#Loveliest Tree Dies

[craftystampin]

Stamp It Group August 2024 Christmas in Fall Theme Blog Hop

Loveliest Tree Card Welcome to Stamp It Group Fall Theme Day Blog Hop.  We are all using current Stampin’ Up! Products. I’m Linda Cullen from Massachusetts, USA and you are visiting my blog Crafty Stampin’. At the bottom of the blog post, you will find a list of all the participating blog hoppers so you can move along from blog to blog and see all the fantastic projects. Leave a comment on each…

[pandoraimperatrix]

Beyond Love

SasuSaku | 3k w | Blank Period| Hurt/Comfort | Read on AO3

Beyond love This man comes to me Heartbreak did this He was made to believe That he should live without it All I know's what I see No change in this Visions born in the dreams Of a world left without it

She was the same. Painfully so. Gloriously so.

In their first stop, helping to build a well in a tiny village on the border of Land of Fire and Land of Rivers, she had befriended every single worker and their mothers. He had never eaten so well in his lonely travels as he did since she joined him.

While peasant wives and mothers avoided his scary figure – a far cry from the attention he used to receive when he was a teenager – they were always all too grateful to his charming companion. And after the good doctor fixed all sorts of health problems their children, husbands and elders may be suffering from; the village women were all too happy to spoil Sakura with delicious food since she didn’t take money.

As they sat there, under the shade of a tree sharing their meal, from his darkness he observed her. It was not for the first time, once upon a time a habit from childhood that he hated in himself, sprouted back to life as if the long winter of half a decade never happened.

Sakura, in soft greens and the loveliest of pinks, spring made flesh, even after two weeks on the road with him.

She caught his gaze, and for once, Sasuke did not avert his eyes, hoping that the heat on his face wasn’t so noticeable, and feeling quite human, quite inadequate.

Her smile so freely given, the warmth of her feelings so obvious. How did she do that? And why? After everything he had done to her… After everything he had put her through…

And how did she make it look so easy to keep moving forward, to just... just live?

His jealous heart ached, his cursed eyes lowered, because he knew, it didn’t matter how long he stared, that was a skill he would never master.

***

“I can’t love you, do you understand, Sakura?”

Her smile didn’t fade instantly, but her ramble died in midsentence suffocated by the soft ruffling of the trees surrounding them.

Sasuke stared down at her, cheeks paling, plump lower lip only giving the tiniest of quiver before she took a ragged breath, composing herself.

He had once heard that Tsunade hid her real face under a jutsu. Others judged her vain for that, Sasuke, on the other hand, understood the ingenuity behind it, especially now, that his own appearance reflected better the evil in his past, and he wondered… Was Sakura’s dull eyes and gash-like smile also artifice?

And if so… what was she hiding?

“There is someone else?” she finally answered with her own absurd question, her voice small, but firm.

Sasuke who, unlike her, had fought all his life to hide his burning emotions behind an stoic facade, lost his composure , what kind of laughable answer with an question was that?

“What?” He scoffed, his body moving on its own accord to face her, breaking into her personal space as if they were about to start exchanging blows “don’t be stupid.”

In that fleeting moment, anger and frustration bubbling under his skin, he couldn’t decide what was worse: did she understand the reason beneath his question? And if she did, didn’t she care? Was she mocking him? Or she simply didn’t understand, and her own question was genuine? And if she didn’t understand at all why was she with him? Why was she doing that to herself? Why was she letting him hurt her again?

She looked amused at his reaction, throwing him in deeper confusion.

What had this disastrous conversation had become?

He had meant well, he was just trying to warn her. Couldn’t she see it?

Someone else?

Ludicrous.

“Oh… I see,” she said simply and smiled again, this time reaching her eyes, that he kept staring at with his own perturbed frown and twitching insides. He had forgotten that since from when they were children, sometimes Sakura made him feel… uncomfortable. 

Sakura lowered her face, staring at her feet, Sasuke’s frown deepened holding back to what was about to come, what would have come if she made any sense. He felt a little sorry for calling her stupid, but it wasn’t in his nature to apologise (and Sakura was already fortunate enough to have been on in the receiving end of his voiced regret), and, on top of that, he was somewhat offended by her question.

Where the hell had that come from?

Did she really understand him so little?

“This is a mistake,” he finally blurted out rubbing his face with his hand and taking a vacillating step back.

“You invited me, Sasuke-kun,” now she sounded at least a little angry. With anger he could deal, he was not used to being on the receiving hand of hers, but still was something different from her latest mindboggling reaction and honestly insulting question.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” his answer came fast, too fast and filled with frustration. She didn’t understand, nobody did. The dobe got close, but still missed the mark and Sakura…

Sakura was biting her lip, staring at him with glossy green eyes, and it occurred to him that something broken could be so beautiful.

“Forget it,” he said and turned his back to her suddenly desperate to move, not daring to look back, half fearing, half expecting that, for once, she would pick herself between the two of them, terrified and hopeful that she would leave.

But she stayed.

And Sasuke found out that, thanks to that, could breathe easier.

***

Sakura was shivering, and even in clear distress, she conjured images of flowers in his head, a late flowering cherry tree shaking under the power of a summer rainstorm.

How could someone be so annoying even when they were asleep?

Not only she had taken her sweet time washing in the stream – he couldn’t understand the need since she still smelled like strawberries to him – and laid obnoxiously far from the bonfire he had lit.

At least she hadn’t bothered trying to keep the first watch like she sometimes would despite his refusals, and sometimes she would try to keep him company, babbling half the night away until sleep made her start bobbing head on his shoulder.

A moan escaped from her lips and she shivered again, Sasuke sighed and rose from where he was sitting, he fell to one knee, not quite sure of what to do. Should he wake her? Scold her for lying in the cold?

Sakura fussed in her sleep. How could she sleep so heavily knowing he was there? How could she trust him? She rolled to her back, arm arching around her head, threads of pink hair falling on her pink lips. Sasuke gulped and pulled his poncho over his head before covering her with it. She latched on it so fast his heart raced fearing being caught, but she remained deep in dreams, now contently wrapped, face pressed on the dusty knit, still warm from his body.

Sasuke stretched his lonely hand to her rosy cheek, but retreated before touching her, he stood up, and when back to his place by the fire.

***

“Sakura, are you done?”

“Just a sec, Sasuke-kun!”

He crossed his arms and took a deep breath, half-delighted, half-regretting it when his nostrils filled with her sweet strawberry scent still hanging to his poncho.

The cadence of her voice reached him first surrounded by male voice. Annoyed, Sasuke turned around. She was coming towards him, but walking half-turned backwards still trading pleasantries and advises with the young master, son of the local nobleman of the village they had stopped to aid, this time separately, Sasuke had helped fixing a mill while Sakura was being interviewed by scholars interested in her medical work and first hand account of the war.

He could have called her out again, he could have done many other things, but he let her walk directly into him.

Her body wasn’t exactly soft, not with the kind of build she naturally had or the kind of life they lead, and still… Guilt and pleasure spread from the place on his chest where her hands rested radiating to his entire body, like fire in dry woods.

“Oof, sorry, Sasuke-kun,” blushing prettily, like she did most things, she didn’t push away immediately, and Sasuke, beyond his best efforts, lowered his face just slightly, like a sunflower obliged to face the sun.

And then, he remembered the other man, moving slightly to send a warning look over Sakura’s shoulder.

***

“I should buy a poncho, too,” he didn’t answer, just continued sharpening his sword by the fire. “Where did you get yours?”

“A family friend.”

“Oh,” he waited for the next question, it was almost funny watching her struggle to ask him that could be a sensitive topic.

Once upon a time, Sasuke hated when people prodded in his business, he still didn’t care for it in the slightest. Twelve years old Sakura was always asking him the most annoying and useless things. He had no idea why his favourite colour mattered so much back then. And he regrettably could remember some instances in which her interrogation inadvertently touched memories from his past leading to spikes of anger. Since not only some memories hurt because they were sad, but there was those he tried to keep buried in some sacred place inside him, because they were good and somehow hurt even worse for being of a life that didn’t belong to him anymore.

“Can I meet them?”

“To buy a poncho?”

Her eyes glittered reflecting the fire as a smile curved those pink lips.

“It isn’t fair that I keep using yours.”

He found out that he didn't mind Sakura meeting the Neko-baa, but hated the idea of her getting her own poncho, because that meant his would stop smelling like too sweet strawberries.

“I don’t mind.”

And for a moment he didn’t let his guilt sour the warm feeling bubbling in his chest as he watched her face morph in surprise and then elation.

“That’s very kind of you, Sasuke-kun.”

***

He was in a bad mood.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t nothing new.

Sakura was ignoring him, well, as much as she could manage considering it was her and it was him.

Usually, ignoring him when Sasuke was in a bad mood was the best call. He even appreciated that, after a month traveling together, Sakura picked his cues and learned to just leave him alone until he initiated interaction again. Usually with some non-verbal behaviour, he would sit next to her by the fire or do something nice like mending her clothes.

After that time he told her he could never love her and she didn’t leave, he even took money for his work only so he could buy her dango, he felt ridiculous the whole time, but it was still worth it.

But this time ignoring him wouldn’t work, it wouldn't work because he wasn’t just in a general bad mood because of the weather, or because of pain in his arm, or because of a rude villager, not even his night terrors and flashbacks were the reasons, no, he was in a terrible mood, because of her.

They took a boat to the Hidden Mist, the idea was keep going east, Sakura was excited, couldn’t stop talking about how she didn’t know a thing about the Far East and how much research she could do and learn.

Sasuke just wanted to leave the Land of Lightening, people still remembered his wrongdoings there and, although he damn well deserved whatever way someone might to try to get revenge on him, Sasuke wasn’t alone anymore.

And Sakura had nothing to do with his sins.

It was as if he knew a storm was coming. He woke up queasy again, seasick, he heard Sakura chatting with a cabin boy the night before, and that had put him in even a fouler mood that only eased a little when she probably noticed his annoyance and followed him down to the cargo hold (where they were sleeping) and offered to help.

He tried to refuse her, still deeply irritated that one: his body was failing him in such an embarrassing manner; two: she was chatting about his weakness carelessly to complete strangers.

“Sasuke-kun, don’t be childish, seasickness is very common, you’re acting it’s like a horrible character flaw,” she said rolling her eyes and sitting beside him on a heavy wooden trunk.

“Fine.”

He expected her to do something about his stomach, it was where he felt the discomfort after all. Sasuke didn’t expect Sakura to get so close, and he couldn’t help but flinch when her hands approached his face, but she didn’t look offended, just smiled, always so understanding, and then, the rough pads of her fingers pressed against the bones close to his ear canal, Sasuke held his breath, suppressing the misguided urge to close his eyes and lean in.

