#collectible hummingbird mug

[rondaincorporated]

Hummingbird Species, Part 224

Today��s bird is the purple-throated mountaingem, Lampornis calolaemus. Introduction The Purple-throated Mountaingem is a species of hummingbird that presents a fascinating subject for ornithologists and bird enthusiasts alike. Found in the mountainous regions of Central America, this bird is noted for its distinctive physical characteristics and unique behaviors. Physical Description The…

[darksilvania]

There is a fun mechanic on my region involving this 2 honey based mons. Depending on which one you have at the front of your party, you can attract certain pokemons to appear in the wild that wont show up normally.

MELIFÉE is based on a Honeypot Ant, they make their honey by eating flowers, herbs and spices, which make a very sweet honey with healing properties. They try to keep their honey as pure as possible, so they carve honey dippers and lids out of wood using their mandibles to handle their honey without touching it.

BEEKREEPER make their honey by consuming meat, usually from corpses, their honey has a very strong taste and strange properties, so it is not safe for human consumption without being properly harvested and purified.

If MELIFÉE is at the front of your party, it will attract JOLIBRI, the hummingbird moth pokemon, but if you have BEEKREEPER at the front it will attract BEEZZARD, the vulture bee pokemon

JOLIBRI have a friendly relationship with MELIFÉE, they often surround them and keep watch in case other pokemons want to attack them and steel their honey, in exchange MELIFÉE gives them free honey

similar to JOLIBRI and MELIFÉE, BEEZZARD has a symbiotic relationship with BEEKREEPER, where they bring them meat and receive the excess honey they produce

And regardless of wich one of the 2 you have on your party, you will attract this 2 randomly: NECTAROBER, the Honey thief pokemon (based on a bee beetle) and BUMBLBOOZ, the Brewer pokemon (based on a drunk bumblebee)

NECTAROBER loves honey but are unable to make any, so they try to steal it. They will mostly target MELIFÉE, but will also mug BEEKREEPER if the opportunity arises. They use the fluff on their bodies to look bulkier and more intimidating that they really are, but are actually pretty weak.

BUMBLEBOOZ doesnt care about where the honey comes from, because they dont eat it directly. They collect the honey, mix it with water and other herbs and store it so it can become mead, which they drink constantly, thats why they are always seen drunk.

[camelidae]

Art tour of my room/studio! I caught the bug for buying little pieces from other artists to brighten up my space a few years ago – it’s addicting! (and wonderful!) I want to make sure I get everyone’s names in here (at least the ones who have an online presence), so be ready for a long post! 

It always feels a little ignomious hanging art in my bathroom, but I get distracted brushing my teeth a lot so it’s important there’s nice stuff to look at! I love my big crocodile print by Amanda Myers so much. He’s so Green and so lovely and he has so many teeth to contemplate while I brush my own.

I felt a little bad putting this magnificent tiger by Paleopanthera (paleopanthera.com) above the toilet, but the colors just work so nice and it makes my bathroom look so rad ;~; Do you think the tiger’s mad at me? Does he look mad?

I got this little scrollwork shelf from ScrollSawArtbyBC (etsy) and I love it so much! Makes a perfect little nook for my sink things~

And who is this peeking out from some of my nature treasures? Why it’s one of Becca Jane’s little blue snakes (BeccaJane.com). One day I’m going to save up my pennies and buy one of her big beautiful platters and on it I will serve the prettiest of pastas~

Also adorning my nature shelf is this beautiful mix-media plaque by Cephasparagus (insta). She also seems to adore collecting little bits of nature like an aesthetic magpie - my kind of gal!

I have a bevy of these little animal prints by Amanda Myers (Admers on etsy) on my walls – I love how combine with my pressed leaves and flowers to bring that "forest hermit" vibe I've always strived for.

The stained glass folk flower piece is from Leadleaf_ (insta) - it really makes my little terrarium corner look cozy and magical!

I got my Artistic License and my Poetic License from Kenspeckle Press (kenspeckleletterpress.com) - they didn’t even make me take an aesthetics test or metaphorically parallel park. (Plus another beautiful thank you card from Amanda Myers.)

The little kitty mug from Heikala (heikala.com) is what I drink iced cocoa from almost daily. I like how the ice clicks on the enamel <3

I still maintain that the embroidered flower pendant from DandelionDoiley (etsy) is the cutest thing that I own. Feels like holding a jewel! And the Hope pendant from BonbiForest (etsy) is such a lovely design with cheerful colors <3 The hummingbird I got from a local artist on a trip to Yellowstone, and the gold pendant is from a local artist where I live!

[feelbetterlove-books]

Hello I'm just dropping in to try and help spread some good vibes in the Bucktommy fandom, inspired by @thatmexisaurusrex so here are five headcanons:

Tommy got really into The Great Pottery Throw Down during the early days of quarantine, and he figured he could always use a new hobby, so there's a small kiln and a wheel set up in his garage. The wheel has been neglected a while, since Tommy found that he likes hand building much better, but when Buck finds out about it he goes down a rabbit hole learning about ceramics and he ends up being amazing at throwing, finds it very relaxing. There's already a bunch of Tommy's sculptural work decorating the house, but by the time Buck moves in there's also a lovely set of matching plates and bowls in the kitchen with a monogram of their initials stamped on them. A vase that's filled with fresh flowers every week. Their mugs came from Tommy's experimental efforts, all mismatched and they choose a different one to use every day based on their moods. Eventually, they work together to make a bird bath for the yard, which leads me to:

When Tommy's helicopter goes down, he's injured badly enough that a hospital bed gets set up in the living room and he barely leaves it for several weeks. During that time, Carla is hired to help take care of him and though Buck is there to keep him company as much as possible, he knows how boring a stretch of time off recovering can be. So, to help keep Tommy busy, he sets up a series of bird feeders outside their bay window where Tommy can look out with a pair of binoculars and identify and document all their visitors with a field guide and sketch book. He becomes Obsessed with this, names many of the frequent flyers, continues on to spend an extravagant amount of money on bulk bird seed every year, and makes sure the hummingbirds always have plenty of sugar water. Once he's healed, he and Buck, who is equally invested, plan hikes and trips around bird watching. They don't have any indoor pets but they love all their feathered friends.

Tommy was born a few days after Halloween and it has been his favorite holiday since he was a kid. He gleefully goes all out celebrating it and as a gift to himself, adds more decorations to his collection every year, some of which stay up inside permanently. He's this close to buying the 12 foot skeleton and Buck is not talking him out of it. They are beloved by trick-or-treaters for the display and the fact that they hand out full size candy bars. They prove they are very capable of executing a killer couples costume and scaring the socks off the 118 with some creepy antics at the party they host annually, but nobody can complain because it doubles as Tommy's birthday party.

The next time Buck hears about submissions being open for the firefighter calendar, he absolutely insists Tommy send in his photo. When he becomes Mr. June, (Buck's birth month, happy birthday to HIM) and is photographed for it stepping off his helicopter, stubble accentuating his cleft, flight suit only half on, tits out, sleeves tied around his waist, removing a pair of aviators, Buck loses his mind and buys so many copies of the calendar. The whole 118 and Harbor crew gets one on him. He has one in his locker displaying Tommy year round and one at home to actually use. He even mails a copy to his parents in PA and generally tells anyone who will listen about his hot firefighter pilot model boyfriend without a care for the teasing and groans he gets back, that's his man!!

I've seen a good amount of appreciation for Tommy and Buck's scars and tattoos and wrinkles, but off the top of my head I think Tommy's moles and freckles have been a bit overlooked. If we got to see more of his skin, you can tell he has a lot of them, on his stomach, arms, back, and chest, and Buck LOVES them. He can't really say why he finds them so attractive, but trust that he is kissing and tracing them every chance he gets, connecting the dots of his favorite constellation, and it makes Tommy feel so wanted. Maybe Tommy has some faint stretch marks around his pecs and shoulders too, from when he got really beefy and those little details that most people don't see but he knows well enough to draw on a map are Buck's favorite.

[stareiiez]

𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 --- one.

simon ( ghost ) riley x female reader.

note: first time writing for the COD lovers. tell me how I did :). please be gentle and kind to me omg.

content : dark?? ghost. modern settings. mentions of suicide. obsession. stalking. unhealthy attachments. smut in later chapters. alcohol. dark topics. this is just my version of haunting adeline but for ghost. adult reader. MDNI. 3.6k words.

Rain streaked down your large window's pane, clear warm waters raced each other down thin plane glass. Each droplet getting bigger than the others that trickled downward the more liquid each harmless little drop of water that was collected further speeding the streaks to drop down onto the sill. If you were delusional you would have compared yourself to the naive raindrops that beaded your window in the dead of night. You, the perfect round thing, sitting in paranoia and harm's way as it escalated its determined way to collect you into its grasp and swallow you whole.

You, losing yourself to the drowning and suffocating heat of entrapment that fear had on your throat, on your mind, on your entire being. You could always blame yourself. You could blame your idiotic choices for provoking this rapid current. You could blame yourself for never calling the police as much as you should. Not taking their advice when they did give it to you when you were swaddled in that horrid-smelling grey blanket one of them would provide for comfort when they would arrive on your property at late hours. Instead, you ignored them, ignored your normal conscious thoughts that warned; and tried to steer you away from this danger that was always lurking in your mind. You welcomed the risk. The pure risk of knowing who dared to turn your once perfect, as perfect it could be for an adult, mental cognitive thinking into pure garbage that was feeding its appetite for more delicious terror.

