#caladium / closed

[xcziel]

!!!!!!! big spider in the house!!!!!!

perched right at the edge of the light, centered in the passway like a gunfighter, i felt threatened actually

i do NOT like this

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

Closed Starter: About Time (Cal/Hemlock)

Ash was in class, probably having the time of her life. Valerian still seemed to be avoiding him, but doing as all right as usual. Y-- Loriss had work. Cal was only waiting on Hemlock to get home now and check in on her.

He had work soon, but it would be fine. He glances up when the door opens and sighs. “Took you long enough.”

@storystartsanew​

[xwhitepolar]

💌 | Forget about sims, lets learn about YOU! Tell us one fact about yourself, and then send this to 5 other Simblrs to do the same 👽

Finally getting to reply to this ask!!! I had an intense exam session and after that I was away with family, so... here we are now!

One fact about me: since 2021, I'm a plant mom! Probably not really a fun and interesting fact though 😂

these are the plants I own! Photos from the Vivai Le Georgiche online shop. I get my supplies from them!! Their soil is THE BEST. I plan on visiting their shop as well someday, but I don't live close by at all so I didn't have a chance thus far. The plants pictured are not necessarily the same variety as mine, but they are the most similar looking! Mine are:

Monstera Adansonii

Hoya Memoria

Asparagus Setaceus

Asparagus Sprengeri

Neon Pothos

Peace Lily

Maidenhair Fern's cousin, probably

Calathea Zebrina

Caladium (mixed varieties)

(not pictured) Avocado!

Whenever I need to unwind, I go outside and look after them. It makes me forget about all my responsibilities for a few minutes :)

The caladium (9) is the one plant I got JUST because it looked terrible. It was forgotten in a corner of my local shop (NOT the one I linked. they are amazing.) and the cashier looked at me like??? why are you buying this??? it's ugly?? But it has made a full recovery since! And the monstera (1) has been with me since the beginning of my plant journey. I'm hyper protective of her lmao

Thank you for asking!! Mwah mwah!!!! 🎀

[mysterycharacterflowers]

Round 2; A bouquet of coral bells, caladium and carnations Vs A bouquet with love-lies-bleeding, forget-me-nots and sunflowers

First, let's talk about the bouquet of coral bells, caladium and carnations

Meaning and why they were chosen: In the victorian floral code these mean sea voyages (he sailed around the world), great joy and delight (hes delighted by practically everything), and pure and deep love (technically the original meaning is romantic love but he would do pretty much anything for his friends, and he cares about people so much), respectively. Description: He's a wonderful sweet guy who cares a lot about his friends and about his best friend/(fanon) boyfriend. He's such a coward about some things, like rats, but really brave when it matters. Also he has adhd

Check his post here

Now, let's talk about the bouquet of love-lies-bleeding, forget-me-nots and sunflowers

Meaning and why these flowers were chosen: Sunflowers for justice and truth, love-lies-bleeding because he lost the only person who cared about him two months before he could truly work alongside him as a partner, and forget-me-nots because he's a living reminder of that person in every way while also very distinctly himself. Description: He's your uncle. Don't have an uncle? You do now. He smiles and flirts a little and jokes about the silliest things even if there's a new corpse on the floor, and he keeps his hand close to his chest, and you'll never catch the motive behind the joke until it's time for him to reveal the truth and prove his every accusation. He's capable and experienced and a living reminder of the man who haunts the narrative, and he won't save you, because if he could, there would be no need for a reminder of a living man. He'll show you how to save yourself.

Check his post here

[the-hinky-panda]

The Florist: Part III

The Florist: Part III

@seltsamkind​ come and get your man. He’s being a distraction. 

You have been in love with your neighbor from the first day you laid eyes on him. 

Your mother had been recovering from a sprained ankle and you were bringing by a clipping of a caladium to add to the growing collection of plants on the back patio. Your mother was spending more and more time out there since she couldn’t spend her time in the garden so you were trying to make the space as comfortable as possible for her. She was touching the delicate white leaves of the plant when she asked the question that changed your life. 

“Have you met the new neighbors down the street?” 

“Not yet, Mama. Are they nice?” 

“Very. The wife, Ana, stopped by with some empanadas and cookies. How she had time to make them is beyond me with a one year old and another on the way.” 

You had tried to not take the comment personally. Your mother was very traditional and believed you should have been at least married by now, tending to a husband and not orchids, nurturing children and not roses. “What does her husband do?” 

“He works for the government, I’m not sure exactly.” She sighs. “He’s very quiet.” 

You had laughed lightly as you sprayed down the ferns hanging in the corner of the sunroom. “A quiet politician. We could use more of those.” 

Your mother had clucked her tongue in disapproval at your comment. But as you were leaving, you promised to return the dishes that had been used for the empanadas and cookies. It was César who answered the door and your life had never been the same. As unbelievable as it sounded, it was like being struck by lightning: a flash of light so blinding and an immense amount of energy being shoved into your veins. His chocolate eyes were sharp, intelligent, but kind. There was a cheeky sense of humor in the small twist of his smile and you had never felt the urge to kiss someone so strongly before. 

Then your common sense returned. He was married with one child and a pregnant wife. He was a politician or at least was aspiring to be one and that life was too public for your private personality. But that didn’t stop you from trying to commit his slender frame, the roll of his shirt sleeves over his forearms, and the soft look of his thick black hair to memory. 

Over the next year, you frequently ran into the Gaviria family when you came to visit your parents. Ana asked for help with drooping plants and where was the best spot to put bougainvillea in the backyard. César would, on occasion, come out of his office with a book in his hand and you would discuss literature. You never considered yourself a “baby person” but holding the rapidly growing little boy and then the newly arrived baby girl never seemed like a forced effort. They truly were a lovely family. 

It was two years later, Holy Week was approaching and the floral shop was getting ready to close for the long weekend. It was that Wednesday when César stopped in for an Easter bouquet to take home. He looked tired but excited so you had asked him about his job. He had leaned over the counter, whispering a secret that even Ana didn’t know yet: Galán had asked him to be his campaign manager for the Presidential election. 

Despite your inventory being extremely low from all the other Easter arrangements that had been made, you went out to the back of the shop and cut fresh flowers from your personal source in honor of the occasion. You made the arrangement yourself: white lilies, pale pink roses, green tinged hydrangeas, with sprigs of blue thistle. Since it was the end of the day, you didn’t charge him, saying it was just a gift for a kind neighbor on this special holiday. He in turn invited you and your parents over for dinner on Good Friday. 

That was how it started, the four year long painful friendship you and César now share. He was like a thorn that you kept pricking your fingers on, drawing blood and tears at times. You were convinced though that he saw you as just a friend, a companion, with shared interests in books and quiet solitude. You never once thought that his feelings carried the same underlying heat that yours did. That perhaps, when he looked at your face, he wanted to kiss that slight upcurl of a smirk from your lips. 

You never allowed yourself to think about that until the night he fell asleep against you. He had been so relaxed, taking deep full breaths as he slept. You remembered the way his fingers curled against your sides when you ran your fingers through his hair. You could feel the desperation of just wanting to be close to someone, to feel safe with another person. It is the same thing you want. And despite having met multiple potential suitors over the years, none gave you that knife’s edge balance of thrill and calm that César provided. 

So you continued with your life, trying to learn to be content with friendship and nothing more. To just enjoy the conversations you shared post holiday meals about the books you’ve read. But then he became President and moved out of the neighborhood just a year after you lost your parents and moved into their house. You would frequently find yourself staring at the darkened windows and locked doors of the Gaviria home forlornly. What if he never came back? You just couldn’t bear that thought. You would rather harbor this secret love and maintain his friendship than not have him at all in your life. 

Then the explosion happened. A gas leak, the news is reporting. But it doesn’t matter what the cause, the result is the same. The shop is lost. Your family’s legacy is buried under dust, ash, and rubble. And just when you think you can manage the thought of the rebuild, César walks through your hospital room door. It’s just a different kind of knife twist in your heart. He offers comfort, slips his hand into yours and it just becomes too much. You want to crawl into his arms, curl up against his chest, tuck your head his chin and never move again. But you can’t. You can only put on a brave face, crack a joke instead of your facade, and keep repeating the mantra that you have had for the last four years. 

He’s not yours to have. 

***

César Gaviria is a man of his word. 

