#free sunflower phone wallpaper

[dragoncxv360]

Aight, makin a new pinned post

I'm sorry for the lack of image IDs on most of my art, I just don't really have the spoons to write them most of the time

Any nsfw posts will now go on a sideblog. Suggestive stuff will still go here (with tags of course)

Comissions are open

Here is the commission sheets

(Drawing requests are closed unless I specifically ask for requests)

You can find my art on here under the tags my art or ellery's art

Also also, asks are welcome! I'd love to chat about stuff! Keep it sfw and free of gore tho please (also I usually have anon asks off in case of harrassment so sorry about that for the people who get anxious off anon)

Update 2/7/24, asks are going to be off until further notice because of the fucking spam bots

Any fnafics I post will be on my ao3 (I will list them under the cut) Sadly due to ai bullshit I have locked them to registered users only. (Sunflowers and Stardust is cross posted on ffn but it is the only one I have cross posted for the time being so if you see any of my other stories on there, they were not posted by me and are therefore stolen)

Currently looking into other options for my stickers since I’ve decided I don’t wanna use teespring anymore. You can support me on kofi

Also I have a few poems and stuff posted here under the my writing tag (also under the ellery's writing tag)

Info post on my security sun au

Info post on You're Everything I'm Not

I have my ocs tagged by their name (eg. All my art of Pinky is tagged as Pinky Roth) so it's easier to find other art of them. I also have the tag you're everything I'm not for ocs from that story

Do not repost, trace, or edit my art. Do not repost or edit my writing. This includes translations and dubbing/narrating my art or fics. I especially do not want reposts with all this AI bullshit data scraping.

Please ask before using my art as a pfp or banner or anything like that

(if it was made for you you can use it as a pfp or banner)

Using my art as a phone/tablet/computer wallpaper is totally ok though

Do not fucking feed my art or writing to ai, you will be blocked and blacklisted from my comissions and anything else involving me on sight. This includes using my art, writing, and/or characters in chat ai bots, it's not ok and never will be.

Do not roleplay my ocs or use my character art and/or writing/worldbuilding for your own story or dnd character or campaign.

Also I don't currently feel comfortable with other people writing fics for my aus (or ocs). I know most people are ok with that but I just currently am not quite 100% ok with it

Making fanart of my aus and/or ocs/stories is totally ok, just please keep it sfw and free of heavy gore. I am aware my fics and/or art often includes such topics but I'm not currently comfortable with other people drawing those things for me. If you would like more specific rules for my characters, you can check my artfight

If you are heavily inspired by my story/stories for one of your own fics (by heavily inspired I don't mean stuff like wanting to write a genderfluid Sun too or even wanting to write a fic with a similar plot such as a fic with Sun dying and Moon dealing with the grief of that loss, I mean stuff that copies multiple and very specific aspects of my stories) please send an ask or a dm to me, I'd be happy to discuss what is and isn't comfortable so that we can work something out. Please note though that I may say something is too heavily inspired to be comfortable for me. I'd most likely be happy to help give you pointers on changes you can make so it's comfortable for me though.

Fics are listed in the order they’ve been posted (based on the first chapter for multichapter fics). Please look to ao3 for reference to which au each fic belongs to and what order they’re in (they’re listed in chronological order unless specified otherwise but you don’t need to read them in that order or read all the fics in the series)

Blood and Oil

Explicit

Major character death, graphic depictions of violence

Sun x Moon (past, sort of), Moon x Monty (there are other background ships but these are the main ones)

Incomplete, ongoing

This fic deals with or eventually will deal with: death, murder, grief, ptsd, trauma, nightmares, hallucinations, self harm, dissisociation, and toxic relationships and coping habits. It will also deal with sex and sexual themes, including sexual hallucinations. While this fic will deal with complicated feelings around sex and self worth in relation to sex, it will NOT deal with rape/non con. Please use caution when reading this story

Moon is patrolling one night when he comes across an intruder with more violent intentions. Things go downhill fast and just when he thinks he's going to die and this is the end, Sun sacrifices herself and saves Moon. Now left in a world without his lifelong partner and other half, Moon must figure out how to survive alone.

Good Girl

Explicit

No archive warnings apply

Sun x Moon, Sun x Moon x Monty

Complete, 1 chapter

Wordcount: 5,081

Sun accidentally calls Moon a good girl during daycare hours and Moon likes it more than he thought he would

Don't Cry, Firefly

Explicit

No archieve warnings apply

Sun x Moon

Complete, 3/3 chapters

Wordcount: 10,904

He felt his face heat up as he realized what was going on. He was about to walk away to give Sun some privacy when he heard them whimper, "M-Moonlight, I need you."

Moon froze. It wasn't the first time he'd walked in on Sun masturbating, but it was the first time he'd ever heard them say his name during it.

Claws and Teeth

Explicit

No archive warnings apply

Sundrop x Moondrop x Eclipse x Nova (oc)

Complete, 1 chapter

Wordcount: 4,447

Eclipse couldn't believe how he'd ended up in this position. Everything had started as a normal night with his partners, watching a movie and playing games, and now they were making out with him on the couch and biting him.

Eclipse has a fun night with his partners in a role he doesn't normally take, the sub

Stitch Me Up

Explicit

No Archieve Warnings Apply

Eclipse x Nova (oc)

Complete, 1 chapter

Wordcount: 1,565

After being sent to the hospital for a bad panic attack that resulted in self harm, Nova comforts Eclipse with some soft sex

This fic mentions depression, anxiety, and self harm. Please don’t read it if you are sensitive to those topics

Sunflowers and Stardust

Mature

Graphic depictions of violence

Sun x Moon, other relationships to be added

Incomplete, ongoing

The main fic for my security Sun au

Starting a few months after the virus has been fixed, this fic will explore Sun and Moon's future over the next 11 years, and delve into what the prior 10 years were like for them. There will be lots of shenanigans and lots of self discovery as they grow and heal. The glamrocks, Foxy, and DJ will be in the fic but won't be focused on as much as Sun and Moon. There will also be lots of relationships explored in this fic as most of the characters are poly in some way. I will update the relationship tags as needed.

Any smut will be contained to separate fics so that people who don't like that stuff don't have to read it. However, there are discussions of Moon’s sex repulsion and Sun’s lack thereof, meaning there are vague mentions of how Sun feels. There will not be any explicit sex or masturbation scenes in the fic though, merely discussions of boundaries on these sorts of things.

Making Starlings

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Sundrop x Moondrop x Eclipse x Nova (oc)

Complete, 3 chapters

Wordcount: 9,941

Moondrop plans a fun night of movies and sex with their other partners, Nova and Eclipse, for Sundrop, but gets worked up before the movies even begin.

This fic will deal with the begining of pregnancy in later chapters so be aware of that

Why Am I So Hot?

Explicit

No Archieve Warnings Apply

Sun x Moon x Monty, Sun x Moon

Complete, Chapters 3/3

Wordcount: 6,747

Sun goes into heat and Moon and Monty help him

Chapter 2 is Moon's heat, chapter 3 is Monty's heat

Sometimes Things Start With Love And All We Get Is What's Left Over

Explicit

No Archieve Warnings Apply

Sun x Moon, Sun and Moon and reader (platonic, not romantic or sexual)

Incomplete, ongoing

Fantasy au where Sun and Moon run an odds and ends shop and meet y/n when they come in looking for lavender. Moon is instantly smitten and Sun teases his partner endlessly about it.

Lune and Moon

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Sun x Moon, Moon x Monty, Moon x Moon

Chapters 2/3

Warning: contains spoilers for the end of Blood and Oil

Completely non canon thing where the two different versions of the security sun au cast meet and both Moons fall for each other

Lune is the Moon from Blood and Oil, she's transitioned and changed her name

Language, Darling

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Sun x Moon, Sun x Moon x Eclipse

Complete, 1 chapter

Wordcount: 3,011

Eclipse gets worked up after Sun and Moon tickle it and they end up fucking it

Wreck and Recovery

Explicit

Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Eclipse x Nova (oc), past Eclipse x Monty

Complete, 2 chapters

Wordcount: 4,633

The first chapter does not deal with rape, the second chapter does. Please heed the tags as the second chapter is violent.

A prequel of sorts to the Organic/Recovery au's current fics, explaining Eclipse's past with Monty and initial relationship with Nova

(Also, I shouldn't really have to say this but no I don't condone this shit, and this is likely the only time I'll write it actually happening instead of it being an attempt and being stopped)

Aftermath

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Eclipse x Nova (oc)

Complete, 1 chapter

Wordcount: 2,460

I wanted to write a bit more detail about the aftermath of Wreck and Recovery so I wrote this

CW: mentions of past abuse and mentions of past rape

Set 3 or so months after Wreck and Recovery, Eclipse and Nova are working through the complex emotions they're both feeling and trying to talk to each other about new boundaries

And I'll Love You Softly

Explicit

No Archieve Warnings Apply

Eclipse x Nova (oc) x Sundrop x Moondrop

Complete, 1 chapter

Wordcount: 9,148

“Did you wake up like this?” he repeated his question from earlier.

They nodded. “Y-yeah. I was really hot and—ohhh,” they moaned as their clit slid at the perfect angle across his thigh, “a-and really horny,” they finished. “Nngh, just wanna be bred,” they whined, wiggling their hips in circles.

He frowned, brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and concern. “It's almost like you're in—” he cut off, eyes going wide. “Oh…” he said quietly. “I…didn't know that would happen.”

“Th-that what would happen?” they asked, unable to stop the whining building up in their throat at the spike of anxiety and confusion coursing through them.

He bit his lip, blushing and looking away. “Y-you're in heat,” he finally said, cupping their cheek in his hand as he glanced back up at them.

...

Eclipse goes into a pseudo heat

I also have a handful of short stories that I wrote in like 2019 on there

[wallmouse]

Guildies: Chapter One - Rough Draft #1

Whirring.

Whirring.

Whirring.

Simon stared at the leftover chicken tenders he got from the fridge of the Limbo House, the House of Doors, the House with layers and layers of paintings serving as the wallpaper. And the fridge. And all the kitchen cabinets in the second-floor kitchen Simon currently stood in. He marveled at the bright sunflowers painted around the microwave as if its electromagnetic waves were from the sun itself.

Ding!

Simon extracted the plate from the microwave and squeezed some ketchup near the chickens. The breaded bits were a bit soggy, but he could make do; Simon had been eating nothing but takeout and leftovers since his arrival in Sutton, Michigan. He stared at a wood decoration painted to match what he assumed was a night sky in the Upper Peninsula, with the addition of northern lights and the trees that surrounded the town. He checked his phone; It was 3:43 in the afternoon, 13 minutes after when Ioanna “Io” Gamal, the manager of the house usually came in to check on the workers. 

Shrugging, Simon carried his plate to the couch next to the kitchen. He admired the view from the nearby window, the woods and flat land a contrast to the skyscrapers and cities he was used to and sat down next to all the bound and gagged employees. He adjusted his sword on the table to make room for the plate. He dipped a tender in ketchup and chewed. He turned towards one of the employees he had tied up, “Y’know, if you get out of this alive, you should invest in some barbeque sauce, as well as updating this place’s outdated security system. This place’s collection of condiments is atrocious.” The employee, being gagged, did not respond. Simon believed the employee’s name was Winter, and he had captured him in the house’s connected greenhouse. “Anyway, do you guys know where your boss is? Because I’ve been watching you guys for a week or so and she usually comes in around now.”

Once again, no one responded because they were all gagged. Technically, two out of the five of them were unconscious. Cyrene the Witch was ambushed when she had entered the house, her moving tattoos now motionless. Alex the Spiderling, who was the maintenance man and knew all the house’s dangerous secrets, almost looked like he was sleeping. They were too dangerous to be left conscious. Winter, Taya, who Simon had captured in the library, and Nagosta, who Simon physically pulled out from the vents, as far as he could tell, were nonmagical. And so, they were the awake ones, all arranged like they and Simon were friends on the couch, opposed to the rest who were slumped in the corner, eyes closed. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t follow you guys home or anything. That would be extra work, and no offense, but you guys seem very boring.” At least, that was what Simon thought from his glimpses into the Limbo House whenever he wasn’t busy listening to his playlist over and over. He leaned back and looked at the clock. It was still ticking, and Io was still not showing. He looked back at his unwilling companions. Taya had a red rash spreading across her face like a forest fire. Dear gods he hoped it wasn’t contagious.