It's why you ignored the large palm print that didn't get smudged away by those racing water streams you had chosen to watch instead of taking in the details or gawking at how massive and thick all five fingers were spread out on the middle half of the glass. The creases of the print's fingers were perfect, if you even squinted and shoved your face against the glass you could try and see the swirls of fingerprints on each end of the finger markings left behind. A telltale sign that your attacker that plagued your thoughts, and your surroundings had been here. Whether it was during the day or he was just a few minutes ago, you'd never figure it out. You had the balls to not turn and flee this time, this time if he even had the balls to still be lurking in the thunderstorm outside; or in the walls of your own house. You wouldn't run and hide like you did before.

The only thing you however did not ignore? Was the blaring light of your cellphone and the harsh vibrations of it against the smooth palm of your hand? Slight vibrations had your nerves fire off in adrenaline-soaked supersonic booms underneath your skin that had your eyes jump away from the staring contest you were having with the imprinted glass to now move on to your bright phone screen. The contact name glared up at you and without another beat of annoying buzzing. You answered the call as if it was on cue.

"Hello?"

"Hello ?? Earth to __ ." A pair of fingers snapped in front of your face in rapid beats rivaling a hummingbird's rhythm. The sharp snaps were enough to have your pupils focus back in and realign on your friend in front of you. Cheeks flushed in a small wave of rich pinks when you realized you weren't listening in on what plans your friend was trying to make with you for the only night that you were free for, ever since you got done unpacking at your old relative's loft. The quiet sounds of distant music coming from a speaker in your home, the sensation of heat still seeping into the palm of your hand from the mug of tea you were once sipping on. It all brought you back to the very present, the red-haired fire engine female in front of you. Insistent brown eyes glared at your warm face, irritation present on dyed red brows.

Tonight was the one chance you had to have some unwinding to gain some energy to get back to your life of being stuck behind a desk and computer when Monday rolled its ugly head once again. "Sorry. . . um, what time were you saying you wanted to meet up again?" Your lips quirked in a sheepish grin when your friend's lips twitched into an annoyed scowl.

"9. Veronica and I are taking the Jeep and you're driving to meet us at that dive bar, Vaqueros. Then we hit the club down the street after we finish our pre-game." As if someone in your mid-twenties can handle your liquor without consequences anymore. You weren't sixteen and sneaking Fireball and Kahula from your mom's pantry in the dead of night and trying to make fun and new cocktails for yourself and the girls who were sleeping over for the night.

You swallowed your excuses of trying to back out of tonight and stay home with nothing but a tub of ice cream and a 2000s coming-of-age comedy movie. You wouldn't dare to even annoy or inconvenience your best friend, Izzy, out of canceling plans; when you've already pulled the same song and dance of lying about too many things in the past, just to get out of a social event. Your eyes drifted to the clock on the wall behind Izzy, the little and big hands reading 7:30 pm. Way too early to lie about how you have to feed a nonexistent pet you have, or how you have to call your mother and tell her how much you miss her.

Your eyes darted back to her face. A soft exhale left your lips, fine. Fine, it was one night. One night of fun. One night of drinking yourself into a silly tizz and end up with a headache the next morning when you're nursing yourself with black coffee and the hair of the dog shot you'd make; just to make yourself feel at least decent enough to handle the public again." Right, then you better get going, before you dont have a chance to outdress me tonight." You tease with a forced grin.

The irritation present on Izzy's face seemed to melt immediately when you teased her. Delighted that you hadn't fought and screamed your way out of another outing, she was now her normal ball of sunshine and energy. She put the sun to shame sometimes with the amount of positivity and 'good vibes' that leaked out of her pores in waves of vanilla and champagne perfume. If it wasn't her good vibes, her self-medication of weed by day and alcohol in moderation at night was surely her fuel to stay hyped and chatty.

"As if you could beat my fashion sense. You can't even beat your attention span limit, you hardly even listened when I was talking. I don't think you were even conscious when you answered your door for me."

Another flush of quick embarrassment. You'd curse yourself out later when you were changing into your night clothing. It wasn't your fault, you were tired. Sleeping in a brand new place, in a different part of the city and farther away from the Surburan culdasacs you spent the majority of your life in. It was the quiet and actual sounds of birds chirping without being drowned out by the sounds of cars honking and the cries of the neighbor's newborns at eight am. You were surrounded by nothing but lush evergreen and pine trees that practically swallowed the dark mahogany-colored loft house you now lived in. Jet back iron fencing that interwove around each other in details of swirls traced all around the perimeter of the home; till they met in the middle to swoop and create large gates that protected you from the evergrowing dark and shadows of the trees.

It was nature in its purest form, wild and smelly. Untamed with its inhabitants hunting each other for sport between thick trunks and leaping from branch to branch to escape certain death. It was exhausting.

The trees and greenery surrounding your home had welcomed you and Izzy with gentle winds of pine and earth when she had decided it was about time you get ready and 'try to look like you're enjoying yourself' with your outfit. The sun crested the tops of towering tree tops. Oranges and pinks kissed the blue till it was a wash of vibrant purples, it was a beautiful sight. Just another perk to moving out of gated suburbia. How else could you have sunsets like this without them being ruined by city smog and highrise skylines that tried to rival nature's cacophony of watercolor evenings?

"Text me when you get there!" Izzy's voice chirped out of her rolled-down window when she pulled out of your driveway. The black iron gates swung automatically open once they sensed the cherry red Bug heading out of your property. Your hand was raised, waving the trails of dust and fading notes of Gwen Stefani away till the car was swallowed in the shadows of your private forest.

Finally, finally, could you let your face fall from its forced enthusiasm. Smooth facial features now drooped into a grimace when you turned your back and faced your house. A long groan was released from your lungs. Brows pinching. Eyes screwing up as you let out your dread and nerves about going out tonight. "I should have just told her I had gotten the stomach bug." You muttered to yourself, your hands raised to your scalp. Fingers itching at the roots of your hair in irritation before you finally exhaled. Eyes opening once more with a sense of sad acceptance.

You'll just have a few drinks. Hell, just one fruity drink and you'll slip back out the front door before Izzy and Veronica notice you being gone. Besides, when was the last time you had fun? Pure unfiltered fun? You couldn't remember the last time you even laughed so hard you felt your stomach cramp and your gasps turn into snorts from trying to contain yourself. This will be fun, it'll be good for you to socialize and maybe find a little someone to take home if you are really lucky. The last time you got laid was something you dare not even think about, it felt like years yet in reality it was probably close to six months.

With a shake of your head, you made your way back into your new home. Making sure to lock and deadbolt your front door, you turned to the living room/ kitchen. Rich dark greens of carved wood walls and black marbled flooring that melded with flecks of white in every square tile greeted you. The quiet was still chilling to your bones.

The open expansive windows, which were framed with even more luscious green velvet curtains, exposed you to the eyes of more green trees and sharp limbs of evergreens. At night those branches clawed at your bedroom. Sometimes tapping in a strange rhythm from the smallest breeze that begged you to let them in. Let me play with you. Let me in, I swear I'll be nice and good to you. The forest seemed to whisper. If it even was the trees, you wouldn't be surprised if it was just some random hiker coming by to try and ask for a place to stay in the dead of night if they happened to wake you.

A thousand eyes seemed to be watching you, or it felt like it anyway, when you had decided to stop procrastinating and get dressed in the master bedroom of your home. The windows were drawn open, just for the sheer thought that nature didn't mind a little skin and curves. After all, Eve and the Garden of Eden were very intimate all those thousands of years ago when being naked was the new cool. 

You stared at your reflection in the floor-length mirror, judging and scoffing at potential outfit combinations that would fit the dive bar and club scene. Something that still screamed 'sexy' in not over flashy loud look for a backwater bar; but just short and good enough to get the bouncer's approval at the trashiest club you'd be dragged to. Your bed and floor were nearly a mess when you decided to settle on a coppery red outfit. It was a dress that was accentuating the curve of your ass and low on the neckline that hugged your sides and dips with a tasteful flourish. The hem of the dress ended at mid-thigh, the material flowy to let you not walk so straight-legged to risk your dress riding up and flashing a stranger your no-show thong. The color complimented your skin color, a not-too-warm color that seemed casual but the style and length were fun for easy access if you were in a hurry to get fucked in the bathroom at two am. 

The Go-Go boots you decided to pair with the dress only elevated the look, letting your thighs and calves do most of the talking for starving eyes to get a good peek at smooth-shaven skin. Your makeup was tasteful, hints of the same copper red were blended onto your eyes with a neutral lip to keep things easy. You weren't trying to look good with all the work. God bless tutorials and Ulta Beauty.

"Have I told you how happy I am you're here?" Izzy gasped out for the third time that night. Her black lipstick peeled into an expressive smile at you, the glitters on her skin she applied had her eyes sparkling even more under the amber lights of the bartop you and your two friends sat at. The crowd of people in the bar made it hard for you to hear her, but you could practically tell how excited she was for tonight. 

"About just as much as you told her how hot she looks too," Veronica added, wiggling her eyebrows in approval around the dip of Izzy's hunched figure. Her short-cut hair hid the teasing crinkle in her almond-shaped eyes of hers. Veronica, a childhood friend of yours since kindergarten. Only the years of middle school and your moving to a different school cut the friendship short. It was highschool sophomore year and a quick Instagram follow that had you two thick as thieves once more. 

"You both are hot, now let's drink!" You giggled, nudging Izzy's arm with a bashful smile. Her other arm held the second shot of the night all three of you were about to down. The amber liquid smells strong in your nose and on your breath. Whiskey was a sipping drink, but you were here to have fun and regret tomorrow. It was decided in the back of your mind when you meet Izzy and Veronica in the parking lot of the Vaquero's bar. 