When you are helped out of the medical transport vehicle, he makes sure you are greeted by Eduardo Sandoval and himself. The driver and nurse are so stunned at your elite welcome committee that they almost forget to assist you up the front steps. He doesn't blame them in the least as even you’re a little surprised to see the President and Vice Minister of Justice waiting on your front porch. 

Eduardo takes the bag of bandages and medications while César takes your arm. Even that simple touch gives him some grounding, some balance to his topsy-turvy world. He makes sure to keep his hands on your arms, remembering the massive blanket of gauze that covered your back in the hospital. He doesn’t want to add to your pain even if all he wants to do is hold you close, protect you. 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. 

His reason for showing up is two-fold. One, he said he would be here. His second reason is less straightforward. Ana’s question had plagued him ever since the words had left her mouth. How long have you been in love with her?  Despite a few restless nights, he is no closer to an answer. But he wants one, he wants to know when friendship crossed into new, more dangerous, territory. 

You hand the key to Eduardo, who opens the front door for you and César to pass through. The home hasn’t changed hardly at all since he was last there almost two years ago. Bright sunlight filters through the large front windows into an office on the left and a sitting room on the right. It’s when he passes through the kitchen that the answer to his question hits him square in the face. 

Two years. 

He’s been in love with you for two years. 

The day had been long. The outpouring of grief, immense. Your parents were well loved and respected in the community and the community made sure you knew that. But with a crowd that size, came a long line of mourners parading through your home to pay their respects. 

It had been a senseless accident. A drunk driver speeding through a red light and two pillars of Bogota killed instantly. It was so unnecessary. César watched you the entire day, stoic and in shock. It had been almost ten at night, a full twelve hours after the burial, and people were still saying their condolences to you. Ana had taken the two kids back to their house to put them to bed while he stayed to make sure everything was locked and safe after the last mourner left.  

It was after midnight when the last person exited and he locked the door behind them. He was closing the curtains in the front parlor when he heard a crash from the kitchen. By the time he made it there, you were kneeling on the floor, trying to pick up a smashed dish with bloodied hands, tears staining your cheeks. 

“Stop,” he reached out and tried to grab your hands. You were still gripping shards of the broken plate and he gently shook your wrists until the pieces dropped back to the floor. “Here, come here.” 

You allowed yourself to be led over to the sink as he turned on the water to run over your hands. The red disappeared quickly and he found the culprit was just a minor cut to your thumb. He patted the cut dry and wrapped the dish towel around the cut. Your eyes cut back to the broken dish.

“That was my mother’s favorite dish.” 

Fresh tears started to fall, the pressure of grief and exhaustion too much for you. When you moved back towards the broken plate, he didn’t even think about what to do. It was a moment that was ruled completely by instinct. He wrapped his arms around you, pulled you close to him and held you as tight as he could. Sobs wracked your small frame as you buried your face against his neck. He just held you close until you calmed, slumped against him, worn out by the emotions. 

At that moment, the oddest thing happened. It was like reality bent and he had a glimpse into a future, possibly his future. It was no longer your kitchen but his as well. His kids weren’t two houses down, just one floor above him. That was when he realized, on some level, that this was where he belonged. 

He belonged with you. 

He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize who the love of his life happens to be. That things like a love of a lifetime even exist. That this friendship that he has treasured for so long has been much more than just platonic. He watches as Eduardo shows you all the plants that had been salvaged from the shop, watches you touch each leaf and blossom with whisper soft glances of your fingertips. How have you survived so much loss, so much pain, and still move forward? 

How can he pile another weight onto your already wounded shoulders? 

Before he can change his mind, Eduardo guides you to a chair, makes you comfortable and practically pushes him into the chair next to yours before excusing himself and disappearing back into the house. This is the plan that had been decided on before your arrival home. César now has exactly thirty minutes to confess this new found realization to you and see how you react. It’s quite possible that you don’t even feel anything other than friendship towards him. This could all be in his head, a complete misunderstanding-

“César?” 

His head snaps up and over to you. “Yes?” 

“Are you alright?” 

He smiles nervously. “I should be asking you that.” 

You start to lean back against the wicker chair but then change your mind, leaning into the side of it. “I really appreciate you and Vice Minister Sandoval coming to welcome me home.” 

“I told you I would be here.” 

You nod once, almost solemnly, before staring down at your shoes. “How is Ana?” 

He’s a politician and picks up on the unasked question that underlies your actual one. Why is she not here? Why is it Eduardo and not her in your home? He couldn’t ask for a better opening but fear causes him to fumble for his words. “Ana is fine. She is…” 

You sigh heavily. “She’s angry at me. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not you that she's angry with.” It hadn’t been true a few days ago. Ana had been angry, first at him, then at you, and then at him again. But something had changed in the last twenty-four hours. She had come to some sort of acceptance that the situation had been out of her control, out of yours and his control as well. Something had reminded her that no one has the power to choose who they fall in love with. And after a few days of contemplating and re-examining the past, she had come to the conclusion that César had reiterated to her: nothing had actually happened between you and him. That knowledge had opened up the door for the discussion of how to move forward. 

You groan softly and drop your head into your hand. “Oh God. I am so sorry-” 

“No, you do not apologize for anything.” He reaches over and pulls your hand away from your face, keeping a tight grip on your fingers. “Ana is…mostly past the anger stage now.” 

Your eyes are laser focused on your entwined hands. “And you? Are you angry at me?” 

At first he thinks you’re making a joke but he sees the serious set to your jaw, the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. “Why would I be angry at you?” He takes a deep breath. “I love you.” 

“You’re making fun of me.” You stand up and try to pull your hand away from him but he stands too and he holds firm. 

“Why would I do that?” He pulls you closer to him, cupping the side of your face and using his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. “Why would I risk showing up to your home just to poke fun at you? When have you known me to be capable of such a thing?”  

When you finally look at him, your eyes are so full of cautious hope it makes his heart physically hurt in his chest. “You really do…you really do love me?” 

“I do.” 

“This isn’t just some pain pill induced dream I’m having?” 

“No, this is very real.” 

“Maybe I died in the explosion.” 

“You are very much alive.” 

For the briefest of moments, you smile with such an amount of joy it’s almost blinding but worry quickly takes over your countenance. “Wait, what does this mean? You’re married. You're the president of the entire country. We can’t…” Defeat comes back over you. “We can’t.” 

He runs his fingers over the ridge of your cheekbones, the curve of your jaw, the line of your nose and you don’t shy away from him. If anything, you lean slightly into his touch. All of this new territory to learn that is now available to him. But you’ve made a good point, a point that Ana made as well when she finally discussed the outcome of the situation with him. “No, we can’t. Not yet, anyway.” 

“But what about Ana?” 

You’re swaying on your feet, still tired from the healing process, so he maneuvers you back into your chair. He drags the other chair closer to you so he can still keep hold of your hand. These quiet, private moments are going to be few and very far between so he wants to make the most of it. He tries to recap the hours-long conversation he and Ana had the previous night into the bare necessities. “Ana wants to be, is very good at being, a politician’s wife. And once my term is over, I don’t want to be a politician anymore. She’s looking into going back to the United States to get a degree in political science, maybe become a politician herself. But no matter what she decides to do, our paths are going to diverge from each other in three years.” 

“And what do you want to be?” 

Had you asked him that a few days ago, he wouldn’t have an answer. Now he does. “At peace.” He motions to the plants that surround you both. “And I find peace here, with you. I’ve always been able to breathe when I’m around you. Whenever I feel the need to find my center in the chaos, this is where I want to come.”

“Plants have that effect on you.” 

“You have that effect on me.”  

You duck your head, trying to hide the pleased smile that crosses your face. “I always feel like I’m home when you’re around, like I finally belong in whatever space I find myself in, as long as you’re there.” You squeeze his hand.  “I do love you too.” 

He doesn’t get his hopes up just yet. The hardest part of the conversation hasn’t been done. “Here’s the issue we face right now though. The media, the news, anyone who is looking to discredit my presidency, will not hesitate to drag you into the spotlight. They won’t care if what they’re reporting is right or wrong. We can’t do anything, be seen together, until my term is over in three years.” 

You nod in agreement. “Three years. Okay.” 

You agree to it so quickly, he feels the need to make sure you understand the situation. “You can wait three years? For me? For this to be over?” 

You smile knowingly at him. “I've been waiting for you for four years without any hope of you even noticing me. I think I can wait for three years with hope now.”

