#I’d call it goldenrod

[lil-als]

My favorite shade of yellow! I wonder why….

[jobean12-blog]

The Reason for Flowers

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 2,432

Summary: You love flowers and you love giving Joel flowers...he loves it too.

Author's Note: Just because I love flowers and Joel and the thought of him with flowers in his hair. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness, awkwardness on Joel's part, fluff, tension, pretty flowers

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Morning!” You sing song as you walk into the bar and see Tommy and Joel.

Tommy gives you a wide grin from behind the bar and Joel turns to look over his shoulder, his lips twitching with a ghost of a smile.

“Mornin’,” Tommy says. “Finished your walk?”

“Yep,” you answer. “And look what I found!”

You sit yourself next to Joel and lean over the bar, plucking one of the orange poppy’s you picked from the bundle and calling Tommy over.

He rests his elbows on the bar and waits while you tuck one of the flowers behind his ear.

“Isn’t the color amazing?” you sigh before taking another and sniffing it. “And it smells great too.”

You turn toward Joel and grab another stem, twirling it between your fingers with a silent question in your eyes.

He leans closer and you meet him halfway, gently pressing the bloom close to his nose. He inhales softly and closes his eyes.

“Does smell good,” he says quietly.

You smile and then tentatively reach up and rest the flower on his ear, adjusting it and then tucking some stray strands of hair behind it.

“There,” you say and meet his eyes.

“Thanks darlin’,” he murmurs.

You kiss his cheek, lingering a bit longer than necessary before turning to Tommy and handing him the rest of the bouquet of poppies.

“Give these to Maria for me,” you tell him. “I wasn’t sure if she’d be up yet.”

“That’s sweet, thank you,” Tommy says, taking the flowers and placing them in a cup from the bar.

“See you guys later,” you say with a wave.

Once you’re out of earshot, Tommy’s eyes land on Joel and his lips turn up into a mischievous smirk.

“She likes you,” Tommy states.

Joel glares. “And why the hell would you say that.”

“Really?” Tommy asks, his eyes darting to the flower.

“You got a flower too,” Joel counters with pursed lips.

“But not a kiss,” Tommy says.

“She was just being sweet,” Joel mumbles. “And that wasn’t a real kiss.”

“Whatever you say big brother.”

“Is it too early for a drink?” Joel asks as he rubs his palms over his face.

“Where are you off to?” Joel asks when you pass each other on the street.

“Just going for a walk,” you tell him. “Want to come?”

He rubs the back of his neck, studying you. “I would…but Tommy is expecting me.”

“It’s ok,” you assure him. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says quietly.

You smile and walk off, turning around again when you feel the weight of his stare.

He immediately drops his head when you catch his eye, his feet shuffling and kicking up the sandy soil. You giggle to yourself and continue on, digging your teeth into your bottom lip to stop your smile.

With an armful of flowers, you walk back toward your house, slowing when you notice Joel sitting out on the porch with his guitar.

“Hey,” you say quietly.

He lifts his head and squints into the sun.

“Hi darlin’,” he answers.

“Mind if I sit?” you ask.

Without a word he shifts over on the edge of the porch.

“Do you like licorice?”

When he gives you a curious look you hold out one of the goldenrod flowers.

“Smell this,” you tell him.

He sets his guitar down and takes it from your fingers to give it a sniff, never taking his eyes off you.

“That really does smell like licorice,” he says.

“It’s not my favorite smell,” you explain, “but I love the yellow color.”

He gives you a lopsided smirk and pulls some of the small yellow petals between his fingers.

You take another stem and shorten it. Taking special care, brush his hair away from his forehead and then secure the flower behind his ear.

“I like this one,” you smile. “The bushy and wild petals match your hair.”

“What’re you sayin’ darlin’?”

His tone is playful, and you snort back a laugh, giving the flower one last adjustment.

“If you’re not busy tomorrow you should come with me.”

He nods and you lean in to kiss his cheek, this time, closer to the corner of his mouth. When you pull away you see his eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

“Well, well, well, look at you,” Tommy hums when he finds Joel at the old tool shed.

“All these tools are rusted,” Joel says, clearly disgruntled.

“I told you they were,” Tommy shoots back.

“What’re you smilin’ about then?”

“Nice flower.”

Joel instinctively reaches up to his ear, gently touching the soft flower still stuck there. He doesn’t bother responding.

“Did you get a kiss too?”

Joel just scoffs and continues searching through the old tools.

“Wonder how long it’s gonna take you to get your head outta your ass,” Tommy muses wryly as he saunters off.

The next morning when you open your door you’re greeted with more sunshine and a very uncertain looking Joel.

“Are you sure you want company?” he asks before even saying hello.

“Mornin’!” you chime happily then step into his space and kiss his cheek. “And yes. I’m sure.”

“Mornin’ darlin’,” he mumbles sheepishly.

He pops his knee out and sets his hands on his hips.

“I’m sure,” you say again when you see him standing there and hesitating. “Come on! We have flowers to pick!”

You walk in comfortable silence for some time, your fingers brushing every so often with the swing of your arms. Neither of you move away and when you catch sight of a canvas of purple blooms up ahead you entangle your fingers with his and pull him along.

“Oh, I think these are sticky geraniums!”

When you reach the spread of flowers you drop his hand and lean down to pick one.

“Yep!” you exclaim.

“Did you say sticky?” Joel asks.

You laugh and nod your head. “Yeah. There’s this sticky stuff on the petals that smells good and attracts insects, then they get stuck and the plant sort of digests them.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. How do you know all this?”

“I found some old books about the native plants in the area, and I read them. All.”

He tracks your every move as you bend down and pick several of the purple flowers.

“I’m not sure it’s safe for you to come out here all alone every day,” he says.

You walk closer to him and hold up the flowers.

“Are you going to come with me from now on?” you ask as you twirl a stem between your fingers.

He takes it from you and holds it up to his nose.

“Smells like pine,” he states. “I like that.”

“It reminds me of you. It’s one of my favorites.”

You watch as several emotions flit across his features, and he drags his gaze from you to study the delicate purple flower again.

Neither of you have noticed the gray clouds that now blanket the sky but when a strong wind picks up and blows a chill through the air you shiver and look up.

“Where did the sun go?” you ask as you clutch your flowers.

“We best get back darlin’,” he says.

“Yeah, I guess we should.”

You shiver again and he starts to unbutton his flannel, tugging it free of his shoulders before draping it over yours.

With a soft smile he looks you over.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

His hand reaches out for you, and he rests his splayed palm on your lower back. You wait, your breath caught in your throat, as he dips his head and presses his lips to your cheek.

“You’re welcome.”

You wrap yourself in the warm fabric and discreetly sniff the collar, deciding that as much as you love the geranium smell, his shirt is absolutely your favorite.

“Do you want your shirt back?” You ask when you reach the door to your house.

He stares, his gaze lingering on your face before sweeping down your body.

“You keep it for now. Looks like it’s gonna be a chilly day.” 

After a slight pause of hesitation he says, “I uh…I would like some of the flowers though. If you don’t mind sharin’.”

With a bright smile you section off half of the geraniums and hand them to him.

“Not at all,” you whisper as you slowly wind your arms around his neck. “Thanks for coming with me.”

As you slide back down his body and onto your flat feet you brush your lips along his jaw, stopping just beside his mouth to press a soft kiss there.

You hold it, savoring the feel of his rough beard against your soft lips and the hint of the taste of his skin.

“Anytime darlin’,” he says when you finally pull away.

He waits until you’re inside and your door is shut and locked. You watch from the window as he walks down the street, flowers in hand, until he reaches his door, and the first drops of rain start to fall.

The rain doesn’t let up for the rest of the day but thankfully the next morning you wake to the warmth of sunshine spilling through the window.

You stretch out on the bed before snuggling back into the warmth of Joel’s shirt. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind that you had slept in it, but it was just too comfortable and smelled too good.

Once you’re washed up and ready for the day you head downstairs to get breakfast before your morning walk. A knock on the door causes you to pause, the early hour making you cautious.

You peek out the window first and find Joel standing at your door. When you open it you’re greeted with broad shoulders and his gruff voice.

“Hi,” you say softly.

“Hi,” he says. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Your lips spread into a smile. “You didn’t. Just wasn’t sure who else would be out this early.”

He laughs nervously but then you watch his expression change as he realizes that you’re still wearing his shirt. His swallow is audible and his tongue darts out to trace the outline of his lips.

“I hope this is ok,” you say quickly, motioning to yourself. “I just sort of fell asleep last night. You can…”

He dips his head and runs a hand through his already mussed hair. You notice his other hand is hidden behind his back.

“I uh. I went out early this morning,” he blurts out, ignoring your comment about his shirt.

He doesn’t say anything more and instead reveals what he’s hiding. A bunch of large dark purple flowers cover his chest, and he smiles nervously.

“Are those…?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Petunias. Spellbound…at least I think they are. I checked one of the books but I’m not very good at any of this.”

“They’re gorgeous” you say excitedly, reaching for the stems.

He hands them to you, and you press the whole bunch to your face with a squeal of happiness. “And they smell so good!”

“They reminded me of you,” he says, almost too quietly for you to hear.

“I love them.”

He smiles and continues to stare.

“Do you want to come in? I want to put these in a vase.”

You turn and open your door, waiting for him to follow.

He waits quietly while you get a vase and add water, setting the flowers on the table.

“I can’t believe you found these Joel.”

“Hmm?”

“The flowers…”

“What about them?” he asks, clearly distracted.

“I just can’t believe you found them,” you say again with a raise of your brow. “You ok?”

His eyes drop and linger on your legs before slowly sliding back up to your face. When you softly call his name again he clears his throat, letting a rush of words slide past his lips.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired…up early and all and someone in the town must have planted them and they took over the front of the house. There were a lot of flowers I think you’ll like. We can go there tomorrow.”

His clear awkwardness is endearing as he leans against the counter, strong arms crossed over his chest and his jaw tight, struggling to find the right words.

You take slow steps toward him until your chest brushes his forearms.

“We?” you ask with a smile.

He uncrosses his arms and rests his hands along the edge of the counter, gripping it tightly.

“I told you darlin;’ you can’t go out on your own. It’s too dangerous.”

“What about the days when it gets really cold,” you muse. “I like to go out even then.”

“You’ll need more of my shirts,” he says with a twitch of his lips.

“Don’t you need this one back?” you ask with a demure smile.

He doesn’t answer but you hear his breath hitch when you start to undo the top button. His breathing deepens with every inch of skin you reveal.

“I certainly don’t mind keeping it,” you say with the slight shrug of your shoulder. “I love having your smell on me.”

When you stop at the last button his eyes drop to your hands and he reaches for you, gently moving your fingers away and toying with the fabric.

He fumbles with the small button between his large fingers but finally pops it open, letting the material hang loosely at the sides. Only a sliver of your skin is exposed, and he slips his fingers between the space, light, and teasing.

His calloused fingertips move deliberately higher, parting the material and grazing your skin. You tremble and goosebumps spread along your arms.

His movements stop and his eyes lift to yours, holding your gaze as he closes the small distance between your bodies.

He continues to lightly graze your skin with his finger, never fully parting the material of the shirt, but inching higher until he traces the outline of your collarbone.

His hand slides behind your neck and his thumb brushes along your cheek. Your lips are parted, and his gaze drops as he moves his thumb to sweep it across their outline.

Lowering his head, his warm breath fans your cheek and his nose gently bumps yours, his lips hovering.

Your eyelashes lower and your hands reach up and find purchase on his shoulders.

“I’d like to return those kisses darlin’,” he murmurs against your lips.

His whispered name is like a prayer, and you cling to him harder, the soft press of his mouth stealing your breath.

[april-is]

April 3, 2024: Positivity, D.A. Powell

Positivity D.A. Powell

“Anyway, it isn’t forever,” Chris said, “eventually you’re dead.” And we laughed

Besides, everything is better now. Not us but implants, blenders, children, heart attacks. There’s never been a better time to be alive than when you are. If you are. Black-throated blue warbler says chewchewchewchewchewww drawing the last chew out like a sucking drainpipe to say he has mated and is satisfied. Say what you will about that. His joy is uncontainable

and yet it has a form, a measure, to make it clear he’s not upset or feeling anxious. And if he’s bragging, well, it’s no shame to brag that you’re happy.

Honeybees cavorting on the goldenrod are working toward a common goal they’ll never see achieved. They lay down the walls of their cathedral of honeycomb and will not cope the spire, busy in the present task, trusting that the work continues. I’d like to write a children’s book called everybody dies. Upbeat, of course, and pragmatic. You only got so many days. Don’t think about death; when you’re ready, death will think about you. Go out tonight with your friends, like Chris, who went out big or not at all. Have a ball. Plan ahead.