Their, Izzy's, eager waving and wolf whistles had changed your mind from bailing on your friends for the night; to genuinely having fun in your young adult life. 

"To being single and getting fucked or fucked up tonight!" Izzy whooped out, her hand raised high in the air with the single shot gripped between clammy fingers. Veronica hissed through her teeth to shush her, but you couldn't help the loud giggle you let bubble up from your throat. 

The eyes on you from grown men and women around you silently judging you were overlooked and cast aside. You didn't give one single fuck, respectfully. Your glass threatened to shatter from impact when you clinked it against hers. The amber whiskey burned so good down your throat when you threw it down with a smile while Izzy whooped out once more after downing her own. She was already leaning over the bartop to wave down the bartender for another drink of choice while you grinned from ear to ear at Veronica. Tonight was your night. 

"To being single and getting fucked or fucked up tonight!"

Those words were the first things the male had heard when he swung open both double revolving doors of the dive bar. The low golden light of the bar somehow illuminates the three women who acted like they were celebrating some kind of sorority or bachelorette occasion. Whatever it was, it made the man snort and roll his dark eyes to himself. Places like these weren't the spot for people who tried to be the life of the party in their old age regularly. It was a place for people like him. People that were either no-lifer alcoholics or scumbags hoped to pick up the residential lot lizards that hung around the entrance of the bar every night at 1:30 am. Just hoping to score easy cash on some drunk bastard down bad for the night.

For Simon, it was different. It was business with pleasure. A convenient mix of both that made him a comfortable little regular for Alejandro and his men. 

The crowd of people moved around him just so he could find his spot towards the back. Safer that way, just how he liked it. Eagle eyes swept over the customers that mingled with each other or sucked down cool liquor like it was ambrosia. Drunkards hung off women like they were leeches. Grubby, sweaty hands picked and pulled at clothing desperately. They whined like kicked puppies if the women they were unabashedly feeling up were rejecting them with a swift smack of their hands. It didn't stop them from trying time and time again. Another loud cheer came from the crowd, somewhere towards the bar. 

Somehow there was enough space between swaying, gyrating bodies to see who was causing so much noise. God was he a thankful man that he just so happened to have his gaze staring where it was. He saw her. Liquid metal that shimmered off smooth skin and sloping shoulders. A walking beauty amongst the gargoyles of humanity. 

Full lips on display that are curved into a radiant smile that has his eyes turning a shade darker, and cock giving one heavy twitch in the confines of his jeans. 

For Simon, the world has stopped. There is no more bar. There is no crowd of people separating you and him. There is only you and him in his mind. Your laughter which was caused by your friends, was only fuel for his stare. Your laugh caused his heart to escalate from its calm beating to a higher tempo. 

He's hot under the collar. You haven't even noticed that someone in the shadows of the bar is staring at you, but he doesn't give a fuck about that. He's staring at you and only you. You and the curves of your thighs and hips that shine under the lights of the bar. You with her sparkling eyes crinkle in amusement at something you're being told. He wants that. He wants to be looked at like that. He wants to know what you find so hilarious that your head is tipped back, exposing your chest and throat to hungry men like him to salivate over. He wonders what your skin would taste like if he sank his teeth into your throat. He wonders if you smell like honey and sin incarnate. 

He'd wonder if you were as soft and supple under his scarred palms that beat the life out of pieces of shit that decided to walk the earth. 

His line of work would be something he'd never bring home if you were there. He'd shed his skin every time once he crossed the threshold, just so he could bury himself into the deepest, warmest parts of your body. If anyone ever touched you before him, he'd break their fucking fingers into bite-sized bits and feed them the gooey mess with a rusty spoon. If you asked he'd kill himself and be reincarnated into somebody worthy of your love if he wasn't fit for it. But that's the thing. He's all you're ever going to need. He's enough and will be enough. You don't know it yet, but you're already his girl. You are so beautifully unaware that it makes his blood sizzle in his eardrums at the rancid thoughts of you and him together. 

His weight shifts to get up off the worn chair he had collapsed into earlier. When he stalls for a brief couple of seconds. Angels sing white noise serendipity when your eyes meet his. What he hopes is his gaze and nothing else that you're focused on so much that it had your own eyes widen a fraction more. He must look like he wants to unhinge his jaws and eat you whole. He likes that. Because he fucking wants to. He's obsessed, and you'll learn that the more time comes between you and him. 

When you blink. He'd be gone, him and his bottomless black holes of eyes that drew you in like a crushing state of gravity.  He slipped out through the bumping crowd, blending through intoxicated hot vapors to the winding staircase off to the side. He's gone, but the sensation of his hungry eyes on you has yet to leave.  

[fairiedance]

Palestine Sunbird

As usual ALL PROCEEDS will go to my Palestinian best friend to help his loved ones through this war and help his girlfriend afford to join him in America. He is the sweetest person in the world (and a truly brilliant scientist) and he deserves to be able to focus on grad school as best he can through this awful genocide without financial stress on top of the emotional toll. I just added a few new versions of my Palestine sunbird:

The keffiyeh is borrowed from my dove drawing:

This is what the real bird looks like:

The Palestine sunbird is a beautiful little passerine found around parts of the Middle East and Africa. They look somewhat like giant hummingbirds (though that is entirely convergent evolution, hummingbirds are actually in the same clade (Strisores) as potoos and frogmouths and stuff, which I find very surprising). These little guys were adopted as Palestine's national bird in 2015. My designs are available on shirts, stickers, mugs and more, here is the link to my collection (click on a design and scroll down to see more product options). Thank you to everyone who has helped so far!

[starweaving-fairsuns]

The Fairsun sisters’ Stormwind flat was situated on the highest floor just outside of the trade district, where it boasted a moderately sized balcony where Novalein had meticulously arranged a variety of greenery. Herbs, assorted flowers, and plants chosen primarily for their decorative appeal adorned the outdoor patio, creating a stunning and visually appealing atmosphere.Throughout the seasons, particularly in the spring and summer months, the balcony attracted a myriad of visitors. Hummingbirds, butterflies, and bumblebees were among the most frequent visitors, drawn to the vibrant array of flowers and herbs that adorned the space. Their presence added a lively and enchanting aspect to the already beautiful surroundings.

Novalein was dressed in a simple pair of trousers and a loose-fitting shirt, topped with a large sun hat that shielded her face from the sun, as she tended to her plants on the balcony. She hummed a tune from her childhood as she worked; a melody that had stayed with her through the years and now played softly in the background of her thoughts. After an evening of festivities that ran a bit late, the priestess made it home in time to get enough shut-eye to find herself bright-eyed and bushy tailed the following morning. Not only did she run out and collect breakfast from the nearby tavern for her and her sister to enjoy, she also picked up a new aloe thistle plant on her way back home that needed some extra love and care. 

Thinking back to the events of the evening prior, Novalein felt her cheeks grow warm as she realized just how brave she had been to toss her hat in the ring for the fashion contest. She was never really one to keep up with all of the latest trends; only just enough to get by without drawing much attention to herself - so it was a bit out of her element to participate in such a large-scaled event like this. It really wasn’t like Novalein to step out into the spotlight for anything outside of where she was comfortable to shine the most; the world of medicine and healing. She would always go the extra mile for her people and their allies, but her sister had a way of talking her into trying something just a little different this time. 

“I am not surprised to hear you won,” a tired, yet proud voice spoke from the set of windowed doors behind Novalein. Amnaris held a cup of coffee in her hands, her expression adorned with a small smile. Gingerly taking a sip of the piping hot liquid gold, she leaned against the frame, savoring the moment of tranquility amidst the flourishing greenery of their balcony. “It was high time one of us took one of our dear mother’s favorite dresses out for a spin. She really had a way with style, didn’t she?”

“I like to think of it as she won,” the priestess grinned as she finished repotting one of the plants, then sitting back with a satisfied sigh at her handy work. Taking off her hat, Novalein looked up and over her shoulder, frowning lightly, “I was disappointed to see you couldn’t make it. I was sure I would see you just as we planned. I think you really would have enjoyed yourself, Amnaris.”

Amnaris sighed softly, her  fingertips tapping against the ceramic mug as she tried to avoid that pitiful expression that always stirred a pang of guilt within her; a reminder of moments when promised expectations didn’t always go as planned, “I had every intention of coming, but I kind of got caught up in an altercation on my way to the portal. I deeply regret that I wasn't able to stick to our plans.”

“An altercation? What kind of altercation?” Novalein brushed the dirt from her gloved hands, then removed them and set them aside. The expression of disappointment that had clouded her face moments ago was now replaced by one of concern. Her brows furrowed slightly as she surveyed her sister and rose to her feet. 

Watching her sister for a moment, Amnaris took another sip from her mug and slipped back inside - a concerned Novalein following right behind to the kitchen table where her sister took a seat, “A fight broke out between a couple of drunkards near the Blue Recluse. Against my better judgment, I stepped in to intervene until the city guard arrived.”

“... Amnaris,” Novalein sighed, sliding down into one of the kitchen chairs where a box of breakfast pastries sat on the table between them. “Were you injured?”

Waving her hand dismissively, the ranger sat her mug aside and shook her head with a gentle laugh, “No. I avoided taking any blows, but I did have to subdue one of the men before it turned even uglier. Because of that, I was mistaken as one of the instigators when the city guard finally arrived.”

