breaking away in astonished giggles.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m guessing it’s good news?” Carly says dryly, glancing up from her books with a smile that betrays her. Benjy’s grinning almost manically and he nods so fast Cass actually sees a blur.

“Congratulations, Benj. You deserve it.” She jerks her head to the door as her eyes find Cass.

“Go. Celebrate. I can start half an hour early.”

“Are you sure?” Cass asks, already untying his apron. Carly nods, her smile growing.

“Your lives just fucking changed, of course I’m sure. You only get to celebrate this once.” 

Cass doesn’t even bother to properly walk around the counter, opting instead to clamor over it to get to Benjy as fast as possible, squeezing him in a bone crushing hug that lifts him slightly off of the ground.

“I knew you’d get it.” He tells his hair, Benjy just grins back at him. They leave the shop and start walking home, their hands firmly together, safe in their own neck of the city. Benjy breaks the contact soon, energy pouring out of him as he recaps everything for Cass, practically dancing as he walks backwards on the sidewalk.

“So she said she remembered me from school, even before Deena mentioned me-and I was honestly already in her ‘possibilities pile’ which is just...I want one of those. How fucking bad ass. But anyway, she remembered my name since it’s you know, ridiculous. And then she said uh, she remembered me because of my talent, but she was giving me a shot because of my compassion, which you know...pretty cool.”

Cass knew it was a lot more than ‘pretty cool’. He could see it on Benjy’s face, the way he spoke, how his eyes danced right along with him-he didn’t need to explain himself further.

“And we talked about Deena for a long time and just...god Cass, she’s such a cool kid and just, like, even if her mom had been like a dentist or something, I still would’ve loved meeting her like this, you know? But she’s not a dentist and now…”

His smile kind of fades and Benjy stops, Cass watches it all sink in right in front of him. When Benjy meets his eyes again, galaxies are forming.

“I’m real.”

Cass closes the distance between them and kisses him sweetly. He wants to tell Benjy that he’s always been real, that he would’ve been real no matter what had happened, but he knows what Benjy  means. And he doesn’t want to take even a fraction of any of this away from him. 

“You’re real.” He says, taking his hand again and giving it a squeeze. Benjy tells him all about logistics, the next steps, how he made sure he could still do the program at the hospital-answering Cass’s questions as best as he can. When they get to their building, Cass starts to unlock the door as Benjy balances on the top of the railing like always.

“You know what one was her favorite?”

Warmth is already spreading to Cass’s cheeks, instincts and the way Benjy’s voice has gone impossibly soft giving him a hint.

“What one?”

Benjy hops off the railing and stands on his tip toes to reach Cass’s lips fully.

“You, your highness. Your photograph. My favorite too.” 

Their fingers are locked together as they climb the stairs. Benjy pauses when they get to their landing.

“Do you think Carly was right? Is everything about to change?”

Someone not fluent in Benjy would’ve missed the tiny hint of doubt in his voice, but not Cass. He pushes some of Benjy’s hair out of his face and smiles at him.

“I think so, Star Eyes. But you know what?”

“What?”

“So far, every change with you has been a good one.”

[eliserunsboston]

Growing Like a Wildflower

A Wildflower

    “A flower of an uncultivated variety or a flower growing freely without human intervention.”¹

“Wildflowers find themselves growing anywhere. They grow in the most unlikely of places, even in the darkest of night. They find any cracks and crevices that will allow them to sprout up, and they do just that. They grow despite everyone’s belief that they never would. They allow the rain to heal them, not drench them.”²

There is a toughness and simultaneous beauty to wildflowers that I have grown to admire. They grow in the most unlikely of places and resiliently find a way to blossom in the most challenging of circumstances. It’s science.

What I love most about the characteristics of a wildflower is that it grows freely, resiliently and untamed wherever it is planted.  It is even able to grow in the unlikeliest of places – in cracks, in crevices, in forgotten fields – and they bring beauty to the space that they inhabit.

There’s a quote that keeps popping up on my Pinterest feed and popping into my mind at moments I need the most reassurances, and it is this by Morgan Harper Nichols, “And somehow, after everything, she still bloomed in the way she was meant to.” (It might also be my phone background.) Morgan Harper Nichols is an artist, a writer, and a storyteller. In 2017, Morgan started a project where she invited people to submit stories to her website. From there, she began creating art inspired by the stories her readers submitted and then sent the person who submitted their story the artwork at no cost. Her words and artwork are illustrative of hope. I am in awe of her talents and the way in which she uses art to build a human connection to bring hope and reassurances to the world. It’s incredible.

“And somehow, after everything, she still bloomed in the way she was meant to.”

When questions start to come up that I don’t yet have the answer to, I refer to this quote. I feel like this unearths the hope that lies within. It’s the reassurance that no matter what detours or winding turns that feel as though they’re pulling me off course come my way, the experiences have grace within them. I feel like she created those words for me.

This season of my life is about growing and learning to listen to my intuition again. It’s a season of looking at the world in a relaxed, matured lens. It’s teaching me patience and to appreciate the fruits and blessings I currently have in the now. It’s having me take a step back from looking at the future and the next step and focusing on appreciating the here and now, in order to know more clearly what I want the picture of my future to look like. It’s also creating a space to let in a rush of gratitude, because when you take the time to pause and reflect, you can’t help but pull out of that place of unfulfillment and count the things that you do have that maybe you didn’t have years ago. It’s allowing me to look at the twists and turns of decisions I’ve made with an objective lens and learn a lesson from it. Giving yourself the space to turn an ordinary, plain moment into a significant pause of reflection to appreciate how far you’ve come is renewing. It’s hard to slow down in a society that elevates and applauds productivity. It’s hard to slow down when my mind is comfortable operating at a heavy pace and my fingers itch for a  distraction often found in mindless apps on my devices. It’s tough to turn off the outside world – full of opinions and misplaced directions and decisions – and come into my own body and listen to my mind, my thoughts.

Lately my happiness hasn’t matched my picture of what life would look like by now. The timeline is off. Dreams deferred, along with befuddled expectations are all funky. That’s my technical term for it. Funky. They’re criss-crossy and tangled and difficult to follow and unexpected. It doesn’t match my picture.

But it’s my story.

And that, my friends, is beautiful in and of itself.

Because you’re unique, lovely and hand-made with not one being the same to make up this fabric of the world. So embrace those qualities and sink more into your unique, one-of-a-kind gifts and find your people that have those similar qualities too. And get together and make great shit happen, so that you can share your beautiful, wildflower story of how you overcome. I hope that you fill up your day with words of love and wisdom and reassurance and hope. And that you truly believe you have a wildflower heart within you, meant to blossom in the hardest and darkest of times because you bring beauty to this world simply with your story.