“Plus, that would be such a violation of privacy. And I’m not a stalker or anything, I’m just doing a job assigned to me with some creativity. Although a friend of mine back in college had a stalker and oh boy, his demeanor really changed after that. Whenever we went to a restaurant, he always had to sit facing the doors. Eventually, I took care of that stalker. And by ‘took care of’, I mean killed. On my free time too! No charge whatsoever! If my family found out they’d be pissed!” Simon tugged the fur collar of his Mercenary Guild uniform, all black and tailored. Wearing it was hot in the Michigan summer, but Simon liked the way it made him look intimidating. With his natural face on, he was told he looked like a ‘goofish fop’, whatever that meant. His androgynous appearance and long, wavy hair was great at making him look eye-catching, but not scary. “I sometimes wonder what would have happened if my family did find out. I mean, maybe they did, I left them a long time ago and never came—”

The door leading to the hallway swung open and Io walked in. Her red coat swooshed around her ankles and her scales glinted gold in the sunlight, against her dark skin. She carried a coffee cup, which she then dropped at the sight of the rest of her employees.

Simon leapt into action. In a single movement he had dropped his chicken tender, grabbed the closer Taya, stood up, and held his sword against her throat, facing Io. He didn’t press hard enough to draw blood, but close. Taya’s rash bloomed even harder on her skin. Simon could feel her skin’s texture change even through his gloves. He gripped Taya and held her out to Io, daring the scaly manager to respond.

He looked at Io’s eyes, wide with panic. Her eyes landed on Simon’s uniform, and she spoke in near-perfect Runic. “The Limbo House humbly welcomes emissaries from the Mercenary Guild, who must have come a long way from Karnsa—”

“Drop the formalities. And the language, I’m from San Francisco.” Simon cut in, in English. Io’s Runic was far more fluent and natural than Simon’s, even though he was the one who lived in Karnsa for some years. “I’m here to negotiate.”

Simon focused his attention on Io and spotted her black bookbag. As far as he knew, Io wasn’t a Witch, but she did spend time deciphering an ancient language in a thick book, a language which granted great power. He kept watch for any instance of Io’s hands twitching for the bag. But all Io did was say, “go ahead,” and make some desperate eyes at the people bound and gagged.

“Yes, I am from the Guild. I was sent here to watch over your house and report on all its cool stuff, weird stuff, fun stuff, stuff people can’t know from hacking into your computer systems, stuff like that. My time reporting on you guys is meant to last a month, but you are going to help me make it last a year.”

“My terms are this: You share your house’s secrets with me. I write my report in a way that makes it clear I’m discovering a lot, but there’s lots of other stuff to be discovered too. And then he people I report to will extend my time here. Like,” he gestured at Nagosta, “she—”

“They.” Io spoke and looked surprised at herself.

“Oh,” Simon looked at Nagosta, who had been looking irate since the whole incident began. “Sorry, they can give me like, the locations of a secret door inside an air vent or something, and how it’s useful in a military sense, stuff like that.”

Simon raised his arm and leaned back to gesture at the window, keeping a tight press on Taya with the other one. “That way, I can get an extended vacation here. Where there’s nothing but trees and a declining population and weird bugs that seem to be watching you all the time—"

A dart of shining black shot toward Simon from somewhere out of his point of view. He ducked and tilted his sword to deflect it. In between the shifting of his arms, Taya wriggled out of his grid. She shoved her shoulder into him and made him stumble. Simon regained his footing and was about to lung at Taya when he heard Io’s voice.

“BIND.”

Simon’s body went ramrod stiff. He was thrown back into a wall. He could wriggle but couldn’t move. Black ropes had appeared from nowhere and dug into his body and gagged him. From his position on the floor, he saw the black dart melt into ink, which retreated and was reabsorbed back into Cyrene’s tattoos. A very awake Cyrene’s tattoos. Despite also being tied up, she glared at Simon with extreme malice, as if he had killed her coworkers instead of incapacitated them.

Simon cursed at himself for being sloppy with the knockouts. This incident really showed how his skills had decayed since his last job. He thought he had applied the right amount of pressure to keep Cyrene down for at least half a day or so. With no permanent damage, of course. Permanent damage could mess up the negotiations he had hoped to have. Simon watched Io, blood spilling out of her mouth, undo everyone else’s bindings. She kept a slit eye out on him. Not that he could do anything, these bindings were tight. He looked around. Io’s bookbag was open, and there was the edge of a book inside. She must have put is back in after she used it. Simon stretched to look at it more.

His stretching was interrupted by Cyrene’s voice. “Let’s kill him. Or ransom him to the Guild. He can’t do what he did without any consequences.” Simon looked back at her and saw Cyrene and Io in a heated conversation. 

“And risk the Guild targeting us? Look at him, the Guild has sent him to Earth. Earth! This is clearly a high priority mission for them, and this man a high priority player.”

Upon hearing that, Simon suppressed a snort. He wished he was as important as that.  Given what he had done for the Guild regarding his former friends, he really should be. He had proven himself a total Guild ass-kisser, yet, he was still an assassin grunt, just with some extra shiny medals to his name, and a wreckage of his social circle and relationship with his bosses and their bosses. So, Simon had found it a wise choice to disappear from Karnsa radar until the many people who wanted to kill or make a plaything of him lost all memory of him. A wise choice that hinged on Cyrene and Io’s conversation. 

            “And besides, even if he weren’t important, he’s willing to negotiate. What if we get rid of him, and his replacement’s even worse?” Io argued with Cyrene.

            “Can we at least extort money from him? He’s a fucking Guildy, his weekly salary could pay our monthly utilities. Just look at his uniform!” Cyrene shot back.

            “How about we talk more where he can’t hear us?” Taya said. She had gotten up and was staring at the inflamed skin on her wrists with great concern. 

            “You’re right, everyone, meet up in my office. We’ll discuss this and decide soon.” Io gestured at Alex, who had woken up, and Simon. 

            Alex walked up to Simon. “It’s nothing personal man,” he said. Simon stared in annoyance at Alex’s eyes, which looked like eight black tapioca pearls shoved into two eye sockets, each moving independently of each other.  Alex proceeded to lift him up and walked over to yet another painted wall. He pressed Simon to it, and Simon felt the odd sensation of parts of his body turning into paint and fusing with the wall. It felt oddly goopy. Alex kept pressing until only Simon’s head, hands, which were spread far apart, and a bit of a knee stuck out of the wall. The process was painless, but Simon was trapped. 

            Well okay, he had no idea this house could do something like this. Although some members did travel suspiciously fast in his observations. He had searched them for magic items when he tied everyone up, but only found some gimmicky pens. Turns out this house was the magic item all along. And he thought the paintings were just for show. Dang, he really was rusty.

Feelings of failure and a mild panic that he’ll be stuck as an art installation forever bubbled up in Simon, but he swallowed them down. He shot a mildly inconvenienced look first at Alex, and then to Io. None seemed to have noticed. Alex nodded at Io, “okay, he’s good and stuck now.”

Io nodded back and smiled. What was left of the black bindings on Simon vanished. Io visibly relaxed, as if a great tension had been released from her. “Now, does anyone care about what decision we’ll make about this man?’

“People call me Simon.”

“About Simon?” Io repeated. “Because we need someone to watch over him.”

A hand shot up. It was Nagosta’s. “Yeah, I can do it. I don’t really care about what happens to him.”

“Alright,” Io said, “thank you.” Io gathered the rest of the workers, and they all headed to her office. Winter closed the door behind them. Nagosta planted herself on a couch next to Simon and got out their phone. From Simon’s vantage point, it looked like they were playing games on it. 

They even helped themselves to Simon’s chicken tenders. 

What followed was one of the most boring spans of time in Simon’s life. Feel anxious about getting sent back to the frying pan that was Karnsa. Watch the walls. Watch Nagosta stare at him for a bit, and then go back to their phone game. Watch the walls. Want to scratch his nose but can’t because his arms are paint. Watch the walls and wonder if there really were that many hidden eyes in the paintings, or if his brain was playing tricks on him from watching the walls so much.       

After an amount of time that required Nagosta to plug in their phone to a charger and then unplug it a while later, the group came back. Simon peered up at them, “you guys should really invest in a wall clock, time kinda melted for me back here.”

“We were going to; we just keep putting it off.” Nagosta shot back, eyes still on their phone.

“Tentatively, we accept your offer with some caveats.” Io said, face smoothed from her previous fear and worry. “We’ll share some of the Limbo House’s blueprints and secrets, but not all of them. The House is also used by many clients, and we will keep their and their things’s confidentiality as well. You will only be able to use the public spaces in your reports.” 

Simon nodded to show he was listening. He wanted more things to be available, but he supposed he could simply embellish the spaces he got some more. All it was going to take was some work. Disgusting.  

“And we’ll get to read your reports and alter or omit details on appropriate ways. We’ll control what gets given to the Guild, not you. Is that fair so far?” Io continued.

Simon nodded. The wall pressed against his neck. For that concession, all he had to do was hope he didn’t get fact checked by the Guild. And find someone to scapegoat when they question him.

“Good. That was what we’ll do for you. Here, is what you’ll do for us.”

Oh boy, Simon thought, this is where he’d have to start selling organs.

“You may think this town of Sutton is a prime vacation spot, but it’s not. Like all small towns, we have ghosts, curses, and urban legends. And some of them are dangerous. As you can see,” Io gestured to the sparse workforce around them, “we’re a bit understaffed now. Thanks to your previous show of force, we think you’ll be good help to us whenever we need your combat prowess.”

“Combat prowess, he took us all by surprise!” Cyrene butted in, ink swirling on her arms. All Simon could do was roll his eyes. Technically, she took him by surprise too.

“And, since I bet your precious Guild is interested in this house being intact, whenever we need repairs, you’ll chip in an amount proportional to what everyone else pays. Also, you may not harm any of us, the people of Sutton included, during your stay here. We can discuss the details later, but these are our basic demands. Do we have a deal?”

Being part of the wall was getting uncomfortable, so Simon said, “sure.” He waved his hand in a manner he hoped indicated he wanted Io to shake it. Would they be writing and signing a contract together later?

“Good. Because you’re part of the Guild, let’s consider this agreement a Varar. I, Ioanna Gamal, swear it.” The moment Io said those words with her perfect pronunciation, Simon felt a string of power between his hand, and hers. A Varar was a sacred deal commonly used among the scions of Yggdrasil, home of Karnsa and by extension, the Mercenary Guild. Both parties must agree and if one broke it, bad fortune will befall upon them. It’s not something to be sworn lightly. Simon stared into Io’s solemn face. She wasn’t being foolish about this; Simon guessed her motivations as wanting immediate protection for the house and townspeople; Io did not act rashly based on what he knew about her. 

Io outstretched her hand toward Simon’s and stopped before she could brush her fingertips. They could not shake hands unless Simon also swore the Varar, a verbal signature on a metaphorical contract. He had agreed to the terms fine, but for the monotony of getting stuck in a painting, he wanted to stretch out the tension for everyone else. 

Simon stared at Io. Io stared back. Io’s hand was close enough that he could grasp it. Simon saw tiny droplets of sweat begin to bead down Io’s forehead. How does that work, with all the scaled sections on her skin? He didn’t bother hiding to Io that his eyes were on the sweat on her face instead of his eyes or hands. 

His eyes fell on the other workers. Some looked nervous. Nagosta was still on her phone. Cyrene looked like she wanted to rip his head off. Taya was eyeing his sword, which was taken away from him and set on the table. Alright, Simon figured he waited long enough. He looked into Io’s eyes and opened his mouth, “I, Simon Kuai, swear this Varar.”

He shook Io’s hand. With a stretching smile, he said, “you got yourself a deal.”

[banknahas]

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[wallpapernifty]

11 Awesome Things You Can Learn From Sunflower Wallpaper Phone | Sunflower Wallpaper Phone

My accouchement are adorning assorted plants at the moment; potatoes in atramentous artificial abound bags; sunflower seeds beatific to them by their grandparents’ neighbour, and a bean agriculturalist abounding with thyme and rosemary.