Shaking her head, Novalein said again, “Amnaris…”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t spend any time in the Stockades thanks to one of the witnesses. I just had to fill out a bunch of paperwork which was what the bulk of the hold up was,” She finally finished up her summarizing and offered a sympathetic smile across the table. “Believe me, I would have much rather attended the festivities with you than deal with that nonsense and besides… I think you would have been more disappointed in me if I had simply continued on without trying to intervene in a situation like that.”

Nodding slowly, Novalein couldn’t deny that that was true. With a tiny huff, she blew some of the loose, wavy strands of hair up and away from her face and pushed the box of pastries towards Amnaris, “Well, at least eat, will you? Coffee alone is not breakfast.”

Leaning forward to gently pat her sister’s hand, Amnaris laughed with a quick salute, “Yes, ma’am!” Together, the two sisters shared stories of their separate experiences from the night before, filling the apartment with laughter, sighs, and perhaps a few happy tears. They reminisced about their mother's wardrobe, evoking fond memories that brought a mix of emotions to the surface and vowed to keep a low profile when it came to the drunken affairs of others.

[manwalksintobar]

Self-Portrait as Hummingbird  // Basia Wilson

Mornings ought to start violet with time              enough to stretch my sabrewings,                             sun by sun. When the mornings feel                              flowerless, I try my best. Find sugar

                                          to sate me, minute hermit I am.                             Beauty lately the beam              on which I perch and lean, I sungem my neck: lazuline, berylline, little methods

I employ, minor employees of minute joys.              I velvet my breast—yuzu or juniper,                         depending on the day. I velvet my brows, unknot this blossom                                           crown and bound down-

                                                        stairs for some nectar quick.                                           A cinnamon rim rounding my bowl,                             earl grey starring my throat, I sip               the silt collecting in the mug,    collect my feathers and keys and whiz

into the world, the world              perpetually open for business grim                              and gobsmacking, the world                                              with all its hazardous stars barbing                                                           our throats, which ruby in reply,                                                               by which I mean there is so much blood.

There is so much blood.

                              My gorget like yours is nicked                and split by this. And you, too,  weary mountaineer, must tire

from talk of the summit and long              for a glad plummet, plum-sweet. Look                            how your glitterbeard frays. Tell me:

                                           how will we foot this sicklebill?                              On what should we spend               these heartbeats? Must we scythe through our days? I will tell you

at the end of mine, my ears are black             with listening, pressed as they were all                           day to the dark door, seeking missives to ferry here.

(originally appeared in A Gathering of the Tribes)

[pepprs]

dont worry abt responding to my messages!! they can be little trinkets for u to keep forever if u wanna :)))

dear anon… how could i not respond to THESE!!!!!!!!!! 😭💗💗💗💗💗💗💗 you are the sweetest kindest most WONDERFUL soul. it is an honor to receive these beautiful letters and i hope you know how much i cherish each and every one. not just the words but the adventures you take me on and write up for the two of us!!! and the beauty and magic you help me to see in the world around me and the peace and love and love and love you conjure for me in moments when i cant find it or feel it so easy!!!! like idk i know i have no idea who you are outside of being dear anon and i only answer asks once in a blue moon but it truly means the world to me. TRULY.

your writing feels like all the best things, all the things i love most. like leaf piles in the fall and the pikmin bloom soundtrack (btw if you dont play that already i HIGHLY recommend it to you specifically, i think u would really like it and tbh you sending me these letters has the same vibe as my pikmin bringing me postcards from their adventures :"~DDDD!!! if you ever do join it please lmk i would LOVE to be friends and send you postcards and do adventures together!!!!) and frosting on cupcakes and twinkly dust motes in the sunlight and cumulus clouds and dogwood flowers and the way things made of glass refract rainbows and SUNLIGHT SUNLIGHT SUNLIGHT. and even that isnt cutting it. how magical it all is. like i wish i wasnt so exhausted so i could express it better but it truly is so... idk. NOSTALGIC! COZY! HOME!!!!!

so... in order to try to articulate it (and also show my thanks / return the favor / etc.), i am sending this letter along with a care package knitted with word and song and magic and light. enclosed please find:

wind chimes that sing like the sun hitting the lake (also i REALLY want to get a butterfly hair clip!!! i cant wear hair clips or anything else fancy in my hair bc of my mask headbands but id love to have one in case im ever able to wear it in the future 🥹)

a heart-shaped pebble from brighton, to add to your collection (btw i LOVE the part about how you lost them a long time ago but you love them so you remember what they look like. WAUGH. gut punch GUT PUNCH IN THE BEST WAY!!!!)

a mug for hot chocolate, so we can share some together when it gets cold again -- decorated with hand-painted stars in all colors!

a tiny needle to knit your sundust satchels -- like the kind youd find in pixie hollow or the tale of desperaux or something (also both things that have dear anon vibes to me and are also DEEPLY nostalgic for me!)

a recipe for starfait, with illustrations!! (also i LOVE that idea for a replacement for "tesscore"!! but i may end up using that for my personal tag on my undertale / deltarune blog instead bc its so perfect (and also im HONORED that u associate that with me 😭😭😭😭))

a crown and wand for you to wear to match the fairy queen mouse while you write the same kind of magic and comfort she brings!

a packet of magical flower seeds that sprout the most whimsical sweet-smelling flowers, with petals that are soft to the touch!

a hand-woven scarf in your favorite color threaded with shiny silver strands, like comets streaming through the sky (also i am SO late to say this but UNO REVERSE CARD re: your new years wish to me which is genuinely making me lumpthroated and teary eyed reading it again in AUGUST. you are the sweetest EVER. and also ive never played journey before but ive been interested in it for years!!! i'll have to check it out and/or watch a playthrough!)

a hummingbird sculpture on a long stick for you to plant in your garden among the flowers, to sing to them and to you! (also RE: your question about your vocal range -- it just means that you can cover a little over two octaves (the number after the letter is the octave it's in, and each octave is a span of c-d-e-f-g-a-b-c -- so your range starts at about halfway through the third octave and goes to halfway through the fifth!) i think your range is about the same as mine iirc so we can hum along with the hummingbird and all three follow each other's notes :"~D <3)

a golden acorn on a thread for you to wear as a necklace when we go to the bird tea party! (by the way, have you ever read the book ""until the last acorn "when the last acorn is found?" it's a BEAUTIFUL book and it made me cry reading it! i think you and the acorn people would get along very, very well!!)

a lantern made of jelly moonlight and silver foil stars (see: ilomilo chapter 4 :"~D) for you to carry on your walks through the dim nights (you can hang the stars in the sky, and they'll brighten the world and light at your touch!)

a copy of one of my favorite books of all time, "the ten thousand doors of january," which is so much about wedging cracks open into other worlds, and something i think you might like very much / resonate with too!!

a big, big hug.

dear anon: THANK YOU. for all these words and for being you. i dont know how i got so lucky to have you sending me these little trinkets but i will most CERTAINLY keep them forever. i hope you experience all the peace and love and love and love to infinity. may you always know and shine with the light you bring and the light you are.

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Yay! All the ornaments are now finished!!! Next on the menu are mug rugs, namely hummingbird themed scrap quilt mug rugs.

My plan is to make as many things as I can with my large collection of scraps. Mug rugs, coasters, place mats, a bunch of small things to stock up my shop. Afterwards, I'll work on larger quilts, 35x35 inches and up. I have a lot of patterns and fabric pulled, and now that I'm getting through building up inventory, I can make these.

The finished quilt tops will be available for commissions. How? If you want me to finish a particular quilt, you will see the finished tip and then pay for the quilt. After that, I'll work on the handquilting. When finished, the quilt is yours. Some people are more comfortable seeing the finished quilt top before investing in a quilt commission. If something like this interests you, start saving your money. These will range from $800 to $4300 USD. Commissions will open in April 2023, and slots will be very limited. The quilt tops won't be the only options, of course. Just the priciest. Keep in mind these are handmade. A quilt top may take only a few days to make, but the handquilting can take several weeks, even months.

For now, stocking up my shop is top priority. Once I begin working on quilt tops, small projects will be on the back burner.

You can see my work here:

Here are a few of the patterns and fabrics I've pulled.

A large twin/small queen log cabin quilt. Log cabin is a type of quilt block, and they're a lot of fun. Lots of flexibility with the design and block arrangements. Look up log cabin quilts and see the variety they provide.

This is a large lap quilt using earth tones, green, and blue. The prints are the large pieces, the solids are the small pieces to balance out the visuals and keep it from looking too busy.

A fun lap quilt with a very Mardis Gras mood. I have a feeling more than a few of you nay have grabby hands just looking at this.

A small lap quilt that may serve easily as a wheelchair quilt. Great summer colors to add a little something extra to any space.

A twin size quilt using a rainbows and looking like spools of thread. All I need is to pick out a black prints I like.

This colorful collection will be used for a small twin/large lap quilt. Perfect summer colors and a lot of visual fun. It's also gonna be the first quilt top I work on.

Anyone else excited to see these finished?

[saving-word-crawls]

Low-Pressure Magical Cafe Word Crawl

By: Eovy

Reposting again for this year! This crawl is meant for people who are having a no bones day, have run out of spoons, or are super busy and can only write in small chunks. Many of the steps have multiple word goal options, so you can choose how much you want to write. If you find these goals too small, you are also welcome to try the Double Cookie Challenge- double all time/word goals and get double the cookies!

If you don’t have a lot of time, you can break it into sections - a good halfway point is when you exit the cafe. I recommend listening to a rainy cafe ambience video on YouTube while you crawl, to get the full effect.

Also, try to pick up some cookies, and keep track of how many you collect. They might be useful later.

You were searching for a new writing spot, desperate to get out of the house, when you saw this place pop up in Google Maps. It was a cafe with only a dozen reviews, but each review was more cryptic than the last.