“You want to be happy, Doc? Change your picture. Or change your life,” said Wade Kinsella from Hart of Dixie on Netflix (the full quote is beautiful and located on Pinterest) to his love interest Zoe Hart as played by Rachel Bilson (shoutout to all my Gossip Girl fans!). Please go watch it if you haven’t. It might be my favorite, weird, lovely love story. And I think Wade Kinsella had some wisdom when it came to leading a happy, satisfied, contented life. He was a wildflower, learning to grow in the toughest of places, but he was resilient. He was kind to himself.

In this season of growing, I’m learning to embrace the beautiful and the tough sides of me, to be kinder to myself, to give myself patience in this place of grace and rest.

I came across this quote as I was searching Morgan Harper Nichols’ blog and I’ll leave you with this:

TRUTH ABOUT GRACE

Here’s the truth about grace:

It probably won’t look like you expect it to.

It probably won’t even really make sense to you,

because it’s glorious unmerited favor,

and nothing else really works that way.

There are so many things in life that say to you:

“You are not worthy, and you will never be worthy

unless you can prove it to me.”

But grace says something else.

Grace says:

“I see where you are,

and I know that you have been lost out here,

but there is still a way Home for you.

And you are free to carry on

on that journey,

even before it makes sense to you.”

– Morgan Harper Nichols

Dictionary.com

The Odyssey Online article Have a Heart Like a Wildflower

  Growing Like a Wildflower was originally published on Elise Kovi

[omgkatsudonplease]

hhhh this is so nice of you 😭 恭喜发财 + wangxian or jin zixuan x jiang yanli would be incredible

DID SOMEONE SAY SWAN PRINCESS AU? NO? HAVE IT ANYWAY

Jiang Yanli first meets Jin Zixuan at eight. 

Summer has enveloped Koi Tower in a blanket of golden sunshine. The birds are singing, the cicadas are humming, the dragon flies are skimming along the lake where their little boat has docked. Jiang Yanli clambers out of the boat, careful not to splash water onto her dress, and stares down at the petulant golden-clad six-year-old boy glowering up at her. 

“Well?” Mother asks. Jiang Yanli wants to make a face, but one look from her mother makes her school her lips into a smile. Mother nudges her forward on the dock again, so encouraging it’s basically insistent. At the other end, Madam Jin looks pointedly at her son. 

Jin Zixuan takes her hand, and, with an obviously pained expression on his face, kisses it. “So happy you could come,” he intones.

Jiang Yanli’s own smile grows pained, as she realises that this is but the first day of the rest of her summer. “So happy to be here,” she replies shortly. 

“Already getting along so well,” sighs Madam Jin.  Jiang Yanli makes a throat-slitting gesture at Jin Zixuan behind her back. To his credit, he looks taken aback.

This is not her idea of fun, but she’ll have to make do.

“I’m not going,” says Jiang Yanli at ten, folding her arms at dinner the night before. “The boats to Lanling are too bumpy and the horses even worse!”

“Out of the question,” says Mother, Zidian crackling ominously alongside her temper. She would never use it on her daughter, but heavens know they’ve had some close calls. “We cannot keep the Jins waiting.”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” says Jiang Yanli, “and I don’t want to see him.”

“This has been arranged a long time ago,” Mother insists. She sends a glance to Father, as if asking him to back her up. He merely makes a noncommittal ‘nn’ from over his cup of wine. 

“But I’ll miss A-Cheng and A-Ying,” insists Jiang Yanli, looking over at where her brothers are gleefully trading lotus seed pods. “And I have to take care of them too, you know.”

“That’s why we have servants,” Mother snaps. “They can take care of A-Cheng and A-Ying without you.”

Maybe that’s why you don’t want to listen to me, Jiang Yanli doesn’t say, though her face gets red with the words she’s trying to bottle in. You left me to the servants too, when I was little!

In the end, she’s practically carried to Lanling by the guards, boxed into a palanquin by her exasperated mother. “Maybe it won’t be so bumpy for you now,” she says as she draws the curtains. The guards hoist the palanquin onto their shoulders with a grunt. It’s the height of luxury to anyone else in the world, but as far as Jiang Yanli is concerned, it’s a prison forcing her onwards to destiny.

In Lanling, Jin Zixuan barely kisses her hand this year. His cousin Jin Zixun is here this year as well, and between the two of them life in Koi Towers turns into a living hell. Jiang Yanli lives each night in fear of finding a carp in her bed, each morning in fear of finding a worm in her teacup. 

After a while, she snaps, and tackles them both down the steps of Koi Tower, resulting in numerous scrapes, cuts, and broken bones.

The ensuing lecture from Mother is not her idea of fun, but at least she gets to go home early.

“Why does A-Li have to go to Lanling every summer?” A-Ying asks, his little thief-hands swiping a piece of mantou from her plate before she can protest.

Jiang Yanli is now thirteen, and her little adoptive brother is one of the brightest lights of her life. She looks up from where she’s been experimenting with the soup, a sad smile on her face as she says, “Your shijie has to visit Lanling every summer because of an arrangement with a boy in the Jin family.”

A-Ying frowns. “What’s an arrangement?”

“Well, in shijie’s case, it’s because she has to marry that boy someday.” The words taste bitter, like the soup. She must have put too much of that melon. 

“Why?” asks A-Ying.

“Because Mother is friends with the boy’s mama, and they made the arrangement.”

“But why?” asks A-Ying.

Jiang Yanli laughs. “Honestly, I don’t know.” 

That summer, armed with a newfound knowledge of how to deal with younger boys, Jiang Yanli swans into Koi Tower and takes none of Jin Zixuan’s nonsense. He may call her names and look down at her, but whenever they play weiqi he keeps losing spectacularly. 

“Maiden Jiang has a higher score,” announces the tutor refereeing what must be their sixteenth game. Jin Zixuan slams a fist onto the board, disrupting the stones. Jiang Yanli smiles serenely across the table from him. 

“You’re a very reckless player,” she remarks. “Maybe you should be more careful.”

“I don’t need your opinion,” sniffs Jin Zixuan. Jiang Yanli shrugs. 

“Suit yourself,” she says, already starting to find some amusement in seeing him so humbled.

“This is not my idea of fun,” he retorts. She only smiles wider.

“I can’t believe we’re all going to Lanling this summer,” A-Ying says, with an arm around A-Cheng’s shoulders as they hop out of the ferryboat. Jiang Yanli rolls her eyes as she follows behind, mindful of her mother’s hawk-like glare. 