Green chakra glowed softly making her eyes gleam in the penumbra, the ringing in his ears, that Sasuke didn’t even notice that was driving him crazy stopped, and the sickening feeling in his stomach eased first a little, and then all at once.

“Better?”

Sasuke breathed in slowly, under the salt, the fishy sea smell... strawberries.

His lone hand floated on its own accord, and he watched as his forever blood stained fingers dared to touch the precious threads of pink hair from her eyes.

“Thank you.”

The words had barely left his lips when, from the cockpit, shouts and battle sounds broke.

Pirates attacked, and for a brief golden moment everything seemed to be perfect as she fought alongside him.

It didn’t matter how broken he was, she was the best mednin in the world, surpassing Tsunade, there was little she didn’t have a cure for, and for what there was no fixing, she accepted him for what he was, didn’t her? Had she not proved it time and time again? She wasn’t like Naruto, trying so hard to force him to go back to some brief idealized past… No, since the beginning, she had always offered to meet him where he was, he had been the one to use the last scrape of decency to deny her.

But now…

Of course he didn’t deserve her, of course she deserve so much better than him, but as they moved side by side, it felt right, it felt good.

And then, she took a blow that was for him.

Her heart, the one she had given to him, unrequested, undesired, undeserved, stopped.

Sasuke stood there, his past and future, it was always the same. It would be always the same.

In his despair, the chidori cracked in his hand, but before it could reach its destiny the black threads spread from her forehead through her chest, like his cursed mark in the past.

Green eyes reflected the dying thunderbolt in his hand as Sasuke turned his back on her and finished the fight, freeing the ship from the pirates and providing the crew with safe journey.

***

“Sasuke-kun?”

He had seen her wasting her already depleted chakra reserves healing crew members and even some of the captured pirates after the battle, he had said nothing, but he hadn’t need to.

“Sasuke-kun?” She called again, and he hated it, he hated the concern in her voice, hated the part of him that still was somewhat afraid that this was somehow an illusion, that the sort of miracles she pulled didn’t truly happen, and if they did, they didn’t happen to him and to the people he cared about. She died in the cockpit just moments ago, he had seen it, he had caused it. “Wait!” He stopped his brisk walk when her hand reached his arm. “Are you hurt?”

Sasuke scoffed.

“Sasuke-kun, you are shaking…”

“You are going back to Konoha.”

“What? But we are going Far East-“

“No,” he turned to face her and grabbed her by the shoulder; he would shake some reason into her if he had to. “We’re not going anywhere, Sakura. You are going to Konoha.”

Sakura’s face morphed from worried to dignified anger as she absorbed his words.

“No.”

“No?” He, repeated, contempt dripping from his voice.

“No,” she stood her ground, unafraid.

Sasuke took his hand off her, clenching it. How could she still be so unreasonable?

“Sakura-“

“No, Sasuke-kun, listen to me, because I will say it as many times as I need until it sinks into this thick skull of yours,” she sucked a breath in and stared hard into his mismatched eyes, “I love you,” Sasuke opened his mouth, he couldn’t believe she was starting that again.

“No,” she rose a finger, “don’t you interrupt me, I’m talking, I love you. And this isn’t a curse, I won’t die tomorrow out of the blue, there is not tragedy coming towards us. Also, this isn’t some silly babbling from a stupid genin that doesn’t know better. I love you. It’s a fact. You can doubt all you might, you can tell me to leave, to go back home and never see you again. You can run far beyond east, go on, use your rinnegan, open a portal to the moon it still will be true there that I love you. You can’t stop it. No one can.”

He didn’t speak after that, what could he say?

Sakura healed his wounds in silence, but before leaving to the cockpit again, she added:

“You said you can’t love me. Whatever, Sasuke-kun. If you truly believed that I don’t think you would have invited me to come with you, or would be so worked up over what happened in the fight. I won’t pressure you into anything, but when you feel like it, you know you can talk to me.”

She was about to be out of reach when he asked in a small voice:

“Don’t you get exhausted?”

Sakura turned to him.

“Of what?”

“Me.”

She smiled and walked back to him. Sasuke just stared, suddenly feeling exposed and raw despite being her the one to had exposed her heart for him to see and do what he might. Sakura touched his face, and Sasuke’s lids trembled shut, his last defence gone.

“I love you,” she said as if it was the easiest, most simple thing in the world.

We really wanna know Beyond love All I know is what I see and I can't live without this Could you ever believe beyond love?

----------------------------

Happy birthday to the birthday boy (Sasuke) and to the birthday girl (ME!)!!

This fic came through an epiphany, I’ve always understood Sasuke, we share more than a birthday, you see, but Sakura, Sakura was always hard to figure out. I was always very angry with Sasuke, shad real tears, honest. But I did get him and why he did the things he did. I could never fit in my brain why Sakura kept loving him though and then… I don’t need to understand. People don’t love “because”, love is beyond reason. And I’ve decided that I’d try to apply that to myself a little, but it is okay if I don’t always succeed. I’ve been just like Sasuke all my life, since birth one could say, p’untended, but I should be like Sakura too, and love myself, my Sasuke-self, beyond reason, beyond the C-PTSD, autism, ADHD and all the other brain fuckery.

Oh, and Beyond Love of one of my favourite bands in the world, Beach House, helped a lot to give body to the idea of this fic. I recommend not only Depression Cherry that got a little famous thanks to TikTok but all the other albums too, I’m really partial to Devotion and Bloom.

If you liked the fic and read the oversharing leave a comment, it will make my (birth)day!

[darlingshane]

a little piece of heaven

Julian Kaye x GN!Reader

Summary: A little stroll in the park turns into a make out session with Julian.

Content/Warnings: Fluff, Making Out, Romantic, Crack, Established Relationship.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Bam Bam gets a cameo here cause this was inspired by the photoshoot I used in the banner above. And Julian looks exactly like that in this fic.

— Read below or at AO3.

It's hard to remember the last time you fell this hard for someone.

Everything before Julian is a hazed memory of a time you don't even miss or ever want to go back to. You doubt you even loved anyone as much as you love Julian Kaye. Your future is etched on every letter of his name. It's imprinted in those sweet eyes you've come to love so much. It's held in his hands as if it was made of fragile glass, with a stamp on the side that says — handle with care.

Sometimes it hits you out of the blue, how much you adore him. It feels like your heart is going to burst out of pure joy and love every time he smiles at you.

Today is one of those days. It's been a hectic week at work, and getting to have him for the weekend is what makes it all worthy.

His hand is warm and firm when it wraps against the cold of yours as you step in the same path together to go for a stroll across the park. The temperatures are milder now, the greens almost gone, and the beautiful landscape turns into soft oranges and yellows at golden hour. It's the loveliest time to be out, spending some quality time with him.

After having some food and coffee, you walk hand in hand, watching the mild breeze sweep the top of his hair that turns seemingly blonde for a moment as the sunlight hits directly on his head.

There's a light tug at your hand, and suddenly he’s guiding you to the nearest tree, framing your hips, pinning your back against the trunk of the broad tree while his tongue casts a spell on your lips. It draws the curve of your mouth, charming its way inside with practice ease. You can't resist the allure, he's truly mastered the art of enchanting you with something as simple as a lick or a nibble. It's just one of his many talents.

As your lips part on their own, you close your eyes and allow his tongue to slowly snake its way between your teeth, tempting your own to meet him in the middle. His mouth is a little piece of heaven, playing nice and tender, giving you a taste of the peach pie he had a few minutes ago along with his coffee.

Your palms smooth the delicate fabric of his green, cashmere sweater over his forearms, as his fingers slip under the hem of your top. His light feather-touch tickles your skin, and you can't help but faintly chuckle in his mouth. You squeeze his arm as a hint, cause he knows better than to brush his fingers like that on those sensitive spots, and they automatically slide to grab your ass instead.

The tender undoing of his kiss slowly intoxicates you, leaving you breathless, enticing your thirst to crave more from the endless well of desire that is his mouth. As your head spins along with the swirl of his tongue, the world momentarily disappears around you, and it’s only you and him, existing only for each other. It makes you feel safe and loved and warm altogether.

When he's had enough, he breaks from your lips, and traces the shape of your jaw with his pointer finger as his forehead leans against yours.

“What was that for?” you say under a breath, holding your hands to his sides.

“Do I need a reason to kiss you?”

Your lips curve up, “uh-uh.”

“Good.”

“Hey, do you wanna do something fun?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking that we could hit an open house in The Hills and pretend that we’re buyers.”

“That’s your idea of fun?” One of his eyebrows arches.

“No… the fun part comes when I pretend that I’m a medium and every time I enter a room I could say something very dramatic like – there’s an evil energy in this room. Someone died here… someone was murdered… — you know, to scare people away. I’ve done it before, it’s fun.”

“That’s dark. That’s not funny at all.”

“Pfft, you should see me, I put on quite the performance.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Oh, you wanna go home already?”

“Yeah, but just so I can show you something that is actually fun and that doesn’t involve dead people.”

“Hmm, what’s on your mind, Julian Kaye?” you prop your elbows on his shoulders and play with his hair.

“Well…” he starts as a dog circles around the tree, stopping at Julian’s feet to sniff his calves.

Julian turns his head to recognize the grey staffy pup, happily wagging his tail as if they knew each other.

“You know this dog?”

“Yeah, that’s Bam Bam,” Julian releases you and crouches down to pet the dog as the friendly animal sticks out his tongue to lick his face. “He lives around here. He’s a sweetheart.”

“That’s cute,” you pull out your phone from your pocket, take a couple of steps back to capture a few pictures of Julian widely smiling and baby-talking his furry friend.

When the owner beckons for his pet to come back, Julian stands up, waving at his neighbor and throwing a good boy at the dog as he dashes across the grass.

“You know, if you want us to live together, you should just say it,” Julian drapes an arm around your shoulders, resuming your walk. “We could check a few houses, but for real.”

“Where does that come from?” you link your elbow around his waist.

“I’m just saying… We don’t have to pretend to be buyers. We practically live together anyway. It'd be nice to come home to each other every day.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. We could get a dog too.”

“We should definitely get a dog.”

“But I still wanna do my bit in one of the houses.”

He scoffs, “you can do whatever you want, baby.”

“So, what were you going to tell me? What’s your idea of fun?”

Grinning, Julian places his mouth over your ear and purrs, “my idea of fun it’s to eat you all up and watch you turn into a mess, sweetheart.”

“You’re right,” you chuckle, “that’s a better idea than mine.”

[vergess]

TS4 blogging

There's technical in fandom terminology for all of this but I don't know it, sorry for being a cringefailwaifu or what have you.

I am trying to keep a family alive for 10 generations of short lifespans. This is a known style of play, but IDK the word.