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For inspiration, mother-of-two Anna Burles, architect of architecture abode Run For The Hills, appropriate logging on to Studio Cultivate, which is active basic kids’ agronomical acquaint during lockdown. “We’re cultivating amazon seeds in the airing buffet which we’ll bulb in the garden,” she says.

Adults can actualize a added adult acid garden or veg application in ample pots on a balcony, windowsill or terrace, says Wakefield. She grows herbs, lettuce, tulips, creation and zinnias in terracotta pots from Pots and Pithoi (potsandpithoi.com), forth with chrysanthemums, which are accepting a moment this year.

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Don’t balloon to add some ambrosial shrubs to your acid garden, she says; the blush flowered Syringa ‘Red Pixie’ or a apish orange (Philadelphus coronarius).

A muddy, abandoned bend of your garden is the absolute abode for an alfresco classroom; my children, meanwhile, accept been creating beach monsters and castles in a makeshift sandpit created from some extra builders’ sand, while Schofield has created a backwoods academy breadth for her son with $.25 of wood, mud, trucks and boxes.

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“He creates mini worlds out there, which change daily,” she says. “It’s amazing watching his account appear to life.”

According to Burles, dust corrective with the alphabet are a abundant way to acquaint phonics, while according to Alice Clark, architect of the Willow on the Farm nursery school, authoritative bogie potions, mud pies and foraging are all backwoods academy activities that can be enjoyed in your garden.

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Being alfresco is a absolute alibi to get messy, says Pooley. “You can feel absolved to comedy about with paints and added ability materials.” Our neighbours were affectionate abundant to accord the boys some affiche paints and old wallpaper, which has aggressive some larger, Jackson Pollock-style paintings – on hot canicule they like to band off and acrylic in their pants.

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Burles has invested in garden mirror boards for her children’s breadth outside. “They animation the ablaze and accomplish the children’s amplitude assume alike larger,” she says. “And they’re absolute for home-schooling outside.”

Adults can additionally use alfresco amplitude as a artistic studio: try painting, cartoon or craft, suggests Pooley. “Lockdown is the absolute time to apprentice a new skill,” she says.

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[tamarinfrog-art]

A sunflower field

A background from other piece I decided to fully render.

Feel free to use as phone wallpaper if you want!

[lancermylove]

For You (HC)

Fandom: BSTS

Pairing: All x fem!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Hi! How do you think BSTS boys and Unei would react if their s/o (fem) give them flowers without a specific occasion and just because?

A/N: Hi~! Hope you like it. ^^

———————————————

Kei was surprised to see you handing him a red rose, but he graciously accepted the gift. 

"Thank you, my princess," he smiled softly, "what is the occasion?" 

"Nothing," you chuckled. 

Your reply made him smile again, and he leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead. 

"F-For me? Thank you..." Ginsei nervously accepted the flower and tilted his head, "why...um...?" 

"You deserve a flower." 

Your answer made him blush. Ginsei averted his eyes, but the corners of his lips curled up. "Thank you...I will use this as my strength to rehearse harder for our upcoming show." 

Gui blinked and slowly took the flower from your hand. "Thank you..." 

He continued to look at you, waiting for an explanation for the unexpected gift. 

"I felt like giving a flower to you," you giggled. 

Gui smiled and looked at the flower in hand, "It smells nice...like you." 

Yoshino rested his hand on his chest and looked at you with wide eyes. "U-Uh, I..t-thank you." 

You nodded and smiled sweetly, "This flower reminds me of you." 

Your words made the singer's heart leap, and he couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day. Not even when Mizuki accidentally kicked him. 

Sotetsu raised an eyebrow and smirked, "And what is this for?" 

"Nothing...I just wanted to give you a flower," you chuckled and handed the neatly tied bunch to him. 

"Forget me not, huh?" Sotetsu grinned, "I would never forget the woman I love." 

"A...flower?" Kokuyou asked slightly irritated. "Why give me a flower?" 

"Why not?" 

He stared at you blankly for a moment before bursting out in laughter. Kokuyou took the flower for your hand, "Next time surprise me with a kiss." 

Akira flashed a wide grin and took the flower from your hand, "The flower is pretty but not as pretty as you." 

You giggled and playfully slapped his chest, "Flirt." 

"You started it," the singer laughed. 

Sin smiled and gently took a hold of the stem. "Thank you. Would you like some tea?" 

"Sure. Hm?" You looked at him surprised, "No Singo today?" 

"I will speak in a manner you can understand as a thank you for the beautiful flower." He gave you a glimpse of his rare soft expression. 

"What's this for?" Taiga asked, surprised by the flower in front of his face. 

"Just felt like it," you grinned. 

"O-Oh...," Taiga took the rose from your hand, "thanks."

"Hey, Taiga, do you know what giving a red rose means?" 

"No..."

"It means 'I love you'," you giggled teasingly and watched as the gamer's face turned different shades of red. 

"Ah, thank you, but what is the occasion?" Takami asked as he examined the flower in his hand. 

"Nothing special." 

"I see...," he smiled, "have you heard the phrase there is no rose without a thorn?" 

You nodded and tilted your head, "Why do you ask?" 

"What would you do if I said I also have unremovable thorns? Would you still love me?" 

Rindou smiled and graciously accepted your present, "These are beautiful, thank you." 

"I hope you like them." 

"I love everything you give...because you are the one giving it to me," he whispered and delicately brushed his fingers against your cheek. 

Sinju smiled and took the flower from your hand, "Thank you! What is this for?" 

"When I saw this sunflower, I thought of you..."

Sinju flashed a toothy grin and wrapped his arms around you, “You always know how to make me happy.” 

Maica furrowed his brows together while taking the flower in his hand. "Thanks...but what are you giving me this?" 

"No reason." 

"I see...," Maica mumbled and took a quick selfie with the flower. 

"Maica, what are you doing?" 

"Taking a selfie so I upload the photo to my social media. After all, I have to let my followers know how cute my girlfriend is," he smiled teasingly.

Menou tilted his head slightly and blinked, "What is this flower for?" 

"No reason in particular." 

He chuckled and accepted your gift, "Would you like to join me for a hot spring date later? It will just be the two of us all alone..." 

Yakou examined the flower and asked, "Is today a special day? Am I forgetting something?"  

"No, I felt like giving you this...for your versus," you smiled. 

"This is...a gladiolus flower, right?" Yakou's lips curled upwards, "This is your way of giving me the strength to fight, isn't it?" 

"Thank you," Mokuren smiled, "Is this an edible flower?" 

"W-What? Mokuren!"

Team C's leader chuckled, "S-Sorry, I am hungry..." 

You shook your head and motioned towards the kitchen, "Let's see if there's any food in the kitchen. Just don't eat the flower..." 

"This flower is beautiful," Qu smiled gently, "thank you."

"Iris's are beautiful, aren't they?" You asked, admiring the blue flower in his hand. 

"They are, but not as beautiful as you," he whispered before kissing the tip of your nose. 

Kasumi appeared behind you out of nowhere and whispered, "Oh, that flower is pretty." 

You yelped and jumped. "K-Kasumi...stop doing that!" 

"S-Sorry," he chuckled, "is that flower for me?" 

"It was, but now since you sacred me, I won't give it to you." 

Kasumi pouted and pushed his bangs aside, showing you his puppy eyes. "I'm sorry, (y/n), please give me the flower." 

"Thank you for the flowers," he smiled, "are you free tomorrow?" 

"I always have time for you," you giggled and winked. 

Hari blushed, cleared his throat, and muttered, "I feel like the luckiest man alive."

"Oya Oya," Zakuro smirked as he studied the bloom in his hand, "are you attempting to flirt with me?" 

"Hm? Why do you say that?" You asked, genuinely confused. 

"By giving me a ranunculus, you're telling me that you cannot resist my charm," he chuckled teasingly, "so, (y/n), are you unable to resist my charm?" 

Mizuki accepted the flower but seemed a bit disappointed as he mumbled, "Thanks..."

"Mizuki, you don't like flowers?" 

"I want food...so next time gimme food, 'kay? But...the flower is okay too," he said, averting his eyes, "since it's for you." 

Kongou was surprised but graciously accepted the bloom. "Um, thank you. Is today a special day?"

"I felt like giving a flower,” you giggled shyly, “but every day is special when I’m with you.” 

Kongou’s cheek turned crimson hearing your sweet words. “I love you too...” 

"Thank you, but why did you give me two flowers?" He asked, tilting his head.

"One is for you, the other is for Sabu." 

"For...Sabu? You're the best!" Ran beamed and hugged you, "Thank you for always remembering him. He loves you just as much as I do." 

A wide smile danced of Heath's lips as he took the flower. "Do you know the meaning behind this flower?" 

You shook your head, "What does this flower mean?" 

"Blue Salvia's mean thinking of you," Heath flashed a soft smile, "thank you for always thinking about me." 

Rico thanked you for the flower and carefully placed it in his hair. "How do I look?" 

You stared at him in awe before taking out your phone and snapping a photo of him, much to his shock. 

You set the photo as your phone wallpaper and showed it to him. "See, you look amazing." 

Rico blushed and gave you a genuine smile, “You’re too cute for your own good.”  

"T-Thank y-you," Unei stuttered while taking the flower from your hand, "I-I'll be right back." 

He quickly walked to the office and came out with a box in hand. "I have nothing to give you in return, so...so..."

Unei bowed and held the box in front of you, "I will be happy if you share my lunch with me." 

———————————————

➣ BSTS Masterlist

[megalony]

Deadly obsession- Part 2

Here is the next part in my Ben Hardy series, thank you all for the lovely feedback so far. I hope you will all like this part.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh​

Series taglist: @benhardysbaby5 @onceuponadetectivedemigod​

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) are in a great place in their marriage but (Y/n) starts to get worried when she has a stalker who starts to get very obsessive over her and who seems to know a lot about her.

Enjoy.

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

"Are you okay?" Those three little words whispered against the shell of her ear made shivers crawl up and down (Y/n)'s spine and caused her stomach to tingle with electrified nerves.

With a gentle smile and a hum, (Y/n) leaned her head back on Ben's arm that was resting behind her on the back of the leather booth they were sitting in. She knew he was asking because she had been spacing out for a few minutes now and seemed to be sitting in her own little world. It wasn't a bad thing but Ben wanted to make sure (Y/n) was drifting rather than overthinking or panicking about something. He would hate to sit and chat to their friends as if everything was fine if (Y/n) was worried about something.

For a few moments, (Y/n) looked around the booth they were sitting in which was in the corner of the cafe out the way of everyone else. It was just Ben, (Y/n), Rami and Lucy in the booth after they decided to meet up for breakfast since they all had the morning free. It was nice to catch up and get away from the stress of work and colleagues and just life in general but (Y/n) couldn't help how her mind liked to run away without her every so often.

Slouching down a little further on the leather seat, (Y/n) leaned her head a bit to the right until her forehead was pressing into Ben's shoulder and she could feel his hand moving from the back of the seat to rest on her shoulder. His fingers slowly feathered over her shoulder as she tried to work out what the topic of conversation had shifted to and see where she could chip in to show them she was still listening.

(Y/n)'s eyes shifted from looking across at Lucy to looking up at Ben when he suddenly moved around. He pushed his shoulders back into the seat and lifted his legs up from the seat so he could grab something from his back pocket.

"Babe your phone keeps going off in my pocket, it's like I'm sat on a vibrator."

(Y/n) quirked a brow at Ben's comment that he didn't even bother to say quietly causing Lucy to press her lips together to smother a smirk. And the way Ben looked neutral as he spoke made it seem like a normal thing to inject into the conversation.

Since (Y/n) didn't have any pockets or her bag with her Ben just shoved her phone into his back pocket like he normally did when they went out and he never minded anything in his pockets like that. (Y/n) knew a lot of the time he had their house keys in his back pocket and he could sit down and not be bothered by the jagged keys poking into his skin at all which was intriguing to (Y/n). But he didn't like how (Y/n)'s phone was going off every few minutes in his pocket and with it being on vibrate it wasn't the best feeling in the world.