--

Hear the poet read this aloud.

also by D.A. Powell (shared in year 1 of this project!): [this is what you love: more people. you remember]

More like this:

Overjoyed, Ada Limón

you can’t be a star in the sky without holy fire, Frank X. Gaspar

Today in:

2023: Picture This, Jiordan Castle 2022: Alba, Madeleine Cravens 2021: July, Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz 2020: Poem Beginning With A Retweet, Maggie Smith 2019: Waiting for Happiness, Nomi Stone 2018: United, Naomi Shihab Nye 2017: If You Are Over Staying Woke, Morgan Parker 2016: High School Senior, Sharon Olds 2015: Dog in Bed, Joyce Sidman 2014: Persephone Writes to Her Mother, Tara Mae Mulroy 2013: Hook, James Wright 2012: How to Build an Owl, Kathleen Lynch 2011: Expecting, Kevin Young 2010: The Choir, Luke Kennard 2009: I Come Home Wanting To Touch Everyone, Stephen Dunn 2008: Visible World, Richard Siken 2007: Anywhere Else, Maggie Dietz 2006: After Work, Richard Jones 2005: The Sheep-Child, James Dickey

[mk-writes-stuff]

Character Questionnaire

Rules: answer the questions as some OCs, then come up with new questions for the next people

Thanks @elsie-writes, @kaylinalexanderbooks, and @whatwewrotepodcast for the tags! I have a lot of questions to get through for this one, so I’m going to do two characters per set of questions instead of my usual three MCs and a guest

Do you have any allergies?

Belladonna: “I don’t believe so. There might be some foods I’m allergic to, I haven’t eaten a large variety of things.”

Cassie: “I sure fucking hope not. Haven’t found any yet.”

How many people have you kissed?

Belladonna: “None. I’ll probably have to kiss Narcissus eventually, but I managed to evade it by telling him it might smudge his lipstick.”

Cassie: “Uh… honestly, I’ve lost count. At least twenty?”

What is your favourite number?

Belladonna: “Seven, obviously.”

Cassie: “I don’t fucking know. Not six. I rarely use numbers in my daily life. I like zero.”

What is your favourite thing about rain? What is your least favourite thing about it?

Cassiopeia: “Remind me what that is again?” … “Oh, yes. It sounds pretty, although I imagine it would get in the way.”

Stellaris: “I want to see rain. It sounds spectacular. Water falling from the sky with no source… I know how it works but it still sounds like an absolute wonder. It’s too bad I’ll never be able to see it.”

What is something you don’t mind waiting a long time for?

Cassiopeia: “Success. Plans take time, if you’re not willing to wait, you’ll fail.”

Stellaris: “I don’t mind waiting at all as long as I know how long it’ll take. I only mind it when no one tells me how long it’ll be.”

Have you ever been punished for something you didn’t do?

Cassiopeia: “Not really. I’ve been lauded for things I haven’t done, though.” She laughs. (She isn’t joking.)

Stellaris: “Yes, all the time. I didn’t break any of the rules of conversation and yet I got taken out of the party anyway. I mean, I didn’t really like the party but I wanted to meet people.”

What’s your favourite treat meal?

Nellie: “I was introduced to something called mac and cheese recently, and I love it. I’m experimenting with add-ins.”

Rhys: “Nellie let me try her sandwich once. It was good. Does that count?”

What’s the thing you’ve done you’re most proud of?

Nellie: “Leaving Third Station. I was so scared when I told Cassie I wanted to go with her, but it was worth it.”

Rhys: “I… I don’t know. Lady Goldenrod told me I did a good job once, maybe that?”

If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?

Nellie: “Make it impossible for anyone to hurt anyone else like Narcissus did to me.”

Rhys: “Um, I don’t know. Clones aren’t really supposed to do things like that. I’d like to get a new job, maybe. Or try a lot of real people food with Nellie. That would be really nice.”

That was fun! I should start varying characters up more often I think, it was really fun doing more side characters. I do love my main trip though… we’ll see :)

@vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @rkmoon @nebula--nix want to play? Your questions are:

How would you decorate your room if you could choose anything?

How would you describe your style?

What kinds of music do you like?

[warriorstickers]

Cavernclan, Moon 3, Greenleaf

Burntheart made his way above ground, following Glowfish’s lead over the dark Hayclan ground, as she led the patrol to look for Thyme. As they walked, the other warrior on the patrol with them, Oddthistle, chatted continuously. He supposed it was fine, as they were not here for prey, and herbs didn’t scare off from sound, but it still went against his better judgment to announce their presence so obviously. Seeming to sense his tension, Oddthistle scanned the area. A talker, but a good fighter as well. “The area is empty, so you can relax, my dear.” The older molly replied, as they continued to follow alongside Glowfish. She seemed to know where she was going, and the two warriors were mainly here too keep threats away from her, should they appear. “Here’s the Thyme.” Glowfish spoke up, pausing near a bush, and beginning to pluck some of the plant. She’s still so small. Burntheart thought as he watched her. Would she even have her Medicine cat name yet, if it hadn't been for her mentor’s death? She had certainly risen to the challenge, even as his mate’s judgment hung over her. Cherryfreckle still flinched every time that Glowfish came near. To compensate, he tried to be as helpful as he could to her, as if that would erase his mate’s hatred. He moved over quickly, to help her grab some of the plant, while Oddthistle hung back. “Are these yellow flowers anything to you?” Oddthistle’s voice came in a moment, from a yellow flowering plant, a few moments later. It was a few fox lengths away. Glowfish’s head lifted up, and she looked at the plant. “Oh, that’s Goldenrod! Let’s grab some of that too, and then we can head back.” The the warriors and Medicine cat did so, grabbing their bundles of herbs in the mouth, and heading back down to the dark familiarity of their tunnels. ~ Oaknettle stopped Burntheart as the more senior warrior entered the camp. He sized up the tom, with a grin on his face, as he realized he had grown taller. “You might want to speak to that tiny mate of yours, before Goldstar puts her on apprentice duties. Every time he sees her flinch at the mere sight of Glowfish, it looks like he’s choking on a bird bone, and he just lost his temper at Reeburr for something small.. Time to get Cherryfreckle under control, Burntheart.” He chuckled.

Oaknettle’s grin grew wider as he saw the other tom’s eyes narrow. “I don’t control my mate.” Burntheart hissed, tail lashing. “I’d prefer you didn’t speak about her at all.” He added in a tone that sounded like a challenge. Oaknettle itched to reach that challenge, but he knew Goldstar’s patience was wearing thin at the moment, and a brawl between his two warriors might push him over the edge.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He mocked, as the other warrior bumped his shoulder while passing him. Some toms were so touchy when it came to their mates! He could see that Burntheart was headed to speak to Goldstar, so he felt like his words had struck home, as much as Burntheart didn’t want to show it. Cherryfreckle really did have to watch herself. 

~ Goldstar needed to get out of camp, before he clawed someone’s ears off. As a way of apologizing for his outburst against the Deputy, he invited him to join the patrol above ground, with Yarrowfur. By the time they were above ground, they were all chatting casually, and he could see that all was forgiven on Reeburr’s end. That was one of the things he liked about the red tom. He was very straightforward. He didn’t take criticism he hadn’t earned, but wouldn’t spurn an apology attempt either. “Someone is ahead.” Redburr’s deep voice muttered, as a shaded figure appeared in the undergrowth ahead of them. They made their way through the thick undergrowth towards the clan cats, not perturbed by their defensive stance. “I’ve heard about you! You’re Cavernclan cats, aren’t you?” The long haired molly called ahead of her in a friendly tone, as she approached. “I've been searching forever for you! I’ve been close to just finding one of your tunnels and hoping in, but from rumors I’ve heard, that didn’t end well for lots of cats.” She laughed slightly. “A wise choice.” Goldstar replied, in a guarded tone. Her guts impressed him, if nothing else. She clearly knew who they were, and still approached three trained warriors at night, discussing their cave murderers with humor. That time had not been humorous at all, in reality. “I want to join you! May I? I’m not so good at living on my own, and my mate is gone now.” Her voice dropped a little at the end, and Goldstar felt a similar sting of loss. He looked to his two companions. Yarrowfur merely looked intrigued, and Reedburr cautious. “You know about how we live? You will have to learn to navigate the tunnels, and live half of your life underground.” Goldstar reminded her, all of their watchful eyes on her. “Why not choose the other clans?” “I know all about your history! Some Loner cats told me. From what it sounds like, the other clans don’t sound like good guys. I’d rather not join them. Besides, from what I’ve heard, you can all understand my loss. I don’t want to be alone anymore.” The strange molly replied. Goldstar heard Reeburr hiss softly. Most Cavernclan didn’t like their clan’s near destruction mentioned casually. It was much more than the loss of one loved one to each of them. It had been parents, siblings, mates and friends. All at once. Still, she had a point. “What’s your name?” “Lake.” The molly answered, looking worried she had offended them too much. “Follow us, Lake. We will show you how we patrol our home.” Goldstar responded, and watched her face light up happily. They would see in time if she was worthy of joining them. 

[rainbowdolphinrealm]

Last But Not Least

I'm new to using Tublr for my fic so bear with me if there are major formatting issues. This is not my best work, but it's something I needed to get out of my brain. As much as it's a sequel to current cannon, it's also a prequel to my other fics about the family lives of our favorite characters. Would love some feedback as well as some input as to whether that family-oriented fic is something anyone would actually want to read. Standard disclaimers apply (Sara J. Maas owns the characters) On with the show . . .

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

Elain slowly got ready for the day.  She’d already spent so long in the bathtub that the water went cold.  She’d stood in front of her wardrobe for who knew how long mulling over the dresses she could wear, unsatisfied with any of them.  Once she’d finally selected a dusty blue one with a flowing skirt and capped sleeves, she fingered through her jewelry box to find the right accessory.  Then her fingers grazed the pearl earrings that had never been worn and her thoughts immediately focused in on Lucien.

Lucien, her mate.  She’d tried so hard not to think of him.  It was easier before, when she was worried about the war and then Nesta and Feyre.  With Nyx born, and Nesta mated, though, everything was settling into place for her sisters.  

Elain had relished in planning and executing Nesta’s wedding party.  It had almost been like old times, but during the festivities, she’d started to feel a little lonely. Azriel was a dear friend, of course, but he would never be that kind of male to her.  She thought, once, that maybe she could love him like that, but that moment had been fleeting.  They were friends, nothing more, like Feryre and Lucien.

Lucien.  How did every train of thought come back to him?  When she saw the fire in the hearth downstairs she thought of his hair.  When she saw a marigold sundress in one of the shops, she remembered that it was supposed to be his favorite color.  When she was learning to make a new dish with Nuala or Ceridwen, she off-handedly wondered if it would be the right dish to serve him when it was time.  As if her subconscious had already decided she would!

She picked up those pearl earrings and began to insert them into her ears as a knock sounded at her door.

“Elain?” Feyre called tentatively.

“Coming!” Elain called back with as much cheeriness as she could.  She she stood, taking one last glance in the mirror and headed for the door.  She pulled it open and saw her sister standing there with Nyx cradled in her arms.  “Good morning.”

Feyre smiled, a little worry etched on her features.  “Are you alright?” she asked.

Elain frowned.  How could Feyre know that she was so distracted by thoughts of Lucien?  “I’m fine,” she lied.

Feyre raised a single eyebrow.  “You didn’t come down to breakfast this morning.”

“I’m not especially hungry is all,” Elain explained with a shrug.  That was not a lie.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Feyre offered.  “I was going to take him out for some fresh air.”

Elain nodded with a smile.  “I’d be happy to join you,” she agreed.

They made their way down the stairs and out to Elain’s garden.  She had spent significant time planning the garden so that there would always be blooms in the beds, regardless of whether it was spring, summer, or fall.  Now, with the Autumn Equinox only a few days away, her fall blooms were in fine form.  The dahlias, chrysanthemums, and goldenrod were particularly stunning in her opinion.

“So. . .” Feyre said as they sauntered slowly, trying to lull Nyx into a post breakfast nap.  “Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind or do I need to go all daemati on you?” she threatened lovingly.

Elain pretended to be shocked and offended, confident that Feyre would never do such a thing.  It made them both chuckle for a moment, and Elain found herself stopping by a bed of deep red dahlias.  They reminded her of the natural low lights in Lucien’s hair.  “It’s not important,” she finally said.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Feyre replied.  “You’ve become more and more withdrawn ever since Nesta’s wedding.  I should have asked you to plan a big party for the Equinox,” she reasoned.  “You always come alive with hosting and planning events.”