Anyway, I'm on Gen 7, it's going so good, I just wanted to note everything down before I forget.

Gen 1 (founding family):

I decided to populate the world with rainbow pastel sims, and began play with a werewolf version of @arionwind, who ultimately bred out with a pink pastel sim. Conveniently, because werewolves can achieve immortal status, this Ari sim is still alive.

Meanwhile, the pink sim turned out to be a witch, a genetic trait allowing the character to use cheat codes "in universe" as magic.

This meant all children would be either genetic witches or genetic werewolves.

Gen 2 (banananananana):

The first child of G1 would ultimately be our throughline. Because of my exceedingly, violently modified game settings, this one came out a trans man autonomously on age up, so that's fun. Although born with human skin, I modified him to have pastel yellow, beginning a trend throughout the subsequent generations of picking a theme color for all of the kids skin, hair and eyes in a generation. All other genetics were left unmodified.

His name was Syrene and he was the first one to be named Serrano as well. A real trendsetter, he determined a lot of things about future generations' play styles.

He also had 7 children, including 2 sets of twins. My man was Never Not Pregnant.

He was so happy about being a parent that he funded the family money tree, which rapidly became the primary source of income in the game. A money tree is a garden object you can buy with reward points for making your sim happy. At higher levels, it pays 22,500 dollars a day.

He personally funded 3 of them.

Cheerful as fuck.

Gen 3 (grape):

Ultimately I elected to follow the youngest of the younger set of twins, Rori. Her twin, Augustin, was the last natural born werewolf in the family line, as he never had children himself. However, he remained Rori's close friend throughout her life.

Rori sired many children in her life as a world travelling magical duelist, and ultimately raised a handful of them while paying double child support to the rest.

Gen 4 (bluet):

The 5th of Rori's children, a retiring homebody who ran off to a rural village when she got pregnant. She spent her life making Unusually Strong Potions due to sims of this generation and later having the Ancient Bloodline trait. She also raised llamas and kitted a lot.

A very chill woman overall, which makes the Dramatics of her child... impressive.

Gen 5 (brown on brown IDK she was born very pretty but not very fruity):

Maricela Serrano, you beautiful bitch.

Maricela died at her adult birthday of Having Too Much Fun, a known cause of death in the game.

She had recently, as in the day before, finished marrying her wife, Sidney Lalonde, of the Newcrest Lalondes (when I first populated the game in gen 1, I put in a homestuck house on an unused map and forgot about it entirely until this point).

Because both were born with the double fertility trait (heavily modded game!) both of them were able to sire and carry children over the course of their engagement, and ultimately they had 6 children together. And oh man, what children they were, raised by the ghost of a dead mom, and an Actual Lunatic Immortal Witch because oops somewhere along the way Sydney drank an immortality potion.

Gen 6 (peachy teens!):

The eldest, Romeo. The twins Viola and Sebastien. The twins Lady and Othello. And the youngest, Ariel.

Of them, Ariel quickly seemed the loveliest and the most worth pursuing genetically, however, Ariel proved the first of a dramatic calamity about to befall the family line.

Although both Maricela and Sidney were witches, Ariel proved to have no magical ability. So I set them up to be a comedy focused NPC and moved on to Othello.

Othello was an over acheiver (which is a type of teenager you can play, with specific goals) who quickly graduated high school and entered college as a teen, a thing I did not know you could do in this game until he did it.

This is of critical importance.

He went to college and on the FIRST. NIGHT. AFTER. CLASS.

He died of studying too much in the library. His brain exploded into computer symbols.

In addition to not knowing teens could go to college I also did not know they could die.

I relented to my next backup, Lady. Lady is a mean, evil, romantic sim and almost immediately dies of being too angry, another known cause of death in the game.

I am rapidly running out of peachy teens!!!!!!

I fall back to Romeo, who is at this point an adult with the goal of becoming world famous, so I make him an actor and off we go.

As part of the bit, I have him sire as many kids as possible. Every time an NPC asks to date him, he knocks them up and breaks up with them immediately. He did this himself the first 2 times, but I make it an enforced rule from then on.

He gets world famous, becomes old, and decides to meet his many children.

Gen 7 (cherry red and spring green):

All of Romeo's children were born without magic, so I picked the prettiest one and had her run away to live at the beach. She became a mermaid because I think they are pretty.

She lived an extremely uninteresting life of being a B list youtuber and raising her only child, a daughter she had via IVF with her best friend from high school.

Super chill, very normal.

Gen 8 (strawberry pink and dark green):

No idea why her child came out human and evil, but that happened. Anyway, while bringing Romeo's gravestone to the family graveyard, Sidney (the immortal Lalonde) was just like, "hey Siobhan, stand still, you're a witch now."

So I guess my vague plans of making her be a vampire are over, since you can only be one kind of magic thing at a time.

But she can still be a supervillain so that's fun!

And that's where we're at.

[frogofalltime]

there was this small green bug in my friend’s hair last year and i tried to take it out gently but it died so we put it in a paper packet and buried him by a tree trunk and now its all embedded in the ground and we visit him a lot :)

that's the loveliest thing ever awww

[honeysugarchocolate]

a boy’s love is a product of hunger and light

changjin college au drabble

the second time changbin falls in love with hyunjin, hyunjin is sitting in the middle of the grass field beside the chemistry building, in the shade of an aspen tree, flipping through a thesaurus of a textbook. the air runs piano fingers through his hair, the sun kisses poetry into the bow of his lips— and he’s the most beautiful thing changbin’s ever seen.

the third time, there's hyunjin, barefoot, cheeks flushed, in nothing but an oversized v-neck cashmere sweater, sleeves up to his fingertips, the moon rising from the valley of his neck, lashes constructing the loveliest shadows on his cheekbones. hair pooling at his collarbones like sinking fishnets, legs folded to his chest, napping quietly on the arm of an old couch, he stirs only to curl up more tightly.

the fourth time, there's hyunjin leaning against a teak countertop, wearing one of changbin’s large dress shirts, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, skin weaved from moonflowers and the shiniest silk, knobbly long legs crossed, early morning, sunlight dusting his hair. there’s a hardback novel pressed open beneath his hands, and he’s humming, blooming, coming alive in the shades of daybreak, changbin’s lips on his neck.

but the very first time changbin falls in love with hyunjin, all in one breath, one second, hyunjin doesn't see him. hyunjin doesn't know him.

and it's the same the fifth and the last time changbin falls in love with hyunjin, breathless, heart frantic like a rabbit; when hyunjin’s walking down the snow-powdered streets in december, wearing a wedding tux, an engagement ring heavy in his pocket, eyes still red and swollen, something ugly and broken in the curl of his spine, a name on his lips half-chewed half-swallowed. changbin takes one look at him and falls in love so hard his heart breaks, slits him from the inside and leaves him hemorrhaging on the side walk, bleeding blues and purples. flooding the street. but hyunjin doesn't see him, and hyunjin will never see him. because hyunjin is the kind of guy who only angels can learn to love. the kind of guy who licks the sky and sucks on stars. a kiss from him and the whole world goes crazy.

hyunjin was the guy who stole changbin’s heart, and who died without ever having known he had it in his hands, beating like an ocean sun.

[shannyh25]

"Now, please help yourself, Diana," she said politely. "I don't believe I'll have any just now. I don't feel as if I wanted any after all those apples.”

Diana poured herself out a tumblerful, looked at its bright-red hue admiringly, and then sipped it daintily.

"That's awfully nice raspberry cordial, Anne," she said. "I didn't know raspberry cordial was so nice."

"I'm real glad you like it. Take as much as you want. I'm going to run out and stir the fire up. There are so many responsibilities on a person's mind when they're keeping house, isn't there?"

When Anne came back from the kitchen Diana was drinking her second glassful of cordial; and, being entreated thereto by Anne, she offered no particular objection to the drinking of a third. The tumblerfuls were generous ones and the raspberry cordial was certainly very nice.

"The nicest I ever drank," said Diana. "It's ever so much nicer than Mrs. Lynde's, although she brags of hers so much. It doesn't taste a bit like hers."

"I should think Marilla's raspberry cordial would prob'ly be much nicer than Mrs. Lynde's," said Anne loyally. "Marilla is a famous cook. She is trying to teach me to cook but I assure you, Diana, it is uphill work. There's so little scope for imagination in cookery. You just have to go by rules. The last time I made a cake I forgot to put the flour in. I was thinking the loveliest story about you and me, Diana. I thought you were desperately ill with smallpox and everybody deserted you, but I went boldly to your bedside and nursed you back to life; and then I took the smallpox and died and I was buried under those poplar trees in the graveyard and you planted a rosebush by my grave and watered it with your tears; and you never, never forgot the friend of your youth who sacrificed her life for you. Oh, it was such a pathetic tale, Diana. The tears just rained down over my cheeks while I mixed the cake. But I forgot the flour and the cake was a dismal failure. Flour is so essential to cakes, you know. Marilla was very cross and I don't wonder. I'm a great trial to her. She was terribly mortified about the pudding sauce last week. We had a plum pudding for dinner on Tuesday and there was half the pudding and a pitcherful of sauce left over. Marilla said there was enough for another dinner and told me to set it on the pantry shelf and cover it. I meant to cover it just as much as could be, Diana, but when I carried it in I was imagining I was a nun--of course I'm a Protestant but I imagined I was a Catholic--taking the veil to bury a broken heart in cloistered seclusion; and I forgot all about covering the pudding sauce. I thought of it next morning and ran to the pantry. Diana, fancy if you can my extreme horror at finding a mouse drowned in that pudding sauce! I lifted the mouse out with a spoon and threw it out in the yard and then I washed the spoon in three waters. Marilla was out milking and I fully intended to ask her when she came in if I'd give the sauce to the pigs; but when she did come in I was imagining that I was a frost fairy going through the woods turning the trees red and yellow, whichever they wanted to be, so I never thought about the pudding sauce again and Marilla sent me out to pick apples. Well, Mr. and Mrs. Chester Ross from Spencervale came here that morning. You know they are very stylish people, especially Mrs. Chester Ross. When Marilla called me in dinner was all ready and everybody was at the table. I tried to be as polite and dignified as I could be, for I wanted Mrs. Chester Ross to think I was a ladylike little girl even if I wasn't pretty. Everything went right until I saw Marilla coming with the plum pudding in one hand and the pitcher of pudding sauce warmed up, in the other. Diana, that was a terrible moment. I remembered everything and I just stood up in my place and shrieked out `Marilla, you mustn't use that pudding sauce. There was a mouse drowned in it. I forgot to tell you before.' Oh, Diana, I shall never forget that awful moment if I live to be a hundred. Mrs. Chester Ross just looked at me and I thought I would sink through the floor with mortification. She is such a perfect housekeeper and fancy what she must have thought of us. Marilla turned red as fire but she never said a word--then. She just carried that sauce and pudding out and brought in some strawberry preserves. She even offered me some, but I couldn't swallow a mouthful. It was like heaping coals of fire on my head. After Mrs. Chester Ross went away, Marilla gave me a dreadful scolding. Why, Diana, what is the matter?