"So, we were thinking about having the house-warming party on Thursday if you can both come?" Lucy swiftly changed the topic back to what it had been seconds previous and a broad smile pulled at her lips. The way she tangled her hands together showed (Y/n) just how excited she was to be moving into a new house- the first home she would be sharing with Rami.

"Yeah, we can make it." (Y/n) smiled at Lucy's eagerness, she knew how long her friend had been waiting to get this house and she was itching to renovate it and strip all the wallpaper in a few weeks.

(Y/n) remembered when she and Ben first moved in together, it had been into the house they had now and they were lucky enough to not have to redecorate the whole house. Only their bedroom and the living room had to be decorated, everything else was fine and up to date for their taste but it did feel good to hang pictures and ornaments up and make sure everything had a place that it suited around the house. Now (Y/n) was itching to buy a pregnancy test and see if one of the spare rooms could be redecorated anytime soon.

It was all planned out in her head, she would get a test- or maybe two, on Saturday when it was safe to say that she had missed two periods. And if they came back positive she wanted to tell Ben when they were home alone. (Y/n) didn't want to try and make him guess or figure it out or give him a baby onesie or baby shoes and surprise him, she just wanted to come out with it and tell him. No big gestures or questions or surprises.

When (Y/n) felt her phone buzz in her hand she felt her body tensing and it took all the effort she had to stop her smile from slipping off her lips.

It had been four days since she first got a text from a random person who somehow knew her name. The next day she didn't get a text message and she thought it was safe even though them knowing her name put her on edge. But the next two days since then (Y/n) had gotten two or three messages each day. She hadn't woken up to a message this morning so she hoped that maybe they had given up since she hadn't replied once.

But she didn't know who it was, they never put their name or said anything that indicated who it could be and this didn't seem like a prank someone was playing on her. None of (Y/n)'s friends would do this sort of prank, they would mess around and tease her or buy her stupid joking gifts but no one would go as far as to get a new number and start sending weird texts to scare her. But this person knew her name and that told (Y/n) that it had to be someone she knew. Why would a stranger be messaging her, how would a stranger even know her name anyway?

Glancing her eyes down to her phone, (Y/n) felt her hands beginning to tremble as she turned her phone on and swiped across to go to her messages. Part of her really didn't want to read these texts and see what had been sent to her. She didn't want to know what this stranger was saying because she was getting herself worried over relatively nothing.

Ben always told her that if there was something worrying or bothering her she should tell him and he would listen and try to help, but what could he do to help? This wasn't something (Y/n) wanted to tell him because it made her feel foolish. Someone was just messing around and sending her stupid texts, she didn't want to tell Ben because it wasn't anything bad. They weren't threatening her or saying they knew where she lived or what she was doing or trying to hurt her or get her to do anything. There was nothing to be done here because it was nothing serious so Ben didn't need to know and be worried or annoyed about it.

(Y/n) had gotten four texts in he last hour, all from the same number.

'Hey beautiful, what are you up to today?'

'(Y/n)  please I don't get why you're ignoring me.'

'It's because your husband's there, isn't it?'

'It's been five days now, why won't you just talk to me honey?'

A shudder ran down (Y/n)'s spine as she scanned the texts over and over again. This man was clingy and he was desperate but there was something else behind his words that made (Y/n) feel uneasy. It was as if he truly thought he was talking to his wife who was ignoring him and it was making him angry.

Maybe there was another (Y/n) out there with a similar phone number and who was also married and she was having an affair with this man. Maybe she had a long affair and didn't know how to cut it off and so she changed her number or was simply ignoring him and wishing he would go away like (Y/n) was. But it was a big coincidence that there was another woman out there with the same name, similar phone number and who was also married who this man was trying to talk to.

But if these messages were truly intended for (Y/n), who on Earth were they from?

(Y/n) hadn't given out her number to anyone in months, she had no new colleagues or friends who needed her number and she couldn't see how a stranger could get her number. Nor was she having some kind of affair like these messages were implying because the person was angry and kept mentioning a husband.

(Y/n) loved Ben with everything she had and they might be having a baby together, she hadn't and wouldn't cheat on him with anyone else so it was no one night stand or affair that was trying to get back in touch with her.

A wave of unease rattled through (Y/n) as she felt her heartbeat starting to pulse through every muscle in her body. She held her breath deep in her lungs as she clicked on the number information and scrolled down until her thumb was hovering over block caller.

She had to block him, she didn't know who he was or what he actually wanted other than her undivided attention that (Y/n) wasn't willing to give. She couldn't keep letting him message her five times a day demanding that she speak to him and getting angry when she doesn't. No response didn't seem to make him understand that (Y/n) didn't want to talk to him. She didn't know who he was but she didn't want to know either and she didn't want him to keep messaging her constantly like this.

Before (Y/n) registered what she was doing she blocked the number just as her phone vibrated from another message. She didn't get to see the message and something told her that was a good thing in case there was more aggression in the next message.

That was it, she had blocked the number and whoever it was would find out very soon that any future messages wouldn't be able to get through to her phone. The message was clear now that (Y/n) didn't want to interact with whoever it was who was persistent on her attention.

Moving her phone, (Y/n) placed it down on the seat next to her before she leaned her head back on Ben's shoulder.

"Okay?" Ben mumbled quietly as he kissed the top of (Y/n)'s head and rubbed his hand up and down her arm. He had wondered for a moment if something was wrong when (Y/n) seemed to space out when she looked at whatever messages she had gotten. But when she tilted her head up and smiled at him the new nerves in his stomach settled down and he smiled softly at her.

"Perfect."

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

"You know we have to leave in five minutes, right?" (Y/n) bit down on the corner of her lip to try and stop her lips from curving up into a smirk. Her brows rose at Ben who was leaning over her, his hands were holding her hips that were pressing against his own and his lips were grazing over her neck.

She was sure that Ben had forgotten that they were supposed to be going to his parents house in half an hour and it took almost that time to get there from their house. They had to leave soon and the way Ben was going he seemed to really want to make them late.

"If I drive fast we can leave in ten."

Biting her lip harder, (Y/n) hooked her arms around Ben's neck and leaned into him a bit more which she knew took him by surprise because he was expecting her to push him back because they really didn't have the time. (Y/n) tucked her face into Ben's neck and pressed a butterfly kiss to the soft skin behind his ear causing him to shiver against her. But the moment (Y/n) kissed him, she unravelled her arms from his neck and pulled out of his arms.

"As much as I'd love to, I don't fancy a speeding ticket and your mum hates us being late so we need to go." (Y/n) knew Ben was a good driver but she didn't fancy getting stopped or getting a ticket because he tried to get to his parent's house on time.

Ben's mother had a thing for being prompt and on time or early and (Y/n) felt much the same. The last time they were late Ben wore a shit-eating grin through the whole dinner and that caused his mum to keep glancing over at (Y/n) and all she could do in response was turn beet red. (Y/n) wasn't sitting through another family dinner looking like a tomato.

"You're a tease, you know that?" Ben leaned closer so he could press his lips to her jaw before he turned on his heels with a smile and moved to grab a shirt. He didn't want to annoy or upset his mother by turning up late.

(Y/n) smiled to herself before she moved over to stand in front of the mirror and quickly put her hair up into a bobble to keep it from her eyes.

Tomorrow was Saturday and (Y/n) had it set in stone in her mind that she was going to take a pregnancy test and find out whether her and Ben's future was going to be changing anytime soon. She was almost certain that she was pregnant and she knew if she was then Ben was going to be ecstatic and his parents would be thrilled as well.

(Y/n) was going to find that new out tomorrow, they were going out for dinner with Ben's parents today, yesterday had been Lucy and Rami's housewarming which had been a great night. And to top everything off, (Y/n) had blocked her persistent pen-pal as she thought of him and since then no weird texts had been lighting up her phone. Everything was going great right now and (Y/n) didn't want anything to make this week go downhill.

Nodding to herself in the mirror, (Y/n) turned around and moved over to where Ben was just about to walk out the bedroom. He stopped where he was when he felt (Y/n)'s arms winding around his waist and her chin perching on his shoulder.

"What, you think we should be late after all?" Ben turned his head to look at (Y/n), quirking a brow as he moved his hands to hold her own.

"No, I'm just happy." (Y/n) kissed his cheek and tightened her arms around his waist. When Ben started walking again he kept hold of her hands so she walked with him still wrapped around him like a vine attached to his back.

When they got downstairs (Y/n) headed over into the kitchen to grab her phone and her bag before she made her way back to Ben.

"See, I got you here on time." Ben kissed (Y/n)'s cheek when they got out the car outside his parent's house. He checked his phone and nodded to himself when he noticed they were five minutes early and he didn't even try and speed to get here quicker.

(Y/n) linked her hand with Ben's as they headed inside and made a beeline for the kitchen where they both knew Ben's mother would be, she would already be making a start on dinner. It was a normality for them all to have dinner on a Friday night rather than a Sunday, it was their own tradition.

"There you two are, how are you?" Kate smiled as she leaned over and flicked the kettle on, knowing already that Ben would want a coffee.

"We're good mum, you okay?" Ben leaned over to kiss her cheek before (Y/n) moved over for a hug.

"Do you need help with anything?" (Y/n) moved over so Ben could make himself a drink but the knowing look (Y/n) got from Kate was more than enough to tell her that she didn't have to help. Kate liked everything a certain way and she liked doing the cooking herself, it wasn't that she didn't like or appreciate the help, she just wanted things doing her way so normally everyone let her do her thing and made sure to offer to tidy and clean up instead.

"No, but thank you."

(Y/n) leaned against the counter, smiling as Kate started up a new topic of conversation before her eyes suddenly looked down at her bag when she heard her phone go off. She put her bag on the counter behind her and took out her phone, the tone told (Y/n) it was her email but she didn't know if it was a work email or personal. If work rang or texted her then it was a sign someone wanted her to cover a shift and (Y/n) didn't like covering shifts at such short notice so at least if it was work it wasn't any shifts for her to take.

When she opened the email she realised it was her personal one which calmed down the way her heart jumped with a small bout of anxiety. But as (Y/n) read over the email she felt her blood running cold in her veins and her muscles tensed up like she was slowly turning to stone.

'Hey beautiful,

I realised you probably blocked my texts to stop that husband of yours reading them and if that's the reason then I do understand. But I'd really prefer if you didn't keep ignoring me, it's getting hard going this long without hearing from you or seeing your beautiful face. I know your with your husband now but can you respond to me soon please?

Love you (Y/n).'

How had he gotten her email? (Y/n) didn't usually talk to anyone via her email, it was mainly for when she bought stuff or got subscriptions or talked to long distance friends. Not even Ben or Sasha sent her emails and (Y/n) hadn't given out her email address to anyone in quite a while.

(Y/n) could feel her lungs tensing and closing off and her throat started to tighten like her muscles were expanding and trying to touch one another so she couldn't breathe at all. Tears formed in her eyes but it didn't stop her from being able to read the email over and over again until her body started to shake.

Who was he? Why was he doing this to her? (Y/n) was happily married, she didn't know this person and she didn't want to know him either. Blocking his number was a big sign that (Y/n) wanted nothing to do with him but he knew her number and email in the first place. He had to be someone who knew (Y/n) because he knew her details and he knew her name, why was he so fixated on trying to get her to talk to him? He sounded like he was in love with her and like they were in some kind of secret relationship but they weren't.

He wasn't leaving a name either so he either expected (Y/n) to know exactly who he was or he didn't want her to know this was him because they had to be friends or acquaintances.

"Babe... baby, what's the matter?" Ben put his drink down as his eyes narrowed and he felt his chest tightening when he looked across at (Y/n).

She was staring down at her phone like she had just been told the world was ending, there were tears welling up in her eyes and she was beginning to shake. The pieces clicked in Ben's mind that she was panicking over something but it scared him to think what she was worried about. He had seen her have panic attacks before and he knew how to calm her down and how to help but it never stopped him from panicking about what the problem was. She had been fine five minutes ago.

Ben moved until he was stood in front of (Y/n) and he gently took her phone from her hands, not bothering to see what was on the screen before he locked it and put it carelessly on the counter. He gently tangled his arms around (Y/n) and guided her through the kitchen and out into the back garden, he knew people seeing (Y/n) having a panic attack only made her feel worse and his mother had seen him have enough of them to know what was wrong with (Y/n).

