#The Day of The Rose Sky

[ignemia]

The Rose Sky

The day of the Rose sky (22/05/1974) - Tale of Juliana Hatcher

Waking up at 7:30 am as usual, I head to the job I’ve held for years. My boss is a little nerdy but very cute, and we’ve never had a problem.

As a researcher of deep-sea microfauna, I work under the dean of our research facility. Today, new samples from the middle of the Mediterranean Sea arrived. Let's see if we find something more interesting than that boring mycelium from the Nordic Sea.

Looking into my microscope, something seems off. The sample isn’t lit properly even though the lamp is at full blast. What’s going on? I decide to turn on the main lab lighting. Shuffling to the switch, I check the clock—it’s already 10:21 am. I haven't even eaten breakfast yet. Well, I'll do that after I examine the new sample. I turn on the light and walk back to the table. It’s still a bit underlit, but at least I can see better. I spot something strange: the bacteria appear fully bioluminescent. In the visible spectrum? In the ultraviolet spectrum? What’s going on? No organism should do that. Did we discover a new type of defence mechanism? Why is this sample breaking established rules?

I need answers, but I need breakfast more. I write down my observations and head to the company-issued personal fridge for my Greek yoghurt. Checking the time, it’s already 11:15 am. Today is flying by. Well, interesting samples can't be blamed for enjoying my work so much. I take my yoghurt and sit at my writing table to check measurements from previous samples for similar abnormalities. Then I get an idea. Could the sample react to proteins with natural bioluminescence, like Vibrio fischeri? I place a teaspoon of my yoghurt onto a petri dish and finish my meal. Without washing the bowl, I quickly run to test the hypothesis.

First, I separate a small sample size. Next, I run the necessary tests to check for proteins in the water. The tests return positive, so I might be on the right track. With precision, I place about 1 gram of yoghurt onto another petri dish and pour the separated water from the sample in there. I turn to my journal to write down my observations. It’s 12:34, and as I start writing, a flash of blinding light surrounds me.

“Well, that was a bit too much bioluminescence,��� I think, wiping my eyes. I’m temporarily blind. I stumble to the door, cautious not to destroy anything, and call for help. I hear someone outside screaming, “Aaaaaaaaaa, I can't see!” Thinking it’s my fault, I try to open the door to apologize and find help, but more screams fill the air. My experiment was too small to cause widespread blindness. Then I heard it: “Are you seeing this? Is it just me, or is the sky pink?”

I enter the hall and run toward the person who can see, trying not to stumble. A glimmer of light enters my eyes. It’s not the typical midday sun—it’s warmer, yet colder. How is that possible? Trying to make sense of the shade, I recognize the light from the sample. Could my experiment have caused this? How? I need answers.

As I head towards the voice, I remember I need to visit the medical room. But I realize a worrying thought: it will be full of people like me. Some will see a little, some fully, and some might still be blind. How many injuries occurred when we saw the flash of light? How harmed are people? My sight is slowly returning. I should go back to my lab and wait it out. I won’t see the pink sky the voice mentioned. From what I can see, the sky is probably the same shade of pink as the sample shined. Soon, I hope to see clearly again and remain motorically competent enough not to harm myself.

I'm slowly making my way back to my lab, thinking about everything that happened today. Is it a coincidence? Is it all related? How can it be? I reach my lab’s doorstep, open the door, and immediately faceplant onto the ground over the doorstep. How did I forget about it? Picking myself up, my hands slide in front of my chest to push myself onto my feet when suddenly—Ouch—I cut my ring finger on my right hand. An expletive escapes my mouth. I stand up, holding my ring finger closed to prevent bleeding everywhere. I have some napkins I can tie around the cut on my table. Today is either the best or the worst day of my life.

When I get back to the table, I blindly search for the napkins. Suddenly, the light entering my eyes changes. It’s fiery orange, and I feel like my desk is on fire. How could that be? I don’t work with fire on my writing desk. It must be my body overreacting to the cut. There hasn't been a fire in this lab for months, and I don’t even have scented candles like at home. I keep searching for napkins. Unfortunately—OUCH—my index finger is burnt. The fire is real. My desk is actually on fire. How is this happening? I close my index finger to my palm; the pain from the burn makes me forget about the cut for a split second. I try to whoosh the fire away. I cannot find the fire alarm in my office while I’m blind. I’m not even sure I have one here. I swipe my right hand, minus the burnt index finger, over the fire, trying to extinguish it.

GRSHCK I hear my window break, but the light in my eyes returns to pinkish-purple. The table is no longer on fire. I touch the spot where it was—there is no table. Did I somehow throw my table out the window? How could I do that? My hand was injured, and the table was made of wood, weighing around 50 kilograms. I can't lift that much, especially when it was on fire. But indeed, I did throw my desk out the window. I realize this when I hear from outside, "What is one of our expensive tables doing out in the park? And whose burnt research is this?" I know it’s mine, but I am too stunned to answer. I just threw a 50-kilogram table through a glass window without touching it.