Elain gave her a sidelong glance with a grateful smile, and then shook her head.  “I don’t know that I’m feeling very inspired this year,” she admitted.  Last year she hadn’t noticed it as much, but this year she had been acutely aware of how everything related to the season reminded her of Lucien.  Of course they did.  How could they not?  He was a son of the Autumn Court, designed for this time of year.  She was hoping it would be easier to put her thoughts elsewhere once winter arrived. 

Feyre frowned as they turned and continued on through the garden to a beautiful oak gazebo.  “I know I haven’t been as available as I was before,” she said slowly as they sat on one of the gazebo’s cushioned benches.

“Of course not!” Elain replied emphatically.  “You’re a mother, Feyre.  And this time with him is so precious.  I wouldn’t dream of us spending as much time together as we did this last summer and spring.  Of course, I expect you’ll be returning to your High Lady duties as well.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t make time for my sister,” Feyre answered.  “But are you . ..I mean, oh I don’t know how to say this gently!”

Elaim smiled and put a hand on Feyre’s thigh.  “We’re sisters and we’re not children anymore,” she reminded her gently.  “Just say it.”

“Alright,” Feyre agreed with a nod.  “Elain, are you lonely?”

Elain stopped short at the direct question.  “What makes you ask that?”

Feyre gave a little shrug.  “Nesta is completely absorbed in Cassian at the moment, I have Rhys and the baby, but you . . .” She trailed off.

Elain looked at Nyx for a long moment, studying his tiny features as he dozed.  She wanted her own so badly.  Would that ever be in the cards for her, though?  Lucien came from a terrible family.  Would he be like his father?  Probably not, but without a good example, what kind of father would he be?  “I suppose I am lonely,” she finally said, being honest, despite her internal warnings not to burden Feyre with her troubles.

“I’ve met some very interesting males in the artist’s quarter,” Feyre suggested slowly.  “I could make an introduction.”

Elain gave her an appreciative smile but shook her head.  “I don’t think anyone is going to suffice if I’m being honest.”

“Oh really?” Feyre asked, clearly surprised.  “Have you written to him and asked him to come back?”

“Of course not!” Elain exclaimed quietly.  “What could I possibly say?”

Feyre rocked Nyx just a little to make sure he stayed asleep.  “Something along the lines of ‘Hey, mate of mine, get your ass back here?’ “ she suggested.

Elain feigned shock at such a direct and rather crass turn of phrase.  After giving her sister another grateful smile she shook her head.  “I don’t think I could come up with the right words to put into a message.  I feel so terrible for the self-imposed exile he’s in.”

“Why do you feel terrible?” Feyre asked.  “You didn’t make him leave.”

Elain sighed and shook her head.  “No, but I also didn’t make him feel welcome.”

Feyre frowned.  “You had been assaulted, Elain, and you were dealing with a broken heart.  It’s reasonable that you didn’t just up and change romantic allegiences overnight.”

“It’s taken a bit longer than it probably should have to recover,” Elain admitted both to herself and to Feyre.  “And I didn’t give him a fair chance.”

“There’s no set timeline on grief, Elain,” Feyre said gently.  “Do you feel you’re ready to open your heart again?”

Elain nodded.  “I can’t stop thinking about him, Feyre.  No matter how hard I try.”

Feyre grinned and then her face became serious again.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Elain agreed.  She was being completely open with her sister, there was no point in holding anything back at this point.

“Has the bond snapped for you?”

Elain went still for a moment and then nodded in confession.  “It snapped immediately,” she explained.  “But I couldn’t.  I just couldn’t.  Not then. And even now, I’m not sure if I miss him because I . . .I love him or because he’s my mate and I’m supposed to miss him.”

Feyre balanced Nyx in one arm and reached over with her other to embrace Elain.  “Don’t worry,” she soothed.  “The bond snapping doesn’t mean you automatically love each other.  We’ll have Lucien return to Velaris and you two can start from the beginning.  Maybe you’ll never fall in love, but if your heart is open to it now, it could be the start of something amazing.”

“Like what you and Rhys have,” Elain stated quietly.

“Well . . . maybe not that good,” Feyre countered with a mischievous smile.

The both of them laughed at that.

“Can you and Rhys spare him from duty in the human lands?” Elain asked, worried about interfering with Court matters.

“Of course!” Feyre replied.  “LIke you said, it’s a self-imposed exile.  We’d rather have him here as a full adviser and emissary to the rest of Prythian.”

Elain smiled.  “Then perhaps the next time Cassian checks in with him, he could take him a message.”

Feyre chuckled softly.  “Why wait that long to get word to him?  You have a direct line, Elain.”

“I do?”

Feyre just looked at her pointedly.

“Oh!  The bond,” Elain realized.  “We can . . . connect through it.  I remember Lucien did it once right after . . . well you know.”

Feyre nodded and grinned.  “You send a little nudge down that mating bond and just watch how fast he winnows in.”

Elain thought for a moment and wondered if she should do something to prepare.  Should she go in and change her dress?  Fix her hair up more?  Put on cosmetics?  “How do I do it?” she asked her sister.

“Tug on the matting bond?” Feyre asked.  “I’m not sure how it works for others.  Rhys and I are daemati so we are able to talk to each other mentally, have been able to ever since he taught me how to shield.  Before that, though, I could feel a type of tug at my navel whenever he tugged on the bond.  It drew me to him, almost compulsively.”

Elain frowned.  “I don’t want him to feel summoned,” she said.  “I just want him to know that I’d like to see him.  Maybe an old fashioned message would be better.”

“But oh so much slower,” Feyre countered.  “Just try giving the bond a nudge.  Like a ‘hello, I’m thinking of you’”. She looked at Elain expectantly.

Elain gaped for a moment.  “Now?”

“Why not now?” Feyre countered.  “Wouldn’t you like to spend the equinox with someone who understands Autumn better than anyone else in the Night Court?”

That idea was very appealing.  “Alright,” she agreed and closed her eyes.  She wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, but she knew the feeling of magic from when she’d had visions.  She tried to put her mind in a similar state, where she was both present and not, here and nowhere all at once.  Once she was in that state she felt for the bond and it was like a fine fiber that flowed away from her into the world.  She followed it, tracking the feeling of Lucien.  It got stronger and she felt like he was merely an arm’s length away.  She reached out as if she could touch him and imagined laying her hand on his chest, right over his heart.  His essence seemed to recognize her immediately and the surprise knocked her back to real time and space.

“Do you think you reached him?” Feyre asked and Elain could have sworn she heard excitement in her voice.

“I think so?” Elain replied.  “I’m not sure.”

“We’l give it awhile,” Feyre decided.  “If we don’t hear from him by dinner, we’ll assume that he either didn’t get the message or can’t get away.  In that case, I will send someone to deliver a message tomorrow.  I promise.”

Elain smiled gratefully at her little sister.  Feyre, who had taken such good care of them, had saved Prythian more than once, and was going to be a phenomenal mother.  She was still doing whatever it took to make Elain happy.  “Thank you, Feyre,” she said sincerely.

Feyre just smiled back.  “Let’s go inside.  I don’t want him to get too chilled out here,” she suggested, nodding down at Nyx.

They got to their feet and finished the circuit of the garden, returning to the house through the kitchen.  Nuala and Ceridwen were working on lunch while a couple of other servants milled around.  With a house as big as the River House, Feyre and Rhys had given in to a small staff to help keep the place clean, but they generally kept it minimal.  As they entered the front hall, Elain was preparing to cozy up in the sitting room for the rest of the morning when the front door swung open.  And there he was, almost breathless.  

Lucien was wearing a cream colored tunic over his muscled chest, a pair of burnt sienna trousers, and a matching coat.  His hair was pulled back off his face, but not entirely up, just half.  The overall look was somewhere between dressed for court and casual after a day at court.  It was honestly breath-taking and Elain was hard-pressed to keep from rushing him in relief at the sight.

“Elain,” he said, looking her up and down.  “Are you alright?  I felt you.”

“Welcome back, Lucien,” Feyre said with a grin as she headed for the stairs.

Lucien seemed to remember himself and blinked a few times.  “My Lady,” he said with a bow.

“Going to have to retrain you if that’s how you greet me,” Feyre replied confidently.  “You two chat.  You can meet Nyx a little later.”

Lucien turned back to Elain and slowly took a few steps towards her.  “You’re alright?” he confirmed.

Elain blushed in embarrassment.  She should have known that he would be worried.  Feyre had known.  That’s why she’d known he would winnow back to Velaris as fast as he could.  “I’m sorry if I alarmed you,” she said.

“No, it’s alright,” he assured her, shaking his head.  “I just . . I want to be sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” she promised.  She motioned to the sitting room.  “Shall we?”

Lucien motioned for her to lead.  “After you.”

Elain led him over to one of the sofas near the fireplace.  A tea service appeared on the low table before it and she smirked at the way Nuala and Ceridwen knew she would want it.  “Tea?” she asked, as she sat down.

“That sounds very nice,” he admitted.  “Jurian and I were sparring when I felt your . . .nudge.  I didn’t stop to do anything but grab my coat.  I apologize that I come a bit disheveled.”

“You look just fine,” she told him, feeling herself blush a little as she poured tea for them both.  “Oh, wait,” she said, catching herself.  “Does this count?”

Lucien smiled but shook his head.  “No.  Pouring tea doesn’t count.”

Elain let loose a small sigh of relief.  “I wouldn’t want to diminish such an important moment with something as plain as tea,” she told him.

He looked surprised at that.  “Oh really?  I didn’t realize you’d given it that much thought.”

“Things have changed since I last saw you,” she confessed as she passed him a cup.

“I’m starting to gather that,” he agreed as he took it from her.  “I think this is the most we’ve ever spoken to each other.”

Elain felt a pang of guilt at that.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

Lucien immediately looked guilty as well.  “No, no, no,” he said quickly.  “I didn’t mean that as a complaint.  Just an observation.”  He took a sip of his tea and they endured a pregnant silence.  “Is that why you gave me the nudge?” he finally asked.  “Because things have changed?”

“Is that alright?” Elain asked tentatively.  “I thought that maybe I should have sent you a proper message, through a messenger, or wait for you to come and check-in with Rhys and Feyre, but Feyre suggested the nudge instead.”

Lucien smirked.  “Feyre often knows what’s good for people, even if they don’t,” he admitted.  “I’m glad you nudged me.  I’d much rather have tea with you than Jurian.”

Elain laughed lightly at that.  “What have you been up to?” she asked, not sure what else they should talk about.

“Well,” he started. “I’m helping establish positive relations between the Spring Court and human lands to the south.  Jurian and Vassa are doing their part there.  I’m also trying to keep the Spring Court together until Tamlin finally decides to reengage as the High Lord.”

Elain frowned.  “That’s very kind of you, considering.”

Lucien shook his head.  “It’s not for Tamiln’s sake,” he said with his own frown.  “But it isn’t fair to the people that live in the Spring Court, and it really wouldn’t be a good idea for Autumn, or even Summer to absorb those lands. The existence of a Spring Court is important to the balance of Prythian.”

Elain could appreciate that answer.  It spoke to how thoughtful Lucien was, that he genuinely cared about the people in the Spring Court, even if he was no longer a supporter of their High Lord.

“And you?” Lucien asked.  “How do you pass your time?”

“I had been busy with Nesta’s wedding,” she explained.  “But now I mostly help out with Nyx when Feyre needs a break and Rhys is unavailable.”  She decided not to mention that she spent a considerable amount of time thinking of him.

“How is your garden going this time of year?” he asked.

Elain nodded.  “It’s doing well.  I’ve tried to fill it with vibrant Autumn colors.”

He smiled at her.  “I would love to see it.”

She blushed.  “I’ll be happy to show it to you.”

“Elain, I’m afraid to hope, but . . .” he paused, stopping himself.

“Yes, Lucien,” she said evenly.  “I’d like to get to know you better.  You’re my mate and . . .” she couldn’t decide whether to say it or not. But then it came tumbling out, “. . . and lately you’ve been on my mind.  I think my soul misses you.”

Lucien let out a slow, controlled breath and then smiled at her.  “I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m not making any promises,” she said quickly.  “I still want to marry.  And I want to marry for love, not because of some magical bond we had no say in.”

“Of course,” Lucien agreed.  “I understand, but to know you’re willing to explore this . . . potential relationship, to know that you’re ready to consider a new male in your life. . . I’m so relieved that you’re doing so well.”

That struck Elain unexpectedly.  He was expressing relief that she was in a better emotional state than last he’d seen her.  He was undoubtedly grateful she was directing her attention at him, but she got the feeling he would be grateful she was moving on to any male so long as it meant she was moving on.