[ellemany]

Stressed Out - Chapter VI

<<&lt; Index

<<< Last Chapter

Sound Waves

Recommended Music: Die for You - The Weeknd

Sound is the propagation of an acoustic mechanical wave, whose perception is received by human beings who give them meaning.

The Reyna and Fade bodies emit sounds whose meaning does not please the Viper body. However, they are the ones she needs to hear.

Reyna looked Viper from top to bottom, outraged by the daring of that snake. Fade made a beak, looking at them both curiously.

- What's wrong with you? - Reyna put her hands on her hips, looking Viper with an eyebrow raised. - We've always talked to him like that.

- Only I can talk to him like that.

The rough phrase floated between them, weighing on the environment. Viper thought about how many meanings it had. She was possessive. She didn't want anyone to hurt Chamber with words, but... Was it fair for her to hurt him? She may have hurt him that day... She wanted so much to make him feel bad about the way he talked to her... However, when their eyes met in the infirmary and she noticed how much pain he felt... She hated to see him suffer. And everything got worse when she realized she could be the cause of his pain.

Viper was sorry for a lot of stuff. It was a bitter feeling.

- Okay. Say it. What's going on between you two? - Reyna gestured to Viper, getting into the elevator when its doors opened.

-Nothing. - It was an answer too short for the amount of stuff that was going on between them.

- It's not nothing!

- They had a fight. - Fade concluded and Viper turned to her, wondering how she knew about this information. Was it that obvious? - You've been avoiding each other. And we're not blind like your boyfriend so we don't see how you've been looking at each other lately.

- What I told her, it goes for you too. - Viper narrowed her eyes to Fade, who raised her hands as a sign of surrender.

- Viper, I can feel the grief between you. - Fade looked at Reyna, gesturing for her. - Aren’t their hearts heavy?

Reyna wandered her eyes from Fade to Viper, until she nodded at last.

- It's not... Beating as it should...

Viper closed her eyes, wanting to get away from it. She was really feeling a chronic chest squeeze for a while. Exactly speaking, four days. Among so many people Viper could call something close to friends, he had two sensitive ones. It was everything that a reserved person like Viper least desired.

- Viper, you can count on us.

The noise of the elevator doors opening almost drowned out Fade's soft words. Viper felt bad, thinking she wanted the sweet phrase to come out of someone else's mouth at that moment. She took a deep breath again, as if taking the courage to get out of there.

-Let's go. - She repeated it, more to herself than to the girls.

Reyna and Fade got out of the elevator with Viper, following her to her apartment. Viper was a magnet for annoying people.

- If you want, I can take care of him. You know. In the old-fashioned way. - Reyna tried to play, giving a smile.

-No. - Viper soothed Reyna with her eyes. Because if there was someone who was going to murder Chamber, that someone was exclusively her.

- It has to do with riso...

- Can you stop? You never shut up! - Viper complained, opening the door to her apartment and entering.

- It has to do with... Rice. - Fade completed, entering Viper's apartment with Reyna. - Did they eat spoiled food?

- You don't help at all. - Viper mumbled.

Viper threw herself on her couch, hugging a pillow. Reyna sat next to her, giving a safe distance from that natural predator, just enough to still be close. Fade went to the terrarium of Viper's snake, looking curiously.

- Where's Caladium? - Fade asked, looking for the emerald snake.

- She’s hiding… - Viper sighed, staring at the terrarium. - She hasn't been around in four days.

Viper moved uncomfortably on the couch. Caladium took a long time to trust Viper but fell in love with Chamber in the first mouse he gave her. Viper thought he spoiled that reptile too much, but she couldn't deny that she thought it was cute how Chamber got along with an animal that others tended to hate. Viper wondered if Caladium missed Chamber too.

- She must be stressed. - Fade commented, causing Viper to roll her eyes for her attest to the obvious. - Like you... - The Turkish agent turned to the other. - Animals feel it, you know?

Viper frowned, wondering how Fade had the ability to read her thoughts. She felt Reyna's penetrating look upon herself, knowing that she was literally able to decipher the beats of her heart.

They were very, very annoying.

- Let's see something. - Viper took control of the TV, changing channels without actually paying attention to what was going on there.

Reyna popped her tongue, looking at Viper with disapproval.

- I told you he was going to destroy you. Look how you're now! Sad because of a male. How degrading.

Viper squeezed the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. She felt really embarrassed by her feelings. She wish she could rip the heart out of her chest to stop suffering because of him. She'd take her brain out to stop thinking about him.

- If you're going to keep making me feel worse, why don't you just leave? It's not helping at all. - Viper spoke between teeth.

- What Rey means… - Fade intervened with a soft voice, moving away from the terrarium. - It's just that you don't have to be like this. - She leaned on the back of the couch, looking at Viper. - Come on, help us to help you to find a solution.

Viper bit the inside of her cheek, looking at the TV in a reality show.

- Let's see it. - She sighed, wanting to get out of that matter.

Fade nodded and jumped off the couch, sitting among them. Chamber hated when she did that; said it'd ruin the couch. He could have a certain amount of pleading with her friends, and they could have a certain amount of pleading with him. However, their coexistence was almost peaceful. Chamber enjoyed challenges and Fade and Reyna always found a new recipe for him to make or play a humanly impossible sonata, just to try to push him away a little from Viper and they could enjoy their friend. Viper looked Fade at a glance, wondering if that day, under other conditions, she would make Chamber cook or play the piano.

Viper rested her hand on her head, thinking sadly about how everything and everyone reminded her of him.

- I told you… - Reyna spoke, convinced. - They both have red flags too strong to ignore...

- Where am I a red flag? Viper leaned forward, looking at Reyna angrily. - You're a red flag!

Reyna gave a slow smile, supporting her chin in her hand.

- Dear Viper, you're toxic. Admit it.

- I'm not toxic! - Viper defended herself. - You're throwing in my face how bad I am or a shame, but you're the one who's being a scum. Always thinking better than everyone else, as if the world were yours! Oh, you can see Reyna. You're a fucking spoiled child who tantrums for everything! And I'm not even going to comment on your outbreaks.

Reyna wet her lips, her purple eyes glowing bright. However, she gestured to Viper, as if to show that he was right.

-Ser? That's your red flag. You love pointing. You did this to Sage in the infirmary and you must have done the same to Chamber. - Reyna turned to Fade, scratching behind her ear. - You bet how much he's been off?

- It wasn’t… - Viper had the answer rolling in her tongue, ready to be uttered. But, she remembered Chamber's words the other day. Almost identical to Reyna's. If Viper was a flower, it would have wilted there. She took a deep breath, regaining control. She couldn't be that horrible. - Ok. Since you want to know so much, gossipers. - Viper fulminated the two with her gaze, squeezing the cushion in her arms. - I wanted to surprise him. He didn't like it and freaked out on me. Who's the fucking red flag now?

- BothOUCH! - Fade elbowed Reyna, preventing her from finishing the sentence.

- Did he apologize?

Viper felt her heart sink. She had fantasized several times about Chamber's apology. With flowers or caramels. At her door or in the lab. But the fantasy hadn't become real and it hurt more than the poison that eroded her hand.

Reyna and Fade looked at each other, understanding Viper's silence.

- What an asshole. - Reyna made a grimace. - Why do you still insist on that spoiled guy?

- Don't talk about him like that! - Viper threw a cushion at Reyna, almost hitting Fade.

Fade touched Viper's shoulder, drawing her attention.

- Viper, you clearly miss him. You'd be willing to murder us for him.

- And we're your friends! - Reyna completed by throwing the cushion back at her.

Viper shook her head, kind of agreeing with the two of them.

- Why don't you talk to him?

- Because he's an idiot who yelled at me and told me that I make everyone feel bad. - Viper took another pillow, hugging her.

- You literally just tried to do this to me. - Reyna raised her eyebrows, watching the TV.

- It's not like you don't deserve it. Come on. Which side are you on? - Viper looked at them both with indignation, snorting.

- I’m trying to be on your side… - Fade mumbled and took a deep breath, like she was tired of the therapy session.

- I would never take that disgusting rich boy's side. - Reyna wrinkled her nose, looking at Viper next. - Do you expect so little from me?

- I usually expect the worst from you. - Viper rolled her eyes. - At least he supports me, you know? Unlike you, he... Helps... - Viper lowered her tune, thinking Chamber was her most faithful lab mate. Always willing to assist her in every experiment she needed. He would never deny helping her make food for him. Maybe that mess wouldn't happen if she just talked to him and didn't want to do it all by herself.