"Okay baby, you need to try and breathe with me." Ben took (Y/n)'s hand and pressed it to his chest so she could see how he was trying to keep his own breaths calm.

He waited a few more seconds before he placed his hands either side of her face and pressed his forehead against her own and slowly started to swipe his thumbs under her eyes to brush away her tears. He felt (Y/n) brushing her fingers over his chest like she was stroking him or trying not to scratch him as she tried to copy his breathing.

When (Y/n) slowly started to breathe better and try to copy Ben's breathing, he pulled back a little until he could wrap his arms around her and hold her to his chest. He tangled his hand in her hair and gently kissed the top of her head a few times until he felt (Y/n) tightly wrapping her arms around his waist and burrowing herself into his chest as much as she could.

"Baby, can you tell me what upset you?" Ben tried to look down at (Y/n) but she burrowed into him tighter until he could feel her rapid, uneven breaths forcing into his chest like she was trying to give his lungs her oxygen. "Alright, alright you don't have to tell me. But please tell me it's nothing serious."

Ben slowly started to card his fingers through (Y/n)'s hair to keep her calm and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. He felt his heart calming down just a little when (Y/n) nodded against him to show that this was nothing serious and her arms wrapped tighter around him.

But she didn't know if this was serious or not.

[anomaly-beans]

I forgot to put them here but I went on a trip to a sunflower farm recently to take photos. Made some phone wallpapers out of them that are free to use! (Click for better quality and colors)

[heartbeetz]

Zinnia and Sunflower for you and Bill!

Zinnia - how often do you think about your f/o? do they live in your head rent free or do you not think about them for months on end before suddenly fixating on them nonstop for a week?

It depends! It’s not like a 24/7 thing but I do have references to him as my phone wallpaper and as stickers on my laptop, and my own personality reminds me a lot of his, so.... yeah. Background vibes :) Also his source media exists in my brain A Lot.

Sunflower - do you make fun of or tease your f/o a lot, or can you not bring yourself to be lovingly mean to them?

Oh, absolutely rude gang >:) But always in an affectionate way ♡

[original post]

[orionwhispers]

Devil Like Me (Part XIV)

(A/N - Hey angels! Here is part 14 to DLM, I seriously enjoyed this chapter and things are heating up lol! This is set entirely in the past and so will the next part because it all ties together, hope you enjoy! Please leave me feedback!! Anything at all, it means the world to me! Talk soon) 

Trigger Warning : Blood & Gore, Fighting & Implied Sex. 

Then

The bacon sizzled in the pan as you cooked it, you jumped, narrowly avoiding the hot oil spitting from the rim of fat. The kettle whistled impatiently and you wiped your hands on the printed apron adorning your waist, turning to the counter and filling two steaming mugs. The radio crackled slightly so you twisted the knob and adjusted the satellite until the familiar melody of a Lana song filled the kitchen. You hummed along, shuffling your slippers to the beat.

It was finally the end of the week, and finally graduation weekend. The previous events with the Witch and the raven were still in the back of your mind, but you were determined not to let it ruin your night. You'd been through four years of late slips, all-nighters of homework for a grade far too low, diarrhoea inducing cafeteria food and the hell that was physical education. Surely you had been through enough to warrant a weekend mythical creature free?

Well - maybe there was room for one.

The toast popped and you began slathering it in butter, licking the crumbs from your fingers as you went back to the pan, turning off the gas and placing the bacon in between the slices, layering them with ketchup. You positioned the two mugs of coffee to the side, leaving enough room for the small glass vase cradling a sunflower, and the delicate present you had finished wrapping the night before.

"Auntie Jeanie?" You sang with a smile, raising your pitch and pushing open her door with the crook of your elbow, attempting to stop the tray from clattering to the floor. You heard a grumble from her paisley printed covers, her skinny hands pulling the duvet over her head, shielding herself from the intrusion.  

You positioned the plates by her nose, hoping the smell of a cooked breakfast would entice her awake. Luckily, you knew her well enough and her head rose from behind the sheets, her eyes puffy from sleep, her hair tousled and frizzy.

"Morning." You laughed, she grumbled in response, rubbing her hands over her eyes and reaching for the coffee with her shaky palms, taking a long slurp with a groan.

"Morning." She finally replied, her eyes darting over the food, "What's all this for? What have you broken?"

You snort, handing her the plate and taking a bite of your own sandwich, relishing the taste and warmth in your mouth.

"What? I can't just do something nice without you assuming I broke something?" You say in mock anger, placing a hand on your chest and tutting, "Tsk. That's harsh."

She rolled her eyes, licking the sauce from her lips, you notice the slight of her hands, and you turn your head grasping the present as if it will disappear. You thrust it in front of her nose with a cheesy smile, watching as her eyes lazily trail over the bow, a brightness flickering in her orbs as she smiled at your terrible attempts at wrapping.

"What's that?"

"A thank you. For everything." Your voice catches slightly but you push down the lump in your throat, widening your cheeks and shaking the box in your hands.

She takes it cautiously and her frail hands slowly begin unwrapping the present, you can see the muscles in her slim fingers as she peels apart the tape, the ghost of a smile on her pink lips.

You grin as she pulls out a small velvet box, watching her wispy eyebrows furrow as she tries to push apart the gold clasp holding it closed, you gently take it from her, flicking it open and handing it back, watching as she lifts the lid. The gasp from the base of her throat indication enough that she liked it, and your heart sang with relief - even though you knew it was a guaranteed winner.  

Her eyes were slightly glassy as she held up the jewel-encrusted brooch, it was shaped like a dragonfly and beautifully made, the coloured crystals catching the light and sending emerald rays throughout the room. Aunt Jean didn't have much until you arrived, the house was pretty bare, eventually becoming filled with your toys and train sets and now crowded with clothes and shoes. You'd been around other peoples relatives houses and been left shocked at the contrast, shelves lined with ceramic animals and bowls of decorative soap, pink wallpaper and patterned toilet roll a sharp variation to your home.

Jean hated that stuff, clicked her tongue at the kitschy stuffed bears and empty glass bottles, she was much happier relaxing in her armchair, watching a murder mystery with a bottle of gin. But she had always loved earrings and necklaces, rings that adorned every finger, even slipping on a gold anklet in the summer - but she was especially fond of brooches.

She once told you how her own Aunt had bought her her first one when she was a child, a teddy bear with soft velvet fur and a flimsy clip, but she loved it all the same. She'd only bought a few - loving the novelty of them but wanting to keep them special and heartfelt, rather than like a collection of coins. They were placed in a case in her room, the dog-eared and well-loved teddy bear taking centre stage, its fur now a urine coloured yellow rather than gold, but it still meant the world to her.

You found the dragonfly by chance in a small boutique, immediately falling in love and using the majority of the money you had saved over time to purchase it, leaving a burning hole in your wallet and the pit of your stomach - but seeing her face made it worth every penny.

She pulled you into her scrawny limbs, planting a perfumed scented kiss on your cheek before holding you arms width apart, giving you a sincere and heartfelt stare. She wiped away the fresh buds of tears brimming in her eyes and sighed away the sadness with a shake of her hand.

"Well - " She started, reaching over to her bedside drawer and rummaging through the discarded lipsticks and lighters. She pulled out a small square, clasping it in her hands before you could get a proper look. "I was saving this for tomorrow, but..."

She handed the box to you, smiling as you ran your fingers over the lining in curiosity. You tear the ribbon keeping the lid on, and she moves slightly towards you.

"If you had given me more time I could have wrapped it all nice, but that'll have to do." She joked.

You grinned in response, feeling the fabric loosen between your fingers as you tore it open, losing your breath as you see whats inside. Your eyes dart to Aunt Jean's and her expression is just as ecstatic as your own.

It's a locket. A brass gold heart hanging from a delicate chain, the centre engraved with your initials. You gently prise open the ornament, feeling tears in the corner of your eyes as you notice the pictures. On the left is a photo of yourself, Jasmine and Aunt Jean at her birthday party a few years ago, its small but you can see the smiles and happiness on your faces. The other is a picture of your parents, one of the only ones you have, them both looking at each other adoringly, infatuation radiating from the photo.

You hold it tight in your hands, the cool metal against your clammy palms. You engulf Jean into a hug, thanking her profusely and pressing a kiss to her powdery cheek. She smiled, her nose in your hair.

"No crying today! You have a party to get ready for later, don't you? Have a great night, and I'll be right there when you walk across the stage tomorrow."

You ran the comb through the ends of your hair, turning the ringlets into tousled waves. You slipped the towel onto the floor, dragging your underwear onto your freshly scrubbed skin. The record player in the background crackled slightly before falling back into a rhythmic hum and you applied the last of your makeup, smiling at your reflection in the mirror.

Feet against the carpet, you stepped over Maple and grabbed your dress, shimmying it up your legs. It was simple but sultry, an ebony a-line dress with two spaghetti straps snaking across your shoulders, it fit like a glove and nestled just below mid-thigh. You traced your crimson-painted nails across your desk, smiling as you came into contact with the locket, picking it up and fingering its detail between your hands. You used the mirror to fasten it, and exhaled in content as it settled perfectly against your bare chest, pulling the entire outfit together. Your phone chimed, the screen lighting up with a notification from Jas, telling you she was on her way.

Showtime.

"Do you even know whose house we're in?"

"No clue? I think he was in my math class one year? Er - John?"

"I thought his name was Peter?"

You both laughed, taking in the vast house before you, the rooms filled with bodies and shouting, offering no relief from the midsummer nights heat.

"I'm gonna go get a drink? You want anything?" You murmured to Jasmine, pointing towards what you assumed was the kitchen. She shook her head and motioned towards the crowd.

"I'll try and find Greg, come join us after?"

You nodded, giving her a parting pat and venturing into the gathering, giving smiles and waves of greeting to those you recognised. The kitchen was significantly cooler, and smaller than the previous room. Homely and compact, with wood panelling and vintage crockery. You strolled past the counters lined with chips and dip, watermelon slices and pizza poppers.

Two large sliding doors led to a great garden, centred around a pool, the azure water shimmering under the moon. A few heads rose in greeting and you politely smiled back, passing the deckchairs to reach a cart full of drinks. You took a moment to sip your beverage, glancing around the unfamiliar home, it had taken a while to get here, it was off the beaten path and a good half hour from town. The trees and decking had been lined with thin fairy lights, casting a yellow glow against the night, but in the distance, the trees still loomed, branches gnarled like fingers, leaves rustling. You shook your head, and downed the last of your drink, alcohol sharp against your tongue and burning your throat, they were just trees.

About an hour later and the party was in full swing, you threw your head back in laughter as a friend told you a joke, face red and sweaty from dancing. Jasmine pulled you into her arms, forcing you to dance with her, you both jumping and shrieking in sync with the song. It came to a halt and she pulled you aside, blowing a chaste kiss to Greg and laughing breathlessly in your ear.

"Can you believe we graduate tomorrow?" She pressed her clammy cheek against yours and exhaled. "I know this year has been hard but I'm so proud of you! I lurve you!" Her tone started seriously but faded as the alcohol buzzed through her veins.

"You're drunk."

"No! I'm just..." She paused, gagging slightly and raising a hand to her mouth. "Oh, I'm gonna throw up.."

She rushed away and you giggled, watching as a lovesick Greg trailed after her, ready to hold her hair back. The heat was engulfing you and you headed back outside, the night air a welcome contrast.

You managed to find a recluse spot away from the crowd, regaining your breath and calming the flush on your cheeks. It was a nice scene, far enough away from the noise but close enough you felt the comfort of other people. You could see the pool from the corner of your eye and watched the water lap gently with the motion of the wind. Slightly to your left was a path leading to a gate, and you assumed it trailed to a route to the beach.

A slight noise made your head tilt and you watched an unfamiliar girl stomp across the grass, her heels getting caught in the mud. You offered her a small grin and she ignored you, her gaze intent and harsh. An unwelcome sense of deja vu flowed through you like a bout of sickness and you pushed it down. You were being ridiculous.

Nether-less, something was off. You rose from your seat and paced towards her, holding your hands out cautiously as if she was a stray dog.

