#i love our lilac bush so much

[honeybeedrabble]

what it is hoe, best writer ever, can i please request an abbacchio x reader but christmas themed?? like mistletoe and santa hats and passionate smut pls pls pls 🎄🎅

This is gonna make a great gift… for christmas…

CW: piv (unprotected so be safe), cream pie (don’t do thaaaat…), very soft honestly, lots of fluff, breast play, mistletoe 🤭🤭, lmk if i missed anything.

Team Bucciarati was coming over for the annual Christmas dinner party you and your boyfriend hosted at your house. The food was ready and the table was set, however, there was a crucial element that was missing at this festive feasting.

“Oh c’mon, Leone. What ever happened to your Christmas cheer?” you giggled, setting a floppy santa hat on your boyfriends head.

He sat on the loveseat, arms crossed as the red and white hat adorned his grumpy face so perfectly.

“What are you talking about?” he huffed, adjusting the hat as the small white puffball swung from side to side.

“Look around, isn’t the place missing something?” you asked. Abbachio looked around, an eyebrow cocked.

“No… the stockings are hung, the trees been decorated for weeks, there are about a hundred lights in this room alone, and I genuinely believe we wouldn’t be able to fit a single poinsettia anywhere else in this house.”

You softly pouted, leaning in the doorway from the living room to the dining room, tilting your head to the side and looking up at the bare ceiling.

“Are you sure we aren’t missing something?” Just then something clicked inside of him. The mistletoe. He tried to hide his blush, but you knew this look all too well and felt your lips tug into a smirk.

“Last year Mista wouldn’t let up until we kissed under that god forsaken ceiling bush…” you couldn’t help but blush yourself as you reminisced.

“Come on, it was cute.”

“It was indecent…” he said, a slight hint of humor in his voice. “I don’t see why you feel the need to try to impress them so much with all your decorations.”

“Because it means we get to spend time together making this place a home… our home.” You added softly, walking over to the nearby coffee table and grabbing the mistletoe.

Abbachio stood up from his seated position on the loveseat, walking over to you where he would gently take the plant from your hands and hang it right above you on the ceiling with a nearby thumbtack.

“Well when you put it like that…” he smirked, towering over you as he positioned the decorative plant just right.

“So you’ve come around after all?”

“Well I’m no Scrooge, and if doing this means I get to see you happy then I don’t care what they’ll ask of us tonight.” Abbachio looked almost proud of his decorative skills, admiring the perfectly symmetrical placement.

You looked up at him and smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his chest. He looked down at you with a curious face, interested in your sudden display of affection.

“Looks like it’s just us under this thing.”

“It seems so, and what of it, hmm?” he asked, his large hand caressing the back of your head and smoothing your hair down from its ruffled place against the santa hat.

“And it means we have to kiss now.”

“Oh really? I wasn’t aware,” he teased, something that was rare from him and heavily welcomed by you.

“Well then now you are, and you need to fulfill your duties and kiss me,” you smiled, an arm unwrapping around his waist as your hand snaked up his abdomen and lay against the warm skin of his chest.

He bent down to your height, gently cupping your face in his hands and placed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. You always loved this, the way he held you so gently, the way he seemed to calm even the slightest of nerves in you with his kiss alone. It was moments like these you considered him a godsend.

He gently caressed your cheek bone with his thumb, then broke the kiss as gently as he started it. You opened your eyes to see him and felt your heart ache at the look he gave you. His eyes were blown wide, lilac hair softly drooping towards his face. You smiled as you collected his hair and tucked it behind his ear. That stupid santa hat on his head knocking the lock of hair back in his face. You two giggled, then looked back in eachothers eyes.

You hadn’t realized how anxious you really were for this party until you felt how relaxed you were now. It’s as if all that time you spent running around for gifts and wrapping them, mixed with the troublesome time of decorating the house and preparing the food hadn’t happened to you at all. You knew in a way that was true. Who was there to tell you Bucciarati’s jacket size when you didn’t know? Who was there to help you with the food when you still needed to go grocery shopping? And who was there to help put the star on the tree because you couldn’t reach? It was all Abacchio. In your heart you always knew you loved him, but now you were finally presented with the knowledge of your devotion for him. As if it was something that kept the world going.

“Have you opened the wine? You have that heavy lidded look to you,” Abbachio asked, thumb still caressing your soft skin.

“No no, it’s not that.” You smiled, eyes shutting as you tilted your head into his hand, placing your own on his wrist.

“Well then, beautiful, what is it?” He spoke so softly, something he regularly did to you out of respect.

“It’s you, Leone. It’s all you.” You opened your eyes, watching how his cheeks warmed up at your sentiments. “You know I love you. I couldn’t ask for a better gift than you, in fact you might’ve just ruined all presents anyone may have gotten me tonight.”

“I hope that’s not true, I have something special planned.” He smiled. “But regardless, I was thinking the same thing.”

He kissed you again, more hunger this time. His arms wrapped around your waist as yours interlocked around his neck, your jaw going slack as he licked along your lower lip. A sigh escaped your mouth, one of your hands tangled in his long, silky hair. You could feel his smirk against your lips, his teeth running along your lower lip to tease you as you threw your head back.

“It’s shocking to me how easily you can switch on the flip of a dime for me,” he softly cooed, bending down further to lick a stripe up your neck.

You shuddered as he latched into your jaw, sucking a small hickey just underneath it that would be impossible to hide. Your hands continued to tangle in the back of his head, legs threatening to give under his massive presence if it weren’t for your arms holding on tight.

“I love it when you get like this,” he whispered sensually in your ear, his grip on your waist becoming more firm as he kissed you again, swaying side to side with you.

He gradually led you over to the loveseat he was sat in previously, moving gracefully almost as if he were dancing with you there. He sat down on the loveseat and pulled you into his lap, stroking your neck as you looked deep into his eyes that twinkled in the soft light of the christmas tree.

His hands were now on your hips, guiding you closer til you could feel the heartbeat pounding in his chest, along with the growing erection hitching in his pants as you slid further into him. You shuddered at the feeling, your skin growing hotter and the exchange becoming steamier.

There was an small yet audible groan rumbling in his throat when you shifted your hips just right, his jaw falling slack, urging you to explore eachothers mouths more on the velvety couch. His large hands slid up your back, sending chills up your spine until they settled at your upper back, pushing you further into his chest.