Viper sighed in a way that would make her vomit if anyone else did it, feeling many regrets and sorrows at the same time. Damn, when was the last time she felt so much? The emptiness she felt before Chamber came into her life seemed very attractive during that emotional whirlwind.

- I'm going to throw. - Reyna pressed her lips, making a grimace of disgust.

Fade nodded slowly, turning to the TV.

- Viper, Chamber is crazy about you. And we have to deal with you in love with him.

- You've made me couplephobic besides misandrist. - Reyna commented, making Fade agree with her.

Viper narrowed her eyes to Fade, waiting for her to finish speaking to have a fair reason to attack her.

- If you haven't noticed, the only thing that's between you and Chamber is yourselves.

Viper really wasn't waiting for this. She sank on the couch, thinking about how wrong the two of them were.

-Wow! - Reyna looked at Fade, giving a slight smile. - Did you make that now?

Fade nodded, smiling.

- Ouh, I'm rooting for the pink hair girl! - Fade pointed to the TV, beginning to talk about the reality show with Reyna while Viper was miserable in her corner, feeling an inexplicable longing for her boyfriend and thinking that she had a bad or a very good taste for friends.

>>> Next Chapter

[imperium-wealth-management]

The ONLY 3 Times Darth Vader & Palpatine Fought - Star Wars Explained

So before Europe and Ursula came down from Europa there was already a pre-arranged agreement of using my cement to get the repopulation going for Europeans and some of Canadians and Americans I guess predominant 1% families

They had kids they washed it out they even pulled my DNA including my kids all the way down as far as down possible and started concaving inside my body and then I have to ask for help from God saying this is your heavenly man that you asked me to do I volunteered so replenish my DNA and then it's transferred my DNA to other people's DNA similarity and using that as a offset and then traveling through to nearby bodies and implementing new DNA sets within.

After they got this information they started killing around the people causing this scene of oh yeah I'm only at 85% could you heal me or do something and then I always back for whatever right because they're all being controlled and forced anyways.

So they take over their money they took over there bodies eventually by cutting the heads off and then wrapping it into a machine body and putting a plastic face over it and then drawing in every aspect of their personal desires or any kind of a personal relationship with me.

The reason Las Vegas gaming commission is key is because zeta and 1947 and prior to that agreement of coming here and having this discussion can we land here and then coexist?

We can't coexist other than the ones that are already here causing this five into 500 year Gap asking for housing from people

Until those demands get removed and the people asking for money to fund these housing activities they're homeless they're literally soulless bodyless zombies asking in a robot body for me to go back to my old self which they already have done because all the clones of celebrities and anybody else are actual clones of actual themselves so they can get out of Dodge and be protected.

They're using two the second clone to merge with other chemicals and other substances and other specimens and to try to make and replace the original one and then doing that going after their families and connecting them at a cousin level and then eventually flooding it with all this extra activities of flying over trying to do people in trying to overcross their internet connection to say you got this information and using radio frequency to fog them and then get compliant with that conversation so don't have any conversations with them unless you know exactly what you're doing.

So that's kind of digestive it they want to have more sex so they killed each other and then they killed Mexicans and then they went after blacks and then only redheads were remaining because I never selected redheads other than the select few because their genomics is so close to Koreans.

So we're still at that 5,000 year period and we have that 500 year Gap so all that 5,000 year history of whatever needs to happen of evolution of using different animals having sex with them for caladiums and then to see which genomics would fit into Korean human body and that was what how long it took 5,000 years.

That if we can use that time to funnel every other alien send that are not on staff of whatever they're doing then we can be used as a positive thing and then absorb the 500 years by using cancer protocol.

Surrounded and extracted. Data and physical chips only.

[noplansl]

DISORDERLY. : Monstera Summer / @Farmer's Market Panel / White Dome / Gold Tray / Gold Frame / Gold Side Table / White

DISORDERLY. : Neutral Comfort / Chair Chair w/Pillow Coffee Table Side Table Table Lamp Cotton Vase Candle Holder Rug

DISORDERLY. : Modern Comfort / Curved Vase Decor Vase Nesting Tables

DISORDERLY. : Breakfast Order / Muffins Pancakes Smoothie Bowl French Toast

DISORDERLY. : Summer Comfort / Anchor

MH : Cocoa - Salted Caramel MH : Cocoa - Cinnamon ReKa. : Magazines Stack Group Gift

Soy. : Plasterboard Wall Shelf Soy. : Shag Shag Stool [Cream] hive : pink caladium plant {wn} : Fiddle Leaf Plant (basket) DaD : "Venetian Blinds A-1" c/m

AB + Pitaya : Cozy Greenhouse . Sideboard (closed) Apple Fall : Lush Palm Arrangement dust bunny : pink medinilla plant dust bunny : pilea peper plant

:HAIKEI: : Boring day gacha {2} {vespertine} : incense clutter / cat Apple Fall : Clay Cat - Jour Apple Fall : Books - Arrangement 3, 7, 14 Pitaya : Wild relics - Chest (plain) dust bunny : potted rubber tree Nutmeg. : Rustic Table

dust bunny : areca palm plant dust bunny : potted sago palm hive : kentia palm plant

Scarlet Creative : Zanzibar Hideaway

[simiansmoke]

✨ !!

Send ✨ to see one of my muse's memories.

The spot was secluded enough. Tucked into the heart of the Jungle Kingdom's borders, the clearing was comfortable enough with the sound of the river rushing and drowning out any pesky, lingering thoughts like how his Dad had hit him with another one of those disappointed glowers when Diddy mistakenly asked him a little too close to the King if they were going to jam out later and chill with Funky.

Music wasn't really Dad's thing...or at least, he liked it OK enough. Just not when his son was involved. A future king was a warrior after all, and all the pleasantries of a well-rounded individuals were better pushed off on the mate.

The clearing was just a simple circle of plodded earth lined in caladiums. A lonely log sat in the middle, overgrown with some fungi. It was an OK place to jam or just chill and smoke. At least it was far away enough to not to disturb or alert his dad, but with Diddy's admission causing irritation, he figured this place would have to be abandoned like all the others. Dad would just find some new activity or quest to fill his time with, and with that in mind, the place seemed like a shell of its former self already.

He wasn't sure how he ended up in the river. Everything bled together- but there was a moment where he'd padded over to the edge of the sandbank to observe the water's flow and soak in the white noise. Numbing - relaxing...this was the kind of place someone could forget everything and just be for a minute. The ground wasn't stable. He'd went in and under quite easily with the strength of the water shooting him down stream.

Frantic flailing didn't stop the water from forcing its way into his lungs, nor the speed of the current spinning him around until he was a dizzy, half puking mess just trying to keep his head bobbing on the surface. "Huh-hel-..." He fought with the fluid element, all his kicking and thrashing doing little for him. All that training...and here he was still struggling. No one was coming, were they? He'd stormed off on his own, and so he'd had to weather the storm alone. But he wasn't sure he could stand it.

The rock hits him square in the chest, and his limbs wrap around the object quickly. Saved? By a chance of fate, maybe. Scrabbling up onto the slick river rock, he glanced around wild-eyed, panting and trembling as water drops fell from his matted fur. It would be a slippery walk across the rock and the following bridge of them leading to shore, but he was on the path to staying alive again. Lonely as it was.

[sohandevelopersbangalore]

Best Luxury Apartments near Hebbal |Sohan Exotica by Sohan Developers

At Sohan Exotica by Sohan Developers the sublime luxury Luxury Apartments near Hebbal that greets you on arrival prevails throughout the property. The smooth curves of the building derive inspiration from a droplet of water – the source of life. Set amidst exquisite landscaping the Caladium is the definitive answer to a lifestyle quest. 4.2 acres of prime property comprising 225 beautiful modern and robust homes. Built by one of the finest developers of the city. Located in Apartments in Sahakara Nagar near Hebbal, where every civic amenity that a family needs is in close proximity, Sohan Exotica is indeed an abode of joyful living.

3 BHK Flats in Sahakar Nagar, Sohan Exotica, where the luxury of space, the comfort of abundant amenities, the serenity of green environs, and mental calm of security are the main features of your dynamic lifestyle.

Well-connected to the City, Sohan Exotica is a premium living space with easy accessibility to the airport, international schools, fine hotels, premium healthcare, shopping destinations, and more.