She’s sixteen now, and every summer has passed much the same – spend the summer at Koi Towers, putting up with the immature buffonery and disdain from Jin Zixuan. Recently he’s been turning his mind more and more towards cultivation, his glares frosty with what he probably presumes is a ‘sense of detached otherworldliness’. As if he could ever compare to the Jades of Gusu Lan or something! 

“So glad to receive you once more,” he drawls this year, barely even looking her in the eye. 

“I’ll buy you a tanghulu if you punch him in the face,” says A-Ying to A-Cheng.

Jiang Yanli has to stifle her own laugh as Jin Zixuan’s expression darkens at that. This summer definitely looks like it’s shaping up to be lots of fun.

“It seems my son is getting along with your brothers,” Madam Jin tells her later that afternoon, as they watch the teenage boys fight with one another on the training grounds. Jin Zixuan may have some of the best cultivators in Lanling teaching him sword tricks, but he’s clearly no match for A-Ying’s scrappiness or A-Cheng’s determination. Jiang Yanli smiles, pride filling her chest as she watches them. 

“Perhaps,” she says. Still doesn’t mean I’d marry your son, she adds quietly.

It’s their last summer as children, she knows. Soon, the boys will all be going to the Cloud Recesses to study cultivation with Lan Qiren. They will all become men, great men destined for great things.

Her own destiny should be great, too, but all it does is fill her with dread. 

Naturally, the ensuing summers see her in Koi Towers only for a week, when Jin Zixuan is on break from his studies. They are perfunctory, polite, distant. 

A-Ying’s fight with Jin Zixuan in Gusu breaks off the arrangement completely.

Many summers pass before Jiang Yanli meets Jin Zixuan again, at the base of Baifeng Mountain. He’s filled out in her absence, muscles and courage alike, resplendent in his golden robes as he calls for her to stay. 

“It was my idea,” he says, red-cheeked yet solemn. “Please forgive me.”

Somehow, just the sight of him makes her knees start to buckle. She staggers backwards, towards the trees, lost for words. He had been the one to invite her to this hunt, after all. Even after all these years, after the sour words against her that had ended their arrangement – 

“I have thought of nothing but you in the years before this,” Jin Zixuan pleads. “I did not think – I did not realise, for so long, that you were the one I’ve been dreaming of.” 

Jiang Yanli slowly sinks to the ground. Jin Zixuan sinks down with her, amid the summer grass and the blooming wildflowers. The hunt continues elsewhere, in the forest all around, but as far as she’s concerned the world contains nothing else but them.

“Please forgive my own haughtiness,” she says. “I did not realise your intentions.”

His hand is warm against her own. Jiang Yanli looks up, just as Jin Zixuan starts to help her back to her feet. “I should have been clearer,” he admits. “I… I have treated you so badly in all of our years together. Every summer –”

“We were children,” says Jiang Yanli. “We did not understand.”

“Please forgive me,” repeats Jin Zixuan.

“I have,” she replies. He takes the hand holding hers, presses a soft, lingering kiss to her knuckles. 

“Our arrangement?” he asks. She nods, and the brightest smile slips onto his face, like the rays of the sun after a cloudy morning. 

And as Jiang Yanli leans forward to kiss her new fiance, she can’t help but think perhaps this truly is her idea of love. 

[mandapandamar]

Currently Untitled Poetry Smash Drabble

Context, because this is a weird AU that only I asked for: I play Dungeons and Dragons with some friends, and my DM let me make a few things happen. The first was that I based my character, an elven druid, off of Jehan. I've wanted to mess around with Jehan for a while and druid seemed like a really good choice for them: magic and nature. They also, of course, have an interest in the flute and poetry writing. Because Jehan.

The second thing was making Poetry Smash happen. In this realm, Bahorel is an elven barbarian. He's not as ostracized as other barbarians tend to be; in fact, he plays a very important role in their community.

The relationship at this point is already established!

That said, I'm extremely nervous about this, because godDAMN the Les Mis fandom is super talented but I have been persuaded so here it is!

“Where are we going, Baz?”

“You'll see.”

Two figures made their way down a familiar trail in the woods. The dirt had been tamped down over years of foot travel, beaten by explorers and locals alike. Trees lined the path on either side, extending higher than the eye could see, seemingly vanishing into the Heavens above. The lush canopy blocked out most of the light from the full moon above, and had it not been for the taller of the two holding a lantern, vision would have been impossible.

Both of these creatures were elves, members of the eladrin clan native to this area, but the similarities stopped there. One was abnormally tall for an elf, about six and a half feet tall. He was stocky, with broad shoulders and defined muscles. His skin had been bronzed by the sun and heavily tattooed with his war stories. His long brown hair was tied back in intricate braids, effectively keeping it out of his angular face. This was Bahorel. Bahorel had been chosen by the elders to be a provider and protector of the village, citing his strength, bravery--though some would call it recklessness--and his heightened fighting skills. All these things earned Bahorel the respect of his fellow villagers, and while some feared meeting him alone at night, others viewed him as a gentle giant. He could be just as warm and kind as he could be cold and savage, and what side people got to see was typically dependent on how they treated him.

One such person who got to see his gentler side was walking beside him, their hand gently intertwined with his. They were much shorter than Bahorel, only coming up to about his shoulder, and much smaller in frame. They were delicate and their skin was fair, speckled with tiny flecks of brown that looked as though the gods themselves had dipped their brushes in pigment and meticulously painted each individual dot on their skin. Their hair seemed crafted of fine strands of the purest copper and was often woven with flowers or adorned with trinkets they found in the woods. Their name was Jehan, and they were as intrepid as they were beautiful.

Jehan shared a strong bond with nature. Flowers seemed to bloom wherever they walked. Animals that were normally frightened of humanoid creatures were not alarmed in their presence. Jehan frequently attributed this to the idea that animals could sense when someone was kind and of no threat. But the reality was that Jehan was blessed with a potent magical gift, one that they often tried to down-play out of modesty.

It was this gift that landed Jehan with an incredibly important title. Each decade in their home land of Elestrisia, King Galajen selected five individuals gifted with especially strong magical abilities. Those five were given the title of either a Prince or Princess of Elestrisia, though Jehan preferred to use the term “royal.” These five royals would serve as guardians of the land, each given a special responsibility in the process. Jehan's duty was to reinforce the world, to be sturdy yet gentle, stalwart and forgiving, protective and supportive. It was a tall order, but Jehan could handle it, though they remained a bit nervous.

Jehan was set to depart for the castle the following day. They had an obligation to attend to after ten years, in which they would get to see their fellow royals again. Bahorel was insistent on Jehan meeting him in the woods the night prior, but why, Jehan had no idea.