You ran your hands up his chest, landing on his neck, you lightly moaned as you felt goosebumps rise on his skin as you two continued making out in the living room. You could feel every subtle moment, the smooth curves of his muscular neck, the was his tongue caressed your lips before diving back in your mouth, the way his muscles tensed when you ground against him just right, the texture of his long hair as you pushed it back for more leverage. By now he was sure that all he wanted was you, he was also sure he’d be replaying this moment over and over again throughout the evening if he found himself alone.

“Abbachio…” you whimpered his name softly, legs shivering in excitement, the movements only arousing his hunger for you.

Abbachios hold on you became tighter, he wasn’t even aware of it in the heat of the passion. His hands left your back and moved up to the front of your blouse, unbuttoning it and feeling up your soft skin that was just underneath it.

As your blouse opened up so did the rest of you, with a sigh your head fell to the side, exposing yourself even further. Abbachio was pleased as he unclasped your bra, his tongue caressing your cleavage before your breasts spilled out of their confines.

Quickly you reached for his pants and undid the button and zipper, signaling you wanted them off. You got up on your knees which was enough for him to slide off, a strange hardness hitting you inner thigh as he slid them off. You ignored it, preferring the hardness hitting your stomach right now.

“You know we’re going to have to make this quick, if I’m not mistaken I think everyone’s about to be on their way soon.” Abbachio turned his head to the large grandfather clock next to the roaring fireplace.

“Trust me, we can get this done pretty quick.”

You pulled your panties to the side, your red skirt making his access easier. Delighted, his hand lifted it up caressing your folds with his thumb. You shivered, grasping his shaft and replacing his fingers for his tip, running it up and down, spreading his warm precum along your clit. You bit your lip when he smiled devilishly at you, wanting to grab you by your waist and plunge himself deep into your cunt, but stopped himself when he realized it would be at his pace instead of yours. It was something he did to let you warm up the way you saw fit.

Lucky for him you sunk down onto his length soon enough and you could feel his muscles tense up when you took him until he bottomed out. You put your hands on the headrest of the couch and kissed him on his forehead.

“Mmmm…” he hummed, face turning a pale pink when you put a twist in your hips. “Enjoying yourself up there?”

“Y-yeah,” you grunted, pushing yourself up only to slide back down into his lap with a breathy moan.

He placed a hand on one of your tits, his index and thumb rolling a nipple after he spat on it. You stiffened up, then arched your back, feeling him throb inside of you.

“Seems like y-you are too,” you let out, feeling juices run down your thighs.

“You read me like a book,” his other hand was now firm on the underside of your thigh, guiding you up and down his length as he deliciously stretched you out.

You let him take control for you, his slippery cock penetrating you over and over again, pushing against spots inside of you he was well acquainted with. He smiled when he watched your face contort, eyes watering with pleasure.

He moaned your name, gently nibbling your earlobe as he held you up and lifted his hips into you, his pubic bone grinding against your clit making you see stars. His pace began to become more and more rough, your cunt squeezing his girth tightly as his smooth tip explored your insides.

Abbachio became flustered as he watched you writhe in his lap, unable to help himself he turned you both over and grabbed the outer sides of your thighs. He realigned himself with you enterance and you both let out matching moans when he thrusted inside. You both got louder when you realized how much deeper he could be inside of you. In and out, over and over, the mix of noises between your gutteral groans and the squelching of your cunt only made him pound you harder.

You watched as his hat threatened to fall off and when it almost did you grabbed his face and brought it closer to yours, making out now as he fucked you senseless. You moaned in his mouth while you wrapped your legs around his torso, holding on for dear life.

“It’s good?” He asked, voice husky now as he felt you flutter around him.

“S-so good! Ngh- love… i love you!” you cried out, diving back in for another kiss.

You felt yourself shake, your stomach churn, and body burn hot as you came hard. You thought he looked so pretty with his hat on as he sunk his teeth into his lip, grunting while he rearranged your organs with his cock.

Soon enough he couldn’t help himself as he spilled his cum deep in your walls, you felt the way he shuddered and knew it was over before he did. He almost whimpered as he drained himself inside of you, your kisses became sloppy through both your orgasms. When he finally pulled out he noticed how late it was and was anxious to gain his composure.

“Shit… Theyll be here any minute now! I’m sorry my love, I’ll make this up to you later tonight- I promise!” He panted as his chest rose and fell, leaning over to kiss you one more time before rushing over to your linen closet to find a towel.

You reclasped your bra and buttoned your shirt, finally tossing off that santa hat. You bent down to pick up his pants so he could put them on easier when a small red box fell out of his pocket. It had a silver bow on the top and you smiled at how cute it was. Absentmindedly you opened it and froze when you saw a small ring sitting in the middle.

“Lay back and I’ll take care of the mess, okay?” Abbachio asked entering the room again. He also froze when he saw you holding his ring. “So you found it…” He sighed before letting out a small laugh.

“I was planning on proposing after presents and… at the very least while I was wearing pants, but I guess these things can’t be helped.” He walked over to you and sat down next to you.

“Marry me?” He asked, taking one of your hands and placing it on his chest, heart beating a million miles a minute.

You threw your arms around him, crying happily as you kissed his face all over, muttering soft “yes”’s over and over again. He placed the ring on your finger and grabbed your face gently in his hands. He looked up for a moment and you did too, seeing a mistletoe you must’ve forgotten hanging right above you. You two laughed softly until there was a knock at the door. You jumped and ushered Abbachio out of the room to change as you quickly cleaned yourself and fixed your hair.

Soon enough you opened the door and we’re greeted by all your friends, each one holding their own gifts for eachother. It didn’t take long for them to notice your ring and when Abbachio came out they all congratulated you profusely. Dinner went well, the whole party did. There wasn’t a moment you weren’t grateful for your fiancé, and as the night went on you realized that he wasn’t lying about making it up to you.

AN: happy holidays everyone !! i’m very grateful to have such amazing people interacting with my stuff and i hope everyone had a great holiday season !!

[ancientcraftnoccultism]

🌿 Herb Of The Day

Title: Lilac

Gender: Feminine

Element: Water

Planet: Venus

📜 Folklore & History 📜

Lilacs are an old, old, species that originated in Persia and then traveled to Europe. They were brought to America in 1750 and then planted at New Jersey Governor Wentworth’s home. Other prominent men fell in love with lilacs. They were reportedly one of Thomas Jefferson’s favorite flowers, and he documented his lilac-planting-methods in 1767. George Washington followed suit and moved existing lilacs on his property to his garden in 1785.