For more information: 

Phone: +918884456808

Website: https://www.sohandevelopers.com/

Email: info@sohandevelopers.com

Project Location: Rajiv Gandhi Nagar Road, Sahakar Nagar, Kodigehalli, Bengaluru 

560065

[lizzy-calaxio]

Lounging on the beach, parasol shading her eyes, Brilliant Caladium sighs in contentment.

The wind is refreshing and the tides soothing as the Roegadyn stretches out in the new bikini her wife purchased for her, closing her eyes to allow herself to relax.

Letting her thoughts wander, she stops paying attention to her immediate surroundings for a time - only to be wrenched back by a choked gasp she is all too familiar with.

Cracking one eye open, she smirks at the sight of her wife, hero, Warrior of Light, famous and infamous figure across three continents and two stars - staring at her abs and literally drooling.

"Hi, there, Lizzy~"

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 🤤🥰😍

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

Double Solo Para: Checkmate (Caladium/Marella)

Cal sighs, leaning back against his headboard a moment, not closing his eyes.

He had to do this.

Though the others were going to kill him if they figured it out.

He had to do this.

Shifting, he lays down properly, closing his eyes and letting himself finally crash out.

It’s like his room painted in a total grayscale. Even down to the chessboard that had quietly appeared under the window that none of his siblings had paid any mind to, where Marella is seated now. She’s about the only thing in color, well, her and him.

Cal walks over and joins her, looking at the game but not really processing the state it’s in. It isn’t clear yet which one of them is winning anyways. He looks back at her.

He tries not to be taken aback by the appearance of her eyes, the slits they’re in, inhuman. She’s not human, he has to remember.

“No matter how much I like to act the part.”

Ah yes, dreams. She knew everything in his head. Unfortunately.

“Aw, I don’t pry that much,” Marella leans forward, nodding to him and the board. “It’s your move, rat.”

Cal sighs and shakes his head, his hands moving but not at all paying attention to the game. “I’ve tried, I’m still trying, to be patient with this whole amnesia thing. I know it’s going to take time, I know it’s going to be hard.”

“You told me I can’t help with that,” Marella frowns, taking her turn. “You’re not playing right.”

“Ash-- Cora-- I’ll get there, it’s Cora now, for now, Yarrow says. I don’t care that it’s temporary, that he thinks she’ll be fine and she’ll figure it out-- something about that just killed something in me.”

“Yeah, I can see that for sure,” Marella nods slowly, meeting his eyes a moment. “It’s all over in here. Real disarray. I had to use this, believe me I’d have chosen something more fun if your head was in any state for it.”

“I have to keep them safe. From everything. Everything. Themselves, others... you.”

“Now that’s gonna have a hefty price. More than what we’ve already talked about.”

He nods. “I expected that. But if I’m protecting them from everything, then you above all else have to be on the list.” He cocks his head as he looks at her. “Surely you don’t blame me.”

“Not at all, rat,” Marella grins. “My price is my own protection. Even if you don’t physically participate in a double cross, if I’m double crossed in any way, if I’m erased like my dad was, you’ll end up in your sister’s shoes. You wipe me from someone’s head, your head gets wiped.”

“I’d assume this is on top of everything else we’ve discussed.”

“I’m certainly not in the business of losing what I want when it’s walking into my grasp.”

Cal sighs.

Working for her. Not being able to tell anyone, anyone, not even his family, about the deal at all. Helping her with her own Weirdmageddon.

And now, if she gets erased, he forgets everything.

“I think I can accept that. You have a deal.”

“Checkmate.”

He’d forgotten they were playing.

Marella’s grin is unnerving. But she holds her hand out across their game, pink flames encircling it and up her wrist. “Shake on it, Caladium.”

Gods, what has he done? Cal reaches up and shakes her hand.

[lizacharlesworth1]

Rain on a Caladium, NYC by Liza Charlesworth

[wrymbloods]

♡ - unusual oc associations

i was tagged by @celticwoman​ to fill this out for some of my ocs, thank you so much !!!

tagging: @avallachs​, @arklay​, @aartyom​, @aelyosos​, @brujah​, @shadowglens​, @noonfaerie​, @morvaris​, @montliyets​, @steelport​, @nokstella​, @mendev​ & anyone else who would like to do this! - ♡

seasoning: cinnamon, nutmeg

weather: warm and pleasant

color(s):

sky: white puffy clouds, pink sunrises

magical power: invisibility

house plant: pink splash caladium

weapon: n/a

subject: art, english

social media: instagram

makeup product: concealer, blush, lipstick

candy: chocolate hearts, pink clouds

fear: being abandoned, being misunderstood, making others angry

ice cube shape: heart, strawberry

method of long distance travel: train

art style: painted landscapes, realism

mythological creature: fairy, mermaid

piece of stationary: notepad, pencils, washi tape

three emojis: 🥰💗🌸

celestial body: neptune

seasoning: black pepper, rosemary

weather: foggy, muggy

color(s):

sky: dark skys, dark pink and blue sunsets

magical power: animal morphing

house plant: devil’s ivy

weapon: spears, staves

subject: history, agriculture

social media: n/a

makeup product: eyeliner, eyeshadow

candy: mints, sugared almonds

fear: vulnerability, getting close to others

ice cube shape: stars, flowers

method of long distance travel: n/a

art style: scratchy sketches

mythological creature: wood nymph

piece of stationary: erasers, sticky notes

three emojis: 🌑🌲🐻

celestial body: mars

[irwintry]

the air before a storm

Warnings: just a bunch of good old fluff, swearing, alcohol

Author’s Note: yes this takes place in the outer banks no u are not allowed to mention the show—they are nothing alike. anyway i’m back :) hi

Summary: Y/N and Luke are neighbors in a beachside town where tourists are annoying and tropical storms aren’t rare. And they just can’t stop flirting. 

Word Count: 5.6k 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pelican Perch was a dead-end street.

It was well-wooded, wax myrtles and river birch kissing sandy chunks of pavement while homes too small for the average nuclear family were nestled behind thick, invasive vines. Quaint homes designed to keep the rain and the bugs out. Local homes. Each had their own shimmering windsock hung out front that was already tattered from storms, gifted to them by the neighborhood community last spring. Personalized homes. Beach homes that shared every aspect without even trying. Almost every shingle had been defaced by weather damage throughout the years. And the air always smelled of hot gravel and honeysuckle on breezy days. Homes on this road were loved.

You loved yours most of all.

With a front porch stuffed full of plants—ferns, strawberries, tomatoes, the lot—and knick-knacks you had collected throughout the past year, it was easy to love and call home to something that had once been temporary. The baby blue bike perched against a yaupon bush was proudly your preferred mode of transportation. Snuck far up the driveway sat a rusting 2005 Toyota Corolla with sand painted across its rear, and it was not well-loved, though it had been well-lived. The windsock hung off of your porch matched the color of your bike.

The last house on the street never put their windsock up. That house was right beside yours.

He had been there longer than you—you weren’t entirely sure how long, but your arrival prior to last season was greeted with his kind smile. A kind smile, gentle words, and eyes that melted into the ocean, far beyond the whitecaps where the sky touched the sea. All of that beauty, and you never caught his name.

For months on end, you watched him when he wasn’t looking. He left for work during your kitchen stumble for cold brew, nothing but a plain white tee and mesh shorts as he climbed into his jeep, sunkissed and sleepy. Minutes later, you would bike to work and find his Jeep along the way. He worked at the Island Rescue Squad, a small building that held more responsibility than being a simple motel receptionist. He paid his bills by saving lives; you paid yours by telling guests that they couldn’t swim naked in the swimming pool.

You didn’t know him beyond the sights through your kitchen window. But the evenings you crossed paths were treasured.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he’d ask, a nonchalant smile gracing his cheeks before darting his gaze the other way.

After some time, you found enough confidence to reply, “Not bad—you?” as you knocked out the kickstand on your bike.

He was always in the middle of hoisting a backpack over his shoulder. And then he would shrug, smile never fading, and say, “Not bad,” right back. That would be it.

You knew that his blond curls were your favorite thing before you even knew his name. But you also knew, in good faith, that the latter half was going to change.

That was why you should at his door late in the evening in July, a saran-wrapped plateful of coconut macaroons in your hands while your eyes scanned the details of his front porch. A white surfboard beside the front door had experienced its fair share of weather discoloration on the tail. At the end of the deck, withered plants were lined up along a wooden shoe bench. The doormat beneath your feet had nylon paw prints stitched in beside the welcome lettering. When you knocked on the door, a heart-stopping voice called out, “Just a minute!”