"Hey.. are you OK?"

She ignored you. Her pace quickening, her strides long, lengthening the distance between you both. She seemed out of it, almost as if she was following a voice.

Just like Sarah.

You stomped forward, unsure if this was a sick joke or she was genuinely in trouble. "This isn't funny. Come here." You managed to grab the edge of her sleeve, but the fabric slips through your fingers as she lurches her arm away. You sigh, watching as she pries open the gate, starting to walk down the dark path.

You follow her seamlessly, any attempts to stop her foiled as she effortlessly fights you off, determined to finish her walk. "I'm just trying to help!" You cry as she manages to slip away again. Your feet stumble against the undergrowth and you groan as your ankle momentarily twitches and you falter. She uses that as an opportunity to race forward and you heave yourself up, wiping the sweat forming on your brow and following her further into the trees, the darkness overwhelming you.

You reach a clearing when you next see her, her body illuminated by the slither of light coming from the moon. Your heart hammers, it feels all too familiar.

"Hey..." You approach slowly, keeping your footsteps as delicate as possible as you get within touching distance, your fingers trail of her shoulders. She's cold as ice and you can feel her bones under your skin, the hairs on her flesh raising against the cold.

'It's Ok, come with me... we can go back together."

You use your hands to gently twist her to face you and your heart drops to your stomach. Her appearance starts to morph, her teeth bared and crooked, her stale breath on your face. It's her. The Witch. You let out a cry as her eyes meet yours, her hair hanging in greasy tendrils, dangling across her back.

You take a step back but she's too fast, her hands clawing around your throat, dirty nails scratching at your flesh. You struggle and groan, trying to tear her flesh with your own fingers, but she is much stronger. She flings you to the floor and your head snaps against the earth. You don't' have time to stop the dizzying in your mind, you're determined to get away, using your hands to scramble across the ground, dirt clinging to your fingernails.

She paces towards you, her eyes locked on yours, a smirk on her lips. She raises a hand and murmurs something you can't comprehend and before you can take a breath a pain shoots through your abdomen. It feels like a spark of lightning, jolting through your skin. You howl in pain, you know nothing is touching you but it feels so real, you can almost feel the coldness of a knife as it slices through your flesh, but there's nothing there.

Your hands clamber to your lower stomach and you moan as you feel the large weeping open wound, thick hot blood on your hands. You crawl away as fast as you can, grabbing a discarded branch and launching it at her. It's tiny, but it hits her regardless and she curses, increasing the pain in your body.

You scream in pain, feeling faint from the pure agony you're going through. She steps forward and makes a motion with her hands, and your ankle jerks, snapping completely in half. You open your mouth as wide as you can, but no sound escapes, hot wet tears are coming out now and you can feel bile in your throat.

"Please.."

She throws her head back and laughs, kneeling until she's eye level with you. She uses a filthy hand to brush hairs from your sweaty forehead, and you recoil from her touch.

"Poor little lamb."

The pain falters and then stops. Its still throbbing and endlessly burning but the relief is enormous. You try to regather your breath as she stalks backwards and you rise to your elbows to get a better look, trying to see if you can make your escape. But crowding around you, walking towards you through the trees are a dozen more people. You can't recognise any of them, but they're all dressed in black, men and women and all terrifying.

"Why are you doing this?" You moan, "Please! Stop!"

She laughs again, "Don't act like you're so innocent. I'm doing you a favour!" You scream and try to move, but there's no point, you're trapped. She says something to the group and they reply in unison, she lifts her hand and they immediately copy, murmuring a foreign chant under their breath.

"Please! No, please!"

They ignore you, and you watch some of the undergrowth light from the power, the flames flickering and roaring. The wind whips and howls, the leaves swirling and trees whistling.

This is how you die.

You try to remain calm, keep some dignity. Refusing to allow the bitch the satisfaction of taking your life and your pride. You sit up straighter, engaging and locking your eyes, go on then, you urge, I'm not scared.

The pain is unreal. Tearing and soaring and coursing through your body. Hot like boiling water, blistering on your flesh, you writhe and roar as your skin peels. Fuck dignity, this fucking hurts.

And then you hear something, a shout and a crash, a blur of movement and a scream. As soon as the pain started it stopped, but your body is still torn and ripped. You try to look around but your head is throbbing and your eyes are pounding in their socket, your vision blurry and watery. You can see blood, lots of it, but you can't tell if it's yours. Your eyes meet a discarded body, its limbs torn from its body out of rage.

"All of you against one? That's hardly fair."

Klaus.

"Niklaus." The witch's voice is small, she's scared. You raise a hand above your brows, trying to focus on anything but the pain. Se clears her throat, regaining some strength. "Just in time, took any longer and the poor little mite would have perished. Should have heard those squeals and squeaks, rather delicious if you ask me."

Without warning, you notice his jaw clench, his hands tighten and he lurches forward, grasping the woman by her throat, his hands twist around her windpipe and she snarls. The remaining members of her gang run forward, attempting to stop her demise, but he attacks them without mercy. You can't help but stare, breathless as you watch. You're terrified, but you can't look away. The air smells deeply of blood like you've been sucking a penny, and screams and howls echo through the forest. You stumble up, trying to step back to safety but someone twists their hands around your neck.

You scramble against the grip, your whining and pleading distracting Klaus. The man chants words in your ear, making your knees buckle and snap in two, pain surging through you. Your head is blurring and blood is coming from your throat. Before you can stop it, your vision faults and you cant make out what happens, Klaus lurches ahead and rips the man's head off his torso, you squeal and moan in pain and shock, falling onto the ground with a smack. Two hands clasp around your waist, and you loll in the air like a rag doll. As your eyes flicker, you manage to catch a glimpse of the Witch fleeing in the background before you pass out.

You don't know how long it is till you wake up. But you feel like you've been dragged underwater by a wave, your ears ringing and body swaying despite the room being still. It's still dark so you can't have been out long, and you're laying on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, still wearing your blood-stained party dress. You attempt to move but can hardly lift the cover before you're groaning in pain.

"Stay there."

You raise your head, noticing the figure in the doorway, he paces forward and settles on the armchair beside you.

"You're finally awake. I was worried"

You nod, feeling awkward and uneasy, completely vulnerable in front of him. But his words send a heat to the pit of your tummy.

"How long was I out?"

"Just over an hour," He offers you a small smile, and you mirror him, settling into the pillow before hissing in pain at the movement.

"How bad does it hurt?"

You decide the truth is better than playing it down, you're sure he'll see through a lie. "Like I've been hit by a car and dragged for a couple of miles." You say with a small grin, but he isn't laughing, his eyes are cold, his jaw twitching.

Memories of what happened previously flow through your head and you squirm.

"Shit - she got away, didn't she? I'm so sorry Klaus..."

He turns to face you, eyes wide and stare hard. "I don't give a shit about her, love." You gulp, "You almost died."

You're glad he's not irritated with you, but the tension is still thick and heavy, unspoken words between the both of you. As a distraction, you trace the cut on your hand, how were you going to explain this to the doctor?

As if reading your mind, he speaks, his finger resting on the edge of his chin. "I can fix that you know - "

"Got a sewing kit?"

He snorts and raises a brow, "Unfortunately not."  He comes closer, perching on the edge of the bed before you, you distract yourself by twitching your toes, trying to stop the blush crawling up your cheeks.

"It's a little... unorthodox, but..." He pauses, lifting his wrist to his mouth, his teeth baring into fangs, you gaze at him in pure shock as his molars tear into his flesh, leaving two symmetrical spots of blood.

You eye him in disbelief as he offers you his arm with a smirk, "I thought I was the one who hit my head."

His lips twitch and he shakes his head, moving closer until his body is touching yours, his eyes meet yours and he nods, carefully lifting his wrist to your mouth, parting your lips until you can taste his salty skin. You hesitate, eyeing him cautiously through your eyelashes, you see his gaze darken momentarily, his jaw tightens as you suck on his skin, inhaling the metallic blood. It tastes like tar but then changes into honey, sweet tangy honey on your tongue. In seconds you can feel your body healing, the pain subsiding instantly, your skin repairing yourself.

You pull away in disbelief, rubbing your fingers across the spot that was previously torn and swollen. Your eyes flitter to his and you let out a peal of laughter, unbelievable.

"How? What?"

He smiles at your child like glee, watching as you examine your body. "Vampire blood heals."

"No kidding..."

He nods, rising up and walking towards a chest of drawers, tugging on the oak handle and pulling out a large fleece and flannel PJ pants, neither of which you can picture him in.

"I assume you want to get cleaned up," He murmurs gesturing to your torn and stained dress, "Bathroom is through there, I'll be outside. I have a few calls to make about what happened."

You nod, taking the pile of clothes, your hand grazing against his, you stop and stand still for a moment, enjoying the feeling.

"If you need anything, scream."

You roll your eyes, mock saluting and watching as he closed the door behind him, leaving you to yourself.

You washed multiple times, determined to rid your body of the scent of the night. The water was hot and relaxing, but you didn't want to be left alone with your thoughts too long. You knew she couldn't get you here, not with Klaus, but you were still scared, especially about the ones you loved.

After stepping out, you texted Jasmine and Aunt Jean, telling them both you were spending the night with the other, and hoping there would be no surprise morning visits. They texted back immediately and you were so glad they were safe, urging them to head home and get into bed without sounding crazy.

You slipped on the borrowed clothes, the warmth and size engulfing and comforting you. You pace through the bedroom, pausing behind the door and listening intently; not wanting to intrude on Klaus' conversation. You cant hear much, just the lull of the overhead fan and the night outside, so you prise open the door and step in.

"Hey," Your voice is small, and you watch as Klaus' head rises up from his position on the sofa. Offering you a humble smile, his eyes lazily trailing over your outfit, making you blush. Timidly, you edge towards the large bay windows, placing your hands against the cool glass and peering into the night.

"She's not out there, she wouldn't dare. You're safe here."

You nod, his words comforting. You walk towards him, nestling cautiously on the sofa and fingering a loose thread for distraction. The room is quaint and cosy, two words you would never pair with Klaus. It's bare, with minimal decorations but it still feels soothing.

"What is this place? Do you live here?"

He shakes his head, sipping from his glass, the strong smell of whisky filling the air. "It's not a home, I just use it when I need to."

You let out a whistle, "Wow, just how many houses do you have?"

He snorts, "I... travel a lot, rarely stay in one place for long, unless something keeps me there." His eyes flit to yours, lips curling up. You blush but stay composed, raising a brow in competition.  He pushes a cup towards you and you smile genuinely, camomile tea. You take a sip, both of you enjoying the silence, the kind you don't need to fill.

"So, where's your favourite place you've been?"

He hesitates, mulling it over. "Rome. It's beautiful there. What about you?"

"Sounds lovely. Er -" You pause, watching a bird through the window. "I want to travel, go to all these wonderful paces, but I've never left the country."

"That'll have to change, won't it?" He takes a confident swig and your heart flutters.

You fall back into silence, breathing in deeply as you mull over the night. Your phone buzzes impatiently and you lean forward, typing out a reply to Aunt Jean who is wishing you goodnight.

"Nice necklace."

"Hm?" You glance up as he nods towards the chain swinging across your chest, you finger it slowly, grasping the heart in between your fingers. "Oh. Thanks, graduation present."

He nods, "Any photos inside?"

You still, glancing up at the man before you. He notices your hesitation and his eyes blink with confusion, but you decide that you can trust him, and you prise open the heart, showing him the tiny photos inside. You point to the small smiling face, "That's me, my best friend and my Aunt," You pause as you flip to the next one, "and that's my mum and dad."

He gives you a warm genuine smile, his eyes darting over the pictures. "They seem lovely."

You smile, "They were."

He blinks momentarily but shakes it off, giving you a comforting look when he realises the subject is touchy.

"She's beautiful, like you."

You squirm at his soft words, and he smirks and chortles at the effect he has on you.

"Shut up, asshole." You murmur into your drink. Giggling as he shoots you a mock warning look, getting up to refill his glass.

"Watch it, no one talks to me like that."

"Well maybe someone should."