Bahorel led Jehan through the wood to a clearing. Jehan was familiar with this spot; it was where they had met one another some four years ago, when Jehan happened across an injured Bahorel…

Bahorel's voice brought Jehan out of their thoughts. “Remember the first thing you said to me?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Yes. I told you that you were lucky I'd prepared a healing spell that morning.”

“Otherwise I'd be a goner, yeah.”

“I stand by that,” Jehan chided. “And now I have a healing spell prepared every morning, just in case.”

“See? I helped.” Bahorel smiled and wrapped his arm around Jehan's shoulders.

The pair gazed around the glade. With the thick canopy of the sequoia gone, the full moon shone brightly and illuminated their surroundings. To the right was a small stream that cut through the wood. Further back, there was a waterfall that one could hear if they were quiet enough. To the left was a small shrine that the ancients must have used; it had long since been overtaken by nature, moss clinging to its stone facade and life sprouting from its base in the form of tiny mushrooms and wild grass. In front of them, more wood extended as far as the eye could see before fading into shadow and mist. The slightest breeze made the grass in the foreground dance. It was peaceful, calm, and Jehan often came out here to write or think. Sometimes Bahorel would come along and provide...certain distractions.

“You were sitting with your feet in the water when I met you,” Bahorel reminisced.

“I was resting; it's a long walk out here and the water soothed any aches I had. My feet weren't so tough back then.”

“Ah, yes. I always forget the spirit of the forest refuses to wear shoes.”

Jehan elbowed their companion in the side lightly, earning a laugh. “Hey,” Bahorel defended, “give me a break! You have to go do important royalty stuff starting tomorrow and I'm gonna be all alone. I have to get my fix in before you go!”

Jehan chuckled. “I'll only be gone a little while.”

“I know. I'm still going to miss you.”

A blush tinted Jehan's usually pale cheeks. “Is that why you've brought me here? So I have a longer trip back home before I leave in the morning?”

“No,” Bahorel said simply, turning to face Jehan. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, almost nervous. Bahorel never got nervous, so why now?

“I actually brought you here because I have something important I need to give you and it can't wait. I don't want you leaving without it.”

Jehan raised a brow. “Oh? What is it?”

Bahorel let out another anxious breath. He'd been involved with Jehan for a while now and knew as well as anyone that Jehan was a true romantic. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Jehan had planned out their perfect proposal and Bahorel didn't want to fall short of those expectations.

“We've been together for a while now, you and I. And in that time, I like to think we've made each other pretty happy, right?”

Jehan smiled. “Yes.”

“And the other day as you were braiding my hair, you were talking about how the full moon is a really auspicious time, how you had a good feeling about your trip and this moon in general. You mentioned how things are at their peak and it's a time to celebrate, a time to turn your desires into realities.”

Jehan nodded, still smiling as Bahorel took their hands. They were completely clueless as to where Bahorel was going with all of this, but hell if he wasn't fiercely passionate about the whole thing.

“And I realized something. I realized what I desire more than anything else. What I want. And that's you. All of you. Everything you are and everything you do, I want all of it. I want all of you, the good and the parts you don't like so much, every day, for forever.”

Bahorel sank to a knee, gazing up at Jehan with love in his eyes. “What do you say, Jehan? Will you marry me?”

To say Jehan teared up was an understatement. The entire time Bahorel was speaking, Jehan was blubbering. He'd never been a wordsmith; Bahorel tended to let his actions speak for him in situations such as this. And yet, he put together the most beautiful string of words Jehan had ever heard. Beautiful words that Jehan couldn't have written better if they'd tried.

“Yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you!”

They wiped their eyes as they caught sight of the ring Bahorel held out. It was delicate and pretty, a golden band with wildflowers etched into the metal. It fit perfectly on their hand, surrounded by druidic symbols and words inked into their skin. Jehan looked at it for only a split second before tugging Bahorel to his feet and pulling him into a kiss.

As they separated, Bahorel brushed a strand of copper hair from Jehan's face, his eyes fixed on the beauty of his betrothed. “I love you, Jehan.”

“I love you more, Baz.”

Bahorel grinned and scooped Jehan into his arms, carrying them off to a special spot only the two of them knew. They'd have to get up pretty early if Jehan wanted to leave for the castle on time, but deadlines be damned. Tonight was just for them.

[lacrossepapi]

Enchanting

This is the first @fandomcares auction piece for @jilrene who wanted fae!Stiles and was kind enough to let me split the 5k+ into two smaller fics. Yes I did reuse the same fae edit I used for my fae!peter fic

Ao3 link

Enjoy!

The first time Peter met one of the Fair Folk he was four. Having a family as old as the Hales meant growing up with stories of the old world and the creatures that resided in it. Every Saturday night the entire Hale clan would meet in the main family’s mansion and listen to the tales of days long since past, and his aunts and uncles bickering over the details of those stories. Cautionary tales of the dangers that lurk in the deep dark woods. Tales that Peter had always enjoyed and lived by, even when the other children mocked him about it. His grandmother was Peter’s most favorite person in the world and her favorite thing had always been the little bouquets of wildflowers the children brought her. Peter was a competitive child, who prided himself on always giving her the biggest brightest bouquets, which is how he found himself further out into the forest than the others. Each day he ventured farther and farther into the beckoning woods with the goal of bringing back brighter, more beautiful flowers for his darling grandmother.

The forest was always a loud symphony of life, but it grew quieter as Peter followed a trail of blooming Bolander’s Lilies. His grandmother had shown him Bolander’s Lily the night before as she read from their book of flowers until he fell asleep. Peter had been so excited to see the rare and beautiful flower and his small feet carried him deep into the whispering trees. With his arms full of lillies Peter started hearing soft humming; he was immediately nervous and yet he also felt himself drawn to the sweet melody.

He soon found himself standing outside a circle of candles and flowers he’d never seen before, not even in his books. Peter had been so focused on the wonderful new flowers he could give his grandmother he hadn’t realized the source of the soothing melody was watching him.

“Hello little one.”

Peter flinched. He hadn’t meant to get so distracted by the wonderful flowers in front of him, good boys always paid attention to their surroundings. He looked up at the speaker shyly, scared he was about to be reprimanded.

“What brings you out here, precious?” The man speaking to him had pale skin and bright burning amber eyes.

“My Abuelita likes flowers. Yours are pretty.” Peter replied nervously, still waiting for the punishment he knew was coming.

“We all enjoy the delights of flora don’t we? Would you care to give me your name darling boy?” The man now wore a smirk Peter had only seen on his Uncle Michael right before he did something bad.