You tucked your ankles inward as his face appeared behind the screen. His smile was bold and bright, and from up close, you could hardly breathe.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked in his normal fashion, opening up the screen door so he could step outside with you. His gaze fell to the plate of macaroons while he leaned up against the door. “You’re kidding—did you make those for me?”

Six more words than the usual conversation; you were off to a successful start.

“Yes,” you said, fingers brushing his beneath the ceramic plate when you passed it over to him. “I had to figure out a good way to come over here and formally introduce myself. A whole year later. Better late than never, I guess.”

He smiled along to your words and nodded. “These look so good. Thank you.” He held out one of his hands for you to shake.

His name was Luke. He was only a few years out of school. Taller than any man you knew and flirtatious with his grin, and he kept his eyes locked on you as you spoke. He shared information through little words yet maintained a steady conversation. Talking to old friends was harder than this.

It was difficult to stomach—the way his quiet chuckles and wide smiles were decidedly the best things in the world and how your heart was a concrete block in your chest. It occurred to you, after waving goodnight on your way down the porch steps, that his smile never died. But you pinned it all on his kind heart over anything else.

Life between the two of you felt cyclical. Until one morning he caught you on your way to work.

“I’m gonna be up in Manteo,” he began, tossing a duffle into the backseat of his Jeep with a quiet grunt. “Just a few days. Some ridiculously boring conference that could probably be summed up in a Skype or whatever. Better than leading rope rescue trainings again though.”

Your lips pulled down into a playful frown. “You’re leaving me?”

Luke’s responsive laughter was a good start to your morning. “I’m sorry. Promise I’ll be back. They’ve got us all in some four-star inn. Free wifi and breakfast.”

“Oh, look at you. Living like a king.”

“Right? I’m tired of paying for my own Cheerios.”

It was nice to have someone to talk to, you thought, but you knew you were searching for more than a friend in him. Your heart was warm under his company. You didn’t know how, but it felt easy with him.

“Would you be able to do me a favor?” he asked as he leaned against his car. He kept his distance, his driveway to yours while the patch of dry grass between you watched with intrigue.

“Anything but mowing the lawn, yes.”

Luke cracked a grin. “I’m not that mean. No. Could you—uh, could you water a few plants for me out front? Just once or twice. I’d pay you back in macaroons, but I’m a shit baker.”

“No worries,” you said and situated your bike against your thigh. “I’ll water your plants. But that just means you’ll have to make up for the macaroons somehow. I’ll let you think on it.” You started off down the driveway before he could answer.

“Hold me to that!” he called after you. You sent him a smile in response and sped off toward the main road.

Later that evening, you found that Luke had left a note beside each potted plant on the shoe bench. Betty – allow to dry between waterings next to the Begonia, Calum – keep moist for the Caladium, Tom – water twice a day for the newly planted tomato plant, and Babe – water sparingly for Basil. Each note was signed with a smile and a heart.

—

The next time you heard from Luke, he wasn’t alone. Four days plus a hankering for human interaction—aside from tourists that asked for restaurant suggestions every hour—had left you craving a different kind of intimacy. An intimacy that didn’t require physical touch but was only fulfilled through his presence. Just knowing that he was next door comforted you in ways you couldn’t explain. You didn’t know him, but you knew that he was someone you could rely on.

You heard his car door slam before anything else. Through the window of your kitchen sink, you peeked out into the darkening night, searching for his lanky figure only to find a small animal instead. A dog. You forgot that you had been staring when Luke came into view. His wave tore you from your gaze.

You cracked the window open before you could hesitate. The overwhelming buzzes and clicks of cicadas were immediate to greet you.

“Are you gonna introduce me?” you called out to him, grinning wide as you pressed your elbows down onto the window sill. With the edge of the sink digging into your abdomen, the position was less than comfortable, but you didn’t think about it.

Through the waxing darkness, Luke’s smile was bright. “Only if you come give her a head scratch—then she’ll fall right in love with you,” he said.

You were outside within a few seconds. The side screen door slammed behind you as you hurried over, knees meeting the rough grass so the lovely lady could easily bound over to you. She nestled her nose into your palm and let out a snort. Above you, Luke chuckled at the sound.

“Name’s Petunia,” he said, bending down beside you to pet Petunia’s bum. “A friend of mine is moving ‘cross country—couldn’t keep her. I love the damn girl, so I immediately wanted to take her in. How’re the plants doing?”

“She’s the sweetest,” you mumbled. To him, to yourself—it didn’t matter. You were captivated. “And Betty, Calum, Tom, and Babe are great. The names, by the way? Genius. You have a talent. I’ll have to get you to name my plants. So far, I just have Candace and Big Mama.”

“Big Mama?” Luke’s short giggles filled the air. “I think you’ve got the talent, too.”

Petunia leaned into your scratches before turning back to Luke. So, you stood, brushing sandy dirt from your knees, and Luke soon followed.

“If you ever need someone to take care of her,” you said, “I’m always around. And I won’t make you bake anything. I’m a big dog person, so that’s already enough. I mean, I’m not opposed to a few cupcakes every now and then.”

A lopsided smile grew on Luke’s cheeks. “Red velvet?”

“It’s like you already know me,” you gasped out. “How was Manteo? That’s where you were, right?”

“Well, nothing beats free Cheerios in the mornings, so it wasn’t too bad,” he told you as he wrapped Petunia’s leash around his wrist. She nudged herself between his legs. “Manteo actually has a real downtown, so that was kinda nice.”

“You better not be thinking about leaving me.”

“Leave you? Never.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

“Besides, tourists down here are the reason any of us even have a job.” He scratched the corner of his eye as he spoke. “I’d rather not be saving drunk middle-aged men from rip currents, but I’d never leave Hatteras.”

The corners of your lips twitched upward. “Good, cos’ if you leave,” you said, pointing to your other neighbor’s house, “then I’m stuck with Judy and Ted. You can’t do that to me.”

“Oh, God, no.” His eyes widened as he shook his head. “I’d never do that to you. Or I’d just make you come with me.”

Now, your heart was on fire. You raised a brow in reaction to his statement, and his eyes widened again. The words had slipped out—that was easy to understand, but he couldn’t take them back. You wouldn’t want him to.

“Um, yeah—” Luke placed a hand on the back of his neck and backed away toward his home, Petunia following in tow. “Thanks for watering my plants. Expect cupcakes soon.”

“Don’t you dare.”

His grin reached his eyes. “Goodnight,” he said.

You were certain that you were a fool.

—

NC-12 was worse on Saturdays. The highway was congested with incoming and outgoing travelers, some careless and some too careful. On the way to work, you were among its passengers. Your baby blue bike was swallowed up whole by the minivans and SUVs that occupied the road. Somehow, you made it out alive every time. All it took was a spontaneous sharp turn from a truck to send you rolling onto the pavement.

It was a miracle you ended up with a dozen scrapes and a sprained wrist. The medical bill wasn’t worth missing a few days off of your paycheck, no matter how horrible the weekends could be. A few members of the rescue squad had shown up at the scene of the minor accident—you were glad that Luke hadn’t been with them. But you also wished that he had.

When you powered through the pain as you pedaled home, you weren’t sure if you wanted to see him. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see his reaction—mild injuries and all, and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to buy out all of the cupcakes on the island to make you feel better. Nevertheless, you didn’t have a choice. He was already getting out of his car once you pulled up.

He waved and smiled, and then his eyes grew wide. The scrape on your left cheek told all.

“Shit, love, you okay?” he said, walking towards you slowly. He kept his movements careful and calculated—he had seen the tears fill your eyes before you realized they were there.

“I’m dandy,” you replied breathily, waving your hand to shake off the emotions. The faux smile you put on only faltered, and the skin beneath your eyes stung.

Luke looked horrified. You could see the twitch in his hands, the way he almost reached out for you as he approached, but he held back. And you could see it in his eyes—all he wanted to do was make you feel better.

“You don’t happen to have any cupcakes, do you?” you asked with a sniff. Your smile wavered, and a small tear slipped down your cheek.

When he chose not to hold back—when he chose to pull you in close, then you decided not to hold back either. With his arms circled around your waist, you didn’t care about soaking through his t-shirt with your tears. You didn’t care that your breathing had picked up to near hyperventilation. You felt safe and warm, so you couldn’t care.