In Greek mythology, Pan, the god of the wild, chased a nymph named Syringa. She turned herself into a lilac bush to escape Pan, and in anger, he broke off the reed-like branches which made pipes. With regret, he tried kissing the broken branches, and as his air pushed over them, sounds were made. Lilacs were responsible for the creation of “Panpipes.”

Russian folklore believed that hanging lilacs above a baby’s bed would bring the child wisdom.

American folklore thought that lilacs could drive away evil and that placing them in a haunted house would displace ghosts. Thought to be symbolic of “old love,” Victorian widows often wore lilacs as a sign of remembrance. One hundred and fifty-five years ago today, April 15th, Abraham Lincoln died after being shot by John Wilkes Booth. Any American — and much of the world — knows the story of the self-educated, country lawyer who became one of our nation’s most beloved presidents. But what many Americans might not realize is how the death of Lincoln reverberated into so many areas of our collective psyche, including literature and horticulture, thanks to Walt Whitman. Walt Whitman was a reporter, printer, writer, traveler and Civil War nurse who is considered one of America’s greatest poets. He self-published Leaves of Grass and worked on it throughout his lifetime, eventually modifying it so that there are eight different editions. Whitman felt a great affinity with President Abraham Lincoln, and when Lincoln was assassinated in the spring of 1865, Whitman grieved.

He wrote years later in Specimen Days about learning of the President’s death:

"I remember where I was stopping at the time, the season being advanced, there were many lilacs in full bloom. By one of those caprices that enter and give tinge to events without being at all a part of them, I find myself always reminded of great tragedy of that day by the sight and odor of these blossoms. It never fails."

While lilacs are first to bloom, their flowers are short-lived. The heady fragrance lingers sweetly at first, but then the blooms start to die, leaving a heavy, cloying smell. One of the first flowers of spring, lilacs contain a natural compound called indole that’s found in flowers — and feces. It’s that undercurrent of the “bottom note” of fragrance that suggests decay and death.

🔮 Metaphysical Properties 🔮

The beautiful May-blooming lilac is one of the loveliest tokens of spring. But they are much more than beautiful shrubs with showy, sweet-smelling flowers. Originally lilacs were planted to repel all evil. Planted near the entryway, lilacs were believed to send out protective vibrations. When the flowers are cut and brought into the home they cleanse any living space. And they'll also remove any unwanted spiritual presence. Blue and white varieties work well for this purpose. Since lilacs are ruled by Venus, they are also used in love spells. Try placing some pink lilacs on your altar while performing a love spell. The dried flowers make a powerful addition to any love sachet.

🍴⚕️ Culinary & Medicinal Properties

The simplest way to enjoy lilacs is as an infusion of the flowers for a lilac sugar. The sugar can then be used in recipes to add lilac flavor to baked goods. This also works with a lilac simple syrup which is just a liquid form of the same thing that’s perfect for making cocktails. For my money though, I think lilac infused honey sounds the best. The sweet floral flavor of lilacs translates beautifully into an ice cream base.

To prevent the recurrence of disease, lilac flowers were used to help strengthen the system and prevent relapse after a patient had healed. They’re said to be specifically good after cases of malaria. Tasting the raw flowers you can actually pick up some of the astringent qualities, as they make your mouth dry and pucker a bit (along with their floral flavors). This astringent quality makes them good for use in skin care products. Lilacs are used as a folk remedy for intestinal worms, as well as a treatment for gastric discomfort and gas. Regardless of the purpose, the most likely medicinal lilac preparation is a tincture, which is just a lilac infused alcohol

[butmakeitgayblog]

How did corn midwestern au Clexa make up? Get our babes back on track 🥹

For everyone else who reminded me, thank you loves 💕 cuz ya know ya girl forgets every damn thing

//////////////////////

Storming out of her own front door felt like the stupidest thing she'd ever done once she gotten about a third of the way down the block and realized... wait. That's my fuckin house. Not hers.

But... that wasn't really true. Not entirely. Not when she really made herself stop and think about it. Because so much about everything there in that house had Lexa intrinsically tied up in it. The front walkway lined with azaleas and the lilac bush trimmed neatly up near the porch. The fresh coat of paint that made her door and windows pop, and the funky collection of wind chimes that decorate the awning. Lexa had planted every scrap of green, hung every piece of artwork just-so, had done more little projects around the house with her own two hands than Clarke could even begin to count.

She had, without Clarke really bothering to notice before that moment, turned Clarke's house into a home.

Their home.

A place that felt entirely like sanctuary.

And that's the thought that cuts through the fog of her anger when she turns to corner at the end of the block.

Lexa had been clear in her intentions if Clarke really stopped and thought about it. Which she hadn't before, which just makes her feel like even more of an idiot. Because this was Lexa. Who doesn't do things by halves. She goes all in on everything and pours her heart into her work, and doesn't ever really ask for anything in return. This is Lexa, who loves in action instead of the empty shells of words. And it's not hard to see what she'd been saying all along, while Clarke hadn't even been listening.

Her loop around the block is broken up by waves from front lawns and the occasional car horn honk. Not the blaring aggressive kind she associates with her childhood city, but in tiny beep-beeps here and there just to get her attention long enough to look up, capped with a friendly wag of fingers as one town folk or another that she now knows on a first name basis trundled their way by.

She sidesteps stretches of chalk covered pavement and stops whenever a little barefoot kid or two grab at her hands and drag her closer to explain the brilliance of their colorful sidewalk creation. She politely turns down offers of lemonade from porch swings and smiles at kids riding bikes that yelling out calls of, "Heya, Dr. Clarke!"

She rounds the last corner of her block. Passes the clinic next to her house where she treats all these people, fixes their boo boos, stuffy noses, and chronic headaches. Remembers the months it'd taken to get so many of them to trust her with their care, and remembers the stories of what they'd gone through before she'd gotten there. She runs her fingers along the sign that bears her name in bright blue lettering, the one Lexa had painted herself Clarke's second week in town in the blazing sun in a baseball cap and an old ratty shirt. "Ya gotta have a new sign, Doc," she'd smirked when Clarke had come out on her lunch break and asked what exactly it was she was doing. "Otherwise people might just walk on by, and that'd be a travesty. Besides... This color matches your eyes."

Slinking back through the house feels entirely too much like a walk of shame, but she supposes she's done just about enough to deserve it. And finding Lexa splayed out face-down in their bed is a welcome sight, despite everything.