The question sent up a flag of warning though. His grandmother had always told him to never give someone his name. All those nights sitting on the floor at her feet as she told the family the warning signs of a trickster fae and it still took Peter a while to recognize the slightly pointed ears, the too sharp teeth, the slight glow about him, the ring of plants he was in. Peter was going to get in so much trouble.

He shook his head to signal that no, he was not going to give this fae his name.

“Ah yes, ‘Stranger Danger’ as the humans these days call it. If you give me your name we won’t be strangers. Here, I’ll start. You can call me Stiles.” The fae gave him a wide smile.

Peter shook his head again and mumbled a quiet, “I know what you are mister.”

The fae’s eyes flashed a bright gold as he squatted to eye level with Peter, “You know what I am? How peculiar. Was it your Abuelita that told you about me and mine?”

Peter made the motion of putting a key in his mouth, locking it, and throwing it over his shoulder.

The fae laughed a bright happy laugh that made Peter think about the warm summer days he’d swing on the porch with his grandmother.

“Fair enough little one. If I cannot have your name I will think of one to call you instead. Come here and let me get a look at you.” The fae’s smile was welcoming and Peter felt himself take a step forward before his brain caught up and reminded him that once inside a faerie ring they will never let you out.

Peter shook his head again.

The fae laughed once more and looked at Peter with something like fondness in his burning eyes.

“Clever boy. You can stay there then.”

The fae’s eyes flashed again as he looked over Peter, who was feeling like he should’ve ran away a long time ago.

“Ah that’s unfortunate.” The fae tapped his index finger over his lips as he hummed.

“It seems your new name will be Ash Prince.” Something in the man’s voice seemed both sad and yet also pleased.

Peter opened his mouth to ask why that was his name, but between one blink and the next he found himself sitting in his bed surrounded by a small ring of beautiful and unique flowers, that definitely didn’t belong in this realm.

If he kept them for himself, no one had to know.

-

Peter continued to see Stiles throughout the years. He tried to stay away, to not purposefully seek the fae out, yet he always found himself just outside that ring of luminescent flowers. Stiles’ humming floating around on the breeze until it wound its way around Peter no matter where the boy was.

“Where are you going, mi corazón?” Peter’s grandmother’s soft voice found him from her place on the porch swing.

“Hello Abuelita.” Peter smiled at her as he altered his path to take him to his grandmother.

He settled in to swing quietly with her and watch the sunset, but unfortunately she was looking at him with a glint in her eyes that spelled trouble.

Peter knew better than to speak first and give her an opening, so he got more comfortable and let himself enjoy the gentle swinging as she stared at him.

“I know where you go when you think we aren’t watching.”

Peter smiled softly at her and continued to wait her out, he knew his grandmother and there was no way she was finished.

“I know they don’t see, but you should know that I do. And I hear mi corazon.” She lifted an eyebrow at him as if daring him to argue.

He would not.

“What do you hear Abuelita?” Peter asked quietly.

“I hear the death knell that rings each time you step into that forest. I hear the dirges that play each time you go beyond our reach. I hear our family’s lament each time you meet with that fae in the woods.” She gently held his face between her hands, “And I hear the love songs he sends you each time you feel alone.”

Peter didn’t know what to say. She was right. He knew meeting Stiles was wrong. He knew that with each visit he got closer and closer to that ring, to telling the fae his true name. Stiles was slippery yet dazzling, devilish yet charming, doom yet peace. Stiles was enchanting and Peter was lost in his spell.

His grandmother must have seen the turmoil on his face, because she ran a soothing hand down his arm and sighed, “I know my darling boy. You are only fifteen, and he has had you for nearly ten years already. Be strong mi amor.”

Peter nodded, tears welling in his eyes, and words stuck in his throat.

“He will come for you one day.” she leaned forward to place a kiss on his forehead before continuing as if she could speak directly into his mind, past the melody still calling him into the woods, “Remember your family. Remember my teachings. Remember who you are.”

Each sentence ended with a kiss until finally she sighed and leaned back into her space.

“Go to him mi corazón. He is waiting.”

Peter took her dismissal for what it was and kissed her head before he headed into the ever darkening forest.

-

“Stay with me awhile longer my beautiful Ash Prince.” Stiles was looking at him with earnest amber eyes.

“I cannot. You know I cannot.” Peter sighed.

Stiles huffed once before turning a sad little pout Peter’s direction, “What if I gave you more flowers?”

Suddenly Peter was surrounded by his favorite of the flowers Stiles had shown him.

“What if I gave you books?”

The flowers disappeared, only to quickly be replaced by great big chests filled with every book Peter could ever wish to read.

“What if I gave you nothing at all other then all of my attention for the rest of your life?”

The chests disappeared and all that was left was Stiles, hovering above the ring of flora so that he could lay on his stomach and yet still be eye level with Peter.

The human rolled his eyes fondly.

“You are sly and quick Stiles. I can never let my guard down with you. One wrong word and I’m just another brainless human slave.” Stiles opened his mouth to protest but Peter continued, “The fun is in the fact that I will not submit. I am too smart to fall into your beautiful deadly traps and you like a challenge.”

Stiles righted himself so that he could stomp his foot while he crossed his arms and frowned like  child.

Fourteen years they’d played this game. Fourteen years of Stiles trying to swindle Peter’s name out of him. Fourteen years of almost stepping past the ring of flora when he relaxed too much around the trickster.

Peter was turning eighteen soon which meant college was on the horizon. College, a job, a life of his own was waiting for Peter outside of these comforting woods,and of the loving home he’d grown up in. He could not keep Stiles. He could not continue the wonderful back and forth banter they had together. It was time for Peter to grow up.

“I leave tonight and I will not return.” the finality in his voice was a shock to both human and fae.

Stiles tried to call for Peter as the man walked away, but he would not return.

-

Peter returned to Beacon Hills the summer after his freshman year of college. He felt like a new man. He felt changed in a way that made him embarrassed to talk about. Somehow he felt both more mature and incredibly immature all at once. It had only been a year and yet for better or for worse,  Peter was different.

All summer he heard Stiles’ songs. All summer he ignored them. He was done playing games with the fae and he would not let himself act on the temptation. As the weeks passed the melodies became increasingly chaotic, like he was trying to tell Peter something with his songs because the man would not go to him.

Peter ignored the warnings.

As he laid burning, listening to the screams of his family around him Peter wished more than anything in the world that Stiles would come save them.

“I’m here my sweet Ash Prince. What do you ask of me?” Stiles voice washed over Peter’s burning body, making the dying boy smile.

“Save them. Please Stiles.” The words were a croak on the ash filled air.

“If you’ll give me your name darling boy. I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” Stiles words brought him back to that warm summer day when he was surrounded by his favorite flower and meeting an interesting stranger for the first time.