The hug lasted until your quiet sobs calmed. Luke’s chin pulled away from the top of your head as you wiped your cheeks with the back of your wrists.

“What happened?” he said, voice soft.

“Dumb vacationers—” Sniff. “—can’t use a fuckin’ turn signal.”

Luke let out a quiet sigh.

“I’m fine, I just… hurt.”

He glanced at his home over his shoulder and then back at you. “Would you wanna come over? I don’t have any cupcakes, but I have frozen pizza. And Petunia misses you.”

You could hear the unspoken words in his voice. I miss you.

This was what happened when you finally learned someone’s name.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but his living room looked like him. Light blue, wooden walls with collected posters unevenly nailed onto the panels. An old couch was the centerpiece, tan and woven with Petunia snuggled onto it with a blanket beneath her. Bookshelves full of CDs and vinyl records stood on either side of the room, but they had been untouched for some time. The home smelled like him, as strange as it sounded. Warm, woodsy, and comfortable.

From the couch, you sat up straight once the oven door shut. You counted each smell beep as the timer was set. Luke walked into the living room a moment later.

“You sure you don’t want some Advil or something?” he asked. “Or—I dunno—a beer? Maybe? I don’t have a lot, but—”

“A beer actually sounds good,” you said to him, folding your hands over your lap. “It’s been a bit of a shit day.”

He continued talking to you as he headed back into the kitchen. The home was small enough for any voice to carry, and you were glad he could maintain a conversation. That alone told you how much he cared. Despite how long you had lived on the island—a year and four months—and despite how long it took you to know him, it mattered greatly to you that he cared. You cared about him, too. It would be hard to see such a friendly face every day and think otherwise.

“Where’d they take you to get checked out?” he called to you from the next room over.

“Urgent care in Nags Head.”

“You’re kidding.” The sound of bottles clinking on the counter followed.

“Wish I was.”

Pop tops landed into a quiet clatter as he said, “how long were you there?” He joined you in the living room a few seconds later and handed you a bottle of Corona.

“Six hours.”

“Six hours?”

You nodded, sharing your best laugh before taking a sip of the fizzing liquid. “You better believe it. All for some cuts and a sprained-frickin’-wrist. And I’ll bet you my bill is gonna be chewing me up for the next year.”

Luke furrowed his brows and kept his gaze low. He appeared to be thinking about something else. “Did they call my squad?”

“A few guys showed up, yeah.”

He bit his bottom lip. “Dunno why they didn’t call me. I would’ve just took ya home.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t know that everything he said made your heart race pick up. If your day hadn’t been so long, then your nerves would’ve eaten you alive by now. You were lucky, for the katydid calls outside masked any hint of tension between you.

“Thanks for the drink,” you said, words heavy in your throat. Thinking about your nerves only made them worse. And being around him only made you want him more.

He had called you love earlier; it had to mean something.

Luke’s smile was small, but it said enough. “Anytime.”

Although the pizza was cold in the middle and the taste of your drink had gotten old, what mattered to you was the company. Not the sprained wrist that ached with each movement. Not the tight bandages that tugged at your skin because you shifted a certain way. Nothing about the day mattered because it brought you to this.

His laughter was hypnotic—intoxicating almost—and it took away your breath every time. Making him laugh was addicting. Getting to see those few moments when his eyes light up with joy put shame to the ocean only a mile or two away. You wondered how on earth it had taken so long to know him.

And still, you didn’t know him. Just a name, a face, and a dog named Petunia.

“So, the rescue squad, huh?” you teased at one point as you situated yourself closer to Petunia. You learned that her nickname was Piggy and that, while she was cute, she also had the stinkiest farts—according to Luke. Nevertheless, you pressed your face close to hers and smacked a kiss to her forehead. She rolled over to give you access to her tummy. “What’s it like?”

Luke’s soft smile was etched into his skin. “Fuckin’ stressful,” he answered. “But great. It’s like a family.”

“I can imagine it’s not the prettiest job.”

“No.” He shook his head, and his smile fell. As he spoke, he twirled his bottle on the edge of the coffee table. “It’s not. A lot of tourists just don’t pay attention to the ocean, y’know? We put a million signs out there, and they just think that it will never happen to them. Suddenly you get waves going different directions, and you’re floating out with the current. You never know what’s gonna happen.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened. He took his job seriously; some people didn’t.

“It’s just—uh, s’just terrible to see it,” he continued, keeping his head down low. “When you save someone from the surf, but they’re not breathing… and then their families are there—their fuckin’ families are screaming and crying. They just wanted a fun day on the beach. And you gotta make sure that no one dies. I’m just lucky to not have seen it much.”

“It’s horrifying.”

He hummed. “Yeah. And I don’t like it when people call us heroes. Cos’ we’re not. I’m not. We’re doing our job. We wanna keep people safe. We wanna make sure no one has to go through that. B-but when it comes down to you, and you have someone’s life in your hands—” Tears pricked at his eyes, and he swallowed thickly before continuing. “—how the hell are you not gonna try to save them? People over-glorify hero moments. We’re all just trying to take care of each other so we’re not mentally scarred along the way.”

“I’ve seen it.”

“You have?”

“I used to vacation here as a teen with my family,” you said, “before I officially decided that tourists are the fucking worst. I just wanted to live here and be on my own. And you’re right—about the screaming and crying. The families stand there to break your heart. I bit my tongue until it bled when I saw that jet ski go out on the water. It doesn’t happen every day, so I just never assumed it would happen around me. Didn’t think forty minutes would pass with nonstop chest compressions. Didn’t think anyone would give up either. Maybe ‘hero’ isn’t the word, just ‘good people’.”

Luke’s eyes were glassy, but he smiled through it. His fingers twitched in your direction on the neck of his bottle. “So—” He cleared his throat. “—what do you do?”

“Oh, it’s my turn now?” you said, biting back a smile. “Just you wait until you hear about all of the trauma I get from being a motel receptionist. I’ll have you beat.”

Once again, his laughter filled the room. All you felt was warmth.

The house rocked after then, lights flickering with the gust, but the wind quickly died. You and Luke shared uncertain glances.

“I’m guessing it doesn’t usually do that.”

Luke shook his head. “Not usually.”

An empty bottle of Corona sat between your palms, moisture growing on the surface from how he made you feel. You asked yourself it was normal to feel this way, if it was something more than the sudden admiration of a mysterious neighbor. You liked him, but how much?

You wanted to spend every moment with him to figure it out. But the last thing you wanted was to overstay your welcome.

“Thanks for this, by the way,” you said, ducking your chin. “For the pizza and stuff. Maybe you’re not a bad neighbor after all.”

Luke smirked. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Your knees creaked as you stood, bones still aching from the impact of the pavement. You wondered how many bruises would appear on your body by morning. Luke stood along with you, towering high but keeping his presence small. He had to know how much he affected you.

“Love you, Piggy,” you mumbled to Petunia with a quick scratch behind her ear.

She huffed in response.

Luke laughed. “She said I love you, too.”

“I’m gonna have to learn how to bake doggie treats for her.”

“But then she’s gonna love you more than she loves me.”

You smiled over your shoulder on your way toward the front door. His eyes had already been burning the back of your head. “That’s the goal,” you told him with one hand on the doorknob. “See you tomorrow?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. You swore you could see a hint of pink tint his cheeks. “See you tomorrow.”

—

A tropical storm was set to hit two days later. It became a hurricane overnight. Category 1. Category 2. It finally settled on 3, its path set for the Outer Banks before it was meant to swing up the East Coast. A mandatory evacuation was set in place by the next morning.

The air was thick, trees restless and wind loud as it picked up. The sky was a permanent dark gray, and the clouds looked like something one would see in a disaster movie. It wasn’t your first time dealing with tropical storms and hurricanes, but they never failed to make your heart race. The unpredictability—the fate of your home, your belongings, and so on—always scared you.

You loaded as much as you could into your Corolla. The wind didn’t care about your disheveled hair or how high it blew your shorts. It didn’t care that it was tossing sticks off of trees, down onto the roof of your home. You said a quick goodbye to the shingles while you were at it; a few were bound to end up in Pamlico Sound by the end of the week.

As you shut the car door, another door opened behind you. Luke rushed out of his home with Petunia toddling behind.