He slowly reached a hand up and gently fingered the pearl earring at her ear, a smile spreading across his lips.  “They look beautiful on you.”

She blushed.  “This morning they seemed like the only way to have you close to me.”

He lowered his hand and rested it atop of hers.  “You can have me as close as you like from here on out,” he promised.  “I’ll be here whenever you need or want me.”

“Thank you, Lucien,” she breathed.  “Something about that promise is very reassuring.”  It was true.  Despite that she didn’t love him, not yet anyway, she was relieved to know he would be there for her.  She’d always known he would be, but to hear him say it meant a great deal to her.  It was like he didn’t blame her for being cold to him before.  “And I’m sorry I wasn’t more receptive to you earlier.”

Lucien shook his head.  “Don’t think twice about it,” he said intensely.  “You needed to grieve and process what happened to you.  My only regret is that I was unable to help you through it.”

They shared an awkward smile and another awkward silence, finishing their tea.

“Can I take you to lunch?” Lucien asked hopefully.  “Perhaps a walk through the city and we’ll find a nice little cafe?  No pressure, just more conversation, and a casual meal.”

Elain smiled.  “I’d like that,” she agreed.

Lucien grinned.  “Give me 45 minutes to go to my apartment and get a little more presentable,” he said.  “And then I’ll be back, and we can venture out.”

Elain nodded as they both got to their feet.  “I’ll freshen up as well.”

“You look wonderful,” Lucien countered.  “But whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Alright,” she agreed dramatically.  “Just a light freshening.”

They both laughed lightly at that.  Lucien reached down for Elain’s hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the back of it.  “Forty-five minutes,” he said again.  And with that he strode from the room and out the front door of the River House.

Elain was dashing up the stairs two at a time and burst into the nursery as quietly as possible.  “We’re going to lunch in the city,” she told Feyre who was rocking Nyx in the rocking chair.

Feyre grinned as she stood up.  She put Nyx in the crib and then turned back to Elain.  “It’s your turn, Elain, and I’m so happy for you!”  They embraced and Elain realized Feyre was right.  It was finally about to be her turn.

[peppermint-twst]

yellow boys 8th anniversary shakers… im not doing a ranking i’m just gonna show which ones i like and don’t like…

Like:

Eichi and Aira — I’m not a huge fan of yellow, but I tend to be drawn to pale yellow, more like a butter yellow… these would go well with pastel pink or lavender, very cute

Kinda Like:

Nazuna and Sora — I like how Nazuna’s is cheerful and bright, it’s very him… Sora’s can go well with the 8th anniv pastel aesthetic but I personally like the first two better, maybe tone down the yellow a little

Dislike:

Kaoru, Arashi, and Shinobu — I’m sorry, theyre not ugly but I just don’t like these… Arashi, girl… you deserve BETTER… I think Kaoru could almost be orange but I’d call it “goldenrod” like the crayola color?

[theflagscene]

People I wanna Know Better Tag

I was tagged by @gaym3bo1 🙃🙂

Last Song? -

Favourite Colour? - Pink (all shades), Goldenrod, Royal Blue, Slate Grey.

Currently Watching? - The Sign, Cherry Magic Th, Dead Friend Forever.

I really wish I had time to watch more than three, but I really don’t. Actually it’s not even time, it’s the mental wherewithal. I’m not well enough physically or mentally to be able to focus on shows, which is why I’m typically at least one episode behind (except with The Sign). Usually if I get more than three episodes behind in a series, I just put them on hold and ‘watch’ them via my dash and YouTube videos.

Last Movie? - Pretty sure it was The Haunting in Venice, a surprisingly good murder mystery with a stellar cast, based extremely loosely on the Agatha Christie novel; Hallowe’en Party.

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury? - Spicy.

Current Obsession? - If I had to say something, it would probably be The Sign. If you can even call something I spend one night/morning a week focused on, an obsession. I wish I had a hobby I was obsessing over at the moment, but I’m battling anhedonia currently and because of that mental health issue, my ability to really even have a hobby or obsession is basically null.

Last Thing You Googled? - Ummm 👀👀 I may have been looking up crime scene photos of a decapitated head from 2012. Listen, BestGore is gone okay!? It’s hard times out there for us fuckers with a morbid sense of curiosity and strong stomachs. And before anyone comes at me for me being disrespectful, firstly I couldn’t find any of the pics of the head, just the pics of the various crime scenes. Also I’m nowhere near as disrespectful as the dude who ate the woman, okay 😝

Selfie or another picture you took? - We’re gonna go with another picture, this is my fun corner of the internet and I’d rather not have my gaming profile and followers find out and ruin that for me lol.

So have a picture of my cat (I have two) The other one is nowhere near as big or as fat as this dude is. Love this big guy but there’s not a thought in his head lol, bright eyes, empty head.

Tagging - I honestly don’t know who to tag, I don’t wanna be a bother to anyone. It’s currently 1am and I’m feeling weirdly anxious, so the idea of possibly bothering someone with an unwanted tag is actually really nerve wracking so some reason. So if you wanna do this, consider yourself tagged!

[ifbench]

PMD Eternal Shadows Chapter 4: Home Sweet Home

Twig Woodland Outskirts

Light flooded my vision, before fading. Before me, was a dirt path leading into the distance up a sunset-lit hill. The trees were much sparser now, no longer forming solid walls.

“We’re out!” exclaimed Burhalla, as I heard something shatter.

What was that?!

Before I could ask what that was, Saltriv started running down the path, before stopping a few steps away, and turning around, a worried expression on their face. “Come on! I want to see my family again!” they demanded.

I could understand their worry. I’d been through something like that once, though not to this degree.

I shuddered as the memory came back. Listening to the news about how Kyogre and Groudon were rampaging near Hoenn, frantically packing only the necessities before leaving the house, getting lost in the crowd and separated from my family as everyone in Goldenrod evacuated, calling out for help to no avail...If that brawl had made its way to Johto—

“Gen! Come on!” Saltriv’s voice echoed, breaking that train of thought. I had gotten lost in my thoughts again. I needed to focus on the task at hand, that being going with Burhalla and Saltriv.

I ran towards the two, and together, the three of us headed along the path towards the sunset.

No words were spoken for some time. I think we were all just relieved to be out of that place. I know I was.

As we climbed the hill, I started to hear unfamiliar voices, though I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. I slowed my pace a bit. I looked towards the other two, and they didn’t seem to notice them. Was I just hearing things?

Should I tell the others? Would they believe me? Would it be a good idea to keep this a secret from them after what Burhalla had said?

In the midst of me trying to figure out what to do, I saw a trio of figures emerge over the hilltop. I couldn’t tell what they were from this distance, but Burhalla seemingly could, as his footsteps halted.

“Berry crackers. I’ve been found out,” I heard him mumble under his breath.

The figures continued to approach, and I could now make them out. A Typhlosion, a Meganium, and a Porygon-Z.

There was an audible gasp, and the Meganium came barreling at us with a shout of, “SALTRIV!”

This was probably one of Saltriv’s parents, then.

Saltriv ran off from our group with a similar shout of, “MOM!”

As the two reunited, the Typhlosion approached us. Out of the corner of my vision, I noticed Burhalla’s expression pale.

“Burhalla,” the Typhlosion spoke, briefly glancing at Saltriv, before turning back to the Charmander.

“Hi, dad,” Burhalla responded after a pause.

“I understand what you were doing. Really, I do. And I’m glad that you found Saltriv. But you should have known better! You could have gone missing, or worse!” Burhalla’s father roared at him. “What if you had? What would I do? What would Valorch do? I need to have a stern talk with you once we’re home.”

I stood there awkwardly, all alone, as two contrasting conversations played out near me. I looked back and forth between Saltriv and Burhalla, barely registering the Porygon-Z following the rest of their group down the hill.

“Well, se-se-seems like Burhalla’s fine, and they even brought back Saltriv and this Oshawott! All’s well that en-en-ends well, at least!” the Porygon-Z stuttered, bringing me back to reality as I was finally addressed.

I locked eyes with the Porygon-Z, before they leaned towards me. “So what’s yo-yo-your deal? I’ve nev-ev-ever seen you around town before,” they asked.

“I’m Gen,” I responded, taking note of their...odd speech pattern. I remember learning that Porygon-Zs were unstable. Was that still true in this world?

“Where are you from-om-om? My memory banks indicate the Oshawo-wo-wott family not being common on the Thunder continent,” they continued, their tone changing midway through to a more robotic one.

What now? Do I tell them what I told Saltriv and Burhalla, since the two of them were right there? Would the Porygon-Z be able to tell it was a lie? I didn’t remember if the Porygon line were normal-type or psychic-type. Either way, I needed to decide, and quickly, before anyone got suspicious.

“I don’t remember,” I lied, hoping I made the right choice, or at least the best choice I could at this point.

“You do not recall what lo-lo-location you are from?! That’s ve-ve-very worrying,” the Porygon-Z replied, their tone again switching as they spoke.

The conversation between Burhalla and his father stopped, as did the one between Saltriv and their mother.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't even notice you. I was a bit...caught up," the Meganium said, with a glance towards Saltriv. “You really don’t remember where you’re from? What do you remember?” the Meganium continued, worry seeping into their voice.

“Just my name, and how to do some things,” I parroted back my response to when Burhalla had asked that question, causing the look of worry on the Meganium’s face to worsen.

“I’m not sure if I should believe you. You’re not faking it, trying to pretend to be another amnesiac human sent to save the world?” the Typhlosion interrogated. “There’s been four Pokemon who tried lying about that just this month.”

My confidence shattered with his words. I couldn’t tell the truth now, after what Burhalla had said. Plus, given what the Typhlosion was saying, they definitely wouldn’t believe the truth. I could ponder this more later, though, for now, I had to reply.

“I’m telling the tru-” I began, before I heard Saltriv speak up.

“It’s true. He couldn’t even remember how to use moves,” they defended.

The Typhlosion looked like he wanted to say something, and began to open his mouth, but Burhalla interjected.

“I saw it too. He couldn’t even remember how to use Water Gun. He never mentioned being a human, either,” Burhalla backed up Saltriv and myself. I shot a grateful look towards him, and he nodded silently in response.

“Can’t we talk about this more once we’re in town?” Saltriv pleaded. “I want to see dad again.”

“That sounds like a splen-len-lendid idea! Le-le-let’s go back to the village,” the Porygon-Z spoke, before floating towards the hilltop.

“If we don’t start heading back soon, we won’t return before nightfall,” the Meganium said, before following behind the Porygon-Z alongside Saltriv.

The Typhlosion hesitated for a moment, before starting back up the hill. I did the same, Burhalla walking alongside me once I caught up to him.

“You are telling me the truth, right?” he questioned, turning to me, a look of suspicion on his face. “You’re not another Pokemon doing that for attention?”

“I’m not,” I hastily responded. It was true for one of his questions, at least.

His expression changed to a more neutral one. “Ok. I don’t want to have to deal with more people keeping secrets from me.” He turned back towards the setting sun.

He muttered, “Hopefully dad won’t be too harsh once I’m home.” I decided not to comment.

This lie couldn’t end well.

Soon, we reached the hilltop, and the view beyond became clear. I gawked at what was on the other side.

There was a massive clearing in the middle of an even more massive forest down below. In it, there was what looked like buildings, and tiny specks migrating from place to place. The entire area was shrouded in a light layer of fog. Was this Overcast Village?

I wasn’t left with much time to process it, as the group continued onwards, down the hill, forcing me to follow them, lest I be left behind.

For a while, silence pervaded through the group, as we descended the hill. It wasn’t until we reached the forest that someone spoke up again.

“Where did you find Saltriv, anyways?” the Meganium asked Burhalla, as we walked along the foggy path.

“They were talking with Gen at the end of the dungeon,” Burhalla answered.

“Really? How long had you two been talking?” the Meganium asked, turning towards Saltriv and myself.

“Not for long. I woke up, Saltriv was there, we just introduced ourselves to each other, then Burhalla arrived,” I answered.

“I just woke up there, and Gen was the first person I saw before Burhalla had found us,” Saltriv corroborated.

The Meganium took a moment to take in this information, then continued onwards.

Soon, the trees cleared up, and the path stopped at a wide stone circle covered in fog.

“Welcome to Overcast Village!” Burhalla announced to me.