My vision is slowly improving, and I’m trying to understand what has happened, what has been happening all day. A funny thought passes through my mind. “Magic is real, apparently.” I chuckle But then I give it serious thought. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the fire starting and, though not how I intended, being put out. So I try to pull my index finger back to my palm and extend all other fingers. I make a circular motion with my hand. This is a massive mistake. I feel the air around me starting to swirl into a loop, creating a sort of tornado. It’s getting stronger and stronger. I need to stop it. But how? I stop the motion of my hand, but the only thing that happens is that the tornado stops getting stronger. This is not good—all my samples must be destroyed, all my research lost. I do the only thing that comes to mind. Once again, I pull my index finger to my palm, stick out all other fingers, and make a circular motion in the opposite direction. The more I do it, the weaker the wind gets.

So in the end, it’s true. Magic is real. And I think I’ve found the next topic of my research.

[missnotstarry]

[foursaints]

does rosekiller fall into their bunny/daddy roles gradually or is it like their first time and barty calls evan "bunny" and evan's like "i think im dying i swear i dont like that" and bartys just panting and drooling all over him.

to me barty generally approaches every sexual encounter with the same predetermined script of immediately going 100% off the rails, just pressing his partner down by the head & drooling & rambling crazy shit like "come on bunny, bounce for me" into their ear and calling himself daddy in the third person (<- FREUDIAN HANGUPS) regardless of who it is....

with evan (terminally frigid adult virgin) this dynamic is more fun because evan doesn't even know what to expect from sex and he's getting met with THAT. barty is calling him a perfect bunny & grinding his erection against evan's malnourished bony hip before he has his clothes off (ev is going to die and/or kill someone). barty obviously gets off on his dismay and likes to feign a predatory sort of innocence, touching evan strange places & bending him into depraved poses & sighing like a disappointed pureblood father when telling him that he's a wicked, filthy little thing for enjoying it. (<- FREUDIAN HANGUPS X2!!)

naturally evan would flush indignantly in his neatly pressed lab-coat and make a noise of disgust! what horror! but of course being denied control to such an extreme degree (and his disgust at the whole "daddy/bunny" thing in general) excites him. evan goes along with it, and i think he finds this dynamic to be helpful scaffolding as he builds his own relationship to sex!!

once they're more established i believe their sexual roles become much less defined... to me rosekiller begins with two comfortable but warring dynamics (1: evan cooly & dispassionately "experimenting" on barty / 2: barty as the lecherous pervert molesting evan) but the really compelling stuff happens when they step outside or blur these boundaries. rosekiller's relationship deepens whenever it becomes less clear which one of them actually has control.

[volivolition]

wiggles my fingers at you ouuuu… you want to tell me about solace so bad…

HKJGG wiggles my fingers back lovingly!!! i really do, i fuckin LOVE solace :3 hey did you know i really like making fake skill descriptions?

SOLACE

Follow the north star. Find light in even the darkest places. Cool for: Optimists, Recovering lost souls, Sweet summer children

Solace is the skill you tucked away long ago, at the bottom of Pandora's box. The little one that tells you: despite it all, there is still hope. It needs a lot of nurturing -- and it's far from being the most helpful for police work -- but taking care of it is basically self-care. It enables you to find the glow in yourself that you often ascribe to gold lungs or brilliant halos in others. It encourages you to wake up and watch the sunrise, to play board games with someone you love, to forgive yourself and let yourself be a gentler kind of animal. Constantly looking forward to a brighter future, it also helps shield your morale from damage.

At high levels, Solace gives you a heightened sense of childlike optimism - which isn't always the sense to lead with in this precariously harsh world. Always looking for the bright side will blindside you with naivety. At low levels, however, you may just extinguish whatever keeps your soul alight. You've already lost her once. You may not survive the desolation if you let her disappear again.

[tnbscans]

Hero's Day Animate preorder bonus postcard

[perfectlyscentedturtle-7]

Some photos from today!✨️🐞🩵 Happy Father's Day!!💚🎉🌺

[abbas777]

I took these a while ago 😁🌺

[the-sky-queen]

Long Time No See - 1/4

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[jupiterovprsten]

Hello June

Hello Summer

[eleanorjusticenature]

[thebeyyza]

11/11/24

[offbrandhandymanny]

So like the Outsiders cast is getting a float at the Macy’s Parade. Bad time to be a Canadian I’ll say 😭

[firstlawcedarprairie]

Yellow roses in the cloudy sky

[j4jml]

''Let me expose to you who heard, and where:

That heart‐enkindling word which is, and which is not, a mystery.

Dew stole it from the sky, and dropped it in the rose’s ear.

The rose passed it on to the nightingale, which sang it to the breezes as a wail.'' ― (Love) by Mohammad Iqbal

Rose’s Ear 21/07/2024 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain

[aboutl0ve]

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

happy birthday to me ৎ୭