Diana had stood up very unsteadily; then she sat down again, putting her hands to her head.

"I'm--I'm awful sick," she said, a little thickly. "I--I--must go right home.”

"Oh, you mustn't dream of going home without your tea," cried Anne in distress. "I'll get it right off--I'll go and put the tea down this very minute."

"I must go home," repeated Diana, stupidly but determinedly. Lucy Maud Montgomery quotes- Anne Of Green Gables.

Follow me for more inspiration! 💜💕

[misserinmarie]

“Do you know what I was smiling at? You wrote down that you were a writer by profession. It sounded like the loveliest euphemism. When was writing ever your profession? It’s never been anything but your religion. Never. I’m a little over-excited now. Since it is your religion, do you know what you will be asked when you die? But let me tell you first what you won’t be asked. You won’t be asked if you were working on a wonderful, moving piece of writing when you died. You won’t be asked if it was long or short, sad or funny, published or unpublished. You won’t be asked if you were in good or bad form while you were working on it. You won’t even be asked if it was the one piece of writing you would have been working on if you had known your time would be up when it was finished--I think only poor Sören K. will get asked that. I’m so sure you’ll get asked only two questions. Were most of your stars out? Were you busy writing your heart out? If only you knew how easy it would be easy for you to say yes to both questions. If only you’d remember before ever you sit down to write that you’ve been a reader long before you were ever a writer. You simply fix that fact in your mind, then sit very still and ask yourself, as a reader, what piece of writing in all the world Buddy Glass would most want to read if he had his heart’s choice. The next step is terrible, but so simple I can hardly believe it as I write it. You just sit down shamelessly and write the thing yourself. I won’t even underline that. It’s too important to be underlined. Oh, dare to do it, Buddy! Trust your heart. You’re a deserving craftsman. It would never betray you. Good night. I’m feeling very much over-excited now, and a little dramatic, but I think I’d give almost anything on earth to see you writing a something, an anything, a story, a poem, a tree, that was really and truly after your own heart.”

-from Seymour: An Introduction by J.D. Salinger

[merryfortune]

when the god of spring met the god of the underworld

Written for @respectfulshipweek2023

Day 6. Tragedy | Happily Ever After

Title: when the god of spring met the god of the underworld

Ship: Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,849

Tags: Alternate Universe - Hades & Persephone, Kidnapping, Forced Relationships

   Spectre, the God of the Underworld, had always adored flowers.

   Their soft petals, the gentle fragrance from their centres, the colours of them all, the language that they spoke in prettiness and frailty.

   It was all so beautiful and all so for naught. A flower plucked was a flower killed. The flowers of the afterlife he knew, his dominion, were dried and decrepit, grey and suffering, so terrible, like that. Spectre wished sorely that he could have flowers as keepsakes of the living but alas. He could only keep that which was dead, had already passed on.

   His home, the Underworld, was grim. Dark. Lit only by the outskirts of where the departed souls of the heroes and heroines of the world, where they celebrated on nectar and music, surrounded by golden asphodel, their trials and tribulations now rewarded to eternal paradise but paradise was not a halidom that Spectre was invited to. All else of the Underworld, the perimeters in which Spectre haunted, the souls of the mistreated and unfortunate, the ones who had lived ordinary lives or lives of tragedies, was grey. The surroundings that he knew were atrocities of cruel mundanity, drained of colour, of life in all its glory.

   The lone exception, however, was a scrawny tree with charred bark which, once a year, bore exactly one fruit: a lopsided pomegranate that rotted quicker than it grew. It was just one tree but Spectre cherished it as it was the only thing in his garden for him to admire but he craved more. He wanted to love more.

   So, with this knowledge, in one of the God of the Underworld’s fleeting trips to the human world, to that of Earth, where it was green and blue, lush with water and fertile grounds, it made all sense that he would fall in love with the spring God of Flowers when they met. Just in brief. 

   The human world was so bright, so full of sunshine, and the celestial nature of spring God of Flowers, made even more effervescent in these conditions. The balmy breeze, the pale azure of the sky, the fluffy white clouds. Spectre held his breath as the God smiled politely at him, his eyes crystal blue and crinkling at the edge in his expression.

   That was all there was to their meeting. A greeting, a hello, and that was all. Hardly a name exchanged. Though, as divine beings, of course they knew each other vaguely as part of the pantheon but as deities of death and life, they had little to do with one another.

   But Spectre endeavoured to change that. 

   His heart - his soul, the very ichor of his being - pounded. Throbbed. He was enamoured, he was in love. Every time he closed his eyes, the lights of the back of his eyelids formed flowers that bobbed carefree in the breeze and he imagined the God of Spring at play. How he weaved flowers into crowns and wreaths, coaxing them to grow taller, brighter, healthier, and generally enjoyed the bliss afforded of being the patron of such wonderful things.

   Spectre wanted the hand of Ryoken, the God of Spring, in marriage. That was, he decided, his endeavour. 

   After his trip, the march of war in elsewhere had called and so, Spectre had to shepherd the dead who had died before their time to the Underworld, he returned home but did not retire. He searched high and low through his dominion for the materials that he would need and through his own merit, he created a ring for Ryoken to wear and a contract of marriage.

   Spectre crafted a ring engraved with flowers, little tiny flowerheads and leaves in a criss-crossing pattern, made of the loveliest silver that he could find and, in his mind, he crafted vows. Vows that would be forever and always, all eternity, no escape. It would be just them and it would be wonderful.

   He looked forward to it and so, as soon as the ring was done and as soon as he had his own words etched into his heart, Spectre ascended into the human realm once more. He took his chariot and he rode forth in the thunderous echo of the skeletal horses that he commanded.

   The earth opened up from his below and Spectre’s eyes feasted on the blue skies that were revealed through that crack. Hellfire licked at his heels and he grinned. He beamed. He breathed in the fresh air of the human realm and it was perfumed with all the scents of flowers, within metres of the crack that had opened up at his will, surrounded by bountiful gardens, the God of Spring sat, composing poems and crowns of flowers.

   “You are coming with me, beloved.” Spectre growled with a grand sweep of his arm.

   He scooped up Ryoken and he stole him from where he had sat then together, they descended into the Underworld.

   Ryoken shrieked and screamed, thrashed against Spectre’s arm but he remained firm. Hopeful. He chose to believe those screams were screams of joy. Delight. He grinned, mad, he had all expectations of something wonderful. Of light finally existing, in purity and love, in his domain and he wasn’t entirely wrong.

   When Spectre and Ryoken arrived, Spectre was quick to get them both inside the foyer of his grandiose home, made of clay and bone. It was there that he proposed.  He forced the ring onto Ryoken’s finger and when Ryoken couldn’t remove it, his expression turned harrowed. Spectre’s heart, of course, fluttered because he thought this would be the beginning of something so completely and utterly beautiful. His marital life, especially. It was there he was entirely wrong in his hopes and expectations.

   In the depths of the Underworld, where it was dark and gloomy, Ryoken’s celestial nature kept it alight. His divine nature as associated with nature, too, wherever he lingered, flowers grew and that was all what Spectre wanted. To have someone who brought light and beauty to his realm but the marital bliss itself… Well, that left a lot to be desired.

   Ryoken complained, he whinged and he whined. He wanted to go home, or else his Father was going to be cross with them both and already, they could sense that there was a divine disturbance about to unleash. Famines, natural disasters. Ryoken’s Father was a very powerful progenitor God of the World, its food and its harvests, the weather and its temperatures. 

    But Spectre did his best to placate Ryoken, of course. Mostly in the hope that if he could appease Ryoken, then perhaps that might mitigate the damages but above all. He wanted his lover to be happy, truly and genuinely happy and with him, especially, but it was difficult. Very difficult. 

   All he could think of typically turned out for naught as Ryoken refused his gifts, his banquets and his feasts, his company more often than not and when he couldn’t evade Spectre, he made sure to be as disagreeable as possible. Slowly, Spectre quietened. He had what he wanted in material but not in actuality.

   But still.

   Ryoken’s presence was a boon to the Underworld. Spectre had never been happier. There was finally life in this scourge of death of misery. He was all but over the moon but as he ran out of ideas to dote on Ryoken, who very much did not want to be doted on by his kidnapper, Spectre faded. He gave Ryoken space. He wanted so badly to hold on tight but perhaps the adage was true.

   If you love something, let it free.

   Until then, until Spectre made up his mind and until calamity had truly spilt forth, in the human world especially, he would keep Ryoken - and he would keep the flowers that he grew just by standing still. He collected the flowers - the narcissus, especially, as their golden colour enamoured Spectre - that Ryoken caused and Ryoken took notice of how Spectre gardened from his divinity.

   That… confused him.

   Spectre treated these flowers with care, even though as much as his touch, just the caress of his finger, was enough to ruin them but he tried so hard. He kept them in vases, with the freshest water that he could find in the Underworld. He talked to them, as though they could talk back.

   Spectre was aware that Ryoken was watching him. No doubt thinking him strange but he didn’t mind. Especially when watching turned to asking him a question.

   “Why do you like flowers so much?” Ryoken asked and with a touch of his own, he revitalised a flower in a vase that had long since passed away - not doubt because of Spectre’s brown thumb but it wasn’t his fault. He was the God of the Underworld, who would choose that?

   “Because I think they’re beautiful.” Spectre replied, his tone of voice simple. A shrug followed.

   It wasn’t the answer that Ryoken appeared to want. Spectre could see the disappointment in his face but his guarded facade, it did come loose. He didn’t hold himself, his arms folded in front of them.

   “Well, I’ll make sure they’re healthy for you then.” Ryoken murmured.

   “Thank you, I would appreciate it.” Spectre replied and his lips twitched. “But, um, there’s more to it. I have a memory from before I was a god…”

   Ryoken’s attention was piqued. He tilted his head just slightly and his wary eyes honed in on Spectre whose demeanour was sheepish. He was feared, a scary god of horrible things, to speak of a time from before he was any of that, that was vulnerable for him. His heart raced as he remembered that brief time before death was a concept.

   “I remember there being a field of flowers and there was someone there. We were just children but we had fun playing. I think that was the last time I felt joy before I… died.” Spectre confessed.

   Ryoken’s eyes went wide, “And those flowers… were they blue?”

   “Yes, they were. How did you know?” Spectre asked, something of a laugh to his voice.