“My name is Peter Lobo Hale. Save my family Stiles.”

-

Peter woke up in a beautiful green forest in a country he did not know.

“Where are we today my love?”

Stiles smiled brightly at him and gestured to the trees around, “Welcome to the Black Forest!”

“And why are we here?” Peter asked, the corner of his mouth curving up in a smirk that showed a bit of fang.

“All apart of your introduction to the wonderful world around you darling!” Stiles’ joy made the male glow like a small star.

Peter would never tire of basking in the warmth Stiles spread with each grin, cheer, and exaltation of ecstasy.

Good thing he was immortal.

[loveenvogue]

Crying Over An Empty Snack Box - 2020 Recap

Since I can remember (read: hold a pen) I have loved writing. Writing helped me not to forget about the wonderful things, the bad things, and the little moments in-between. The process of writing has been my remedy whenever life had some unpleasant surprises, whenever I’ve got my heart broken or family drama went next level. With time, I have started sharing my thoughts with those around me and fell in love with the way my words could actually make people feel less alone with their own struggles and the way they resonated with my own thoughts and feelings and the experiences I have made over the years.

I have found that, with my writing, I could reach people, gently make them switch perspectives every now and then, make them laugh, and encourage them to think out of the box. I enjoyed sharing my texts and dreamed about doing so in the bigger picture for years.

However, sharing your own thoughts, stories, and feelings makes you vulnerable and it takes quite a bit of courage to put yourself out there. Whenever I would tell people about my dreams, they would either laugh, tell me how fabulous this idea was but then never really asked about it again or would straight up tell me that I would never make it in any way and that I’d rather go for a safe job, just like everybody else does (thanks Grams, I love you anyway).

“2020 has been a hell of a roller coaster, but for me, it has been the mentor that I didn’t know I needed to finally understand that nobody but me myself has to understand my passions and the path I am walking on. It is mine alone and nobody else has to walk on it.”

Crying Over An Empty Snack Box 

Last year has been a wild one in the weirdest ways possible. When I say a wild one, I obviously don’t mean a year filled with dinner parties and excessive city trips, but rather intense emotions and a lot of “inner work”. Last year has proven to all of us that nothing is certain and we found ourselves being confronted with literally everything in our lives. The things we might regret, the dreams that we never had the courage to turn into our reality, the relationships we never dared to commit to, the kisses we have never kissed, the “I love you”s we’ve never dared to speak out loud, the routine of our 9 to 5 jobs that don’t fulfill us and so much more. Childhood trauma and unhealed wounds from the past have danced the Tango with our fears, and anxiety seems to be the only one who has had a true feast this year.

However, with everything bad that has been brought by the last year, there have been so many lessons learned, wonderful connections have been made (Instagram is a true blessing when it comes to that), and - in my case - some childhood trauma has been healed. They say people either suffered a lot this year or have thrived. Well, I would say I have been a little bit of both. I have thrived a lot but occasionally lost it completely. With that, I mean situations where I would suddenly find myself crying in front of the snack box because the bespoke box was empty and I couldn’t bear the thought of stepping outside and having to deal with other people.

Inner Gardening

One thing that I have stepped out of though, is my comfort zone. I have become stronger than ever, I have learned to dance with my fears, to be grateful for what I have, and have gotten the chance to get to really know me. I did my “inner gardening”, started to care less and less about what other people think or might say about me, and followed my intuition and my intuition only. One morning, after I came out of the shower, I looked into the mirror and felt like I have outgrown my own skin (read: looks), booked an appointment at the hairdresser, and got my hair dyed dark. Afterward, I took a long walk through the city, bought a lipstick I was eying for weeks (Jane’s signature berry lips, for all the Bold Type fans out there), and with all these outside changes, I felt the most like myself that I have ever felt. It’s not about superficially changing into who I want to be without doing the inner work. It’s the inner gardening work that I have done first, that made me grow out of “my old skin”, makes me more comfortable with bolder looks, and therefore allows me to play around without worrying how other people might perceive these changes. Changes. The weirdest changes can lead to the most beautiful transformations both - inside and outside. Uncertainty can transform us into the wonderful strong warriors that we are when we tap into our true and whole potential, listen to our intuition, and celebrate ourselves with every single little “imperfection”.

The Mentor That I Didn’t Know I Needed

With all these changes, I have come to the decision that I don’t want to hide my dreams in little dusty notebooks anymore but that I want to give them a place to bloom. I want to share my stories, my visions, and my thoughts and hope they will inspire you, the reader, as much as I have been inspired by the wonderful words and imageries of other people, too. I hope this place inspires you to do your own inner (gardening) work and to water your own seeds to watch them grow and make them bloom into beautiful wildflowers. Your dreams are as unique and wonderful as you and your story.

2020 has been a hell of a roller coaster, but for me, it has been the mentor that I didn’t know I needed to finally understand that nobody but me myself has to understand my passions and the path I am walking on. It is mine alone and nobody else has to walk on it.

With that realisation and my thoughts and actions actually following it, the most wonderful flowers came to bloom and, next to an incredible amount of gratitude and appreciation for the wonderful people in my life, I invited something / someone else into my life at the end of the year: L O V E . 

(to be continued...)

with love,

Deborah Chloé

[wallpapernifty]

20 Things You Should Know About Yellow Bulb Flower | Yellow Bulb Flower

ENDVILLE • Thirty years ago, Martha Williams buried a row of about 50 ancient daylily bulbs she dug up from her mother’s yard. She acclimated a beanery to ball them because she didn’t accept a trowel.

Flower Varieties List – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

Those aboriginal daylilies accept morphed into bags of blooms over the years and that’s aloof one bed of flowers. Williams has a dozen or added daylily beds about her home in Endville.

“I don’t accept any abstraction how abounding altered varieties I accept and I don’t apperceive the names of any of them,” said Williams, 86. “I aloof apperceive the colors. A lot of my blooms accept gone to red this year and I don’t apperceive why.”

New for Fall 20: Deer Resistant Bulbs | Florissa Flowers – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

Some of Williams’ daylilies are buried forth a white blockade fence in advanced of her home while others are broadcast about walkways. Bloom colors accommodate red, purple, pink, peach, white, ablaze yellow, abysmal chicken and orange.

Five years afterwards her antecedent planting, Williams started attractive through annual catalogs and acquainted the daylilies they had for sale. She began visiting breadth in the breadth and alert to bodies allocution about growing daylilies.

Buy Erythronium Pagoda Bulbs Online : Cheap Spring Bulbs For Sale .. | yellow bulb flower

“The aboriginal ball I anytime bought amount me $3.50,” she said. “It was out of a garden in New Albany. I still accept that bulb. But I don’t buy abounding daylilies. Bodies are usually accommodating to accord you some.”