He scoffs and runs a hand through his hair, and you smile inwardly into your mug, surprised at your confidence. You watch him glide around, every move he makes effortless and precise, like a stroke of a brush. He rejoins you on the sofa, settling back, and you watch the rings on his fingers glint under the yellow lamp lights.

"What's it like?"

He tilts his head towards you, his eyes watching your face contort as you talk.

"Being the most powerful creature on earth?Invicinble? Immortal? What's it like?"

"Ego-boosting."

"Ah, and here I was thinking you were humble."

He laughs, and you clink the rim of your mug.

"Were you scared?" You turn to face him, his voice deep and rich like dark chocolate. "Tonight." He continues, "Were you scared?"

"Yes." You reply honestly, feeling the words slip off your tongue.

"Were you scared of me?"

You think back to the forest. The smell and feel of blood coating your skin, the feeling of your body tearing and ripping. The sound of screaming and bodies snapping in half. You thought about seeing him, the relief that he was there, the black veins coursing through his skin, his eyes dark. You thought of that night with Sarah.

"No."

If it surprises him he doesn't show it, his face remains impassive and calm as he edges forward, his breath on your skin.

"You should be."

You lean in closer, so your noses are touching, feeling him soften ever so slightly at your pressure, his eyes locking onto yours.

"I don't believe that. I don't think you'd hurt me."

His eyes flicker across your face, darting to your lips, his gaze is dominating but you don't back away, it makes you feel empowered. He leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear making your hair stand on end and shivers dance down your spine.

"You're right. I wouldn't."

He kisses the edge and lobe of your ear, making you squirm into his touch, he reaches the base of your jaw, planting soft kisses down your throat. You groan at the unfamiliar contact, before making a bold decision. You grab his jaw, tilting him till he's eye level with you, locking eyes before you smash your lips into his. You move in sync, his hands trailing across your hips, your hands in his hair. You're pressed up against him, moving so close you're almost on his lap. He grunts in response and you shiver, feeling unholy and dirty, but you can't help it. You mesh together like a jigsaw, and your stomach is alight like a fire. You've only ever kissed before, never had anyone's hands on you - not like this, but you want it.

He pulls away, his breath ragged. "Not here." You nod, so intoxicated by his scent and the feeling of his lips you would have done anything he asked. He grasps your hand and pulls you up, leading you into the bedroom. He kisses you once, on the forehead, his lips soft and careful as he pushes you onto the mattress, your hair sprawled around you like a halo of light. He starts at your lips, then trails down your neck, collarbones, and chest. He meets your eye line a few times, looking up through dark lashes and you swear its the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.

His hands skim over your chest, resting against the fabric covering your breast and you falter, inhaling shakily and pausing. He notices your change and stills immediately, glancing up in question as your cheeks heat up at his gaze. “Are you alright?”

His voice is dark and hoarse, thick with lust and it makes you shudder. You wiggle unconsciously, his hands once holding you firmly releasing the pressure so that you can squirm away. “I - Er -“ You feel so stupid, heat and sweat pricking at the base of your neck as you divert your eyes away from him, he tilts his head so he can see you and you sigh, deciding to get it over with.

“Ive never done this before.”

Your voice is small and timid, and you shrink at the feebleness of it all. You wanted to be confident and sexy, but you sounded like a child. He paused and his eyebrows furrowed, he was genuinely shocked. You felt sick, you wanted this. You wanted him, but maybe your revelation was too much, maybe he could only see you as a pathetic virgin, hiding behind this self assured act. He uses his hand to trail up your neck, resting at your jawbone and turning so he can see your face, his eyes dark and pupils dilated.

“Nobody has ever fucked you before?” He says it in almost disbelief, somehow expecting you to break into laughter, he was genuinely confused as to how someone had never laid their hands on something as beautiful as you. You shook your head in response, feeling like a glass bottle under his touch, ready to break at any moment. He pulled you into a kiss, checking for confirmation and smiling when you gave in without conviction, melting against his mouth.

“Do you want this?”

You nodded. You did. Almost dying tonight had made you come to your senses, made everything clearer, you wanted this more than anything, you trusted him. Adrenaline was coursing through your body and you could hear your heart hammering in your ears, all of your worries disappearing as he kissed you gently, running his hands against your body.

“Let me treat you how you deserve.” He mumbled, his gaze predatory and dominating at the sheer idea of being your first, pressing soft kisses along every inch of your body he could find. You dissolved into a state of euphoria, your head dizzying as the room grew hot, spending what felt like an eternity discovering each others bodies, melting into one another, feeling like you were the only two people in the world.

If only that feeling could have lasted forever.

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON FANTASY’S LEAD VOCAL HYERIN…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 22 SKILL POINTS: 17 VOCAL | 05 DANCE | 00 RAP | 08 PERFORMANCE

INTERVIEW

hyerin is a living doll first and anything midas wants her to be second: innocent, kind, and sincere—a can do no wrong kind of puppet.

trainee days spent isolating herself as the quiet, hardworking girl is buried under rigid lessons and rules of thumb on how to construct a new layer of skin to stitch around herself. years of crying behind closed doors and missing home is replaced by a fresh-faced girl who laughs at everything, smiles at everyone, and bounces back with enthusiasm after a fall—sunshine in ecstatic motion.

from practice room to the bright stage, midas sinks their claws into a lost girl with stars in her eyes and molds her into something whimsical and ethereal. they take all the broken parts of her that seep through the cracks and tell her to bury it behind a radiant smile. creates a mask for her to wear by exploiting all the mismatched parts of her that make her who she is: the dazed look of a dreamer, the seaside accent that still roils under seoul’s modern cadence, her restless hands, the purity of her lilting voice.

they take all that and slip onto her the delicate skin of a humble fairy princess with a heart of gold and a thousand watts smile.

in the eyes of the public: she is quiet and endearingly awkward. she’s all blushing cheeks and shy smiles, unable to make eye contact for long. she’s muffled peals of laughter hidden behind small hands and eyes creasing into half moon crescents. sometimes, she’s softly uttered words of praise, advice, encouragements to her faithful fans on instagram live or a whole chorus of a newly uploaded acoustic cover sung in a voice almost too soft to hear above the strum of her guitar, gratitude embedded in three minutes of heartfelt lyrics and shining eyes. to the world, hyerin is someone fragile and in need of protection. almost too good for the world. almost too untainted and pristine. (almost too good to be true.)

from her shy, almost bumbling attempts to interact with and befriend fans and fellow idols alike to her occasional variety show appearances where she’s the perpetually reticent girl hosts have to subtly prompt and prod for answers to their questions about her trending airport fashion, her faithful fansites and fancams in 4k depicting her pristine and perfect on stage (not a hair out of place, her smile perpetually stitched on her face. never faltering. never wavering), growing up pains, childhood in busan, her lingering accent.

there’s always a bit of lasting unconventionality hidden in those moments when they ask about home, about family, about transitioning from the carefree, quiet life on busan’s sandy shores to the pulsating thrum of the big city with its too fast pace and perpetual anonymity.

how did you survive, they ask. i didn’t. hyerin wants to confess. i adapted. i changed, is what she says instead.

and it’s the truth. midas takes her hand-me-downs and thrift-shopped dresses and replaces them with sponsored one pieces with the tags still on them, shiny mary janes in place of worn converses, her sea salt-scented braid of hair is combed and styled in soft waves tumbling down her back and smells of peaches, her unruly tongue fixed under an iron fist to master the straight-laced way of seoul-speak.

she’s made to rid herself of all the things that make her her.

every night, she goes to sleep; her face scrubbed clean, the skin of her good girl persona somewhere on the floor. every morning, she wakes when the sun rises and pulls her skin back on, pats her face dry of tears, and presses two fingers to the corners of her mouth, pushing up until a small dimple forms on her cheek. there, transformation complete. operation hyerin is a go.

every day is a vicious cycle. it’s walking on eggshells and pretending someone else isn’t living beneath this suffocating skin, wallowing in years of self-deprecation and the perpetual ache of longing (for something, for someone, for the taste of home—wherever that may be).

midas thrives on how easy it is to break her and fit her into a mold of their design, how quickly she can give away her free will for a promise of an adventure (of life never being dull, of living a dream). it’s easy to take a lost little thing in need of guidance and shape her into something otherworldly, push her onto a gnarly road and tell her to simply go straight to find her way back home, to where she needs to be.

but if one were to ask where she’s needed, she thinks of her old childhood home in busan, the pale yellow paint peeling on patches on her ceiling, the glow-in-the-dark wallpaper brittle and gathering dust. thinks of being waist-deep in the sea, thinks of halmeoni in her spongebob apron and a carrot as her makeshift microphone, thinks of her father somewhere (surviving, thriving, happy—she hopes), thinks of her mother and her work-roughened hands and the small shoebox apartment tucked in the tiniest corner of a heartless city.

if one were to ask what it is han saebyul (not jung hyerin) wants in private, watch her freeze, her smile slipping just slightly off her face—like a deer caught in headlights. watch her eyes, those sad lonely eyes, well up in tears she won’t let spill. watch her closely and carefully as her body seems to curl in on herself—as if the weight of the world is suddenly looming on her shoulders. watch for the tremor when she speaks, fingers twisting at her sides, voice impossibly soft and fragile: i don’t know…no one’s ever asked me before.

and no one has. no one cares what han saebyul wants. no one cares what jung hyerin wants either. midas simply takes and so do her fans. everyone breaks off little pieces of her; pieces she willingly gives because she can’t say no—until there’s nothing left for her to give. nothing left for anyone to take.

all that remains is the hollowed out shell of a girl drifting aimlessly, her heart never here or in one place, her mind lingering on faraway places not yet traveled and the sound of ocean waves crashing on sandy shores like a neverending siren’s call.

BIOGRAPHY

hazy beginnings.

despite being born to hardworking parents living on budgets and the ticking of a clock, han saebyul grows up a free-spirited daydreamer, often associating the world and the people around her in streaks of color and a symphony of sounds. her childhood consists of sand between her toes, sea salt in her hair, ocean-soaked dresses, and the sound of tinkling laughter.

her four seasons of growing up on the sandy shores of busan goes a little like this:

spring: an almost brand new knee-length dresses made of white lace her mother buys from a thrift shop at a discounted rate, sunflowers and daisies dancing in the wind, chasing butterflies, and flower bookmarks pressed into the pages of a journal.

summer: ripe with music, her spread eagle on a blanket and sunset golds streaked across her face, the drone of cicadas, cherry popsicles, the whir of electric fans, knee-deep in the sea, her mother calling her name off in the distance.

autumn: a waterfall of warm colors, halmeoni’s cozy handmade sweaters with the sleeves hanging past her fingertips, gingham skirts and leggings, pumpkin pies, spiced lattes, a night sky filled with paper lanterns and the glimmer of stars, father’s phone ringing off the hook in the middle of the night; every night.

winter: soft pink mittens and oversized pea coats over chunky sweaters and chunkier scarves made with love, homemade hot chocolate, footprints in fresh snow, one hand clasped in mother’s hand; the other grasping air, perpetual cold; lingering emptiness.

distorted middle grounds.

she’s seven, wide-eyed and curious, watching a master chef work her magic. it’s halmeoni in a soft yellow dress and a spongebob apron around her waist singing deulgukhwa hits and humming along to joo hyunmi and patti kim. it’s little saebyul perched on the counter by the fridge singing right along in a game of monkey see, monkey do.

early evening always starts with the swell of a sobangcha song, halmeoni wielding a carrot under her chin and saebyul’s little face crinkling up in peals of laughter. in the living room, her parents smile indulgently, hands busy tucking unpaid bills under week-old newspapers and balls of colorful yarn. and ends with saebyul curled in halmeoni’s lap, both hands clutching her parents’ sleeve in her sleep.

days and nights like these are normal—until they’re not.

one cold night in december, dinner prep is a somber affair. the radio is turned off and secondhand vinyls gather dust—buried under boxes full of knick-knacks and memories. there’s no halmeoni twirling in the kitchen, no tongue-in-cheek adlib to the latest hit trot song, no laughter.

home is quiet. empty. and little saebyul aches with the feeling of missing someone no amount of singing or wishing could ever bring back.