“This place is a window to my soul. I had three rat’s tail lattes and saw time move backwards. “

“The muffins were fluffy, the hot chocolate was rich and creamy. My great great grandmother was manning the till and had hummingbirds in her hair.”

Almost more surprising is the fact that this is only six minutes of travel from your house. How have you never heard of such a place before? Must be new.

Write for 6 minutes while you walk or drive or fly to the cafe, wondering what awaits you.

You arrive. It’s on the corner of the street, looking completely ordinary. It has ivy growing up its aging brick facade, and a little faded yellow door. The sign is very small and reads, “The Mirrorland Cafe”. Scrawled beneath the sign in what might be blood and might be red sharpie, is, “Enter at your own risk”.

Write 50 words to open the door.

Write 100 words if you first peek inside the window to try and see what it’s like. The cafe looks brightly lit, but the windows are somehow blurry and smudged and you can’t make out anything. Oddly, you find a cookie on the windowsill. You put it in your pocket for later.

You step inside. It is warm, and smells of freshly brewed espresso and cinnamon buns. There are many cozy armchairs, floppy couches, and ergonomically sound wooden chairs centered around tables of differing heights. Bookshelves line the walls. To your surprise, other than the person behind the counter and the black cat lounging in a patch of sun (write 50 words if you are allergic to cats), you are the only one there. Somehow, there is still the murmur of hushed voices, a typewriter, and the occasional sound of mugs tapping the table. Must be a soundtrack of background noise.

The person behind the counter is a slender man with a bushy, grey beard. He looks to be in his early 50’s, and smiles at you as you walk in.

“We’ve been expecting you. What would you like?”

If, right now, you feel joyless and bitter, write 100 words to order a black drip coffee. No pastry. Poor you.

If, right now, you feel tired but cautiously optimistic, write 150 words as you order a vanilla latte and a cinnamon bun.

If, right now, you feel curious and creative, write 200 words as you order a sparkling dreamstate latte, a nightshade glazed doughnut, and a muffin that changes colour every time you look back at it.

If, right now, you feel like death, write 25 words as the barista hurriedly makes you some sort of strange purple elixir served in a potion bottle. It tastes faintly like a human soul.

You choose a cozy looking spot and sit down, taking out your writing implement of choice. You try to focus on writing but it’s hard to not wonder about this cafe. Why is there no one here? Why does it feel like the air itself is shimmering slightly? Does the barista have a tiny pair of wings or are you finally losing it?

Write 75 words as you try to ignore the sensation that there’s something strange about this place.

The next time you look up, you see two people enter the cafe: middle aged men, pudgy and redheaded, bundled in sweaters and scarves. At first you think you might be imagining one of them, but then you realize that they are identical twins. One is wearing ivy green and the other brick red. They take a look around, unraveling their heavy scarves from about their necks, and their eyes land on you straight away.

“You’re here!” said Green.

“You made it!” says Red.

“I told them they were expected.” said the Barista.

Write 55 words if you’re wearing red. Write 66 words if you’re wearing green. Write 77 words if you’re wearing both. Write 44 words if you’re wearing neither. Write 111 words if you’re wearing nothing but underwear- or less (gasp!).

They come over to you and each grabs a hand, shaking vigorously.

“Welcome!” says Red.

“We’re so happy to meet you!” says Green.

“What are you working on?” Red peeks at your current writing, even as you immediately reach to cover it up. “Ohhh, this is interesting. Look at this, brother.”

“Very interesting, brother.” Green agrees. “But you know what it needs?”

“The pool.”

“Yes, the pool.”

“You must ask the pool.” says Red.

“I… I don’t understand.” You say, equally frightened and curious.

“Oh, but you will. Come with us, pack your things!” says Green.

You glance over at the barista. He is smiling at you, but definitely seems to be hovering several inches above the ground.

Write for 5 minutes as you pack up all your things, not seeing any other alternative but to follow them.

Write for another 5 minutes if you want to take your coffee and/or pastry and/or potion with you. You find another cookie that you put in your pocket for later- where did that come from?

Once you have packed your things, you see the brothers standing near one of the bookshelves, each holding a tome. One is holding a yellow book, and the other blue.

They turn to you, and in unison say, “Pick one!”

Out of the corner of your eye, something else glimmers on the shelf too, something multicoloured that catches the light.

Write 70 words if you pick the yellow book.

Write 150 words if you pick the blue book.

Write 250 words if you pick the shiny rainbow book. Ooh, there’s a cookie inside! Put it in your pocket for later.

You open the book, and flip through it briefly.

“But it’s… blank.” You look back up at them and realize you are no longer in the cafe. You are in a forest glade, dotted with mushrooms, tall trees all around you with sunlight filtering in through the leaves. The brothers are nowhere to be found.

You put the book in your pack and look around. You are standing at a crossroads. To the left, the little mushrooms continue dotting a meandering path. To the right, there is a mysterious glow far in the distance.

Write 50 words to go left.

Write 75 words to go right.

Write 200 words if you decide to stay put until someone finds you. You wait two hours, and see only foxes with too many eyes and tiny birds with unsettlingly deep songs. You eventually realize that you must pick a path. You find a cookie in the bushes.

You wander through the forest and soon realize that the path is going in a circle, regardless of which way you chose.

You stop to try and figure out your best course of action when you hear… is that voices far in the distance? You leave the trail.

Write for 7 minutes while you hunt down the sound.

Eventually, you arrive at a camp. There are tents set up, made of woven fabrics with intricate patterns, and they are all set up surrounding a large bonfire.

Around the bonfire are centaurs - six of them. They all carry weapons of some type and do not seem happy to see you. Still, it’s too late to run. You give them an awkward wave and explain that you are lost, hoping that they can understand and will take pity on you.

For a long moment, they stare at you, silently. One of them reaches into a pouch slung across his hips. This was not how you wanted to die, but oh well…

Write 50 words for everyone who has died so far in your novel (battle scenes and burning villages not withstanding). If you haven’t killed off anyone yet, have a cookie. Put it in your pocket for later.

To your surprise, instead of a weapon, the centaur pulls out a vellum scroll.

“Take this.”

You reach out carefully, and take it, unrolling the scroll slowly to peek at its contents. It is a map, with a clear marking of where you are.

“Thanks.” You say.

The centaur nods. “It is our custom as the Unthieves of the Wood. We give to weary travellers, and never take.”

“Why?”

“It is the custom.” He says, as if it is obvious. “So says the Lady.”

“Which lady?”

“The Lady.” He says, his tone implying that you must be a bit of an idiot.

Write for 5 minutes while the flush of embarrassment fades from your face.

Write for an extra 3 minutes if you insist on peppering the centaurs with more questions anyway, which they continue to refuse to answer. One of them gives you a cookie- presumably to shut you up.

You take a look at the map, and see that you’re not far from a winding, narrow road that should take you straight to something labelled The Pools. That sounds like the same thing the twins had been talking about earlier.

You head in that direction, and eventually come upon a clear, bubbling brook that leads into a cave. The trail on the map indicates that you should go through the cave, and come up on the other side into a glen, so you wade on in. The water gets deeper and the cave slopes downwards until you have only one option: hold your breath and hope you can get to the other side in time. You secure your pack and hope that your novel won’t get too wet.

Write as many words as you can while you hold your breath.

You come out on the other side into a cave full of glowing blue crystal. You are so stunned for a moment that you don’t see that there’s someone else in there with you.

She sits upon a throne of those glowing crystals and appears to be glowing herself. She has long, silver-blue hair and jet black eyes like a shark. When she smiles, you see she has long canine teeth like a wolf… or a vampire.

“Approach, mortal.” She says softly, her voice echoing in the cavern.

You approach.

“I am the UnderPrincess, the Gatekeeper to the Pools, the Guardian of the Lady. What business have you here?”

You explain your story until now, feeling her eyes boring through your flesh the whole time. She listens and nods, and eventually, the story ends.

“Very well. You are here for your story. Let me see you work your mortal magic, and judge whether you truly are worthy of looking into the pools.”

Write 1% of your wordcount to prove your worth (ex. If your wordcount is 20,391 you have to write 203 words).

The UnderPrincess looks over your work and eventually nods with approval.

“You have passed the test. You may go.”

One of the larger crystals on the far wall dissolves into a puddle of glowing goo, revealing an exit. You bow to her before abandoning the cave for the sliver of sunlight peeping through the crevasse.

You enter into another glade, this one full of tiny pools. Each has a different hue. The purple one is full of indigo frogs, and there’s an orange one that has a sword sticking out of it. Walking among these pools is The Lady.

It surprises you that she looks so strikingly ordinary, but she is the only one there so she must be The Lady. She is short, and stocky in build, and looks to be about middle aged. She is wearing an ivy green cloak that tickles the tips of the blades of grass beneath her. She smiles as she sees you.

“Welcome to my glade. You wish to look into the pools? They will show you your innermost secrets, your past and your future, what might be and what could have been.”

You nod slowly, and she leads you over to a large pool at the edge of the glade. It is your favourite colour, and is clear and empty.

“Sit down and gaze deep.”

Write for 2 minutes as you slowly lose yourself in the pool. Remember how many words you wrote.

You look into the pool. It is clear, at first, and you see nothing. It is only when you realize how strange it is that you can’t see your own reflection that stars begin to burst at the edge of the water, and the colour grows deeper and deeper and soon you are submerged.

Lines of your work float by your head, as do your characters. Your world comes alive before you, forming itself out of mist. You are in awe for a moment… and then you hear the scream.