Overcast Village

It didn’t seem nearly as big as Goldenrod, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in wonder. I walked towards the center of the circle to get a better look at my surroundings. Right to the left of where the path ended was a bulletin board, filled with posters depicting many Pokemon. A Tyrogue was looking over the papers on it. Next to it, was a large tent in the shape of a Kecleon’s head, underneath which was an assortment of boxes guarded by a Torterra. On the other side of the path was some sort of strange box with many mechanisms on it. Heading away from it was a Pokemon with short arms, a V-shaped head, and a wispy tail, carrying what looked to be its pre-evolution on its head. There were many stone roads leading out of the circle, lined with houses that grew progressively fainter the further into the fog they were. Down one road that a Leafeon was walking across, I could barely see another stone circle like the one I currently stood on.

It wasn’t quite like anything I had seen before. There were so many Pokemon here, and yet I felt so alone.

I was jolted out of my thoughts as Burhalla’s father spoke up. “Time to go home,” he stated, before starting down one of the roads.

“Wait, but-” Burhalla began, but the Typhlosion interrupted him before he could finish.

“No ‘buts’. We’re going home, now,” the large fire-type said, before ushering Burhalla down one of the roads. Burhalla turned towards me with an apologetic expression, and before I could protest, he disappeared into the fog.

Now what? Burhalla had offered to help me out, and now he was gone, at least for the time being.

I looked over towards the remaining members of our group. The Porygon-Z was already heading down the road Burhalla and his father went down, leaving just me, Saltriv, and the Meganium, the latter two of which were conversing with the Torterra under the Kecleon-shaped tent. I heard a loud shout of “Saltriv!” from an unfamiliar voice. Was that the Torterra?

Hopefully Saltriv would be willing to help. Otherwise, I was in trouble.

I walked over towards the tent, and pleaded, “Can I stay with you all for the night? I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Of course! Right, mom?” Saltriv answered almost immediately. I wasn’t expecting a response that quickly.

“We’ll have to discuss it first, but I’ll consider it,” the Meganium responded, causing my expression to fall. “You should have told me soone-”

“They helped heal me when I got poisoned in that dungeon! Please?” Saltriv added.

“Why not?” the voice from before spoke up. I realized it was the Torterra, who was now facing me. “We have enough room, anyways. You helped save Saltriv, we should pay you back somehow.”

“Thanks, dad!” Saltriv exclaimed, their expression full of joy. That Torterra must be their father, then.

“Looks like you can come with us then, Gen,” the Meganium stated, as I felt my mouth form into a smile. I had somewhere to live here now! At least, for tonight. I doubted I’d be able to stay much longer, if I was even still here tomorrow, and didn’t wake up back home.

“Let’s head home. Night is almost upon us.” the Torterra said, exiting the tent. The Meganium started towards a road next to an oddly apple-shaped house. Saltriv and their father followed, and so did I.

We walked down the foggy road for a short while, passing by many Pokemon I did and didn’t recognize, until Saltriv broke the silence. “There’s not as many Pokemon around as I remember.”

“There’s been a lot of disappearances since you’ve been gone. You’ve probably already noticed the Kecleon brothers,” Meganium responded, a twinge of worry noticeable in her voice. “Did Burhalla already tell you about that?”

“He did,” Saltriv answered. “Has it really been months since I...disappeared?”

“Unfortunately, it has been,” Torterra replied. “We can talk more about that tomorrow. Right now, you’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

Eventually, the others stopped, as we came to a house that looked like four massive pumpkins joined together, with gigantic leaves topping two of them, and a tree on top of a third.

“We’re here,” Meganium announced, as the three of them entered a wide doorway, and I quickly followed suit.

Saltriv’s Home

It was quite spacious. To my right, there were entrances to the other rooms. In one corner of the room I was in, on the wall, were several cabinets, with small handles that resembled loops more than anything else. Underneath them was what seemed to be a radio on top of a table, yet no chairs. That’s probably to be expected, though. All the Pokemon that lived here were quadrupedal, and I didn’t know if chairs even existed in this world. The left side of the room held a bookshelf, every shelf filled with a colorful assortment of books, piquing my interest. What kind of literature did Pokemon have? I’d have to check that out later, assuming it was in a language I could read.

“Wait here. I’ll get the guest bed,” Meganium said, before heading into another room, Torterra following after her, leaving me and Saltriv alone.

The silence was quickly broken, as Saltriv spoke up. “You really do have amnesia? You’re not faking it like Burhalla’s dad said?”

“I really do. Barely can remember anything,” I lied, before questioning if I really did need to keep this up. Burhalla was away, I presumably wasn’t in danger anymore, and the topic was right. Plus, Saltriv had memories of that platform, apparently. Maybe if I told them my memories of that place, they’d believe me?

“Not even about being a human or something?” they pressed.

“Nope,” I responded after a few moments. I weighed the odds. At best, Saltriv believes me, doesn’t tell anyone, and can help me get back home. However, it was far more likely that they wouldn’t believe me, especially after what Typhlosion said. Worst case scenario, Saltriv’s family kicks me out, Burhalla is told, and I have no one to help me figure out this world.

“Anything in particular you do remember?” they continued.

“Just my name, and a few other things,” I answered. I couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t worth the potential loss.

“What kinds of things?” they asked.

Before I could get a chance to even think how to respond, Meganium poked her head into the room we were in. “Everything’s all set! This way!” she told us, before turning back around. Saltriv ran after her, and so did I. It wasn’t long before we entered our destination.

It wasn’t nearly as large as the first room of the house, but there was still a great deal within it. On the far side of the room, there were two straw mats, a thin blanket and a pillow beside each. Next to them was a wide, plain-looking box, bursting with an assortment of various items, some I recognized, some I didn’t. Among them was a strange gadget with a screen in the middle, and a glowing blue orb at the top. Was that some kind of Pokedex or something? On the ceiling was an open window, letting the last rays of sunlight for the day shine down upon the left mat.

“Your bed is the one on the right,” Meganium pointed out, as Saltriv rushed into the straw mat on the left, lit by a quickly diminishing amount of sunlight. Those must be the beds, then. They didn’t look very comfortable.

“Get along, you two,” Meganium asked the two of us. “I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“We will!” Saltriv assured. “He saved my life! Of course we’ll get along!”

“Just making sure,” Meganium clarified, before heading out of the room.

I walked over to the unlit mat, dreading what would come next. I braced myself, then flopped onto the bed of straw, finding it...much more comfortable than I expected. Huh.

“You looked like you’ve never seen a bed before!” I heard Saltriv exclaim in bewilderment. “Haven’t you slept at all since you forgot everything?”

“I haven’t. Waking up in that clearing with you is the first thing I remember,” I lied.

“Weird. You should tell me exactly what you do remember! Or you could write it down in a journal! I think I have a spare one somewhere.”

“Can we do that tomorrow?” I pleaded. “I’m tired.”

“Ok! See you tomorrow!” Saltriv cheerfully replied, pulling their blanket over themself with a vine as they laid their head on a pillow.

As I tucked myself in, I thought over everything that had happened today.

There was whatever had happened on that platform in that psychedelic void. There was that mailbox that I put that paper in. What was the deal with that? There also was that really soft bow, that changed colors. Then my reflection turned into an Oshawott, just like I am now. After that was all those Pokemon with shadowy auras, and that note, telling me to save one. Was Saltriv the one I saved? Who wrote that, anyway? Did that have anything to do with what Burhalla said about “going shadowy”? And then there was that terrifying giant hand coming down for me. I’m not sure if I wanted to know what that was. And somehow Saltriv remembered it all? That place had made even less sense than this world did.

Not that this world made much sense, either. I’m somehow an Oshawott now, just like my reflection on that platform. Pokemon lived in towns here, but there were also wild Pokemon, too? Burhalla also did two Embers one after the other back in Twig Woodland. I was almost certain moves couldn’t be used that quickly after each other. There was also that shattering sound once we exited the dungeon. I still had no clue what that was about. Speaking of mystery dungeons, those also didn’t make any sense at all. Something like that happening naturally was an impossibility with the laws of physics as I remembered them.

At least I met Saltriv and Burhalla. They had offered to help me. Saltriv already was, convincing their family to let me stay the night here. I really needed to thank them once I woke up, and Burhalla, too.

They’ve really been a big help so far, even if they might have suspicions that I’m lying.

Why did I even start that lie, anyways? All it’s caused me is trouble, and I can’t come clean now, or I’ll lose Burhalla’s trust, along with likely the trust of everyone else here.

Would they have believed me if I told the truth, though? With there apparently being Pokemon faking being amnesiac humans, not to mention humans being legends here, they probably wouldn’t.

What was the best thing to do?

Was there even a right answer to that?

Why were there Pokemon pretending to have amnesia, anyways? Why was I an Oshawott? Why was I here at all?!

Gah, why was any of this happening?! Why couldn’t I be back home, where things actually made sense?!

What was happening back home, even? Were my family and friends ok? Did they know where I was? Were they trying to find me right now?

I want to go home. I want to go back to my family. I want to go back to the world I know.

I want to wake up back in my bed, like this all never happened.

My final thought before drifting into sleep was hoping that, somehow, despite all evidence to the contrary, this was all just a bad dream.

=======

Goldenrod City

I heard the gambler curse as the fourth card he flipped over was revealed to be a Voltorb. All 930 coins he won during this game were forfeit. I began to shuffle the cards for the next person in line, when the gambler smashed their fist against the table, causing the Doduo near him to flinch.

“Gimme another go! This time I’ll hit the level 8 jackpot!” he demanded. They never learn, do they?

“You’re back down to level 2,” I told him, as I doled out the cards, making sure to lay out the right amount of multipliers and Voltorbs. After I wrote down the multiplier and voltorb sums at the side of each row, I announced, “Begin!”

I paid little attention to his actions, instead glancing towards the empty table to my right. Gen should have been here for his shift hours ago. Where could he be?

I felt a faint buzz from my pocket. It must be closing time, then. I ignored every expletive the gambler spat at me, as I packed up my belongings and headed out the door. Closing up shop wasn’t my job, anyways.

The moment the door shut behind me, I was confronted by a disheveled mess of a man, eyes widened and eyebrows pulled together.

“Spersua! Have you seen Gen at all? You’re his coworker, right?” he questioned. Right. This was Gen’s father.

“Sorry, sir. He hasn’t turned up today. Something happen?” I asked in turn, raising an eyebrow.

All I received in reply was a cry of anguish, as he ran off.

Ok then. That was odd. Something was seriously up with Gen. Maybe I should leave him a message.

I pulled the rectangle out of my pocket, and sent a quick “U ok?” message to Gen. That should put me at ease for now.

I should get home soon. The sun was setting.

I walked down the street from the game corner, past a telephone pole adorned with a poster of a familiar visage.

I stopped, doing a double take. Yep, that was Gen alright, or at least a picture of him. And on a missing poster, too.

Well, this sucked.

Nothing I could do anything about, though.

I began to continue towards home, before a patch of blue caught my eye. A pristine blue bow, lying on the ground. I immediately nabbed it. It was unbelievably soft, more than anything I’ve felt before. I didn’t want to let go of it.

I’ll keep it. It was my favorite color, so no way was I giving it up. Maybe I could sew it on to my shirt collar or something. I bet that would look stylish.

Whoever lost it wasn’t my problem.

Hopefully Gen would turn up soon. Managing Voltorb Flip all by myself was exhausting.

Plus, I did miss him a bit.

[numinous-queer]

I keep telling myself that we’re living in Sola’s childhood, not her court case. That said, tomorrow is a court hearing and I am scared stiff as usual. The agency never shares information with us, so court brings with it the terrifying possibility that we learn her permanency plan will suddenly change and take her to more distant relatives in New Mexico or something else we can’t even guess yet. We can’t live every day in that world of wondering if we’ll have to say goodbye so I try not to dwell, but it gets really hard to do around court dates.

In order to give myself something happy and good to focus on, I’d like to take a minute to share some cute and happy moments with Sola recently!

As you can see from the chalk drawing above, kiddo is getting really into Monsters Inc recently! Specifically, the sequel Monsters University where Mike wears a baseball cap like this:

Since getting into this movie, she has decided to “share” Grandpa Eric’s baseball cap by taking it home with us one day after a visit. (He doesn’t mind!) She wears it constantly while pretending to be “Mama Mike,” and won’t be parted from it even to go to sleep. The only way I can get her to leave it behind is to say that one of her stuffed animals would like a turn:

Sola has always ALWAYS been obsessed with the color yellow, and Lexie recently bought her a linen dress that is bright goldenrod. Kiddo LOVES it, and keeps saying “I’m sunshine! I’m the sun!” while twirling around. She figured out that if she stands over the heating grate it makes the dress fly up Marilyn Monroe style, which makes her laugh and laugh!