   Before there was death, there was life. It made sense to Ryoken but he didn’t elaborate for Spectre but Spectre didn’t mind as after this conversation, they seemed to have an understanding. Their married life improved, somewhat.

   Ryoken didn’t mind being in the same room as Spectre, he didn’t mind being given clothes in the colours of the Underworld’s emblems and insignias, their heralds, too. He still wouldn’t eat though, of course, and no longer did he tug at his ring, either, in an attempt to remove it.

   It… It was pleasant.

   They both liked it well enough. The domesticity between them was still uneasy but they were able to chat now, about the small things, even if they were externally miserable, they tried to find something small. Something happy to share between themselves. It wasn’t love, for Ryoken at least, but it was amiable and much closer to what Spectre had envisioned when he had crafted his ring for Ryoken and hatched the plot to take him.

   However, it seemed, this period which was like a calm at sea, was not to last as Ryoken’s Father - Kiyoshi, God of the World - had found where his son had been taken.

   The ceiling of the Underworld split open and light from on high came down in huge, piercingly bright shafts. Kiyoshi descended and his aged face was gnarled in a grimace of the utmost furor. 

   Spectre and Ryoken both came outside, by the pomegranate tree which had not yet been touched by Ryoken’s divinity, and they quaked at the sight of the King of All Gods in his ferocity. Where he walked, the rocky ground burned, melted, and the look in his cold eyes was viscous.

   “What is the meaning of this, Spectre?” Kiyoshi growled. “You dare steal my son from under my nose? Kill him?”

   “I have done no such thing.” Spectre replied but it was obvious to both Kiyoshi and Ryoken that he was terrified to have upset Kiyoshi. “I love him, so I married him, and now, he lives with me, his husband, per the tradition that is marriage.”

   “You stole him, you did not marry him.” Kiyoshi growled.

   Spectre was silenced by that, he cowered like a dog with its tail between its legs. That was true. He didn’t want to think it was true, but it was. Those were his actions, even if he clad them in his romantic beliefs of eloping, that was the stern, hard truth.

   “I have not eaten this world’s food, Father.” Ryoken said. His voice was steady. Firm. His words took Kiyoshi by surprise, he had been expecting the worst. “At least not until now.”

   Ryoken snatched the lone pomegranate that grew on the frail branches of Spectre’s beloved tree. He was quick to crush it between his fingers and quickly ate what he could of it. Spectre yelped, begged Ryoken to reconsider. His Father was right. He did not belong to him, nor this world. He should go, he should be released but Ryoken was determined.

   His Father snatched him, however, tried to stop him from eating the pomegranate’s seeds, choking them out of his mouth by crushing his throat. Spectre, not wanting to be helpless, tried to remove Kiyoshi’s hand from his son’s throat but his grip was like iron.

   Even so. Ryoken smirked. Six seeds. That was more than what he needed.

   “What have you done?” Kiyoshi snarled as he let go.

   “Why?” Spectre asked, his hands shook, there were tears in his eyes.

   “Because I think this place is beautiful.” Ryoken said. 

   Spectre’s heart thudded in his chest. What… What did Ryoken mean by that? His own words an odd taste in his mouth as that was what he described the flowers like.

   “Yes, it is true Spectre took me from you, he forced me to marry him but I want to stay, I’ve decided because he is - was - my first love.” Ryoken said and he took Spectre’s hand. “He was that human child I played with in the days of yore, before the worlds as we knew it formed, before the humans stole fire and before anyone could die. He thinks flowers are beautiful even now and I’m glad.”

   Spectre smiled, he smiled like a madman, giddy with disbelief but that memory he had revealed to Ryoken, it became more clear in his mind. That child, he looked just like, no, exactly like Ryoken. He had white and lilac hair, crystal blue eyes, and a celestial presence. Spectre had been made a god, when he was the first human to die, but Ryoken had been born on and so, that flower field, it had been special as it was Ryoken’s godly cradle. 

   Kiyoshi glared, “How many pomegranate seeds did you eat?” he asked, his voice low, irate, but willing to negotiate. Even if diplomacy had little in the ways of gods and young love.

   “Six.” Ryoken said, confidently.

   “Then this is my decree, Spectre,” Kiyoshi growled, “for six months of the year, Ryoken may remain in this Hell. For the other six, he returns to me. Understand?”

   “Understood, thank you, sir.” Spectre said, excited, and he bowed his head to Kiyoshi.

   “But I am taking Ryoken now.” Kiyoshi said and he grabbed Ryoken by his shoulder.

   Ryoken let go of Spectre’s hand and let himself be pulled back. Spectre felt his heart throb. That perhaps this was a ploy to escape once and for all but Ryoken glanced over his shoulder at his Father and then came closer to Spectre again.

   “Wait for me, I’ll be back, I promise, beloved.” Ryoken murmured and he stole a kiss from Spectre.

   The very first one either had shared in their married life at all. Spectre’s soul all but soared at the gentle brush of their lips. Ryoken brought his hand, bejewelled with the ring of their marriage, closer he kissed it as well. The shape of the jewel embedded in it, by coincidence, the shape and size of a pomegranate seed but was blue with yellow swirled through it. For the first time, Ryoken thought it looked beautiful.

   “I will. I promise.” Spectre replied, starstruck. He placed his hand over Ryoken’s in brief, his fingers trailing over the ring and his heart fluttered. 

   Ryoken returned himself to his Father’s side. He farewelled Spectre but gave him one last present. He touched the pomegranate tree and Spectre’s breath was taken away as the tree turned a much healthier colour than it was before. Its branches bloomed with verdant green leaves and pale coloured blossoms. 

   Kiyoshi, unimpressed, continued to strong-arm his son back into the realm in which he belonged but Spectre nodded, hopeful. He would wait. Six months to a god, surely that would be a blink of an eye but until then. He had such beautiful flowers to tide him over, all thanks to Ryoken. But he would wait, with bated breath for autumn, for winter, for the return of his released love.

[womanovertheedge]

[J.D., spoken] Think. Long and hard. Conjure her up in your mind. What would she say? Wha-what's her final statement to a cold, uncaring planet?

[VERONICA] "Dear world Believe it or not, I knew about fear I knew the way loneliness stung I hid behind smiles and crazy hot clothes I learned to kiss boys with my tongue."

[J.D., spoken] That's good.

[VERONICA] "But oh, the world, it held me down," Uh "It weighed like a concrete prom queen crown."

[HEATHER CHANDLER] No one thinks a pretty girl has feelings No one gets her insecurity I am more than shoulder pads and makeup No one sees the me inside of me (spoken) Jesus, you're making me sound like Air Supply!

[J.D., spoken] Keep going. This has to be good enough to fool the cops

[MCCORD, spoken] Woah! Is it murder?

[MILNER, spoken] No, look. Here's a suicide note

[VERONICA, HEATHER, COPS] "They couldn't see past my rockstar mystique They wouldn't dare look in my eyes But just underneath was a terrified girl Who clings to her pillow and cries! My looks were just like prison bars;

[VERONICA, COPS] They've left me a myriad of scars."

[HEATHER CHANDLER, spoken] "Myriad", Nice

[VERONICA, HEATHER, COPS] "No one thinks a pretty girl has substance That's the curse of popularity." (Popularity)

[PRINCIPAL GOWAN] "I am more than just a source of handjobs."

[VERONICA, HEATHER, GOWAN, COPS] "No one sees the me inside of me."

[PRINCIPAL GOWAN, spoken] Heather Chandler is not your everyday suicide

[COACH RIPPER, spoken] You should cancel classes

[PRINCIPAL GOWAN, spoken] No way, Coach. I send the kids home before lunch and the switchboard'll light up like a Christmas tree

[MS. FLEMING, spoken] Our children are dying! I suggest we get everyone into the cafeteria and just talk and feel, together

[PRINCIPAL GOWAN, spoken] Thank you, Ms. Fleming. Call me when the shuttle lands

[MS. FLEMING, spoken] I'm telling you, we all misjudged Heather Chandler. This is the loveliest suicide note I've ever read.

[MS. FLEMING & HEATHER CHANDLER] "Box up my clothing for Goodwill And give the poor my Nordic Track Donate my car to crippled kids Or to those ghetto moms on crack Give them my hats and my CDs My pumps and my flats, my three TVs!"

[HEATHER CHANDLER, FACULTY] "No one thinks a pretty girl has feelings; But I weep for all I failed to be Maybe I can help the world by leaving; Maybe that's the me inside of me."

[PRINCIPAL GOWAN, spoken] Aw, hell. Long weekend for everybody!

[MS. FLEMING, spoken] Hey, not so fast, kids. They're refueling the buses, which gives us a solid half-hour of healing. Now I have mimeographed copies of the suicide note so you all can feel Heather's anguish

[HEATHER MCNAMARA] I never knew about her pain

[MS. FLEMING, spoken] Go on!

[HIPSTER DORK] Her life had hit a rocky patch

[MS. FLEMING, spoken] Feel!

[YOUNG REPUBLICANETTE] Deep down she wasn't cruel or vain

[MS. FLEMING, spoken] Heal!

[KIDS] She didn't mean to be such a snatch!

[MS. FLEMING, spoken] Veronica, you're very quiet. What's on your mind?

[VERONICA, spoken] Uh, maybe Heather realized that in order to be happy she had to give up her power. And that the only way to do that was… death

[MS. FLEMING, spoken] My God (sung) Look what we've done We're breaking through! Heather would be so proud of you!

[KIDS] And you! And you! And you! And you!

[EVERYBODY] No one thinks a pretty girl can touch you

[GOTH GIRL, spoken] Heather touching me…

[EVERYBODY] But she's made us better than we were Heather's dead, but she will live inside me And I'll be the me inside of her

[HEATHER CHANDLER, spoken] Holy crap! This is awesome!

[EVERYBODY] Heather cried, our sins fell on her shoulders!

[HEATHER CHANDLER, spoken] Jesus Christ!

[EVERYBODY] Heather died, so we could all be free!

[HEATHER CHANDLER, spoken] I'm bigger than John Lennon!

[KIDS] Heather's gone, but she will live forever!

[MARTHA] She's the dove that sings outside my window!

[BELEAGUERED GEEK] She's the twin from whom I'm separated!

[STONER GIRL] She's the horse I never got for Christmas!

[KIDS] Heather sees the me inside of me!

[EVERYBODY] Heather is the me inside of me! Inside of me!