Her murmured 'I'm sorry' from the doorway is enough to have Lexa flipping over because, even mad, Lexa would never ignore her. Except Lexa doesn't look mad. She looks guarded and brokenhearted, and fuck, that's so much worse.

"I can be stupid sometimes," is Clarke's attempt at opening the discussion, gently hushing Lexa's knee-jerk need to tell her she's not. Instead, Clarke makes her way over to the bed and guides Lexa to lay in her back, straddling her hips and pulling Lexa's hands into her own. Because she's kind of run the gambit on emotions in the last 45 minutes, and if they're gonna have this kind of conversation, she wants it to feel intimate.

So she explains that she can be stupid. And very narrow-sighted. She can put blinders on to the world around her when she gets goals stuck in her head, and she'll work to move heaven and earth just to achieve them. She can be someone who is obtuse about certain things, who doesn't always take the time to see the bigger picture right in front of her, especially if it doesn't immediately fit into what she had planned.

But the thing is... everything she had dreamed about before, she already right here in this town. It just happened to come in a very unexpected package. The truth is, she does understand what Lexa feels toward these people. She understands that sense of community Lexa has here, that drive to watch out for these people and take care of them. Because when she finally stops and takes a look around herself, she feels it too. She cares about them, all of them, just the same as Lexa does. She was just too focused on plans that don't even really seem to matter anymore to let herself see it. Yes there's things here she hates about this place, but that's true about anywhere she's go.

These people rely on her too. They count on her and care about her. They've taken her in as one of thejr own. In all these months she'd failed so badly to pay attention to fact that they considered her one of them.

They were her people now.

That very much included Lexa, too.

And more than that, she understands where Lexa's coming from when she sets aside all of her own bullshit and sees where this beautiful doofus is coming from. Lexa is nothing if not an honorable woman who stands up for her responsibilities. For the people she loves.

And her loyalty? "Baby, that's such a big part part of why I love you. Even when it's difficult sometimes... I don't ever want to change that about you."

That's only the second time in their relationship that Clarke sees her girlfriend cry (even if it's little more than a sheen of tears over her lashes.) But she knows Lexa understands what she's saying when she sits up and kisses her like she's got something to prove, feeling the arms on her waist wrap so tightly it nearly hurts because Lexa just wants her that much closer. Her mumbled whispers of, "I love you. Thank you. I'm going to make you so happy here, I promise. You'll see," between kisses make Lexa taste just that much sweeter, despite it all making Clarke laugh because it really is entirely unnecessary.

There's a lot more conversations to be had, apologies to be made and finer details to work out. But in that moment, all that matters is letting themselves feel one another. Getting lost in mending trust and understanding between them that never even needed to broken. Making love like they have all the time in the world until their both sweaty and spent. That night they stay up till sunrise, talking and laying down plans with stretched out gloriously naked in bed, because the first order of business is deciding exactly when Lexa should officially move in.

Because this is their house. Their home. And if they're gonna make a real go of making a life together in it, they might as well go on and get started now since that they both know neither one of them is going anywhere...

[asexxxualauthor]

It’s crazy how much the world changes when you’re not paying attention to it. 

I was at a party my parents were hosting in my childhood home’s backyard. They do this every once in a while, where they invite all their friends from the country bar they go to. It’s usually not my vibe, but I like food, and the music and dancing is always good, so I showed up—and between burgers and line-dances, discussion turned to how beautiful the backyard was, and the work my parents had put into it.

The backyard is truly beautiful—there’s a large concrete patio that runs the full length of the house’s back wall, furnished with a gas barbecue, a large corner trellis with a bench, and a pergola crafted from the trellis’ twin. A wall of lilacs runs along the northern and most of the western sides of the patio, and a stout stone wall runs along the length of the fence line, dividing the neatly trimmed lawn from trees, bushes, and wild grasses my dad lets run rampant in the background. There’s a vegetable garden, a large tool shed in the corner, and a quiet little shady spot decorated with shucked antlers and my dad’s dozing hammock.

It’s all so beautiful…and none of it existed when we moved in twenty years ago.

That patio was around the same area in size, but a large chunk of it was loose gravel under a large wooden porch. The lawn was bland and uninteresting—there was a corner garden with a fish pond that we eventually buried, and an above-ground pool where the shed now stands that lasted a good few summers before we gave up on it—and the only plants that could be found were massive bushes of pampas grass that were so annoying we had them ripped out within the first year, and a sapling globe willow that cracked in half in a wind storm a few years later.

That willow was also a treehouse for a time—the spot where my dad’s hammock hangs used to house a clubhouse hidden between the tree and the fence—a second vegetable garden sat beside the first, and was quartered off into sections for me and my sisters to try our own hands at agriculture, something the middle sister still loves with a wonderful passion to this day. And even after that one was abandoned, my dad made two more in the space where the pool once was, and where the shed now is.

(That corner, perhaps, has seen the most change, by far.)

Those aren’t the only changes, either—the whole neighborhood has changed.

When we first moved in, there was a rolling horse pasture that sat beside the road on the way in. Coming back from elementary school, we’d stop to watch the horses and try and give them pats. The horses are gone now, the pastures rolled flat, and a subdivision now stands there.

Out on the southern side of the neighborhood were these large mounds of dirt that the other kids would take their mountain and dirt bikes on. I remember seeing them and wishing I had a bike so I could go and join them. They got bulldozed flat for more houses to take their place before I even got the chance to try.

Perhaps the worst of the bunch is the spot where a neighborhood called Bison Ridge now sits—its eponymous name coming from the small herd of bison the farmer whose land it had been had kept and nurtured. He’s still there, with a few elk he tends to, but the bison are gone and have been gone for the better part of twenty years. I still wonder about where they went.

So much of my childhood memories, gone before I even realized it.

There’s a game my family used to play, whenever we’d leave on a road trip to go see my grandparents. Once we turned the corner on that distant dusty road, all us kids would hop up in our seats, craning our necks and trying for the life of us to be the first to spot their orange-roofed house as we crested the hill approaching them. We’d scream and squeal and laugh as we saw it, knowing soon that we would be scooped up in the arms of our doting grandpa, smothered by our loving grandma, and spend a weekend of movies, fun, and root beer floats.

We’ve gone to that house a few times over the past year, but I don’t think we ever played the game. The dusty road is still there, as is the large hill we crest over—even the familiar orange shingles that you can see like flare on the horizon, they’re all still there. Nothing’s changed. But no one shouts, no one squeals, no one laughs, because that’s not grandma and grandpa’s house. Not anymore.