Kiddo is best friends with our big placid labrador Nacho, and I love listening to her talk to him. The other day he was sniffing her face extra aggressively after she had finished her syrupy pancakes, and she giggled for a long time before squeaking out, “I’m flower!” I tell her stories about the golden retriever named Lemon that Nacho says hi to in the park sometimes, and she is invested in their doggy friendship to a point that would make your blorbos jealous

We go to this wonderful community event called Foster Parent’s Night Out once a month, where a group of volunteers puts together a huge fun event for the kids with a nice dinner every month, and gives their caretakers four glorious hours to rest and do chores. This month’s theme was ���PARKOUR” and Sola was so wiped out afterwards that she fell asleep in the car holding her favorite stuffed T-Rex in one hand and a piece of pizza in the other. Living the dream, little lady, living the dream!

Her new favorite game during bathtime is to pretend that the toy basket is a shark that’s eating her leg, and she needs to get saved by one of her dollies. Once you obligingly save her, she gleefully puts the shark in time out, including telling Alexa to set the timer for three minutes. Sometimes the dollies go to their cave (behind the bath curtains) and have loud disagreements that remain a mystery to me, and then the loser is ejected into the tub to her uproarious laughter. There’s a splash zone, but she’s having the absolute time of her life!

[philosophicalparadox]

That’s the thing about bees and indeed insects at large —

1. They don’t need very much space set aside for them to do well, comparatively, and

2. They have pretty short life cycles, ergo can repopulate very quickly when conditions are right.

It’s why it simply baffles me that people aren’t more invested in saving the bugs. They are literally more important to just about every ecosystem than any other multicellular, non-mycelial organism, (and by bugs I include insects, annelids, crustaceans, arthropods of any other sort and arachnids; anything a layperson would call a bug) AND YET they are by far the easiest, most low-effort and low cost species to dedicate wild spaces to. They’re bugs! They don’t need a lot!

I saw one projection recently by Pennsylvania State that said that if we turned all the unused, tiny green spaces — like the greenways between highway divisions and other random patches of bordering on useless grass, into native gardens, we would have something like four times the current population of native bugs, including bees.

And yes, I’m aware those green strips between highway lanes are there for a reason, so nothing woody could be planted there. However, California already leaves those spaces to the wildflowers, which are predominantly poppies, which are illegal to pick or remove in the state.

In California. The wildfire state. So really, there’s no excuse; a crashed car will not care one way or the other and neither will the EMT or passengers, whether they crash into mud or peaty soil (which by the way is actually better to crash into) formed by wild vegetation. And, in fact, crashing into the weeds can save you, because they exert drag on the car in a way that doesn’t stop it suddenly but still stops it faster than coasting on cut grass.

True there are tick concerns, but those go away when the ecosystem is allowed to balance. Loads of predatory insects eat ticks, most of them beetles, which includes a few species of firefly.

Like, I get it to a point — I can’t go outside in the summer hardly at all because I’ll get eaten alive out there, and I hate bugs flying around me, because I can hear them all at once.

But I’d rather be annoyed by the whirring of too many wings than the silence of none. It’s why we leave our backyard alone; it grows goldenrods and other plants and we got a very rare (in New Jersey) population of stingless bees that hang out under the porch. Granted I could do without the carpenter bees, they scare me, but I’m ever fascinated by the sweat and cuckoo bees that come around. They’re always so pretty. To say nothing of the spiders — if you want really pretty, big ass garden spiders, leave your yard alone. They will come lol. Just gotta be careful about widows — they prefer manmade structures, but they’ll sit between a tree and a fence if they want to.

But by far the most exotic bug we have gotten has been stick insects. Carolina stick insects are damn near extinct, but we get them crashing into our yard sometimes, because we don’t cut down anything we don’t need to! So they see it as a refuge!

Please, people. One little meter-by-meter square of your yard can be all the difference to something so small. It’s worth the annoyance, I promise.

"A Scottish field once home to mono-crop barley has become a pollinator’s paradise after intervention from a local trust saw bumblebee numbers increase 100-fold.

Entitled Rewilding Denmarkfield, and run by the Bumblebee Conservation Trust, the project has also seen a sharp increase in the number of species passing through the rolling meadows after they were reclaimed by dozens of wildflower species.

The area north of Perth is about 90 acres in size, and surveys of bumblebees before the project began rarely recorded more than 50. But by 2023, just two years of letting “nature take the lead” that number has topped 4,000, with the number of different bee species doubling.

“This superb variety of plants attracts thousands of pollinators. Many of these plants, such as spear thistle and smooth hawk’s beard, are sometimes branded as ‘weeds’. But they are all native species that are benefiting native wildlife in different ways,” Ecologist Ellie Corsie, who has been managing the project since it began in 2021, said.

“Due to intensive arable farming, with decades of plowing, herbicide, and pesticide use, biodiversity was incredibly low when we started. Wildlife had largely been sanitized from the fields. Rewilding the site has had a remarkable benefit.”

Similar increases have been recorded in the populations of butterflies, with a tripling in the number of these insects seen on average during a ramble through the field.

The numbers of both insects are now so high that Rewilding Denmarkfield offers bee and butterfly safaris to visitors.

Local residents told the Scotsman that on spring and summer days, the field is awash with color, and hums with the sounds of bees and birds. Even as multiple housing developments expand around the Denmarkfield area, the field is a haven for wildlife."

-via Good News Network, December 2, 2024

[kathbigaran]

Poetic License

Positivity 

BY D. A. POWELL

“Anyway, it isn’t forever,” Chris said,

“eventually you’re dead.” And we laughed

Besides, everything is better now. Not us

but implants, blenders, children, heart attacks.

There’s never been a better time to be alive

than when you are. If you are. Black-throated

blue warbler says chewchewchewchewchewww

drawing the last chew out like a sucking drainpipe

to say he has mated and is satisfied. Say what

you will about that. His joy is uncontainable

and yet it has a form, a measure, to make it clear

he’s not upset or feeling anxious. And if he’s bragging,

well, it’s no shame to brag that you’re happy.

Honeybees cavorting on the goldenrod are working

toward a common goal they’ll never see achieved.

They lay down the walls of their cathedral of honeycomb

and will not cope the spire, busy in the present task,

trusting that the work continues. I’d like to write

a children’s book called everybody dies. Upbeat, of

course, and pragmatic. You only got so many

days. Don’t think about death; when you’re

ready, death will think about you. Go out

tonight with your friends, like Chris, who went out

big or not at all. Have a ball. Plan ahead. The poem "Positivity" by D.A. Powell talks about how life is short and the importance of finding joy and purpose in the present moment. The poem begins with a conversation about mortality. The poet converses with Chris, who remarks on the impermanence of life, stating, "Anyway, it isn't forever, eventually you're dead." Their laughter's humor highlights a certain acceptance of death. It then becomes a celebration of modern life, highlighting innovations and complexities. In simple terms, the poem is about the idea that although life is short, it presents a chance to appreciate the innovations and experiences of the present day. The black-throated blue warbler's joy becomes a metaphor for finding satisfaction in life's simple pleasures. In addition, working together toward a common goal is symbolized by the honeybees and their honeycomb, even when it is uncertain when precisely the goal will be achieved. Aesthetic elements in the poem include consonance and assonance, such as the repetition of the "chew" sound in the warbler's call. The narrative style is episodic, with moments shifting between reflections on mortality, the wonders of life, and nature's harmony. Although there is no clear narrator, the speaker presents a group viewpoint that might represent many human experiences. The poem adopts a pragmatic tone, similar to an organic narrative, offering advice with phrases like "You only got so many days" and encouraging living in the moment. Metaphors and symbols are embedded throughout, including the honeycomb as a symbol of collaborative effort and the warbler's song representing uncontainable joy. The diction is straightforward yet lyrical, especially in describing the warbler's call as "chewchewchewchewchewww." In summary, "Positivity" uses metaphors, symbols, and aesthetic elements to convey a message of embracing life, finding joy in simplicity, and participating in collective endeavors toward a shared purpose.

[tintinntabuli]

Garden Surfing: You Should Try It!

Remember the talking dog named Dug from the movie Up—the onethat flips out when he sees a SQUIRREL? That’s me when I see plants. Plant obsession disorder, particularly a severe case like mine, never takes a vacation. It goes everywhere I go, hand in hand with my ADD.

During a recent road trip, my husband Bill was at the wheel. He seemed content to cruise through Arkansas and listen to Matthew McConaughey chat with the College Gameday hosts while I looked out the window. I sat silent, bewitched by the ever-moving tapestry of native grasses and Asteraceae, tempted by seductive road signs and their untoward promises of botanical attractions. My imagination ran wild. These horticultural thrills could be ours if I could just convince Bill to take the next exit.

The inner gardener screamed, “Pull over! Pull over NOW!” But I said nothing of this to my dearest love. Such a request would be denied unless it involved an emergency bathroom break or suspected car trouble. When Bill is driving, we aren’t stopping.Bill does not share my mad obsession with unexplored landscapes. After 31 blissful years, I know this all too well. My man is a no-nonsense traveler, the kind who makes the plan and executes.“No, we aren’t stopping at the diamond park. No, we don’t have time to go another 200 miles and back to see some trees.” No. No. No.” Because Bill’s “No” is the voice of well-meaning practicality, I rarely press these matters. We have people to see and places to be. I respect his logic but regret the opportunities lost. I keep my own counsel, shift my gaze, and look with longing toward the unkempt stands of capricious goldenrod that wave to me as we pass them by.

I’m not a kook, just plant-focused, and perhaps a tad bit obsessed. Left to my own devices, my internal GPS inevitably guides me toward uncharted greenery. When traveling on my own, there is little doubt that I will eventually get from point A to point B, albeit with many stops in between.

An unexpected stop at Cheekwood Estate and Botanical Garden, Tennessee

Bill knows how I roll. There is no fooling him about what I’m up to or where I’m going Thanks to the rat fink app known as Find My Phone he monitors nearly all of my long-distance plant-related detours. He calls and asks, “Are you lost?

I’m not lost. I’m garden surfing. I get high on zipping in and out of green spaces, pouncing on unplanned opportunities to see plants. What could be better than hanging loose, searching the vast horizon for waves of garden joy to catch? Why not seek out good garden trouble, the kind of horticultural experiences that rely on serendipity instead of Apple Maps?

Dockside garden detour before dinner at the Hogfish Bar & Grill. Cow Key, Florida

A quick wave wins in Louisville.

Garden surfing is for thrill-seekers.

You can do it. Anyone can.

Going it alone may help you cover more ground. In June of this year, after an amazing week at Great Dixter, I returned to London ready to surf. I caught my first wave at 1:43 p.m. For the next 8 hours, I hopped on and off the rail lines to see as many garden spaces as possible. By the time my head hit the pillow, I’d covered more than 10 miles on my feet. I can’t imagine any of my friends still being my friends today had they come along, so don’t be afraid to go solo.

Garden surf for fun not followers. The art of catching waves should build memories, not your social media numbers. There’s nothing wrong with keeping score of the waves you’ve caught by taking pictures and sharing them with your friends but try to live in the moment.

Don’t surf if you can’t relax and let the experience come to you. Pure waves, the kind of experiences you’ll remember until your last breath, roll in when you least expect them.

Don’t count pre-planned excursions as waves caught. Garden surfing should be one part whim and two parts “because I jolly well want to go there, right this very minute.”

Get the timing right, so you arrive at your destination on time. This seems simple, but when you are distracted by ephemeral trilliums, it can be almost impossible. Keep track of your time and be on time, so your loved ones don’t decide to send the sheriff out looking for you, when you are three hours late.

Follow your heart and you’ll surf in all the best places.

Walk in the wildflowers, whenever you want. Kentucky

Walk through neighborhoods to see what people are planting and how the gardens are. Key West

Try to learn something new in school gardens. Prior Weston Primary School and Children’s Centre, London

Don’t get lost. Keep your phone charged for safety and navigation. I bring a charging cord in my pocket. If my phone is dead, I’m lost.

If tempted to stay too long, take lots of pictures. You can always come back.

When the wave you catch turns out to be a dud, bail quickly and move on.

Surf in garden-rich areas. If garden surfing were a competition, then Pennsylvanians would have a decided advantage. There are more than 200 public gardens in the “Keystone State.” And, considering all the gardens in Buffalo, Garden Ranter Elizabeth Licata could be a champion surfer. I imagine the Netherlands would be fabulous for competitive surfers, as would Portugal, Italy, France, Africa, and Southeast Asia. Surveying plants in the cracks of random sidewalks could also be swell.

I’ve found no better place to surf than the United Kingdom. Half-skip a rock down a country lane and you’ll hit five gardens. I’ve been across the pond three times. I’m already plotting my way back. According to Bill, I may have to swim.