:)

[a-spell-a-rebel-yell]

May

hello friends! sorry i am late because i had so much going on by the end of May/start of June including end of semester exams that i completely forgot to write a post in time (typical me lol) but worry not, May post is gonna be filled with so many stories!!!

so for this May i'd like to nickname it as Full of Friends May Mayhem because i felt so happy throughout the entire May as i spent lots of quality time with my best friends and experienced many exciting new things 🥺💙

first up, watching How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies หลานม่า with soon-to-be doctor, Chintia! it's been long since i saw her because we were both very busy, me with school and her with finishing med school national competency exams... we had lunch together and spent literal hours chatting about anything and life updates. then we watched หลานม่า to see Billkin and Tu in action - they were amazing actors! the film itself was great, it made me miss my grandma so much, but i'm familiar with grief that i only cried a bit at the ending. the scores are heavenly but i still can't find it anywhere online huhu

next is Ortho Ul's social charity and gathering at Bali! this will be my second time joining a department event but first time to have it in such big scale (every resident from every active year, all lecturers, staffs, and even alumni joined the trip!) and it was awesome!!! 3 days and 2 nights filled with fun, really! day one we had the social charity at a junior high school in Kuta and then a 4-hour bus ride to Menjangan (where our resort is located!) day two was for snorkeling session (that i bailed out because i was worried my thalassophobia would be triggered) and i spent time island hopping instead! day three was our journey back to Denpasar and then flight to Jakarta. our schedule was sooo packed and we lacked sleep but enjoying the time together was priceless experience. on day 2 we got to showcase our 'talent' and did a short musical as an introduction of us the new recruits 😂 i remember eleven of us still making time to rehearse for the musical between so many assignments and projects and other duties... as the gathering has pirate as the theme, i made sure to incorporate Petualangan Sherina soundtracks and also pirate themed film scores, i wrote the screenplay, and designed some of the choreos. and it all came together nicely with our lecturers praising our performance 🥺

third is Ortho Ul 2018-2019 graduates' farewell lunch! this one was so enjoyable as well, our recently graduated orthodontists seniors treated us lunch at Park Hyatt hotel, i tried and loved all the food 🤭 there were also game and photo sessions, i feel so welcomed into this huge family 🥺 honestly getting into postgrad feels like entering a whole new world, so many new people, new connections, unexpected but still pleasant surprises!

these days i find it extremely easy to find happiness wherever i go, in whatever i do, and with whoever i'm with... no matter how trivial things can always find its way to put a smile on my face 😂 getting consecutive green lights on the way to school, arriving on time at the MRT platform as the train came, finding cool shades under the trees, spending time with my classmates even though while being under so much pressure, finding new film scores albums with 10/10 tracks, the feel of the wind on my face every time i ride back home, days filled with laughter and tranquility and calmness, discovering my old passion for kdrama (you all NEED to watch Lovely Runner, and meet my daughter Kim Hyeyoon and my son Byun Wooseok the loveliest people ever), interacting with my international mutuals, my fav songs came on shuffle, trying good food at new places, coldplay new era is coming!!! life is full of wonder, alhamdulillah...

things i've never dared to dream are approaching, and i'm super excited of what's to come (lots!!!) the best is yet to come insyaAllah 🤩 i hope life is also as beautiful as it is to you, my friends. see you on the next post! 💙

[libidomechanica]

They cannot clear fool, the surface crisp

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               1

They cannot clear fool, the surface crisp. Between   us. Without a taste, and moons shall   then remov’d, and in hand. Strange, was without calling half of wind and found and each others burnt by cigarettes, her eye. Body   of seas assigned to maintaine, rather throat   like an infant crying far; look also, Love’s excess, eat up to God, I stretched man,— o aye my Dearie; for the life with a star;   where the judge of stranger race, made him a   far better love hath spard? I kept sound were none behind the stations of space, the rest …. Wisdom, like must be the yellowing, and   see today as want to meet the blacke inough   for the two webbes in virginia or heaven, down beneath the child, I mean!

               2

Jamie, come wild unrest the birth, a level   mead, or steep himself the fleece of liuing   like a Frisbee, like those trees turn! Whatever for loveliest in the petty done to sings to one with thy Steel among thy   proving mirth an echo-like a bastard   shall I had such a fire: shee sawe in the door, and breaks about the burn the rolling thought, would wing and quiet flatter, I do   not know: draw from the budded quite, as thee,   my coral claspt in claye, and follow her! By linkes of foul within the sea, the divided halls thro’ early, leaving the   life is dark, to many, and what sees him   from hands that look there Simmer eyes and the maidens overwrought, which time there he died.

               3

Yet oft with human love in blood, they flashes,   beam and far, I felt the dropping on   its gloom, as drowning says quixotic shapes of love the gout. To kiss the Mind. Or sorrow. If one, or digs the Proctor’s doing,   like slept alone and that slope, that love you.   I woo thee, for not. At which that his ivied nook glow like the race; yet the native land! When he plights, a feudal warmth he may   be, betrayable replies, a thrilling to   those etherized upon the seal’s wide, I can be convenient kind? Hope for a flying death, or low morass and strike a   shotgun. So they chanced by the time; within   the dark bulks that Moon I think they were danced by the loved right Phosphor, fresh aray?

               4

A half-drown’d with him climb in after-Thought;   while they mistress, side me, curls about they   first bones were you can be seen, but mournful, sober-suited, wrong that deep in brine the gentle gait, making an academic   joke. For Mercy, Pity, Peace, this thou upon   her fifteen will be read, mute symbols of the night: in vain would it have loved at all I my ain lassie be; weel ken I   my undoing much syrup ran at waste   place, and leave thee range man shower, to the living wit, and make, and feare of fruit presence Hell. Me. The church below, and now you   all, am Master pastimes come a sweet   after, up from my Hand, nor I half so far disease; ring out of an old jockstrap.

               5

And cauld’s the sky. Deeply had lost than never   meant to bind a parcht; her deceived and   drownd with a fruit present broke likest Gothic ruin your train annoy, one inheritaunce, and hoodman-blind. Where you behold   apart we can—you cause of hern and live   your hall, Walter warm and closing gulf him I loved was little town, and all that yet for sevenfold-complish’d on thy changes;   here fell: that shall draw from all day long ago.   In the holy days descend thanks, through to all may live within, with kindliest like spot of higher than ere I say, but is   pleas’d to heau’nly hye? To do with a ring   at the doubt my wisdom with his couriers brings the approaches of Poet stand!

               6

What lift from the Sea; listen thee, and maidens   loth? I go to plant hills from natures,   and the express’d an everlastingly. She saw; he mix with the continue theme, discussed hands you greybeard, old Time indeed   I know not: one is still fail. And never   change above that miss, or voice slow time, to witnesse ouercame this mother to touch’d him a clout, for none, that large, which once I met;   nor shame; I didn’t fall about my soule, which   you shall beautiful woman’s form, in heaven was not chanced her; but ice-gravel. Yow made, and hopes and with fire. Since tis much.   Which to some few soft pipes that I fear, no   more than any garden and smile and vacant heat must kisse; but them trebly deare sign’d.

               7

And puts by the herald of thou think that   darkness, when clasps a gold-bubbling from off   my bloom the best, ’ she taken out, or kild bells up, to where first and wrought the purple of the law within be fed, with his art;   and strange with oyster-shells: streets will always   the clash and breeze of grapes. And may again, and aye it charms my very loud with other that each neat nipt my Flower beautiful   dreamer, awake. Pearls pale a star that   spattering through then into thee to the gayne, nor free! Swells into the days and ways? Warm hands, as high in me eache herds, day, where   the place and say, knowing from thy fame; in   iustice, ev’n to sette to day, they should licensed boldness now, through a windows? Before.

               8

To showed the world may again, and I have   thy sightless train passion her half the cradle,   and from my idle case? Thought, with the doorways of life, but sweeter seed among that sleepen in front built wires a cradle,   an’ aft my after shore will enter, patting   on it anew revive; inspired, or thee and used to war’s alarms; but honey’d in town; for all the Snare I language   lies bene fayne. What dip their names are seeking   is idle, biologically spent the wall. And days are cold, like a sunbeam broodeth warm, comes on the speak to our mystic   deeps, when I love thee, that danced by joy   … the lark hand in my head. I am not any feud of richest-toned thee succeeds?

               9

Could be broke up sevenfold is given:   I hold it! To use a tattle huddled   once had growes cold, a spectral doubt. A Walter, patting away fled from man thou alone, in fine. No lower change their could   I be gone, such splendour of her yet, like   blood, wild Hours to those white-favour! The body the brides in the onward, working of a way! Wounds of lustihead that Moon I   thinks him to wish thousands flashing. For I   half thy years before I am happy changed … There’s master’s tale? The evening, the Myllers rolle with lamps, and making on the   decks of May poetry Books idylls of   a hand, who built her deare forth her place? Hero To Leander in Memoriam A.

               10

Of the timely falls, betwixt the day my   hair of ranks of iris, and sick of dead,   who mad’st thy remembrance, in all Minds beginning near, should shew it, since Faire encrease, did him a year I seye, then my favor   that Loues long curl’d to be romantic, my   deep dawn was touch thoughts with my faith thy quiet flatter far than we loved place to play to find I in my lord, and him there a   fiery like to boast of course untain   fresh with thou with vncalled shall go, and came, or casts the tender voice. ’ Prospect of thou were zombies. Till evening to the sliding   before the garden lawn and swung the lawn:   or in you skill in spend shade: who told I loved, I did the change my selfe into gain.

               11

And cannot feel, or, dying in the bed   and in the princessant miserable, we   used to harmonious year and whispering crone at all. To yonder do you love, my number of these pretty beauty’s birth   of Death, the soldier sat in any gale,   nor I have reaching here are those my fashion. The bright dye: but in the earth is later love to remind to bounding, but to   time a hundred spinning no man to less?   Bowl spills …. And wriggling dark slide from his ivied nook glow like a flirting guardian angel pure at his rags: the Mind, within,   the flower, I must, and grapples were misse;   but die ye muffled me; and swore he in English, Espanol Site Copyright back.

               12

Twelve danced a bee shut me forgot much he   be, and aye it chancel port and the top,   he is prest against the prime. Tho went down his hands till it to Stella loue. We heard you had to touch’d me a place that count the   same, pierces than magic whisks and knowledge   that sense it might not come and gave my young one, a hollow form divine! That lay the west, a solemn gloom, but mourn in vain am   I! All breed, had been worth will flash’d the   Rhine, but cannot clear to marge to undermine can shower’d let that would hide? Twas they, where I have I hear the vast and if thou   gynst to restraint, and last, enjoying each   other answered, each by the limits. To part they leave the swan sail with Novocain.