It is not the scream of a creature in despair. It is the scream of a creature wanting to feed.

You whirl around, and behind you is a two-headed griffin. It is huge, and undoubtedly very hungry. It is looking at you. You notice each head has a collar. One says ‘Procrastinator’ and the other says ‘Doubter’.

You know that if you don’t want it to devour your whole world, you’re going to have to give it something else to feast upon.

How many words did you get in two minutes in the previous challenge? To feed the griffin, you must multiply that number by 10 to get your goal (ex. If you wrote 100 words in 2 minutes, your final goal is 1000 words).

However, for each cookie that you collected, you may subtract 2 minutes worth of words from that total. If you have collected enoough cookies to defeat the monster outright, you must write only 22 words.

The monster lays before you now, well fed and about to nap.You sit up with a start, realizing you’ve never left the pool’s edge the whole time.

The Lady waits for you.

“Did you find what you sought?”

You nod, slowly.

“I thought so.” She smiles. “Now, it is time for you to go. Close your eyes.”

Write for 90 seconds with your eyes closed. No peeking!

You open your eyes and you are back in the cafe, except… it is full of people. All around you are people typing away on typewriters and laptops, teenagers gossiping in cozy corners with open textbooks on tables, couples talking animatedly over lattes. The air still shimmers, but the barista looks to have both feet planted firmly on the ground now. He catches your gaze and winks at you.

“Can I get you anything else?”

[rondaincorporated]

Hummingbird Species, Part 223

Today’s bird is the green-breasted mountaingem, Lampornis sybillae. The Green-breasted Mountain-gem, scientifically known as Lampornis sybillae, is a captivating species of hummingbird predominantly found in Central America. This essay will delve into various aspects of this bird, including its physical characteristics, habitat, behavior, diet, breeding habits, and role in the ecosystem, while…

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

What is your favorite scent? Also, what do you collect/did you collect as a child? (Both of these are stolen icebreakers from one of my classes)

My fav fragrance is Cernunnos by Hagroot. Extra bonus for it not irritating my asthma or skin. I favor earthy scents with a touch of floral or sweet. This one has a cinnamon earthy scent I find irresistible. For ages, Bubby wore HiStory by Calvin Klein and, holy fuck, that scent is amaaaaazing. I think it's worth mentioning the onky reason I didn't bother becoming a perfume specialist is due to my asthma. I have an absurdly strong sense of smell, courtesy of epilepsy (look it up; the brain is weird).

The smell of decaying foliage in autumn is definitely one of my fav scents.

I used to collect unicorns, but lost interest when I was around 18. Now it's fairies (I favor dragonfly wings over butterfly any day of the week), mugs and teacups, hummingbirds, peacocks, daisies (fav flower), and because of my love for Dune as well as Dragon Age, I've collected stuff for those too. Because I'm picky and have very little space, I'm not too crowded with my collecting.

[copepods]

took a bunch of old paintings out of storage today :) the majority are from 2019-2020!

[id: a collection of oil paintings. the first is an abstract painting of jagged shapes in pink, blue, purple and yellow, resembling peacock feathers. the second is a painting of a hummingbird next to a red flower, with a swirling galaxy in the background. the third painting is abstract, with a collection of stripes, squares and curves arranged neatly with a white, blue and pink color palette. the fourth is an abstract painting in blue, white and yellow, composed of several rectangles amid cloud-like swirls. the fifth is a still life of a white mug with a cat face, a teabag, a green vase, and an apple, all on top of a white napkin. the background is light blue with a black grid. the sixth painting is of two green dragons sleeping in a grassy field. in the foreground is a metal fence with a sign that says “area behind sign is reserved for wildlife, no trespassing”. the final painting is of a stylized tiger, lying down over a blue background. end id]

this one is my favorite. its also Lorge (like 3 by 4 feet)

[bumbleklee]

what genshin characters remind me of (male version)

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | baby series

a/n: literally every male genshin character i can think of 

diluc

strawberry fields, german shepards, doc martens, autumn, cherry coke, led zeppelin, custom handshakes

kaeya

snowstorms, little white lies, vintage clothes, sterling silver, midnight, orchestra, cologne, wilted roses

zhongli

citrine, fresh orange juice, ballpoint pens, clouds, wristwatches, the smell of old books, sperrys

childe

old money, solid gold, designer sneakers, sun-kissed freckles, golden retrievers, riptides, collecting seashells

thoma

genuine laughter, piggy back rides, the color yellow, sunflowers, vanilla milkshakes, gardening

albedo

university, typewriters, messy desks, stray cats, chamomile tea, quiet laughter, mug collections, freshly picked mint

kazuha

poetry, english class, autumn leaves, dainty jewelry, gentle smiles, hummingbirds, early morning fog

gorou

sunshine, canine teeth, high top sneakers, honeydew melon, resilience, eagles, teal

bennett

sunburns, unruly hair, worn out jeans, chipped nail polish, messy handwriting, layered sweaters, innocence

chongyun

morning dew, halloween, black hoodies, ouija boards, checkered vans, pierced ears, ravens

xinqiu

cheesy romcoms, pranks, photographic memory, silver jewelry, calligraphy pens, unbroken book spines

baizhu

apothecary, greenhouses, raw crystals, warm weather, wasteland, dead of the night

aether

the sun, memories of youth, fool’s gold, gentle touches, rare smiles, tranquility

itto

high fives, strength, midnight adventures, little smirks, promises to catch you

xiao

venti

razor

scaramouche

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,340 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Hershel's Farm Warnings: Language, domestic violence, fear and anxiety A/N: Here with some Protective!Daryl for ya'll! Summary: When Daryl finds the reader outside in the rain in the middle of the night, he gives her a dry place to sleep, but the next day it causes problems with her asshole of a boyfriend.

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Daryl couldn’t sleep. He’d tossed and turned restlessly in his tent and finally decided to get up and do a perimeter check just for some goddamned thing to do to pass the time. A heavy rain was falling and it bothered him not being able to hear anything over the deluge.

He shouldered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, grabbing his flashlight from its place next to his cot. He slipped out of his tent and started through the maze of tents. That’s when he saw you. It looked like you were sincerely hoping he wouldn’t, like you were trying to blend into the tree trunk you were leaning against, sheltering as much as you could beneath the oak, obviously somewhat wet from the rain and shivering slightly.

Daryl’s brow drew down over his eyes and he headed straight for you. “What the hell are ya doin’ out here alone in the dark in the middle of a damn thunderstorm?”

You didn’t answer but you did raise your eyes to his, hugging your arms more tightly around yourself. He watched another shiver wrack through you. The archer frowned. “Why ain’t ya in with your guy?” he asked, jutting a thumb in the direction of the tent you shared with your boyfriend. Daryl didn’t like him at all... Frankly he thought the guy was a controlling piece of shit, and he had a hunch that he might be worse even than that.

You avoided his eyes again. “We, uhh—had a fight,” you murmured. Daryl could easily read the embarrassment and shame on your face.

“That don’t explain why you’re out here in the rain,” Daryl drawled.

You continued to avoid his eyes and didn’t answer. He could think of a couple reasons why you’d be out here instead of inside the dry tent, and neither of them were good. Either he’d kicked you out or you’d left because you were afraid of him, afraid of what would happen if you stayed. Either way, there was no way in hell Daryl was gonna let you spend the night outside in the cold autumn rain.

“Ya ain’t stayin’ out here in the rain. C’mon,” he said, nudging his head back in the direction of his own tent. He turned to lead the way and glanced back over his shoulder to see you hesitating to follow him. “If ya stay out here all night, all soakin’ wet like ya are, yer gonna catch yer death. C’mon.”

This time you followed him, still shivering.

Daryl held the tent flap open for you and you stepped inside, your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself. He followed and zipped the flap closed on the rain and night. When he turned you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the tent. Daryl set his crossbow down and clicked on the lantern next to his cot. He replaced the flashlight and pulled off his jacket. He held it out to you.

You gave him a questioning look.

“I can see ya shiverin’. Take it. Can’t have ya gettin’ pneumonia. We’ve already gone through too many of Hershel’s antibiotics.”

You accepted it from him. “Thanks,” you said.

He watched you pull it on, anxiously chewing his bottom lip as the fabric swallowed up your frame. He sat down on the floor across from you and pulled his knife out and his sharpening stone, just for something to do. He needed to busy his hands, because with you in that small space with him he was suddenly feeling nervous. “Make yourself at home,” he said, nodding toward his cot on the opposite wall.

You sat down on the edge a little gingerly and watched as he drew the blade of his knife across the stone.

He kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing but his deep voice broke through the pattering of the rain on the tent. “Ya wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged deeper into his jacket. It still held the warmth of his body and it smelled like him—musky leather, campfire smoke, and the outside air. “I don’t know,” you admitted.

The sharp noise of his blade punctuated the silence. “He kick ya out or… did ya need to get out?” This time his eyes flickered up to your face.

He watched you gulp, but you held his eyes. The warm lantern light threw the angles of your face into sharp relief. Your eyelashes cast long shadows on your cheeks.

Daryl’s light blue eyes moved back down to his hands. “S’alright. Ya ain’t gotta say.”

You bit at the inside of your cheek and couldn’t help another shiver that ran up your back. The archer looked up at you again immediately, concern furrowing his brow. He set his knife aside and climbed to his feet.

He unzipped the flap of the tent and stepped out. He met your questioning gaze with a nod. “I’ll be right back.”