Anywhere you go in the U.K., you’ll find awesome waves.

The finest wave I’ve ever caught was in the heart of London’s West End at about 9 p.m. I heard sirens blaring. A police helicopter swayed back and forth above the buildings, apparently seeking someone who did not want to be found. Any adult with good sense would have turned and run for the safety of the rail station, but this gardener didn’t. Wrapped in my naive joie de vivre, I wandered down a thin side street and discovered the Phoenix Garden, a delightful oasis that rose from the ashes of a WW2 bombsite. My photos do not do it justice. Wander over there if you get a chance.

The sign promising a garden haven for wildlife & people sounded fine to me.

Brits really do keep calm and garden on.

Plants have nice things to say when you stop and listen.

Whenever you go garden surfing, recall these lines by Robert Herrick. “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying.Now, get out and catch a wave!

Garden Surfing: You Should Try It! originally appeared on GardenRant on October 11, 2023.

The post Garden Surfing: You Should Try It! appeared first on GardenRant.

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[fishingunderthestars]

hi! kinda resting on land atm, swimming for this long can be excited.

i think aside from a girlfriend, another kinda relationship i’d like a mentor-student relationship, you know? i wanna teach someone how to use a fishing rod, how to hunt underwater, how to gut and prepare fish, the nice creamy taste of a freshly shucked shellder after a long swim and the respect for the pokemon you kill.

but before i got homeschooled bc of the intense bullying, when i was a kid at best i’d be treated as a weird kid and at worst my classmates would call me a future rocket grunt for hunting pokemon. esp after the goldenrod radio tower incident. idk. i’m afraid if i ask around i’ll get treated as an evil person.

[thistledown-au-warriors]

into the wild - chapter 9

< Chapter 8 || Index || Chapter 10 >

“I’d go and see to Violet Fang, if I were you.” whispered Gray Stripe, as Pale Tail strode away. “She’s doesn’t look very happy.”

Rusty glanced over at the old molly. She was still lying beside the Highrock. His friend was right, she was glaring right at him.

“Well, here goes nothing.” he mewed. “Wish me luck!”

“You’ll need the whole of StarClan on your side for this one.” answered Gray Stripe. “Call out if you need a paw. If she looks like she’s going to get you, I’ll sneak up behind her and whack her on the head with a stiff rabbit.”

Rusty purred with amusement and trotted off toward Violet Fang. His cheerfulness quickly evaporated as he neared the injured queen.

The old cat was clearly in a terrible mood. She hissed a warning and showed her teeth. “Stop right there, kittypet !”

Rusty sighed. It seemed he was in for a fight. He was still hungry and beginning to feel tired. He longed to curl up in his nest and sleep. The last thing he wanted was to argue with this pitiful clump of fur and teeth. “You can call me what you like.” he mewed wearily. “I’m just following Blue Fur’s orders.”

“You are a kittypet, though, aren’t you? Your name is Rusty .” Violet Fang wheezed.

She’s tired too , Rusty thought. There was less fire in her voice, although her spite was as strong as ever.

“I used to live with Twolegs when I was a kit.” Rusty replied calmly.

“Your mother a kittypet? Your father a kittypet?”

“Yes, they were.” Rusty looked down at the ground, feeling resentment burn inside him. It was bad enough that members of his own Clan still viewed him as an outsider. He certainly didn’t have to answer to this foul-tempered prisoner.

Violet Fang seemed to take his silence as an invitation to go on. “Kittypet blood is not the same as warrior blood. Why don’t you run home to your Twolegs now instead of looking after me? It’s humiliating, being fussed over by a kitty cat like you!”

Rusty's patience ran out. He snarled, “You’d still feel humiliated if I were clanborn. You’d feel ashamed whether I was a precious queen from your own Clan or a wretched Twoleg that had picked you off the ground.” He lashed his tail from side to side. “It’s the fact that you need to rely on any cat that you find so humiliating!”

Violet Fang stared at him, her orange eyes very wide.

Rusty carried on fiercely. “You’re just going to have to get used to being cared for until you are well enough to look after yourself, you spiteful old bone bag!”

He stopped as Violet Fang began to make a low, harsh, wheezing sound.

Alarmed, Rusty took a step toward her. The molly was trembling all over and her eyes had narrowed into tiny slits. Was she having some kind of a fit?

“I— I didn't mean…” he began, before he suddenly realized that she was laughing! A loud purr rumbled up from deep inside her chest.

Rusty didn’t know what to do.

“You have spirit, kitty.” Violet Fang croaked, stopping at last. “Now, I’m tired and my leg hurts. I need sleep and something to put on this wound. Go and find that pretty little healer of yours and ask her for some herbs. I think you’ll find a goldenrod poultice would help. And, while you’re at it, I wouldn’t mind a poppy seed or two to chew on. The pain is killing me!”

Stunned by her change of mood, Rusty turned quickly and sprinted toward Leaf Spots’ den.

 He brushed through the ferns and stepped out into the clearing hidden within. He pricked his ears, looking for Leaf Spots, as he drank on the strong and pleasant scent of herbs.

She soon trotted out of the opening in the wall. As usual, she looked bright-eyed and friendly, her dappled coat gleaming with a hundred shades of amber and brown.

Rusty shyly mewed a greeting, and reeled off Violet Fang’s list of herbs and seeds.

“I’ve got most of those in my den.” replied Leaf Spots. “I’ll fetch some marigold leaves too. If she dresses her wound with that, it’ll keep off any infection. Wait here.”

“Thanks.” Rusty mewed as the healer disappeared back into her den. He strained his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse what she was doing in there. But the den was too dark to see anything. He could only hear the sound of rustling and smell the scents of unfamiliar herbs as the healer moved them.

Leaf Spots emerged from the gloom and dropped a bundle folded in leaves by Rusty’s feet. “Tell her to go easy on the poppy seeds. I don’t want her to deaden the pain entirely. A little pain can be useful, as it will help me judge how well she is healing.”

Rusty nodded and picked up the herbs with his teeth. “Thanks, Leaf Spots!” he mewed through the mouthful of leaves, then headed back through the fern tunnel into the main clearing.

Tiger's Claw was sitting outside the warriors’ den, watching him closely. As Rusty trotted over to Violet Fang, carrying the herbs, he could feel the amber-eyed stare burning the fur on the back of his neck. He turned his head and looked at Tiger's Claw curiously. The warrior narrowed his eyes and looked away.

Rusty dropped the bundle beside Violet Fang.

“Good.” she meowed. “Now, before you leave me in peace, find me something to eat. I’m starving!”

 ***

 It had been nearly a quarter moon since Violet Fang had entered the camp. Rusty woke early and nudged Gray Stripe, who was still asleep beside him, his nose tucked under his thick tail. “Wake up.” Rusty mewed. “Or you’ll be late for training.”

Gray Stripe lifted his head sleepily and growled in reluctant agreement.

Rusty prodded Raven Shadow, whose nest was on his other side.

The black cat opened his eyes immediately and leaped to his feet. “W-what is it?” he mewed, looking around wildly.

“Calm down, Raven Shadow. It’s time for training soon.” Rusty soothed.

Dusty Earth and Sand Storm began to stir too, in their mossy nests on the far side of the den. Rusty stood up and pushed his way out of the ferns.

The morning was warm. He could see a deep blue sky through the leaves and branches that overhung the camp. Today, however, a heavy dew glistened on the fern fronds and sparkled on the grass. Rusty sniffed the air. Greenleaf was drawing to a close, and soon it would start to feel colder.

He lay down and rolled in the earth beside the tree stump, stretching his legs and tipping his head back to rub it on the cool ground. Then he flipped over onto his side, and looked across the clearing to see if Violet Fang was awake yet.

She had been given a resting place at the other end of the fallen tree where the elders gathered to eat. Her nest lay tucked against its mossy trunk, out of hearing of the elders, but in full view of the warriors’ den across the clearing. Rusty could just see a mound of pale gray fur, rising and falling in time to a gentle rumble of sleep.

Gray Stripe trotted out of the den behind him, followed by Sand Storm and Dusty Earth. Raven Shadow appeared last, with a nervous glance around the clearing before he emerged fully into the open.

“Another day looking after that mangy old fleabag, eh, Rusty?” mewed Dusty Earth. “I bet you wish you were out training with us.”

Rusty sat up and shook the dust from his fur. He wasn’t going to let himself get annoyed by the brown apprentice’s taunts.

“Don’t worry, Rusty.” murmured Gray Stripe. “Blue Fur will have you back in training before long.”

“Perhaps she thinks a kittypet is better off staying in camp, tending to the sick.” mewed Sand Storm rudely, tossing her sleek ginger head and throwing him a scornful look.

Isn't that exactly what a healer's job is, mouse-brain? He thought to himself, but decided to not acknowledge her barbed comments. “What is White Flower teaching you today, Sand Storm?” he mewed.

“We’re doing battle training today. He’s going to teach me how a real warrior fights.” Sand Storm replied proudly.

“Lion's Heart is taking me to the Great Sycamore.” mewed Gray Stripe. “To practice my climbing. I’d best go. He’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll come with you to the top of the ravine.” mewed Rusty. “I have to catch breakfast for Violet Fang. Coming, Raven Shadow? Tiger's Claw must have something planned for you.”

Raven Shadow sighed and nodded, then followed the two apprentices as they trotted out of the camp. Even though his injury was completely healed, the black tom still seemed to have little enthusiasm for warrior training.

 “Here.” mewed Rusty. He dropped a large mouse and a chaffinch onto the ground beside Violet Fang. The elder had been sitting awake, tail twitching, when he walked back into camp.

“About time.” she growled. She dropped her head and hungrily munched down Rusty’s offerings. She had developed a massive appetite as her strength returned. Her wound was healing well, but her temper remained as fierce and unpredictable as ever.

She lifted her head as she swallowed large mouthful. “The base of my tail itches like fury, but I can’t reach it. Give it a wash, will you?”

Rusty sighed. He'd started getting used to it, but it was never pleasant to clean an elder, especially not one as unkempt as Violet Fang.

As he cracked plump fleas between his teeth, he noticed a gang of small kits tumbling in the dusty earth nearby. They were mauling each other and play-fighting, sometimes quite viciously. Violet Fang, who had closed her eyes as and chewed quietly while Rusty groomed her, half opened one eye to observe the kits as they played. To his surprise, Rusty felt her spine stiffen beneath him.

He listened for a moment to the tiny yelps and squeaks of the kits.

“Feel my teeth, Broken Tail!” mewed one small tabby, Leaping Lynx. She jumped onto the back of a little black-and-white kit, Swift Bird, who was pretending to be the ShadowClan leader. The two kits bundled toward the Highrock. Was Violet Fang offended that the kits were using her leader as the bad guy?

Suddenly Swift Bird gave a mighty heave and flung the his sibling from his back. With a startled squeak, Leaping Lynx rolled onto the floor, lifting dust onto Violet Fang and Rusty, before quickly getting on her feet and scrambling to get revenge. She didn't even notice Violet Fang's large wide eyes on her, or the way the old cat's fur stood on its end.

Rusty blinked. “I think the older kits are finding it hard being confined to camp.” he mewed cautiously. “They’re getting restless.”

“I don’t care how restless they are.” mumbled Violet Fang crossly. “Just keep them away from me!”

“Don’t you like kits?” Rusty asked, curious in spite of himself. “Did you never have kits of your own?”

“Don’t you know clan healers don’t have kits?” she hissed furiously.

“But I heard you were a warrior before that.” Rusty ventured.

“I have no kits!” Violet Fang spat. She snatched her tail away from him and sat up. “Anyway.” her voice suddenly lowered, and she sounded almost wistful. “Bad things seem to happen to kits when I’m around them.”

Her orange eyes clouded with emotion. She laid her chin flat on her forepaws and stared ahead.

Rusty watched her shoulders sink as she released a long, silent sigh.

Rusty looked at her curiously. What could she mean? Was the Violet Fang being serious? It was hard to tell, with the old molly's mood-swings. He shrugged to himself and went on with the grooming.

“There are a couple of ticks I couldn’t pull out.” he told her when he had finished.

“I should hope you didn’t even try, frog-brain!” snapped Violet Fang. “I don’t want any tick heads embedded in my rear, thank you very much. Ask Leaf Spots for a little mouse bile to rub on them. A splash of that in their and they’ll soon loosen their grip.”

“I’ll get some now!” Rusty offered. He was glad of a chance to get away from the grumpy cat for a while. 