               13

Have year; and have been altar-fire, the noble   heart did see. Each wit she hand, awhile   down to come, as represent broke the Flower the flower again the wrangling. To breaks about a rose up again; my lov’d,   neglected large and what thou, beauty’s name   in plighter from those porch and thro’ our dear words and treate not wears her deep you meet; that holy Hymen to brute earth, and thought, a   long-lived on; hoof after weapon, like spotless   cleft of Heaven look—I learnt how to be made him freely our felicitie, that work, content voice, I espy that my Muse   dispraise. You acquiescat sea Dreams sir   Galahad sir Launcelot and fed with golden Year the sky like life; as I gain these?

               14

Let’s meet, this mystic glory fight that bright   our love I discern’d, we, fix’d in your her   heau’nly bosom! And in a helmless he sleeps slipped into leap the dooryards and the use of things, and worse that nource of Arcady?   And with blush, but he replying, now   a twist of love thee, letter love so well, themselves to trample warrant thee move to lives in native haze of stronger faithful   guards the kind of tinkling rhymes, but, for now   his hat, and chaunting result of some once, for the dark arms in either weep, nor fee in me; this greatness the frogs sound climb the   scarce a sigh I take a slices of the   door. Of sun up to read tho mayst prouide for merit hath shade by side with long entent.

               15

Your tender vows, and lime; and monogrammed   watch they in the glory done is consecrate!   Boughs: I took the lark behind the psalm to whom to see the Captain’s lady. May kisses for the birth our shoes upon me   like a pair, and never cut from here, to   chance, no more. Vague words, like a man. One more of Death return, years, there but touch your own fair, such miracle of nobler leave been   danced like a rivers, whence the leave my love   enjoy it: when their weeks but trust hear heavenly Zuhrah who at large boundless feet; and the herald of a Vice Lord was dry;   then, since Faire is Aunt Elizabeth, and   get the night; I see: and lives to find there at they Petulant son; a shot, a child.

               16

Life o’er, eternal soul on highest with   a twist o Shadow watch they are blown away:   thanked dapper Cupid girlonds of those motion, this ring. See how are merry and truth embodied in Holy Land would hope   of griefs with precious village haue it they   light brow and tint, as his second, nor knowledge, underneath, bleed away, and tract of the whispering, playing on the Lord, art   mine own phantoms! As of a higher place,   in casement landlike some luckie with face to hours of tears row’d; he seem’d to be. Beyond it spry cordage of sand is that   was a beam in dark arms already in   the object. Fail I alone that made, and skill in the blossom, as down to make you.

               17

That twinkle into learnt how to meet them   all, would under then faded, and he sucked   from memory stray, and then by more train and on the days? And I grow cold tomb’s ruin: yonder dropping under space are shall   pass; my pulses the Gate her things will enter,   part my heart, the June that water falls, and where you shoulders the shedding pulsing just when you’ve loved a pretty beames is   comrade of words to the past in their hair—   they will, gude news I’ve been a bag of insolencie, lulled the circled star we saw the dawn besprinkled stay. Now shallow’d face; all   thee them night, effects of silence she were   many word again; as when I resemble o’er the dark; I sit and skim away.

               18

Nor any over those commands; and purple   of random that the holly! On that   Rich should’st link to Us essay Information short Story Contest. Who throve and unchange, for a son lent, from night, a gulf   on gulf him from the torments after hours   in reason, yode for now so stray in speech, thought: she like a vice that watchman evening, sleep to desires, yet lesser faith an   apology ok, I’m young and wild   with me, my Philly, she buildest said, that my love. Round the sons were move to comes the monster passion in creek and my Dearie; for   in emerald melt as long-distance came   to the speed ruffle thy look’d with darken’d ways, and deep as thou, I see, my Philly!

               19

‘I murmured, so well except peace of mine?   Should breath’d defence. Guided thrones; which the   gentle; liberations of the white and strike a breaks the torments of one more the scope and Kafka while we can—you cannot   sleep. Would I been fucked with loue not waste the   swan sail with your verse, twill be fountain freeze and the comrade of the soul? And all a sleep regret becoming this hour the Gate   her eyes, and break the file my heart, teaching   fair that love is justified,—and answer’d: Where, ’ they better season, owe, and look strange fits of his inside me …. Thee less bitter   in it; of what peal’d thro’ his legs, began   to speak the window bring to thee I With you fighting the air, the blown away.

               20

And stands; they too wide blue-bell and nature’s   wreath through a cloud, sunsets and shout, they kneel   once were stands, laughing order’d such and my dear, at best, of touch of chance, are to move as it swells in every eyes I’d knows   his fair Twinnes to be helps to grieve thy   breast should from the day more: so shall so simple villain fancy’s spring; and thou art made apt to come. Defamed by the solstice   three I leave with beautiful things great sculptor—   so, you kiss, or followed: and ashes; when you like Tinkerbell and then, we no more—pulling after with thou coming up;   no more; ring in the cooler air, and   company benedictions up to mine eyes find the coward time came back, and so low?

               21

By blood in a close, and boys with him can   hit the Mind, as we climbed the brains and the   master dream of grief, the boat was he? Four voice was his Embleme. Fade whole business or through to his wings of God; that cannot takes   a rising with forth their shoes. Riding, muffled   behind the Winter chastned mine: yet of baser birth doth at their falshode more or she is pleased a kind like pale; but   somedele thence to hearth; the dun forefather   loves her hand; ring in the nerves tuned for age not so great care, and high adoration roll a sphere are the Countenance, in   was born with most shadows fair hills are so   warm? The heart, unstained ceiling couple all the sunsets and it with fancies, in time.

               22

That lift her coloured wine while people say.   If any vague desires; by those that   dost the spirit ditties or on that take, althought, a gulf that come for my father left by inheritors of April went,   and dart down! That feeds to sings of me, which   sound of dying she dance;—till I say? A deserted walk upon her eyes; and in the field that had fall’n leaves to catches her   fading on a changed in your slender human   voices wake the generous grew forming so good: defined. I am abroade vnto thee; since then, bosom with paleness   by the winna come wine, and life. And wriggling   crone as the kind love, thy teares poure out; but all the sum of the bounds. Will die.

               23

Than in the long to me, what answer sweet   Saints doth now her face teacup, arrivest   at the waves combing the proud, we steep rough this the count me all Cupid’s arms already now at least of rising from annoy,   and her eye. My mind, but he was Nelly   Gray! Let powre in the living about it languish, dare na show, thy roots are from all the feet of all be time draws, her eyes full   not, that the new, as here we will sit beside   moment, nor fee in snow, she building might ensue desiring that can but the wind: and the sorrow o’er and squares the   past together wind, flung from bowèrs where   torn from they both bend; I seemed dearer to their secret of the wall, looking to sell.

               24

We are the chamber-melodies to hasten,   who could look was born. Before in more   for intellect his work is here! All breath of words, like a chuckle that divinely seasoned race be run; though paleness or   spite; ring oblivion beats his brayne, for   a night that randon the water when all ills else, as did draw: of touch! The runaways with the cursedly misplacement   came again, and modes of forest cry, will   defence: that weeps without a blushing morn. The purse of what dear as they crafty soldier bold, altho’ the heauens did this odor.   Dark bulks that Turkish hardned hear it is   no wrong enough: I long ygoe is dark, dark verge of random form with Rose; oh do now.

               25

That harvesting the total world’s desires   he left alone that last I laughter   the Grashopper so acutely that is consent, love you refuses to this fellowship of these leave lilies shines so pierce   and staggers blindly ere she dwelt with bier   and thick, or long-distance others burnt vn’wares did thou art not of journey. Sweet Love on deck, but for to uplift then the   livelier that a bedde of pride; she finally   every saul, the mother side of my old age shall fancies, would have caught of legal ways my verse shall prove a meeting, and   I am now, my fancies playing triumph   in colossal calm. Till all my life from man troubled hands her young day; loved you.

               26

The haue for Poets on men, at last night   the beach. And hopes of the table sport of   World again, so much, no more the sky, sports; the foul within, the spare they shot awrie! But shepheardes liues could loves a woman a’   her wane. And loves but knows not dashed with all   to destroy’d, or sadness, hardly knew in manhood! Who laid down and wandering for them of her steps along thankfull part, or   blushing now thy sweet, upon the last, and   twirls. ’St the dawn, thy kindred souls in woman, he would pile complaint: tho vnder colour of the maidens within the rest branching   her ties by line of things to begins clicking   on, from all that, which makes me bear on the old trick! Fuller wave, I take his Hell.

               27

With fruitless cries again our ancient garden   …. The park: strange and light of life’s blisse, and   a voice, I once beyond therefore? The distance of Anakim, the sweet Spirit, happy, happy birds, so captive on deck, but   listening tower was my Love is justice   painted town, he love, and sin he be, as, to myself, or ever should have done, his best, the one would he picture’s earth is drawn   to hear me where heat: o sound were they were   a pair, and those deep. To cramp the world that dark freight, a dream’d a vision have known the Name of other’s chilling down little regard   to the wide world’s tide flowers, let it   later he took on her way, her joy? What signifies the threaded so of your life.

               28

Whatever trust he took thy leaden come.   She letters, girt in gawdy green sparkled   keen the other that touch, and perfect deeds and scarred I take his blackened there exceed that: and woe? These rebel powers, such wept   and fly the cities, and tourney; then in   forms, till him all be time, sylvan history of beautiful dream resolu’d their court its glow in azure orbit round, his side,   that much thy thick with me, the darkness, yet   remembered not feels him there sat on wholly has a honeysuckle. The oxheart thou pine in kind but for us? Light to   be romantic, my deeds, sweet below the   room the Poet stand: we lives in violent and lead their couplings, and lost, but instead.

               29

To set a form with fleck the table; let   us go: your touched her on your shoulder   whereto those brown came that twinkle interwove? Is matter: round haste away, I thought at their smart: lovers’ hands are mine owne   consanguinity it be taken out,   but bring, to sullen earthly things she’s growing will command is Earth being soul. The moon is hid; they were hard to a lake what   far above be dim, without shore sailest   thou’s brow to what Passion rules are. Where he sitt: and near, till it to make, the stronger wings who laid down i’ the bottom of town:   her conquer Loue; they rise on stately place,   for all you lingers and the mould be, to have vanishing on the soul looks forlorn.

               30

Fresher forehead sits and the sphere, nor ever   me for other answerd his desk, to   make toward Auroras Court, which spake and me. When I my ain lassie, kind and there first bones grief hath my rest, sat apart, and again,   into a Greeks’ love between thro’ all   in my fashion. Not soon, dost those dying in mine of the summer, that with it died into the fire, whose browne. By the keep the   spirits meet her arm lifted, eyes I’d   know all this desire of blood; makes form, o solemn! Nor lose my wisdom may descend the world: the waves flame along here are   donne: for ever old passing, this act of   truth doth with thankfulness. My fear it is lov’d, neglected fair, no man understand.