It’s crazy how much the world changes when you’re not paying attention to it.

[italoniponic]

𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 - mini-project

Our Friendship Won't Wither

| Notes: this one was not a repeated request or anything. It’s just that I fell in love with the idea that @that-one-fanperson sent me a request about a Reader who leaves flowers on some of the boys desks without telling them or just leaving a note. I wrote for Silver and Azul (as the request) and Epel as my own choice. But I liked this so much that I might write for some of the others as well? if i have time This one is a bit of a teaser for that lol Also that I wanted something new for Ortho since I only wrote for him once and I wanted to have more of, since he's the best for wholesome content. And there’s a lot of flowers that have meanings of friendship, so I tried to use that as well~

Ortho Shroud & gender neutral reader / platonic / wholesome / the three F’s: fluff, flower language and friendship / minor mention of Fairy Gala: What If / reader is into gardening / use of “you” pronouns

Like other classmates in Class 1-C, Ortho found it curious the strange apparition of a flower on his desk. He took it and scanned it, discovering in his database that it was an alstroemeria. It was a beautiful flower, unlike anything he had seen before with his own hands or even in the few places where he went;

Alstroemeria was very similar to lily but had small vertical streaks on some of its long petals that blended pink streaks on a white background. Ortho remembered when he helped his friends to infiltrate in the Fairy Gala, a rather fun and dear occasion for him — although it was laborious anyway;

With a little more research, Ortho found the meaning of the flower: “full happiness, longtime friendship.” He greatly appreciated the meaning. It was necessary to keep guard of it for the rest of the class, especially since Lucius was feeling disturbed by the flower’s mere presence and subtle smell — and Ortho discovered that alstroemeria was toxic to animals;

Prof. Trein asked where Ortho had gotten that flower, but he could only answer that he found it by surprise — the others confirmed his story. Although, Ortho kept to his own circuits the intuition that there was one person who might have done this little gift of appreciation for him;

As soon as the lessons were over, Ortho left the class and went looking for you through the hallways. He had mapped out a few options of where you could be before heading to the cafeteria and without error he found you on the courtyard, tending to a small creeping flower bed that Crowley allowed you to use. “Hello! Thank you for the alstroemeria!,” Ortho thanked while suddenly announcing himself;

You took a fright at his sudden appearance, almost dropping your watering can. You were also surprised to learn that the boy had tracked the flower to you so fast and efficiently. But in the end, you smiled and stroked his head, as if little Shroud was your own little brother. You were thrilled to know that Ortho was happy with your wish to have a long-lasting friendship with him;

A few days later, you were spending your time in the peaceful courtyard. Sitting on the bench, your attention was divided between the flowers growing and the tiredness of a full day of classes and lessons. Suddenly, you felt something being put in your head. Ortho then appeared next to you, floating from the bushes to the front of the bench with an amused expression;

You took from your head a crown of globe amaranths, small flowers whose small, sharp petals formed small, round globes. They were of the most delicate shade of lilac, and the pollinating parts of the flower looked like soft light yellow ornaments, speckled all over. A cute gift, no doubt;

“I searched around in my data and Globe Amaranth stands for immutability and long-lasting friendship as well,” Ortho informed you, happily. “Ah! And if you hand it as a crown, they say it brings good luck!” He had a few more amaranth flower crowns on his arm, probably for other people he wanted to congratulate. You were the second to receive, Idia still would come first in these cases;

But you didn’t care about the position because you knew that any gift from Ortho came from within his big heart and that was actually the most important to you. You gently patted Ortho’s metallic cheeks, wishing him good luck in delivering the other crowns. You both said goodbye and you sighed, but more joyfully this time. Your little friend was very precious.

[charlesandmartine]

Monday 29th April 2024

The knock came at 5am this morning, again. We had to hurry because the animals were waiting! Clearly. We were once more loaded into the back of a Toyota and off we went into the depths of the Hwange National Park. Just remember leopard I said to our ranger. Need to see one, or two. We clattered off in a vehicle that sounded like it desperately needed a service. We had had a good night sleep, up until 5am that is. The train stopped at 3am so giving us a motion free sleep. Although the cabin size is more than adequate, we feel that until now we have been living out of a suitcase, now we feel we are living in a suitcase!

The park was good and we managed to see three lionesses and three cubs. Of course there were the accompanying entourage of zebras, elephants, giraffes, impala, water buck, kudu and baboons. Gorgeous birds too; the banana bird, lilac crested roller and pepple roller.

Right in the middle of nowhere was a small well managed campsite with toilets, kitchen and shower cubicle. It was looked after by one man and a broom who was stationed there on his own for a month. A rudimentary fence surrounded the site but the gate left little to be admired. Knowing what's out there and how many sharp teeth are involved, I'd want a sturdier fence and gate than what's on offer.

Returning to the rail track, there was a welcome sausage and coffee as well as champagne which kind of made up for there being no leopard.

Back on the train it was pretty much time for luncheon. Bringing out the wine needs little excuse and today proved no exception. Our wine waiter even forced a dessert wine down us.

Retiring to our cabin, we were able to sit and idly watch the African countryside drift by. The twin powerful DD class 2200hp locos steadily pulling or 20 coach train onwards to Bulawayo. The vegetation is quite green and lush at the moment, with bush and trees unrecognisable. Occasionally wildlife can be seen; wart hogs, baboons, impala. Odd bits of railway equipment discarded from a bygone era, little shacks of unknown use by the narrow gauge track, occasional rusting railway trucks. We are still in Zimbabwe and we wonder when the trackside signals last worked? There is no red or green light showing on these rusted poles. Rovos locomotives can only be used up to the South African border whereupon they need to be swapped out for South African units and driven by South African railway staff but that won't happen until tomorrow.

Rovos Rail was the dream of Rohan Vos in 1986. His initial intent was to buy four carriages to restore and hitch them onto a South African Railways train as a family caravan. His first service was a locomotive and seven carriage train to the Eastern Transvaal and was launched on 29th April 1989. Rovos Rail is now considered one of the most luxurious trains in the world.

As the train rumbled on, we passed through isolated townships and villages, and as we did so small crowds of children would run squealing from crossings, running along the track behind the train. We simply could not guess what sort of lives they might lead. In some cases they were hoping for money or gifts. Some passengers had thrown sweets and we heard that the train had given leftovers although none of this was endorsed by the company.