Williams said daylilies are decidedly low-maintenance flowers. She puts a 13-13-13 fertilizer about the flowers at atomic three times a year. Her flowers charge at atomic six hours of sunshine a day and she never amnion them.

Tiger Lily- Yellow, (20 Bulb/Plants) Gorgeous flowers – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

“I accept too much, too abounding to water,” she

20 Things You Should Know About Yellow Bulb Flower | Yellow Bulb Flower – yellow bulb flower | Delightful in order to our weblog, with this period I’m going to show you concerning keyword. And now, this is actually the first picture:

Lomatium – Wikipedia – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

Why not consider photograph above? is usually which amazing???. if you’re more dedicated so, I’l d provide you with several photograph once more beneath:

So, if you desire to receive these amazing graphics about (20 Things You Should Know About Yellow Bulb Flower | Yellow Bulb Flower), click on save link to store these pictures to your computer. There’re all set for obtain, if you appreciate and want to have it, click save badge in the article, and it will be instantly downloaded to your laptop.} Lastly if you want to obtain unique and the latest graphic related to (20 Things You Should Know About Yellow Bulb Flower | Yellow Bulb Flower), please follow us on google plus or bookmark this page, we try our best to present you daily update with fresh and new graphics. Hope you like keeping here. For most updates and recent information about (20 Things You Should Know About Yellow Bulb Flower | Yellow Bulb Flower) shots, please kindly follow us on tweets, path, Instagram and google plus, or you mark this page on book mark area, We attempt to offer you up-date periodically with fresh and new pics, love your browsing, and find the right for you.

Here you are at our site, articleabove (20 Things You Should Know About Yellow Bulb Flower | Yellow Bulb Flower) published .  Today we’re pleased to declare that we have discovered an extremelyinteresting topicto be pointed out, namely (20 Things You Should Know About Yellow Bulb Flower | Yellow Bulb Flower) Many individuals searching for info about(20 Things You Should Know About Yellow Bulb Flower | Yellow Bulb Flower) and certainly one of these is you, is not it?

Daffodil Double Flowering Yellow – Plant Information – TotalGreen .. | yellow bulb flower

Trout Lilies | Children of the Spring | Garden Variety – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

Pacific Bulb Society | Favorite Yellow Flowered Bulbs – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

3 CANNA LILY Bulb sLARGE YELLOW FLOWERS Richard Wallace .. | yellow bulb flower

(20) Giant Flowering Yellow, Gold, Bananarama Gladiolus Bulbs ,Plant, Bulb, Root, Sword Lily, Gladioli – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

Yellow flower – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

Allium cernuum (Nodding Wild Onion): Minnesota Wildflowers – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

Yellow Mammoth Crocus Bulbs | Buy Crocus Bulbs in Bulk at .. | yellow bulb flower

NARCISSUS BULBOCODIUM GOLDEN BELLS A slightly taller, multi .. | yellow bulb flower

Daffodil day 25th August 2017 – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

Amazing and Beautiful Flowers Photos | Incredible Snaps – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

childanthus fragrans More Summer Flowering Bulbs Bulbs | Buy More .. | yellow bulb flower

After Bloom Care for Amaryllis – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

Day lily Yellow Hybrid flower bulbs pack of 20 – yellow bulb flower | yellow bulb flower

Calla Lily Yellow Bulbs – Flower Bulbs | Buy Online from .. | yellow bulb flower

from Wallpaper Nifty https://www.flowernifty.com/20-things-you-should-know-about-yellow-bulb-flower-yellow-bulb-flower/

[lonedoctrine]

Welcome to our segment of the “Think Tank” where we send out a Q&A to the people, to keep building and exploring “Food For Thought” for the people. Each and every moment someone’s story is unfolding and I feel each and every one of us is significant. Together, we make TODAY better than YESTERDAY.

Our next next guest has led a life of great resilience, commitment, and compassion. Even through the harshest conditions, she's a wildflower that continues to bloom.

Think Tank

1. Give a bit of your background/context. (Where you’re from, what you do, etc.)

I am a Los Angeles native through and through. Lived in northern California for a few years after high school, but LA has my heart. Professionally I am a commercial coordinator – this means I make TV commercials for a living.

2. What are some your top values in life and, why?

Empathy & compassion are the big ones – my parents always said I had a big heart from an early age.  I have always found myself drawn to and rooting for the underdog and I yearn for an even playing field; a world where we all have the same opportunities, the same basic needs – physical and emotional (a roof over our heads, access to clean and safe food and water, and the love and support of family or friends, a world where no one is burdened or disadvantaged by lack). My heart breaks every time I pass a homeless person on the street and I am often left wondering – why them and why not me?  How is it that I get to go to work every day, come home to my (modest yet comfortable but most of all SAFE) home, eat healthy/fresh food, be warm and safe and know I am loved and this person is left cold, hungry, lonely on the street day after day.  I just don’t get it.  I try to help when I can, but am often left scratching my head when I start to compare – I look at the abundance in this world, and I mean exorbitant abundance – people that own multiple cars (for pleasure not necessity), live in mansions, wear designer clothes and eat at fancy restaurants…how can they do that in good conscience when there are people lying on the streets…let alone people, in say Africa, who don’t even have access to CLEAN WATER?!  So yeah, I think what this world needs more of is compassion…if we all cared about one another a little more, it would go a long way.

3. In your work and personal/home life what are some of the ways you stay motivated?

I have struggled with depression nearly my whole life, so staying motivated is a crucialpart of maintaining my wellbeing.  I recognize that and therefore am hyper aware & pro active of certain steps and tools that are necessary for me to stay “level.”

Tool #1 – waking up early and starting my day with exercise.  Being up early affords me a head start.  I feel like the hour and a half I spend exercising before the sun is up, not only gets me physically ready for my day (loosens the muscles, gets my blood pumping, endorphins going, etc.) – but it also prepares me mentally.  It gives me that time to mentally run through my day, play out all I have on my agenda and gets me geared up to tackle it head on. That time is essential in combating the anxiety that may come with heavily pressured work days, or days when I have a lot to get done in a little time.  That hour and a half spent thinking in silence (I used to listen to music to amp me up, but I found that it was drowning out my thoughts and have only recently noticed I do better listening to my inner voice than say Tim Armstrongs’ of Rancid. ;) ) – that time helps me not feel overwhelmed with all I have ahead of me on that day.