-

thirteen: she learns to make friends with an old guitar she buys off a neighbor moving to the big city, learns to strum awkwardly, clumsily; a cacophony of sound. it takes a full four seasons for her to learn to love the vibrations of nylon strings beneath the pads of her fingers. learns to put herself back together singing acoustic covers and soft little ballads with her face turned up to the stars. puberty comes and goes with her seated on the rickety steps of her porch, strumming nostalgic chords to the ghost of her youth.

her parents say nothing as they watch her from inside the house, smiles wilted, wistful, watery.

(there’s a million and one things their daughter could be, should be, and hurting, cradling sadness and turning grief into old-timey blues shouldn’t be one of them.)

they leave her be when she starts going to the market in the sticky heat of summer, guitar strapped to her back, playing for small crowds and neighborly regulars. from dusk to dawn, saebyul fixes a soft smile on her face as she strums and strums and strums, voice light and whimsical as she sings requests as a thank you for listening.

she comes home with a straw hat full of notes and red fingers, knowing full well it’s not enough to make up for this month’s expenses. so saebyul ventures back out again, haunts local farmer’s markets and side streets, the sandy beaches during tourist season, trying to make the most of a life that seems to pass her by too quickly, too quietly.

-

sometimes, she tells herself that when she sings something inside of her heals. as if the soft blue notes become a makeshift stopgap measure filling up the gaping hole in her chest, easing the perpetual emptiness, soothing the ache—the want—for a different life.

sometimes, when she closes her eyes, saebyul pretends she doesn’t hear the sound of her parents fighting, the front door slamming, and her mother’s muffled crying.

sometimes, when she lets herself sink in between lyrics about a dreamer wandering away in search for herself—for an adventure—saebyul swears that some day it could all be possible.

interludes.

family is four. then, three. then, two.

home is no longer sand in between her toes and the ocean clinging to her skin, but the veins of seoul—harsher and all concrete jungle. it’s rough corners pulled over steel edges and soon, the dirt roads she used to bike down back home is replaced by honking taxis and the congestion of too many strangers.

home is now a shoebox; a cramped one bedroom apartment overlooking a dirty alley on the outskirts of seoul.

“i hate it.” this isn’t home.

“give it a chance.” please, i’m asking.

saebyul swallows back a sigh because her mother is trying. her mother is tired. her mother is hurting. she knows. she knows.

so she’ll try, she tells her with a barely there smile etched to the curve of her mouth. we’ll try.

(maybe if she says it often enough, it’ll make it true. make her believe it.)

-

high school is a circus and, sometimes, she finds herself center stage. an unwilling spectacle. her accent is the only thing she has left of home and her peers mock her for it. turn her into the punchline of inside jokes and over-the-shoulder remarks about a bumbling seaside girl who doesn’t belong. she’s not ashamed, but it hurts just the same.

it’s hard to make friends when people choose what they want to see, so a loner she becomes by default. by choice. keeps to herself, minds her business, and makes herself a new home on the rooftop and the empty bleachers in an emptier field. she has her guitar and her ocean of sounds. starts spending more time with her head down, hair in a loose braid, writing the world and the people she watches and meets down in the pages of secondhand leather-bound notebooks.

at home, all alone while her mother toils tirelessly away to afford sending her off to a school that suffocates more than it cultivates, saebyul locks herself in her little corner of sanctuary. imagines what it feels like to be kissed, to be fucked. thinks of calloused hands and soft curves alike. wonders if wanting to feel love so viscerally is too much of a sin when her sheets are wet and her skin is flushed a soft pink.

maybe, just maybe, she wants to know what it’s like to drown in too much love.

-

“you have a pretty voice.”

it’s rooftop prince. only this time, they meet in the middle of the soccer field. it’s saebyul with her guitar in her lap and a curious tilt of her head, one hand shielding her eyes and feeling like she’s looking at the sun. blinded, she looks away. a little embarrassed, a little flattered. it’s been a long time since someone has complimented her, after all.

“why do you sing?”

so i can heal. one day, some day.

saebyul smiles and turns her face up to the sky. “because it feels like i’m home.”

-

she’s two days shy of her sixteenth birthday when she wraps herself in a chunky sweater and a soft scarf stitched with halmeoni’s love and makes her way to a quiet corner in hongdae with her guitar strapped to her back. braves the bite of an impending winter with numbed fingers and a voice that carries.

she starts with lee moon-se, sobangcha and joo hyunmi, hesitant and almost stuttering as she tunes her guitar with nimble fingers and her heart in her throat. somewhere, somehow, she hears halmeoni telling her to be brave as she plucks strings and closes her eyes, petite body swaying to the ebb and flow of a bygone song. with halmeoni in her ear, she lets the world fade away, pays no mind to the small gathering of an audience finding their way to the nostalgic croon of an old soul.

she comes awake to the sound of applause and a case full of clinking coins and a tiny pile of notes. she thanks everyone for their time and sets off to trudge home with her earnings, the want for early christmas shopping with her mother on the tip of her tongue.

she’s pulled from her afterglow by a tap on her shoulder and whirls around to a man in a suit, all coiffed and perfect, voice velvety smooth. her early birthday gift is an invitation that’s too good to be true.

-

her mother is apprehensive. she’s heard stories about the life of an idol. doesn’t want her daughter to live life under perpetual scrutiny, robbed of her youth, and always struggling to catch up to changing times and new trends.

“you’ll have to give up everything.”

“not everything.“ not you, she means to say. never you.

“you won’t be scared?”

“i won’t.” impending goodbyes has her losing her grip on the impression of a budding city girl society has pressed upon her, slipping back into the soft drawl of dialect and settling right at home in the wake of her desire to chase after a flimsy dream. like this, she’s doe-eyed and wears the heart of a dreamer, curls around her mother like she’s five years old and afraid of the dark.

“i guess this means my baby’s all grown up now.”

am i? doesn’t feel like it. saebyul swallows back a sob and presses her face to her mother’s neck.

goodbye shouldn’t have sounded so definitive. so painful.

not-quite endings.

her coming of age gift is the day fantasy’s lineup is announced.

her mother remarries six months later. family is now: her, her mother, a stepdad, and a new baby brother the ripe age of three.

-

the day she debuts as fantasy’s hyerin is the day she stops being han saebyul.

(because han saebyul is the sunshine girl who looked at people like they hung the moon and the stars. because han saebyul is tousled hair and tinkling laughter in the middle of the sea. because han saebyul is made of old songs and picture books, flower crowns, and grass stains.

because han saebyul is the kind of girl easily broken and taken advantage of.

because han saebyul, naive and kind, has no place in a world full of backstabbing and desperate survivors trying to make it to the top.

so, she creates herself a persona—someone quiet and unassuming, who seemed unlikely to stab you in the back than she is to hold you while you cried. someone who always seemed a little dazed and absentminded; her gaze faraway, her voice a whisper.

someone like halmeoni—all soft around the edges, always so poised and graceful in her mannerisms (from her mysterious little smile, to the tilt of her head, to the way she walked and talked), her voice a balm to her soul.

she takes all the things she loves most about her and creates a persona in her grandmother’s shadow.

from han saebyul to jung hyerin, she goes from being her parents’ morning star to the bright luster of jade—timeless and nostalgic; a flawed replica created in tribute to the person who showed her how to embrace and love the world and everyone in it.

like this, hyerin is born to weather all the storms saebyul does not have the strength to handle on her own—just like halmeoni had been there, once upon a time, to hold her hand while she dusted the dirt off her knees and got right back up to face the world.

because hyerin (her name)—not saebyul—is the only thing she has left of halmeoni and she’d be damned if she lost that too.)

-

it’s the same day her father calls for the first time in years. when she picks up, all she hears is his rumbling laughter, sounding much fuller than it had in their rickety old house filled with the scent of spices and long-time struggles.

“are you happy, my star? how’s it feel to be on stage?”

like i’m flying. like i’m dying. says, “are you, daddy? are you happier now?”

“…yeah, i guess i am, byulie. i think i am.”

“that’s good. that’s all i ever wanted—for you to be happy.”

(means, i miss you so much it hurts. will you come home? will you come back? do you miss me too?)

“i’m proud of you, my star. be good. keep shining, dad will always be by your side.”

don’t lie. don’t lie. don’t lie, she thinks as she cries silent tears and thanks him for everything. for the moments of happiness when she was but a child too curious, too naive, too loving for her own good. for the lifetime of loneliness and always getting left behind when things get too hard—too tough—for people to stay.

“i’m always good.“ always. then and now.

-

two years into this dream and she realizes her voice has stopped being her own, shaped by midas and molded into the image of a good girl with a pretty voice. realizes she’s signed her youth away as dreams of singing on stage with just a microphone and her guitar are replaced by short skirts, sugary sweet lines, and a sense of something sacred being stolen from her.

she’s forbidden from ever bringing up opportunities to pen lyrics for her group. rebuffed at every effort about a possible solo debut in the future where she can sing about a girl who’s just trying to find her place in the world.

the answer is no almost every time. sometimes, if she’s good—when fantasy charts well, when she makes headlines for listing so and so as her ideal type or she’s captured collecting fan letters and humble fan gifts to and from music show recordings and at crowded airports—she gets a backhanded maybe.

most times, she’s told she needs more clout. more popularity. more traction. you’re still young, they say. you have time.

usually, it feels like a slap to the face when hyerin’s told to do as they say. no complaints. no whining. just pure obedience. know your place, hyerin-ssi. this isn’t your home. there are rules here and you are expected to follow them to the letter.

so she does. clamps her mouth shuts and sings what she’s given. dances as she’s practiced. smiles as she’s commanded.

all the while, hours spent in the dead of the night writing lyrics that read like poems, like stories of a thousand lives not yet lived in her notebooks are laid to waste, buried under rejection after rejection in the bottom of a box full of remnants of her childhood and reminders of a home away from home.

like this, she muffles the cries of a girl homesick for a place she’s never been, sings and dances like it’s the only thing that matters and pretends she’s happy.

pretends it’s all she wants.

pretends it’s enough.

[gloryofthesnowblog]

50+ Pretty Flower Wallpapers For iPhone

50+ Pretty Flower Wallpapers For iPhone

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[wallpaperpainter]

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Seven Sunflower Paint By Number That Had Gone Way Too Far | sunflower paint by number

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Several acrylic companies, including Behr, Olympic, Benjamin Moore and Sherwin-Williams, accept chargeless downloadable apps that automatically analyze a acrylic blush that matches a hue in a photo. Best bodies will artlessly grab a camera buzz snapshot, but there’s no acumen you can’t upload an absolute account as a blush sample, whether it’s the chicken of a Van Gogh sunflower or the adumbration of dejected in your wife’s bells bouquet. (Huge credibility points!)

They all action almost the same: you aloof run your feel over a advertence photo to the exact atom breadth the blush that you appetite to bout lies. ColorSmart from Behr offers advantageous extras, including the adeptness to around acrylic several sample allowance images with the colors you choose. However, you should apparently aces the cast of acrylic you appetite aboriginal and let that actuate your best of app.

A phone’s congenital motion sensors can additionally drive an absorbing toolbox addition. Turns out these accessories are acute abundant to accommodate authentic angular measurements, whether you’re aggravating to adhere a account straight, akin an apparatus or cut a allotment of barge at a 45-degree angle. The iHandy Carpenter app ($1.99) includes on-screen versions of a erect bob, a apparent level, a balloon level, a animate protractor and a animate ruler. If all you charge is a level, you can download that bore for free.

Finally, you can about-face your buzz into a makeshift flashlight. There are two approaches: brighten the awning itself with a bright, solid white image, or use the LED camera beam (if your buzz has one) for a abundant brighter ablaze antecedent (albeit one that additionally drains the array quickly). The chargeless myLite Flashlight app does the job for Apple users, alms an added strobe approach if you’re in a disco mood.

For Android, TeslaLED (also free) provides basal flashlight functionality, a aflame badge approach for alluring absorption at night, and a affection beeline out of “MacGyver.” Type in a byword and the app translates it into Morse code, again flashes it. Laugh if you like, but if you’re trapped by an evildoer in an breadth with poor corpuscle buzz reception, that app could save your life!

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The post Seven Sunflower Paint By Number That Had Gone Way Too Far | sunflower paint by number appeared first on Wallpaper Painting.

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