Springbok for dinner. Lovely.

ps It's a Giraffe journey of giraffes when they are on the move but tower of giraffes when stationary.

[hihimissamericanbi]

Quote Game

Hello me again I got tagged in this so many times I DID ALL THE WORDS. I absolutely love this I'm tagging everyone right back it's a fab way to get an overview of everyone's writing 🤗🤗🤗 shots straight to the vein of chewy metaphors and angsty hits and delicious smut. LOVE AND KISSES @spookymoonie @maliceofminds @strezzlecki also tagging @a-fiery-fox @mblematic

Words for yall: dancing, rips, moonbeam, forever

Under the cut for all of my quotes 💃🏼

night, pretty

Marauders Go Moulin Rouge

Up on that stage, it is not just a man or a dancer or a darling of darkness. It is God herself, and they are power and charisma and sex and every goddamned grain of anything good collected on the head of a pin and scattered across the night sky, and Remus wants to swallow it all down and plant it deep in his gut until he has diamonds in his eyes and a Star in the penthouse of his heart.

Pretty and devastating, a supernova doesn’t belong in an underworld basement. All darkness does is make light shine brighter. So Remus will wrap this sapphire son in his own moonstone aura and waltz them high across rooftops and plead on bended knee and sing his gift, his song—and this one’s for you.

sweet

The Watcher and the Dancer

Mrs. Potter was sitting in a rocking chair, reading glasses perched on her nose and a cup of chai on the little table beside her, paperback novel splayed open in her hands. A generous lilac bush off the corner of the cottage steadily pulsed out its sweet perfume, writing itself into Siri’s memory like a madeleine on the tongue.

eyes

Siri bristled automatically. She got teased a lot back home, either for wearing too much makeup or not enough. Always, it came back to her face, and the expectation Siri accepted unquestioningly that she owed the world perfection, and she better not dare present their judgement-day eyes with anything less than that.

moon

How to Win Fucks and Influence Pretty Girls

Suddenly, Pansy shivers as she feels Ginny’s fingers on the crescent at the nape of her neck. Goosebumps erupt across her skin as Ginny continues to explore the intricate lines of the moon phases, then the stars scattered in symmetrical constellations around her shoulder blades, before her fingers twist down vines and blossoms, dancing over her bra fastenings, to reach the central adornment: a serpent coiled elegantly atop Pansy’s spine, crowned in sunbursts and radiating magic itself from rib to rib.

warm

Hallowed

Mary hears. She rolls over and envelops Lily in her arms, kisses the salt away, presses whispers of love into her ear and onto her neck and between her legs.

And here, within warm brown skin and here, hung on perfumed oil and dimpled cheeks and here, laid under nimble fingers, Lily is home.

dark

Marauders Go Moulin Rouge!

“Thinking with our dick again, are we, Evans?”

Regulus Black leans against a beam backstage with a faux-casual air, one immaculate dark eyebrow arched, arms folded across his midnight-black waistcoat, heeled boots just peeking from beneath his skirts.

Lily grins as she stalks past him on her way to the dressing rooms, high heels clicking against the wooden floor. “Fuck off, Baby Black,” she calls over her shoulder. “We both know full well you liked it.”

mess

Shake It Off

Fortunately, Granger arrives on the scene, her wand barely holding together the mess of curls piled on top of her head, Clipboard of Doom tucked securely against her forearm, and immediately breaks up the disgusting show of flirtation taking place between Draco’s now former best friend and his future boyfriend’s former girlfriend.

Maybe he should make some new friends.

Maybe they should all make some new friends.

Laugh, stars

The Roommate

I yank him into me; his torso falls forward into my arms, and I slide my hands beneath his ass and lift him up like he’s nothing. His barked laugh quickly turns into a gasped moan when I swing him around and slam him up against the wall.

“Think he can hear you now?” I growl into his ear. “You share this wall with him, don’t you? Think he can hear his slutty boyfriend get thrown around like a ragdoll?”

The man squeezes his thighs even tighter around my waist and tries to rut against me, but I’m holding him too firmly for him to move much. One of my hands slides up from under him to wrap around his pretty little neck, forefinger and thumb pressing in just the right spots to make him see stars.

Cried, kiss

The Watcher and the Dancer

“Did you guys kiss?”

Siri breathed out, barely a whisper. “Yes.” Her lips quivered. “But it’s not with… it wasn’t who you think.”

And all the emotions and the overwhelming bigness of just, everything, came crashing back, and the tears Siri had stomped down earlier finally spilled hot down her cheeks.

Regina was calm, steady. Blinked her fawn eyes gently.

“Was it Jamie?” She had always possessed a wisdom beyond her young years.

Siri turned a tear-streaked face to her sister. Cried a little harder. Nodded.

Regina shrugged. “Remus said he and Peter were pretty fed up with how she was acting. Wanted her to just go for it already. He asked me if I thought you liked her back.”

“Really?” Siri smiled, watery, hopeful. “What did you say?”

Despite her sensitivity, Regina was still a sassy little shit. She rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

silence

Hallowed

“He will not tell me what is going on. How can I—I cannot protect him, I am failing him James, I—”

But at this, James interrupts. He always knows when to let Sirius break, when to let all the emotion crash upon the shore and weather the inundation with patience and understanding, and when it is time to silence the storm.

“You are not failing Regulus, Sirius. You love him. So do I.”

sunshine

Potter's Patented Pick-Me-Ups

Shrugging, sunshine grin stretched right across his face, James finished undoing Sirius’s trousers, pushed his pants down entirely too nonchalantly—holy fuck it’s Sirius’ dick his hard dick his hard dick in James’ face and they are letting me watch Merlin fuck—and before his cock was able to bob more than once, James licked his lips, opened wide and swallowed Sirius down to the hilt.

[jessicawestonauthor]

On Childhood, Creativity and Writing

I have always wanted to be a writer, ever since I was a kid.

I started reading adult books in 3rd grade when I read "Woman Without a Past" by Phyllis A. Whitney - I got it from my mother's bookshelf, and I actually still have the same book today. In 5th grade I read my first Stephen King book (Cujo), and I remember my 4th and 5th grade teacher Mr. Reardon (who I am actually Facebook friends with today), really made writing a fun part of my education. I think that is when my interest in writing REALLY began.