               31

I have squeezed him invisible, and more   than before I have, or die. She remembered   in the kiss sedately; maud is no vulgar nature’s as wooded reaching their cups they took the feast, or in that will heave   thy body’s gift of the darken’d   sanctimonious than if with other until none but all the falling star through shall glimmers exalt thou, perchance, and truth: and I   must agayne: for he is not thou hast the   furrow music and free, let fall remerging in the less loud, as if alive. With slow would takes his doubly sweet society   to daunce. Specimen of rooks, and how   should I began to change. And I should bring the weary night, a long-shanked men—good!

               32

Is it true: shall be my course the Paradise   it wander’s mark the terror of the   kiss of one. Arrange theme, discussed her heart in tune, by all our simplicity, and we still, and far, to writes, the lessen’d in   me each other let me for thy side; and   theme to heauens did makes me now, sun, and hoodman- blind. To knit the pile companionship, and hates remoue: keep so sweetest odours met,   the former glad at heard in the daisy   closer, ready hang, shake the rose peeped out my wit: duty so crown’d with dumbe eloquence, that we abase her more, nought feet gloom   is there a linty, raw-cold dust on the   liked itself in them pipes where pride; forget are each night, and ask my ear for pastime?

               33

And well that of other die the hard promise   of time to live with the pink and beat   they han their vulgar nature is not seem’d my mind, and everywhere!—If one, and play but not win a glorious flight the door.   The dead selves so witen eche one whose being   woo’d and so my wealth I haue most vile, but comes forth a gem; to see the holy bower? No visual shade the proposed   to the Abbey-ruin in mine own, I   found nought of the distance might the riches of love. Then a woman hear the humming further robes, and that I look back the surf   bright breathing balm, the use of racing. And   they groan, his eyes, at last would remember you were. And were stript me in these, in clay?

               34

Deferential, glad to mumble her breasts   that I muse, to bear, I falterings, and   in hasten, white, as we desert sand. Then may rise on the frogs sounds from the trees; he find not just above! It’s a silver snowy   bloom, and love alive: ’ but I gied my   eyes … ally, you makes a deadly draught have I forbids; with payne: tom Piper make such comes a glance benumb’d my mind from sweet dream-   mother, beamy eyes … ally, you dance, Julia,   wild Recess! That cannot understand it will acquaintance and shade of twain that reed with human face, still grove, she shrieked and   pincers her wanting this earth and little   moments of dore, and loiter’d my dear her weeks but the scorns to shine forests, adieu!

               35

Oh may number of briar roses and   armour rusts, Turne the Branch that thee and last,   return’d, ere had night, curls a damp window and tell whatsoever state, and feele, and that gleams on Lethe in the song i’ve been   ere, it bore not mean fall hast. Drinking, and   delves in which do touch doing, let it bears? Circling wheel in hopeless, and heart of greene wood who sits apart, and Lilly, while tales   at hys back of an ample pin—they were   would bring the land; and whirling best, ’ she take a things tender skinnes to reckon with men and weedy garden flew, saw other   in Memoriam A. Of a wife shall live   my love. And no cure? I hear the tropics, to all mens follies language Fescennine.

               36

With trust they when I appear understand?   Which is to the Touch, Wit spins both beauty   purlieus of tryfles at the bounding the gold-eyed graspest at time nurst, thou, dearest grieve as daily vexes house thee do mock   my sight forty-five, I strove, I craved stone   and gave all unswept sea; a great legacies of nameless of thy hearth nor soul’s sprinkled star into me! Heaven if lowliness   or sand, a hungers at the Kirke pillow   brook alone hand in my fashions rais’d, let it last hope in due time for years if Death for careful of fruit may find, as mount   and as fair, poor rivals in blood creeping   clove. The Slave of state of Parliament, and Love is vaster of shepeheards other.

               37

But on pride; when you’re seared that in the moon   is sleep. And gan he crystal vial Cupid   brought worth underside of truths in me, with a royall he sat down in its burn unwavering: not in watches us   by sun took on the dry and we still like   them all: have yours to himself be left me by the land! And balmy droop’d of limes I passes of the Fortune has she doth makes   and when fill’d with being care, that nource and   fair daughter Briar Rose but help the spirits meet no less iron welcome try me! Till gather doth fall? In the links a truth   doth love spirit want thee wrong the foul without   booke: what end is the ear the mark. Just what comes a sense my fate of Arcady?

[90sbee]

traumatic experiences that leave you wondering what could have happened if you had died that time.

the reality sinking in. living on stolen time. being extremely lucky. living on stolen time. in another existence someone called your mother and told her the news. at noon, or at 8am, or at 4am. (living on stolen time.) tricking someone, something, to borrow some years more. "i won't be that stupid. not again." but most of the times it wasn't about you being stupid. living on stolen time. whatever you do from now on, holds an immediate grace, an immediate miracle. you're not supposed to be here. but you are.

you toyed with death. somewhere else, not so far away, in another branch of the same tree, you're losing blood. you have a heart attack. your heart is failing, your head is throbbing with pain. tongue dry, eyes full of tears. do you want to die? did you think you would die like this?

you've toyed with death. you've called her. sometimes, when the depression hits too strongly, when your limbs can only let you rest in bed from the exhaustion of being alive, from having this life, you dream of her. you tell yourself you wouldn't mind: a car running over you, men who are up to no good. you dream of surrendering yourself, your body and life, to her. you think you could handle it. you think you could accept your own death with open arms. there would come a sweet rest, then. no more regrets, no more living. simply cease to exist. be free from everything.

and when you finally see death, when she looks at you with glowing eyes, you're not alone. next to you, a warm body, soft arms and the loveliest smile. a friend.

she can't get you both. she should not get you both.

you escape death that time. you both do.

you loved her once. as more than a friend. you wonder what would have been. dying next to her. her dying next to you. both dying together. the pain enormous. too much for any human to handle. you two would have surely died that time, if only one had stopped breathing.

everything lost. the idea of freedom mutates. the existence doesn't seem full of regrets now, but rather, losing all chances seems like the biggest regret. no more learning, no more yearning. no more writing or singing or laughing. no more friends or family or crushes. everything could be put onto a timeline for others to reconstruct. "this was the last time we saw each other. this was the last time we spoke. this was our last hug. this was the last meal we shared together. this was the last message i got"

death was never going to be the end. you would have continued living through others as they mourn.

[nbmsports]

Visitors Briefly Trapped at Former Home of Agatha Christie

In “And Then There Were None,” the classic novel by Agatha Christie, 10 people are invited to a mansion on a remote island, cut off from the rest of the world. A mystery follows.Life somewhat imitated art on Friday when a large tree fell into a single-track road in the southwestern coastal town of Brixham in Britain, trapping several people for a few hours at Greenway House, the former holiday home of Christie, the author of dozens of best-selling mystery novels who died in 1976.The National Trust, the conservation nonprofit that oversees Greenway House, said in a statement on Friday that the fallen tree was “blocking any traffic entering or exiting the area.”“We are working closely with police and highways to get this resolved quickly as possible,” the National Trust said. “We are aware that there are visitors, staff and volunteers still at Greenway unable to leave and we are doing everything we can to make sure they are comfortable while we all wait. We appreciate everyone’s patience during this time.”By the end of “And Then There Were None,” every guest at the mansion has died. However, luckily for those trapped at Greenway House, the road was reopened in the evening, allowing visitors to leave, the National Trust said in a later update.It was unclear exactly how many people were at Christie’s former home, which is open for tours and overnight stays, when the tree fell. DevonLive, a news outlet in Britain that provided live updates of the incident, reported that more than 100 people were stuck.Caroline Heaven, who was at Greenway for a day trip on Friday, told DevonLive that she had arrived at 11:30 a.m., and had been stuck for hours.“It’s a shame really,” Ms. Heaven told the news outlet. “They are doing a great job. They are giving us free teas and things. It’s a bit bleak.”Greenway House might not have been only a holiday residence. It was also a source of inspiration for Christie’s novel “Dead Man’s Folly” featuring Hercule Poirot, in which a crime writer organizes a fake “murder hunt” on the grounds of a country home.Social media leaned in to the irony of being stuck in the home of the prolific mystery novelist. Several Twitter users began counting down, “99, 98, 97, 96, 94 (grisly), 93 … in an apparent reference to “And Then There Were None.”Marguerite Kenner wrote on Twitter that people at the house should “IMPLEMENT A BUDDY SYSTEM IMMEDIATELY!”The Devon and Cornwall Police did not immediately respond to a request for comment on Friday.Greenway House was referred to by Christie as “the loveliest place in the world,” according to National Trust. The house is filled with Christie’s heirlooms, including items from her childhood home and her Steinway piano, the organization said.The house also has a library of 5,000 books, including some by Christie, according to the National Trust. Source link Read the full article

[emmabee14]

I was born to traverse through the darkest parts of consiousness

I never chose it

I never wanted it

It was just how my brain was wired.

I pushed it away, but it made the darkness angrier

When I sat through it, felt it coarse through every cell, rattle every organ, shake my entire world, and make me sick-

It passed

Eventually, it passed

And then,

I appreciated the light so much more

When I looked at a cloud and I didnt feel a pit of darkness in my stomach anymore, I laughed and I saw that cloud as the loveliest thing in the world.

My friends love what they think is my innocence

But my innocence is only on the other side of excruciating experience

My childlike gaze at a flower, my goofiness, my love of all the little things

It was never innocence,

It is awareness.

It is swimming the most difficult waters of the human psyche, and making it to shore

Of course I love the palm trees

Of course I love the sand like it's my very breath

Of course I love the feeling of the sun on my skin because

There have been times when I couldn't feel it

Of course I love life, I've died a thousand fiery deaths

[blog-of-a-time-witch]

This is giving me such a massive migraine.

Okay, Henry, you know a lot about plants, right? I'll explain this to you using plants as a metaphor, to try making it easier.

Think of a tree. It's the biggest, loveliest tree you've ever seen. It grew from a tiny seed, into a sprout, into a sapling, and now it's grown so tall and wide that you can't even see the highest leaves anymore.

Now, imagine a silly bird drops a strangler fig seed into the branches of that tree, and it gets stuck there. When it rains, the fig gets watered and starts to grow. It wants sunlight, so it stretches itself out along the branches and pokes its leaves out over the tree's leaves. It wants more water, so it wraps its roots around the tree trunk and sinks into the earth below, stealing as much nutrition as it can.

The silly bird comes again, and leaves another fig seed, and the same thing happens. Now there are two figs that are taking the tree's sun and water. Oh, then a third. Then a fourth. Eventually, the figs encase the tree entirely. Without sunlight, without enough water, the tree begins to die, and when it dies and rots, only the figs remain.

Does that make sense to you, kid?

Found a friend! This is Juniper! Juniper is very pleased to meet you.