This left you alone in his tent for a short time, just the hammering of the rain to keep you company. Your eyes wandered around the contents. It was a little unkempt, with clothes piled haphazardly in one corner and the edges of the canvas floor cluttered with tools and random items. There were half-finished crossbow bolts piled on a box that was serving as a side table, but something beneath them caught your eye. You gently brushed aside the wooden shafts and carefully lifted what had drawn your attention. It was delicate and brittle but you recognized it immediately as you carefully laid it out flat on your palm.

One day in the summer you had been collecting firewood for the group, eager to do something useful and needing some space for a while. You’d come upon a vine bursting with crimson flowers and as you’d stood and admired it, such a simple but beautiful thing, you’d watched hummingbirds flitting between the blossoms.

Wanting to know the name of the plant, you’d plucked a bloom and brought it back to the archer to identify. He’d taken hardly a glance at it before telling you its name. “Coral honeysuckle,” he drawled. “Ya can crush the berries and use ‘em on bee stings.”

“Coral honeysuckle,” you repeated. “There were tons of hummingbirds on it.”

He nodded. “Mhm. They like the nectar,” he said, holding the flower back out to you.

“Keep it,” you said with a smile, “as payment for your identification services.”

Daryl’s heart jumped at the smile on your face and he twirled the bloom between his fingers as he watched you retreat back toward the group.

This looked like the very same flower you had picked. He’d obviously pressed it underneath something to preserve it. The vibrant red petals were only slightly muted in color. He’d kept it all these months? You puzzled over this as you replaced it where you’d found it and arranged the crossbow bolts over it again. It was hard to ignore the warm feeling growing right between your lungs, threatening to spill outward.

A few minutes later, Daryl came into the tent again. There were raindrops on his shirt and caught in his hair. He had a small mug clutched in his hands and you could see spirals of steam rising from the surface. He extended it toward you and you accepted it, puzzled as you looked inside.

“Tea?” you asked, looking back up as Daryl settled onto the floor again.

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod. “Mhm. I dunno if it’s any good. I think it’s some ginger-lemon thing Maggie brought to help with Lori’s nausea. But it’s hot. And you’re still cold,” he said. He felt nervous under the bewildered gaze you were giving him.

This man had just gone out into a thunderstorm to heat water for you and bring you tea simply because he’d seen you shiver. Not to mention that you were wrapped in his coat and he was sheltering you from the storm when your own boyfriend had—his voice broke your train of thought.

“I told ya. Can’t have ya gettin’ sick.” Daryl picked up his knife again and went back to sharpening it.

It was silent for some time as you sipped at the tea and watched the archer work on his knives diligently. You didn’t know that he could feel your eyes on him and it was driving him crazy. His body seemed to respond to you like you were a drug and he was an addict. He did his best to keep it under control. After all, you were technically spoken for, even if the guy was a complete douchebag at best.

But finally you spoke, setting the empty mug aside and sitting farther back on his cot, pulling your boots off and folding your legs under you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing the next knife that needed sharpening from its sheath.

“What do you think of—of my boyfriend?” you asked. Your cheeks immediately flushed. You felt stupid even asking the question. You already knew the answer and you knew where this conversation would lead. You knew what you needed to do, but you were afraid to do it. Did you really think someone else saying what you thought out loud was going to somehow give you the courage to go through with what needed to happen?

Daryl’s hands froze and he looked up at you, his eyes narrowed and fixated on your face for a long moment. He averted them back down and resumed his work again just as suddenly as he had stopped. “Don’t matter what I think.”

“It matters to me,” you said quietly.

The silence between you was suddenly thick, like a stagnant room full of humidity, the air heavy. The raindrops on the tent seemed to surround you and insulate you from everything else, from the rest of the world. The atmosphere was almost intoxicating, disorienting.

Eventually, Daryl’s blue eyes lifted again and fell on your face. He sighed heavily. “Ya really want to know what I think?” You nodded. “I think ya deserve better.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyebrows lifted in surprise. You’d expected Daryl to call him an asshole. You hadn’t expected that stated so explicitly. And you really didn’t expect him to go on.

“Either he threw ya out of your own damn tent into a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, or ya had to get out because being outside in a thunderstorm in the dark was a better option than bein’ in there with him. What kinda man is that?” He scowled for a moment as he thought about how much he wanted to drag the guy out of your tent, give him a few good punches, and leave his ass in the rain. He turned back to his knives.

You were silent, consumed by your thoughts, but eventually you yawned and Daryl looked up immediately. He systematically put away his tools and then he grabbed some balled up clothes to use as a pillow. He also grabbed his poncho. His eyes lifted and met yours. “Ya take the cot. I’m good down here,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’ll go—”

Daryl let out a scoff. “What are ya gonna do? Go sleep out under that tree?” He shook his head and settled down on the floor, leaning back onto the makeshift pillow and draping his arm over his eyes. “Wasn’t a question anyhow. Just get the lantern when you’re settled in.”

You couldn’t help smiling at him on the floor where he was stretched out under his poncho, a knife right beside him. You watched his ribs rise and fall with his breathing a few times and the butterflies in your stomach made you realize that you were most definitely in trouble… in more ways than one.

You clicked off the lantern and laid down on his cot, still wrapped in his coat. You slept peacefully until morning.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You woke early as the orange glow of the sun struck the tent walls and you shot up straight at the sound of Daryl stirring.

He nudged his nose up at you in a greeting and you gave him a small smile. His heart jumped at the sight of you in his jacket, on his cot, that sleepy smile and your tousled hair. He tried to ignore how many times he’d fantasized about this very scene, but with a slightly different context where that was right where you were always supposed to be.

“Hey,” you greeted him.

He stood and shouldered his bow. “I’m gonna go hunt. Ya ain’t gotta get up yet. Sun’s barely up.”

You bent and started pulling your boots on. “It’s alright. I’m already up.” You slipped his jacket off and laid it on his cot. “Thanks,” you murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear and trying to smooth the strands a little self-consciously. “For everything last night.”

He shrugged and chewed his bottom lip a little anxiously. “S’nothin’.” For some reason this made you smile and he thought your cheeks grew a little pink.

“You always downplay everything you do. You shouldn’t,” you said kindly, standing up. “It was way more than nothing.”

Daryl gulped and simply opened the tent flap and stepped out. You followed him and gave him another small smile as he nodded at you one more time and then headed for the woods.

You decided to do some of the morning chores since you were already up and set about gathering more and restacking the fire wood and doing some preparation for breakfast. You grabbed the water canisters and headed toward the well to fill them. You were filling the second container when you heard footsteps in the grass behind you. You turned to see your boyfriend striding straight toward you. Your stomach churned.

“Morning, Y/N,” he said, coming to lean against the side of the well. His affect was flat and you were immediately on edge.

You avoided his eyes and didn’t say anything, just continued your work.

He reached over suddenly and pressed the pump handle down hard to stop the flow of water and your eyes shot up to his face. His expression was dark.

“You know, it’s weird. I got up while it was still dark and went out to look for you. Even went up to the house, but,” he shrugged, “you were nowhere to be seen.”

You stared back at him, your heart starting to rush a little in your chest.

“And I just wondered to myself, ‘Where could my girl have gone?’” He moved toward you, drawing himself up to his full height.

You stared up at him, gulping at the nervous tightness in your throat. “Seeing as you threw me out, I figured you wouldn’t care or come looking,” you said, reaching over and lifting the well handle again to start the flow of water, a little surprised at your own boldness to talk back to him in the way you did.

He immediately slammed the handle back down. “Well, I did. And imagine my surprise this morning when I saw you coming out of Daryl’s tent.”

You gulped.

“As soon as you found an excuse you just went running straight to that dumb redneck, didn’t you? Huh? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back? Did you have a good fuck last night?” He was right in your face now and you recoiled.

“It wasn’t—It wasn’t like that. I didn’t! It was storming. All he did was get me out of the rain. He—he slept on the floor. I just slept on his cot! That’s it,” you said, urgently grabbing the water and trying to rush back toward the tents and the group, sensing sincere danger not far away.

But your progress was stopped when he grabbed your arm and spun you back around. You dropped one of the water containers which spilled its contents onto the ground. “You really think I’m gonna believe that? How stupid do you think I am?” There was rage burning in his eyes. “We have a fight and you think you can go fuck whoever the hell you want? Do I have to remind you who you belong to?!” He was yelling at you now and you tried to pry his hand from your arm. His fingers were digging in painfully.

“I’ve never cheated on you! I wouldn’t—please!”

He sneered. “Why the hell should I believe that?! Huh? You’re mine! I don’t want to see you talking to another man. Hell, if I even catch you looking at that redneck again, you’ll pay for it.”

His grip on your arm felt like it was tightening by the second. “I swear nothing happened! You’re hurting me! Let go!” you pleaded, feeling your eyes going wide with fear.

He growled at you through his teeth. “I can do whatever the hell I want. I’ll break your arm if I want to,” he said viciously, starting to twist your arm behind your back painfully. You couldn’t help crying out, but that was the wrong thing to do, and you knew it.

The next moment you felt a blow across your jaw and tasted blood in your mouth. You fell to the ground, splayed in the dust, narrowly missing cracking your head against the cobbled stone of the well. Your vision was black. You could only hear a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The blackness dissolved slowly and you climbed desperately to your feet, but another blow landed across your cheek and you fell hard against the stone well this time, your back colliding painfully with the jagged edges of rock. You had an arm up to shield yourself as you tried to orient yourself again, waiting for your vision to clear.

You were waiting for the next blow to come, steeling yourself as best you could, but it never landed. The next thing you knew Daryl had barreled out of nowhere and he had your boyfriend on the ground beneath him, landing blow after blow into his face and body. “You piece of shit! Ya think hittin’ her makes you a fuckin’ man?! I’ll kill you if you ever lay a goddamn hand on her again!”