“You okay?” he called to you. He had two bags over his shoulders, another in his hands before he tossed them into the back of his Jeep. “Know where you’re headin’?”

“Think so,” you said over the wind. “Can’t wait to pee my pants in traffic. Any of the guard staying?”

Luke nodded as his curls danced around his chin. “They’re gonna be spotted up and down the coast. You stay safe out there, all right?”

“Yeah, you too.”

It wasn’t the preferred way of saying goodbye, but the hot, stale air trapped itself in your lungs. You were ready to greet the clicking air conditioner of your broken car like an old friend, and then one turn of the ignition turned into two, three, four, and many more. The headlights flickered off and on, yet the light never stayed long. You hit the steering wheel with the base of your palms in frustration.

A sudden knock at your passenger side window took all of the frustration away.

Luke opened up the door and said, “come with me.”

That was how you ended up beside him, stuck in two-hour traffic while you thought about the way his lips molded around words. Soft rock played quietly on the radio as you sat without making a sound. But it was comfortable silence. Thankful silence. The air before the storm disguised the thick tension.

Petunia wandered around the back seat, on occasion whining before flopping back down onto her blanket. Every so often, you would lean back and scratch her head, and Luke would smile at you. Unspoken words were better than no words at all.

“Tell me about yourself,” you said after a while. With the Bodie Lighthouse to your left, the ocean to your right, the wasn’t much else to keep you occupied. “Not like, childhood trauma stuff, but basic stuff. Favorite color, favorite food—that stuff.”

Luke had one hand on the wheel, the other pressed against his chin while he leaned on the car door. He faced the road yet had his eyes trained on you. “Well, what if I really wanna open up about my childhood traumas?” he asked playfully.

“Hey, I’m all ears. We’re gonna be stuck in traffic until the mainland.”

He chuckled and rubbed beneath his lips. You didn’t know that such a small action could make your cheeks flush. “Favorite color? Hm. Blue, I guess. Favorite food has gotta be those damn macaroons you made me. They were absolutely delicious, babe.”

Your smile lit up the car.

“If you wanna know everything about me, all you gotta do is check out my mum’s Facebook,” he said. “Liz Hemmings. She posts every photo I send her and talks about my love life when she’s bored.”

“Love life, huh?”

He huffs quietly. “Her profile has been a little dry lately then, I guess.” When his eyes found yours, a small smile grew on his lips. “She’d love you. I’ll have t’let you know when she comes to visit next.”

“Oh man,” you said. “I’m already meeting my neighbor’s mom.”

Luke chuckled. “Uh oh. I didn’t push it too far, did I?”

“Didn’t know we were there yet, s’all. But I’d be happy to meet her.”

He set his hand down on the gear shift. Inches away from yours. “She’d just wonder what the hell you’re doin’ around me. Tell you that you’re too good for me. Stuff like that. I mean, it’s true.”

“Just tell her that I can’t afford to move, so I’m stuck with you.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that.”

“Unfortunately, no. I don’t mean that.”

“Good,” he mumbled, glancing out the window. “Cos’ I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

—

The hurricane made landfall at two in the morning. The hotel walls of the Quality Inn shook and rain pattered hard against the window. The alarm clock beside the bed turned black. From across the room, you could barely hear Luke stir in his own bed. And despite the storm, your heart still tugged at the thought of him there with you.

The wind was the worst thing of all. You thought about your home, the plants you dragged inside, and the windsock you forgot to take down. Maybe Luke would let you borrow his. But all that mattered, in the moment, was the voice calling your name through the pitch-black night. Somehow, it carried over the storm, over the howling wind and the rain coming down in sheets. It pulled your heart right out of your chest.

Your eyes were heavy with sleep as you said, “Luke?

You could hear him turn over in bed, but through the dark, you could only make out the edges of his figure. You hoped he had turned to face you.

“Hey. You okay?” His voice was soft, and you felt the storm slowly slip away.

“Can’t sleep” you answered. “Not a big fan of storms.”

He was barely awake, quiet words of “wanna come over here?” floating in the air-conditioned air. Your own words were stuck in your throat. So you didn’t answer. You rose from your bed instead, feet padding to the opposite side of his bed before crawling under the sheets beside him. His warmth radiated off of him.

Luke’s hand was right beside your hand. You swore you could hear his breaths over the wind. If you were able to see his features so close to yours, you would cease to exist. Your heart had found a comfortable home in your throat.

Fingers wove in between yours, gentle and warm like they were barely there, but they were all you could feel. Rough in the right places. Luke’s hand rested on yours, his pulse beating low and steady.

You knew that words would steal the moment away.

As his fingers traced your skin, the heat in your chest grew. It was normal. It was beautiful. And it was yours. So you held his hand right back.

When his forehead met yours, you knew you were done for. The storm completely faded from your mind. Noses touched and breaths fell into sync, but your heartbeat was loud in your ears. All you could think about was the feeling of his lips brushing yours. You couldn’t remember when your eyes closed. The last thing you felt was Petunia nudging your foot at the end of the bed, and then you fell asleep in Luke’s arms.

The kiss was nothing but a dream.

You were allowed back on the island three days later. Unsaid things invaded your mind on the ride down the coast, but you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to say a word. Luke was busy humming along to every song that came on the radio. That was all you needed to hear.

Pelican Perch road was covered with leaves and natural debris, but the homes were well intact. As the car neared the end of the street, you caught a glimpse of your windsock swaying in the breeze. It was a miracle it hadn’t blown away.

Luke helped you with your bags in silence, a small exchange of smiles and brushing hands to fill in the empty space instead. This wasn’t how you wanted it to be. Yet, you never said anything.

Once the night crept in, you could no longer distract yourself with streaming movies through overused cellular data. The power was still out on the island. Everything in your fridge had gone bad, and your phone was near death by ten o’clock. And the winds, despite the long-gone storm, carried on.

You slipped on a pair of flip-flops—never mind the wet, sandy dirt caked around the edges—and walked over to Luke’s. The bugs were especially loud that night. There were no lights to guide you, no way of knowing where you were stepping, and then something hit you. Someone.

“Jesus,” he muttered, gripping your elbow to balance you.

“Luke?”

“It’s me.”

You set your hand on his arm just to feel him. His hold on you never left. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Well—” His hand slipped down to your wrist as he chuckled. Beautiful. “Comin’ to find you, I guess. You okay?”

“I’ve got a hankering for ice cream, but it’s all melted,” you said. “But I don’t suppose your freezer is working anyway. I just didn’t wanna be alone.”

“Me either, darling.”

“Darling. That’s nice.”

“Yeah?”

“I like it.”

He stepped closer to you, slow hands finding yours.

“Coming to find me, huh?” you asked.

Luke hummed and set his forehead on yours. Now, you didn’t know what to say. You figured it was best to not say anything at all. You leaned into the kiss and allowed his lips to mold against yours. Every moment you were apart was replaced with another kiss, excelling in desperation and satisfying any need through its touch. It was heavenly and full of heat and desire.

He cupped your cheek, pressing himself closer to you as he deepened the kiss one last time. You were breathless and cold without him near.

“I still owe you cupcakes, don’t I?” he asked quietly. You could see his smile through the night.

“At least two dozen by now.”

His chuckle filled your heart with warmth. “Anything for you, love. Would you like to come inside?”

You tightened your grip in his hand. “Gladly.”

—

hey! thanks for reading! since i haven’t been in the game for a while, i’m gonna tag a few ppl, if that’s ok! @goth5sos @irwinkitten @sublimehood​ @softforcal​ @cxddlyash​ @wildflowergrae​ hi y’all <3 

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

storystartsanew​:

Hemlock nods and shrinks back against the wall. She doesn’t know how to help. She doesn’t know that Ash even wants her help.

Loriss can’t help but snort. “You have five. That’s Valerian. He should be here, I don’t actually know why he isn’t. That’s Dagda. He’s the eldest and currently in a rehabilitation center with our dad.” He points them out on the picture as he names them.

“Fitz is currently out looking for Val. We’re not sure why he’s not here, either,” Hemlock offers, mostly for Loriss. He nods slightly in acknowledgement.

"What the fuck are the naming conventions in this family?" Ash mutters to herself.

"Cal is short for Caladium," Cal interjects.

Ash frowns as she backs out of the photo, looking vaguely through the other photos for a moment before sighing and removing the password off the phone for now and closing it, leaning her head back against Loriss for a minute and closing her eyes.