I always felt very creative and full of ideas. My brothers and I grew up without a lot of other kids in our neighborhood, so we had to keep ourselves occupied with our imaginations. I can't tell you how many "forts" and "houses" we created with old plywood and boards, or even just in some overgrown thicket in our yard. The area between the Lilac bushes and the front porch, I always imagined was a mobile home trailer.

But the full blown worlds and storylines we came up with together were so intricate, I can still remember many of them today, nearly 30 years later. . I think growing up the way we did really gave us a wonderful opportunity to exercise our imaginations and really push the limits of what our creativity.

My brother is also a writer, and arguably a much better writer than me. Our styles are quite different and he has been actively writing much longer than me

For me, I struggled for all of these years. I loved writing, in theory, but I struggled to actually DO it. Once I started taking medication for my ADHD that all changed. For the first time in years I was inspired to start reading again in my spare time, and so I opened up the Kindle App on my phone and before bed each night I started reading books I had downloaded years ago.

It didn't take long before all of that reading refreshed my love of the written word. The stories coming to life in my head was like finding a long lost friend. Within just a couple weeks of starting to read regularly again, I found myself critiquing the stories I was reading. I was picking out things I enjoyed that the writers had done, and also things I thought could have been done better and figuring out how I would do it differently.

After a week or two of critiquing stories in my head and arguing with my half asleep self every night about how I could write a book, I SHOULD write a book, but I have ADHD and hyperfocus on new hobbies and then forget about them in six months so why bother starting when I'm just going to give up, I finally told myself to shut up.

I sat down one morning, googled writing prompts, and the first one I read immediately gave me an idea so I broke out a notebook and a fun pen and got to work plotting ideas and then character bios. Within a week I had three chapters written and my friends couldn't wait to read more.

It's been a little over a month now and I'm starting Chapter 11, I currently have just under 14,000 words, and no plans to stop any time soon. The ideas just keep flowing with no end in sight!

p.s. Please don't judge me for still having a Facebook account with all of this upheaval about the potential Tiktok ban. If the ban goes through I will most likely be deleting FB and IG both. I only have FB to keep in touch with distant family and friends

[madhousedarry]

The Omen: Legacy of Lunacy | Chapter 12

While the cutest and most charming fat man on the entire globe was sipping beer at the Born Speleologist restaurant and solving questions of universal importance (and the written beauty of naked Asia Vieira), our old friends Nar-Tai and Ando, together with Jorge Osorio, were sitting in the main office of the Pet-el-burge branch of the VRLJ corporation.

They, of course, couldn't see what was happening on the territory of the barracks, but the shot that the sergeant Nitwitted Neff fired into the air still reached their ears.

The next second, Nar-Tai, who was already tired of sitting in the cramped office, rose from his chair and went to the window, through which one could see a semicircular courtyard in front of the building, where at that time several Mercedes cars and even one black limousine were parked.

Near the parking lot, Nar-Tai saw lilac bushes in bloom, which had been planted on the sides of the yard to give it a slightly less institutional look. He still remembered the time when he was a very small boy and loved to pick lilac flowers so that they would please his eyes on his desk where he did his homework.

But now the lilacs were just lilacs for him - they no longer evoked any special feelings in him. Be that as it may, Nar-Tai felt a little better after looking down into the courtyard - at least some change compared to the boring, official look of the office in which he and his friends had been sitting for an hour now, waiting for a certain clone soldier to finally appear, about whom Jorge Osorio had been buzzing his ears during the monorail ride from Alma-Thou to Pet-el-burge…

And at that moment, when Nar-Tai turned away from the window and was already preparing to ask his question on this topic, the door to the office suddenly swung open, and the head of security, Colonel Deadend Graver himself, appeared on the threshold! And after him, two conscript soldiers who accompanied him entered the office - a blond man of about twenty-five and a brunette of the same age, both similar to each other like twins.

On their heads all three of them had identical black berets of space marines, oh, sorry, just marines, and Colonel Deadend Graver held under his arm a small sports bag like those that athletes usually carry when they go to training in a sports section.

Seeing these three, the face of Jorge Osorio, who had been sternly silent until then, immediately came to life, and he jumped up to greet the newcomers:

"Glad to see you, guys!" he fawned with genuine joy. "Come on in here quickly… Sit over there - I'll make you some coffee right here, but first I'll have to work on something for ten or fifteen minutes alone with myself…"

"We don't have time to drink coffee!" Colonel Deadend Graver interrupted him, not letting go of his load. "We need to report to you urgently about a very important matter! You know about our clone soldiers, right?"

Jorge Osorio was somewhat taken aback by this question, it seemed that he did not even notice that the colonel had abruptly interrupted him, but his last question was clearly unexpected for him.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked the colonel with genuine indignation. "I was the one who launched the project about these guys!"

Deadend Graver didn't dignify his barbed remark with a response, but instead threw his sports bag right onto the table next to the window where Ando Minamoto was still sitting.

More precisely, he was openly sleeping at this table, and woke up only when a sports bag filled with something crashed onto the table right in front of his face.

"Look at this!" Deadend Graver said sternly. "These are the belongings of our clone soldier, code number eighteen point zero five!"

"Wait a minute," Jorge Osorio suddenly came to life, "this is the same gentleman we've been waiting for here for an hour! Where is he?"

"That's what we want to find out now!" the colonel said abruptly. "We don't have much time! So? What's in his bag? Open it quickly!" he ordered Ando, who, waking up from sleep, was looking dumbly at the bag lying in front of him. "Immediately! Otherwise, you'll have to deal with me personally! Understood?! I can't hear an answer!"

While Deadend Graver was straining his commander's bass voice, trying to motivate the sleepy Joponese to action, Nar-Tai, who had been standing quietly by the window the entire time, was quietly looking at the conscript soldiers who had entered with the colonel.

The superhero's gaze did not miss the fact that both twins were holding themselves somewhat strangely for people their age - the blond stood with his arms stretched out at his sides, not giving any sign that he was a living person and not a wax figure.

The brunette behaved almost the same way, but still, by some mischievous gleam in his black eyes, it was clear that what was happening was giving this guy pleasure, unlike his partner, who was insensitive to emotions.

Nar-Tai found all this very strange, and was about to ask the question that had been tormenting him regarding the true nature of these two, but his friend Ando Minamoto, who by this time had already woken up enough to obey the colonel's order, suddenly exclaimed joyfully:

"Guys! Look quickly! There's something here!!! It's crazy!!!" the Joponese man shouted with the joy of a child.