Tool #2 – Subjecting myself to healthy influences, mentally and physically.  I LOVE me a good murder mystery show and I have never met a cheese burger I didn’t like, but I have to keep my consumption of both in check if I am going to keep a positive, energized and hopeful outlook on life.  I find that the more I expose myself to mental downers (the news – ugh, CSI, angry rap music to name a few for me) the more I find my mental well being in jeopardy; I find myself predisposed to being agitated or weighed down/sluggish, which in turn makes me unmotivated.  Same goes with food, when I eat clean, I am physically lighter and more energized.  When I eat greasy delicious chili cheeseburgers all the time, all I want to do in nap in sweat pants.  That being said, I also think depravity is not healthy (it will make me resentful, sad), so its all about moderation.

Tool #3 – making lists.  I find, the deeper I get into this whole adult hood thing, the more things there are to get done and the less time we have to do them.  Sometimes I can feel completely overwhelmed by all my responsibilities that I will be completely paralyzed/unmotivated because I don’t know where to start. Making lists so I can compartmentalize and better see the big picture and this decipher what demands my current attention and what can be addressed at a later date, setting reminders (“hey Siri, set a reminder” – literal life game changer for me, thank you apple) – both of these things really help keep my momentum moving forward.

4. We speak of “Food For Thought” that provides a means of making TODAY better than YESTERDAY. What do you do or do you have a daily routine to keep your mind on the right track?

Well, I feel I addressed some of this above but I can expand a little.  A big part of keeping my mind on the right track is controlling my inner dialog.  I struggle with my own perception of myself (body image, self worth) and I often catch myself speaking really negatively about myself and that is something I make a conscious effort to combat. Lately (and I mean only super recently) – I have been trying to flip the script by saying positive and hopeful things about myself.  I am currently working hard to get healthy (physically) and though my physical progress has been minute, I am praising myself every day for getting up and out of bed and exercising.  When I start to go down an anxiety black hole in work because my load is “too much to bear,” I remind myself – “I have done this before and I will do it again.  My colleagues have chosen me to work alongside them for a reason; I am beyond capable and skilled and over qualified and I will excel in this and all that I do because of my strong work ethic and unfaltering, well sometimes faltering but always getting back up, attitude.”  

5. What are your top three favorite books, movies, or shows and, why?

Favorite books – “Beach Music” by Pat Conroy, “Summer Sisters” by Judy Blume & almost anything by Michael Connelly, my favorite probably being, “The Poet.”

My love for these three books are all deeply rooted in the memories from the time in my life I was at, when these books came to me. When I was in my early 20s I had just moved back to LA and into my first apartment alone.  I was scraping by, paycheck-to-paycheck and I could not afford cable.  My grandpa started a book club with me; every month he would give me 5 books that I had to read, and to this day he has never recommended something that didn’t move me in some way.  

“Beach Music” is an incredible story about life and love and the journeys we all take and it was just a really powerful read.  All of Connelly’s works are really well written.  Probably my favorite thing about his books is that they are all set in Los Angeles and he constantly references little places that only natives would notice or recognize.  I can close my eyes and instantly be transported to my first apartment in the Hollywood hills; lights dim, crickets chirping, 1950s slatted windows letting in a crisp breeze… (I can even see the crimson red bed sheets I was lying in when I was reading “The Poet”).  I remember turning the page and the protagonist (Harry Bosch) found himself in his apartment off Woodrow Wilson drive and the murderer was creeping up his back stairs unbeknownst to him…Woodrow Wilson drive was literally less that a mile from my apartment; all the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I got chills.  I remember calling my grandpa late that night, after 10pm, and scolding him for giving me this book – such a terrifying and salacious read, I could not put it down and I just remember his laughter and commiseration because he felt the same way when he read it…such special memories, and a bond that we still share - to this day we have both read almost every one of Connelly’s works and we still come together to share stories about our reads.

Judy Blume, I don’t think I need to expand much here as her reputation precedes her.  But, “Summer Sisters” was her first adult novel and I was 14, and traveling with my best friend from kindergarten, when my mother gave us both a copy.  The story is set around two girls, different in so many ways but the same at the core and it follows their friendship from elementary school through adulthood.  This book lined up with both our lives in so many ways and I can again, close my eyes and be transported to the deck of a ferry boat in the Mediterranean (side note, how lucky was I?!) eating chocolate with Erica (my bestie) and eagerly turning each page, we could not read the book fast enough!  I have since re-read the book over 10 times and recently gifted my copy to my little sister on her graduation from junior high (at age 14) and she read it while traveling with me (in the Mediterranean no less!) and it’s just continued to impact my life in so many lovely ways.

6. If you could chose a superpower or spirit animal what would it be and, why?

I don’t quite get the spirit animal thing; blame it on my lack of imagination so I guess I’ll go with super power?  Though I really am not one for the fanciful ideas, I prefer to stay rooted in reality but I guess that sounds like a conversation to explore with my therapist.

If I had to choose, I guess I would say flying? Birds have always seemed so free and to watch one soar is just a magical experience and I suppose it would be nice to see how that feels.  Also, would be awesome to beat traffic – ha!

7. If you could call your younger self, what sort of advice would you offer?

Funny that this question should come up, as I found myself actually yearning to talk to my younger self just the other day.  I was going through a keepsake box when I stumbled upon my journals from high school.  As an adult, I have always owned my upbringing, “the fast life, growing up way too quick, exposed to so much at a young age because of distracted young parents & living in a big city” but re-reading these journals, combined with all the emotional work I have been doing in therapy lately, I found myself desperate to hold the younger me, shower her in love and reassure her that everything would work out as its meant to. You see I had a tough time in high school – dabbled in drugs and boys at an early age, which derailed my path and shifted my priorities.  That, combined with a brutal divorce, distracted (neglectful seems harsh but accurate?)/busy parents & a falling out with my friend group, which left me “completely alone,” basically plunged me into a really dark and deep depression.  Reading my words back, I was gifted with the perspective and able to see that it was all really a cry for help, for love, and most of all for accountability.  I found myself lost in the shuffle and desperate for a place to belong.  Only now am I finding that I have to create that place for myself and to lift the responsibility and subsequent disappointment off of the other people in my life.  When I allow myself to be the filler of my own cup, I can be fulfilled and happy – when I look to others for validation, love etc. – I open myself up for disappointment.  Mostly, if I could talk to my younger self, I would pull her into a deep embrace and tell her she’s worthy of the love she so desperately craves.  I would tell her life is so much bigger than high school and though it seems hopeless, things will change and shift and these years will just be a drop in the bucket.  I will reassure her that her parents did the best they could and inadvertently taught you what to do/not do, and hope that you will be given the opportunity to right those wrongs with your own children at some point in life.

To learn more VISIT www.patreon.com/lonedoctrine