He walked toward the fern tunnel. Cats crossed the clearing around him, carrying sticks and twigs in their teeth. While he had been grooming Violet Fang, the camp had grown active. It had been like this every day since Blue Fur had announced WindClan’s disappearance. The queens were weaving twigs and leaves into a dense green wall around the sides of the nursery, making sure that the narrow entrance was the only way in and out of the bramble patch. Other cats were working at the edges of the camp, filling in any spaces in the thick undergrowth.

Even the elders were busy, scraping out a hole in the ground. Warriors filed steadily past, piling pieces of fresh-kill beside them, ready to be stored inside the newly dug hole. There was an air of quiet concentration, a determination to make the Clan as secure and well supplied as possible.

If ShadowClan made a move on their territory, ThunderClan would shelter inside the camp. They would not let themselves be driven from their land as easily as WindClan had been.

Dark Pine, Pale Tail, Rose Fall, and Dusty Earth left camp on patrol as soon as one had returned, stopping only for a moment to exchange words with the worn out cats. ThunderClan’s borders were not being left unguarded for a moment.

Rusty headed down the fern tunnel that led to the healers’s den. As he entered the clearing, he could see Leaf Spots was preparing some sweet-smelling herbs that Stone Pelt had just placed at her paws. 

“Can I have some mouse bile for Violet Fang’s ticks?” Rusty asked.

Stone Pelt looked at him with clear blue-green eyes. “Yes, just a moment.” He bounded inside the den.

Leaf Spots stayed where she was, pawing two piles of herbs together and mixing the fragrant heap with one delicately extended claw.

“Busy?” Rusty asked, settling down on a warm patch of earth.

“I want to be prepared for any casualties.” Leaf Spots murmured, glancing up at him with her clear amber eyes. Rusty met her gaze for a moment and nodded, before looking down at the herb pile.

"What are those?" He asked curiously.

She blinked at him, surprised by his interest, then placed a paw by one of the green leaf piles. "Chervil leaves, good for infected wounds." Then she pointed to another, where the leaves looked juicier. "Dock leaves, good for scratches and sore pads. Also for wrapping herbs in." She then then pointed with her tail to two piles of yellow flowers beside her. "Goldenrod poultices are good for healing wounds. And you already know marigold." Leaf Spots finished.

Rusty stared in awe. All the herbs she showed were so similar, but she could tell them all apart and their uses with ease. He had already forgotten the name of the first herb she mentioned. How does she keep track of all that?

Stone Pelt walked back out, gingerly holding something in his mouth. It was a small wad of moss dangling on the end of a thin strip of bark. He passed it to Rusty. Leaves rustled as Leaf Spots went back to work.

“The moss is soaked in bile.” Stone Pelt explained. “Don’t get any in your mouth, or you’ll have a foul taste for days. Press it onto the ticks and then wash your paws — in a stream, not with your tongue!”

Rusty nodded, meowing his thanks to the healers. As he trotted back to Violet Fang, he could hear the two cats murmuring many more herb names to each other over the rustle of ferns, as they went over the stock.

 “Hold still!” he mewed to the old molly. Carefully he used his forepaws to press the moss onto each tick.

“You may as well bury these since your paws are already foul!” she meowed when he had finished, pushing away the bones and feathers from her meal. “I’m going to take a nap.” She yawned. The warmth of the day was making her sleepy, too. “Then you can go and do whatever it is you apprentices do.” she murmured.

After Rusty had cleaned out the area of the molly's nest, he left her dozing and made his way to the gorse tunnel. He was keen to get to the stream and rinse his paws.

“Rusty!” a voice called from the side of the clearing.

Rusty turned. It was Sparrow Nest.

“Where are you off to?” meowed the old cat curiously. “You ought to be helping with the preparations.”

“I’ve just been putting mouse bile on Violet Fang's ticks.” replied Rusty.

Amusement flickered through the elder's whiskers. “So now you’re off to the nearest stream! Well, don’t come back without fresh-kill. We need as much as we can find.”

“Yes, Sparrow Nest.” Rusty replied.

He made his way out of the camp and up the side of the ravine, towards the cold stream near camp.

***

Rusty happened upon his friends, Raven Shadow and Gray Stripe. The toms had been put on hunting duty, and he tagged along with them through the afternoon.

When they got back, he could tell that the cats back at camp were impressed with the amount of prey the three apprentices had managed to catch during their hunt. They were welcomed back with high tails and friendly nuzzles. It took them four journeys to carry their bumper catch to the storage hole the elders had dug.

Lion's Heart and Tiger's Claw had just returned with their patrol as Rusty, Gray Stripe, and Raven Shadow carried their last load into the camp.

“Well done, you three.” meowed Lion's Heart. “I hear you’ve been busy. The store is almost full. You might as well add that last lot to the pile of fresh-kill for tonight. And take some of it back to your den with you. You deserve a feast!”

The three apprentices flicked their tails with delight.

“I hope you’ve not been neglecting Violet Fang with all this hunting, Rusty.” Tiger's Claw growled warningly.

Rusty shook his head impatiently, eager to get away. He was starving. He had obeyed the warrior code this time and not eaten a morsel while he was hunting for the Clan. Nor had Gray Stripe or Raven Shadow.

They trotted away and dropped the last of their catch on the fresh-kill that already lay at the center of the clearing. Then each of them took a piece and carried it back to their tree stump. The den was empty.

“Where are Dusty Earth and Sand Storm?” asked Raven Shadow.

“They must still be out on patrol. You'd think we're going to be attacked at any moment, with how it's been lately.” Rusty commented.

"Who says we won't be?" mewed Raven Shadow, eyeing the reinforced camp walls uneasily. "Shadow Broken Tail could be planning to drive us out too."

Rusty paused, thoughtfully. "By the way… why is he sometimes called Shadow Broken Tail?"

Gray Stripe paused mid-chewing. Both his friends stared at Rusty.

He felt his pelt heat up. "What?"

The gray apprentice swallowed. "How do you not know this by now?"

Rusty just shrugged awkwardly, and tugged at the feathers of his meal. Gray Stripe looked at him, suddenly more sympathetic. "Well." he began. "It's more of an old-fashioned thing, really. To set apart StarClan-blessed leaders from other warriors, they're given a title. Shadow for ShadowClan, Thunder for ThunderClan, and such. They used to always be addressed by their title and name, according to the elders, but nowadays we just use it more to be respectful or to make it clear we're talking about a leader of a Clan. We use the more often when around other Clans. Blue Fur is Thunder Blue Fur." He inched closer, lowering his voice. "Older cats will call her 'my Thunder' all the time , but you really only need to use it if you're in trouble."

Rusty nodded, twitching his whiskers in amusement, and Gray Stripe seemed satisfied enough with his own explanation to resume eating. The ginger tom followed suit, slowly chewing as he thought over this new information. Maybe Blue Fur would have gone easier on my punishment if I had called her that. He wondered wistfully.

They ate their fill and lay back to wash. The cool evening air was welcome after the heat of the day.

“Hey! Guess what!” mewed Gray Stripe suddenly. “Raven Shadow managed to squeeze a compliment out of old Tiger's Claw this morning!”

“Really?” Rusty gasped. “What on earth did you do to please him — fly?”

“Well,” the black tom began shyly, looking at his paws. “I caught a crow.”

A grown crow was basically the size of a cat. They were too fierce and large for even a warrior to want to take on alone. “How’d you manage that?” Rusty mewed, impressed.

“It was an old one.” he admitted modestly.

“But it was huge!” added Gray Stripe. “Even Tiger's Claw couldn’t find fault with that! He’s been in such a bad mood since the day Violet Fang came to camp.” He licked his paw thoughtfully for a moment. “Hang on, make that since Lion's Heart was made deputy.”

“He’s just worried about ShadowClan, and the extra patrols.” hastily meowed Raven Shadow, seeming defensive. “You should try not to annoy him.”

Rusty's eyes had widened at the mention of the grumpy old healer. “Oh, no.” Rusty groaned, getting to his paws. “I forgot to take Violet Fang her share! She'll be furious!"

“You wait here.” mewed Gray Stripe, leaping up. “I’ll take her something.”

“No, I’d better go.” Rusty protested. “This is my punishment, not yours.”

“No one will notice.” argued Gray Stripe. “They’re all busy eating. You know me: quiet as a mouse, quick as a fish. Wait here.”

Rusty sat down again, unable to hide his relief. He watched his friend trot away from the tree stump to the pile of fresh-kill.

As if he were carrying out orders, his friend confidently picked out two of the juiciest-looking mice. Quickly, he began to pad across the clearing toward Violet Fang.

"This can't end well…" Raven Shadow muttered.

“Stop right there!” As if on cue, a loud growl rumbled from the entrance to the warriors’ den. Tiger's Claw strode out and marched over to Gray Stripe. “Where are you taking those mice?” he demanded.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Rusty watched, helpless, from the tree stump. Beside him, Raven Shadow froze midchew and crouched over his meal with his eyes wider than ever.

“Uhmm…” Gray Stripe dropped the mice and shuffled his paws uncomfortably.

“Not helping young Rusty by feeding that greedy oldbag over there, are you?”

Rusty watched Gray Stripe study his paws for a moment. Finally he replied. “I, er, I was just feeling hungry. I was going to take them off and eat them by myself. If I let that pair get a look in-” he glanced at his two friends. "-they'll leave me with nothing but bones and fur.”

“Oh, is that so?” mewed Tiger's Claw. “Well, if you’re so hungry, you might as well eat them here and now!”

“But—” the apprentice began, looking up at the senior warrior in alarm.

“Now!” growled Tiger's Claw.

Gray Stripe bent his head quickly and began to eat the mice. He demolished the first one in a couple of bites and swallowed it quickly. The second mouse took longer for him to eat. Rusty thought he’d never manage to swallow it, and his own stomach clenched in sympathy, but eventually the gray tom gave a final, difficult gulp and the last bit of mouse disappeared.

“Better now?” asked Tiger' Claw, his voice smooth with mock sympathy.

“Mmmuch.” replied Gray Stripe, stifling a burp.

“Good.” Tiger's Claw stalked off again, back to his den.

Gray Stripe slunk uncomfortably back to Rusty and Raven Shadow.

“Thanks, Gray Stripe.” Rusty mewed gratefully, nudging his friend’s soft fur. “That was quick thinking.”

His friend only replied with a pained moan, hunching into a low crouch. "I've eaten too much…"

“Go and see Leaf Spots.” Rusty suggested, eyes rounded with concern. “I’m sure she’ll find something to help.”

“I hope so.” mewed Gray Stripe, tottering slowly away.

The noise of Violet Fang’s yowl rose into the air as he watched his friend go. She'd waited too long. Rusty sighed and got to his paws. He would make sure he took her enough to see her through the night. He wanted to turn in early. His stomach was full and his paws were tired.

Before she could call again, Rusty summoned what was left of his strength and sprinted across the clearing.

[makoredeyes]

ARGH no I’m sorry I can’t stand it. I have NO idea what cosmetic element in the character creator does this but Damien has iridescent goldenrod stripes on top of his head that only show up in certain light and I just love them but I’m so mad at myself I posted a pic where they don’t fucking show??!? So have more. And peak edgelord gothmode too no less ❤️‍🔥 (Husband meanly (in this house we are as mean as possible because he deserves it!) called him a hot topic discount Felwinter and he’s not wrong lolololol I’d feel weird about it if I’d had any clue who Felts was when I created asshole here 🤣💕 but nope I was clueless! I just have a TYPE)

Lo, ye vanishing strypes

He’s also got a Braytech tramp stamp he doesn’t know about but we won’t inform him NOW will we >:3

I don't feel like I've seen this before, sorry if it's been asked already 😅

What's your favorite class to main; and within that class what's your favorite exotic armor piece?

If you don't have a preference play-wise, what's your favorite aesthetically?

Oh this is complicated 😅 I’m still identifying as a Titan main that was my first class and probably fits my personality and play style best and I played Titan exclusively for my first 3 years but one day I got brave and made a Warlock and uh. An OC jumped out at me and I Immediately fell in love with him and I play Warlock almost exclusively now. Especially all my endgame content. If I want any chance of surviving it’s Warlock or bust.

I am not a quick learner either so both classes I am almost exclusively Solar or Void

Exotics for Titan are typically Hallowfire Heart or Synthocepts, Warlock it’s, in reverse order of use, Swarmers, Necrotic Grips (boy’s a nasty man), or… ya’ll’re never gonna guess… Felwinter’s Helm 🤣 (yo that thing is NASTY with Monte Carlo)

I uh… did actually build a Hunter finally but I’m. I lost the manual on how do Hunter >.>

Anyway here are my boys Mako-7 and Damien-14