You watched in stunned horror. The rest of your group members were tearing across the field toward the commotion. They’d heard the yelling and your surprised scream and raced to get to you. Rick and Lori were in the lead and suddenly they were there. Lori grabbed you and helped you to your feet, her face white as a sheet as she looked at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting you in your daze, leading you slightly back and away from the melee. When you glanced back over at Daryl you saw that he now had his crossbow aimed right at your boyfriend’s head. His chest and shoulders were heaving and every muscle in his arms were tensed. Rick was trying to talk him down.

“Daryl. Daryl, this isn’t the way. Let’s just calm down and we’ll decide together how to deal with him,” Rick was saying softly. “Just put your bow down and we’ll deal with him.”

The muscle in Daryl’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “This bastard deserves to die,” he growled.

“I know. I know… I see what he did. But we’ll talk about this and decide on it together. Alright? Let’s just calm down for a minute.”

It took everything he had, every bit of willpower not to pull that trigger and end the bastard right there. And if you hadn’t been watching, he might have done it. But he didn’t want you to be afraid of him too. Daryl lowered his bow and Rick pulled him off your boyfriend, who was cowering on the ground with blood pouring down his face from an obviously broken nose. His eyes were already swelling shut.

Rick grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “You are comin’ with me,” Rick growled, dragging him away toward the barn.

Daryl ducked his head, his chest still heaving with exertion, and spared a glance in your direction. Your bottom lip was split and you had a hand pressed over the left side of your face, concealing the already blooming bruises from that asshole’s fist landing on your jaw and cheekbone. His heart ached, his stomach twisted, and he turned and stalked off after Rick.

You avoided the looks of pity and shock that the rest of the group was giving you and did your best to hold in your tears of pain and humiliation. You focused on Lori as best you could.

“Oh my God. Come here, honey. Let me look at you,” Lori said, moving in front of you and pulling your hand away from your face. Next, she noticed that your back was bleeding in a few places where you’d hit the stones and you winced as you tried to straighten up completely. Spots of crimson were staining your shirt. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Come on. Let’s go clean you up. Come on.” She wrapped an arm around your shoulders again.

You felt like you were going into shock. You were disoriented. Lori led you up to the farmhouse and called out to Maggie and Hershel as you entered. They both rushed into the front room.

“Oh my God. What happened?” Maggie asked urgently, her eyes going round with horror.

Lori gave her a look and Maggie seemed to understand. There had been suspicions going around the group that perhaps your boyfriend was laying his hands on you occasionally, and they all seemed to now be confirmed.

Lori led you to sit down on a chair in the dining room. The vet-turned-doctor examined your face and determined that, luckily, no bones were out of place, but that you likely had a fractured cheekbone and a concussion, not the mention the injuries to your back and your split lip.

Lori guided you to the bathroom and started the bath tub filling with warm water. “Alright. Climb in there and I’ll be back in to help clean up your back, alright?” she said gently. She left and shut the door softly behind her.

You obediently stripped your clothes off, in a daze still, and stepped into the tub, wrapping your arms around your knees, holding them tightly to your chest. Lori knocked a moment later and you murmured a “come in.” She had a washcloth in one hand and sank down on the edge of the tub, immediately dipping it into the hot water and dabbing at the wounds on your back. The abrasions weren’t too deep, but it looked like most of your back would be badly bruised.

You were grateful she didn’t say anything. You’d seen the expression on her face and that was enough. She sighed heavily and climbed to her feet. “Come on out when you’re ready. Hershel says you can stay in the guest room tonight. We want to keep an eye on you because of that concussion, okay?”

You nodded and rested your chin on your knees. It was right then when the tears finally started pouring down your cheeks and you gasped in a shuddering breath. “Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Lori said, rushing right back over and kneeling beside the tub, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“I don’t even recognize who I am anymore,” you said, rushing to wipe the tears that broke free from your eyes. “I think after everything fell apart, I just thought if I didn’t have something to cling onto from before that I—I don’t know—that I wouldn’t make it. But then he just… changed. And it didn’t happen all at once and I think that’s why I didn’t just—it was gradual. I almost didn’t notice it and then all of a sudden he just wasn’t himself anymore.” You hastily wiped at your tears again. “I feel so stupid and embarrassed and ashamed,” you admitted, unable to look at her.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. And you have nothin’ to feel ashamed about. And it’s all over now, alright? It’s over.”

You gasped in a shaky breath. “If Daryl hadn’t—”

“I know,” she shushed you. “I know. But he did. It’s all gonna be okay now, alright? Get cleaned up and I’ll be right outside in case you need anything.”

You gave her a grateful look and nodded. You sat in the hot water until it started to cool, your mind mostly blank. The adrenaline had worn off now and you were feeling every bit of pain. Your head felt like it was going to split open and you winced at the sight of your swollen and bruised face in the mirror. You pulled your clothes back on and ventured into the hallway. Lori was standing there with some clean clothes for you and she led you to the guest room and set them on the bed.

“Get changed into those clean clothes and then you need to rest. Hershel’s orders. He wants you in bed. We need to be careful because of that concussion.”

You thanked her again and nodded. You discarded your bloodstained shirt and dirty jeans on a chair in the corner and pulled on the new outfit before climbing under the covers. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing out again and you squeezed your eyes shut against the pounding in your face and head.

Outside, the group was gathered to discuss what to do with your boyfriend. Daryl couldn’t stand still and was pacing angrily in front of the house. He looked up as Lori came out and the screen door slammed with a snap.

“How is she?” Rick asked, his face dark with concern.

“Alright, considering,” Lori said, slipping her hands in her back pockets. “Concussion. Bruised and swollen. Abrasions over half her back. Hershel thinks her cheekbone is fractured.” She caught Daryl’s eyes and gave him a knowing look.

“Oh my God,” Andrea said, exchanging a look with Carol, whose eyes turned down toward the grass.

Daryl swore under his breath and resumed his pacing.

“Well, what do we do?” T-dog asked. “We can’t just keep going on like everything is normal with him in camp. He’s got to go.”

“The question is how,” Dale said.

“That bastard ain’t even deserve to still be drawin’ breath,” Daryl drawled. He looked at Rick.

Rick sighed heavily. “Yeah…”

“I mean, I agree with Daryl, man. I don’t want that guy around any of us,” Shane said.

“What if we just take him out and leave him? Drive him way out and drop him off somewhere,” Rick mused.

Shane scoffed. “We might as well shoot him in the head right now. He’d never make it out there alone. That’s as good as killing him.”

Rick nodded. “I know, but it feels a little less like the blood is on our hands then... He has a chance.”

“He don’t even deserve a chance. I’m fine with his blood on our hands,” Daryl spat. “If I hadn’t been over there huntin’ he coulda killed her.”

Rick sighed again, the weight of the decision obviously weighing on him, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah… Let’s just take the day to think it over. We can decide tonight. And Y/N can have a say.”

The group nodded in agreement and dispersed. Lori went back in to check on you.

She knocked lightly on the door and you murmured for her to come in. “How are you feeling?” she asked you.

“I’m fine,” you said, lying about how much pain you were in.

She nodded. “We’re all going to figure out what to do about him,” she said. “You should think about what you want to happen. He can’t stay here, but as far as what that means—”

“Okay,” you interrupted her. You rolled over and looked at her in the doorway. “Is Daryl—?”

She smiled a little and nodded. “You want me to get him? He’s probably still pacing on the front porch.

You nodded. “If you could.”

“Of course.” Lori left and in a moment the archer appeared in the doorway.

You were in bed, your back to the door, but you turned and looked over your shoulder at the sound of his footsteps. Daryl’s stomach twisted at the swelling and red welts on your face. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.” You pulled yourself up in a seated position and Daryl came around and sank down on the chair pulled up at the side of the bed. “I just wanted to say thank you,” you said, unable to meet his eyes and instead running the edge of the sheet through your fingers, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen. “And I’m sorry that you got pulled into this mess…” you trailed off.

“I ain’t,” he said forcefully. “I’m glad I got to beat the shit out that guy. I just wish I’d done it sooner.”

You looked up at him and the glistening tears in your eyes made the colors in your irises stand out. His stomach flipped again at the sight of your injuries. “I feel so stupid. I never should have stayed with him.”

Daryl shook his head. “Ain’t that simple.”

You were grateful for his understanding. Daryl watched you struggling with some thought until you finally spoke it. “What if he gets out?” you asked, fear obvious in your eyes.

“He ain’t getting’ out. I tied his ass up myself,” Daryl reassured you. “But I’ll sit watch outside all night. Nothin’ is gonna happen to ya. It’s over.” The archer stood but your hand shot out and gently landed on his arm. He froze at the feeling of electricity that crackled from your fingers.

“Will you sit with me for a little while?” you asked. “Just—until I can fall asleep.”

He nudged his nose up in a nod and sank back down, feeling nervous and chewing on his bottom lip. Daryl watched as you settled back down in bed, pulling the covers up over yourself and shutting your eyes, your long eyelashes fanning out against your cheeks. The feelings welling up in him were getting more and more difficult to deny, and he knew now wasn’t the time—not yet. You needed to get through this first. But Daryl wanted to show you how you did deserve to be treated, even as he dared not hope that he’d have the chance, that you’d feel the same thing for him that he felt for you. He wanted to protect you, take care of you. He wanted to show you how strong you actually were, even as he thought of how much you reminded him of that flower you’d brought him; vibrant, sweet, soft, delicate, but always climbing toward the light. And he was determined to help you see it.