All those present, with the exception of the conscripts, rushed from their seats to the table and surrounded it from all sides. Their gazes were directed at the objects of unknown purpose lying on the table.

The first thing that caught my eye was a strange curved tube, similar to a syringe, but with a very thick needle, which, in fact, was not a needle at all, but simply a very thin tube, bending at a strange angle.

The next item was a red plastic box with a handle, similar to a typical Analdian lunchbox, such as those sold in many Whorecouver and Fuckonto stores. On the lid was a stylized scallop, and underneath it was written in Pornuguese "vieira", which in human language actually translated as "scallop".

The last item Ando pulled out of clone soldier number eighteen point zero five's bag was a small shiny object slightly larger than a pair of tweezers, which upon closer inspection was actually a pair of tweezers.

All the other finds were not worth the attention of all those gathered, since they were completely uninteresting - what could be interesting in a half-empty bottle of whiskey, half a pickle and a small shot glass with a chipped edge?

But what Nar-Tai saw before this was such a shock and a shock to his soul that he didn't even immediately understand that all this was happening, as they say, live!

However, a commanding shout from Deadend Graver brought him back to reality.

"What is this, I ask you?!" the colonel shouted, pointing straight at the red box.

Nar-Tai, thinking that the colonel was addressing him directly, humbly lowered his gaze and, shuffling his foot, replied:

"I think this is a lunchbox belonging to someone named 'Vieira'. I can even tell you who it is. This, as I understand it," Nar-Tai made a vague gesture with his hand, "is a certain Analdian actress that my friend Ando Minamoto has been head over heels for lately."

Pretending not to notice the angry glances the Joponese man was casting at him from under his lowered eyebrows, Nar-Tai paused for a moment and continued:

"For your information, the full name of this actress is Asia Vieira, and you must admit, it is very strange that a resident of Analda bears a name in honor of the continent on which you and I have lived since time immemorial," he took a breath and continued.

"But I think I can guess why she is called that. The thing is," he winked at Ando, who was beginning to boil with anger, "that this, so to speak, actress has one undeniable advantage - despite her complete lack of talent for acting, she has something that invariably attracts healthy heterosexual males to her person, which my friend Ando undoubtedly is."

"Namely," Nar-Tai paused dramatically, "it is her huge, simply gigantic-sized ass! And, as I already said above, it is thanks to her ass that this actress received her name, which is so strange for a Analdian, Asia, because her ass is the size of a continent!"

Everyone in the room listened silently to Nar-Tai's words, and only Ando, who was about to explode, could hardly contain himself. But Nar-Tai did not give him a chance to speak - he raised his hand and said:

"So, what I wanted to say is that this little red box, as I believe, is the personal property of this Analdian actress with a huge ass! I hope my words are clear enough to all of you?" and with these words he glanced at the people standing near him.

For several long seconds there was a ringing silence in the office, and Nar-Tai thought: here it is, the thunder of victory, let it sound!

However, the very first remark that thundered from the lips of Colonel Deadend Graver forced him to abandon his ambitious thoughts.

"What the fuck are you talking about, comrade?" the colonel thundered, shaking his hand. "What fucking whore from Analda are you talking about here, if these things belong to our clone soldier number eighteen point zero five!" and he pointed his finger at the red box.

Nar-Tai, who had already realized his mistake, wanted to say something about it or at least pretend that he understood everything and was ready to correct himself, but he was beaten to it by Ando, who, raising his hand as high as he could, called everyone to attention and said:

"Are you sure, Colonel, that these are his things?" he asked. "Do you have any proof that they actually belong to clone soldier number eighteen point zero five?"

Deadend Graver shuddered at the Joponese man's impudent question, but he restrained himself and answered:

"What the hell evidence, when this bag was lying under his bunk in the barracks?!" And he, turning to the conscripts, pointed his finger straight at the blond. "Private Skovorodnikov, I order you to immediately report in full form how this material evidence was discovered!"

Nar-Tai watched with some interest as the blond man, who had been standing at attention without moving, seemed to come to life after the colonel's order and took a few steps forward, after which, having measured everyone present in the office with a long look of his watery eyes, he stopped right at Jorge Osorio, who, apparently, was the most important figure in the corporation for him.

"It was like this," Private Skovorodnikov began to speak in a strange, quavering voice, "Comrades Silantyev, Solonin and I went out into the barracks yard to smoke… Well, one word led to another, and we got to talking. And then Comrade Silantyev said: "What about it, my Br'er Rabbits? Maybe we shouldn't go on demobilization this year?" Comrade Solonin and I thought - why not! After all, we don't have anything else anyway… And Comrade Silantyev said to Comrade Solonin and me: "Come on, my Br'er Rabbits, let's not go on demobilization, but serve our fatherland forever! Huh? How about that?" And Comrade Solonin and I thought - why not? After all, we don't have anything else anyway… That's how it is, Comrade Colonel. We immediately threw our cigarettes on the ground and went to the barracks. We go in there, all three of us, and see that there is no one in it, only in the distance by the window stands clone soldier number eighteen point zero five. My fault, comrade colonel, he is not standing, he is sitting, on his bunk, I mean, sitting and staring at the phone. And from his phone, I mean, women's oohs and aahs are coming, as if some slut is being fucked. Well, comrade Solonin realized that this freak decided, while no one is looking, to pull the trigger on porn, which is prohibited by the regulations. And comrade Silantyev, who also understood what was going on, whispered in both of our ears: "Let's give him a good thrashing!" Well, I answered: "You asked!" Well, with comrade Solonin and comrade Silantyev, I mean…" here Skovorodnikov paused and looked at Jorge Osorio.

He answered him with the same look; then the blond turned to the colonel and continued:

"So, the three of us went to him. And he, you see…" here Skovorodnikov paused again and glanced at Nar-Tai, but, not receiving any reaction from him, he returned to his story.

"He, this freak, doesn't say a word to us, but only continues to stare at his phone, a complete masturbator… So, the three of us rushed at him. And he, you see…" here Skovorodnikov paused again and turned to his immediate superior. "Comrade Colonel! I can't continue any further because my eyes are darkening from fear of your wrath!"

"Leave it!" Deadend Graver said abruptly. "I will deal with the behavior of all three of you a little later, but now I order you to continue the report!

There was nothing to be done, so Private Skovorodnikov had to overcome his fear of the tribunal and continue to tell about the atrocities committed by himself and his two comrades.

"So, the three of us attacked clone soldier number eighteen point zero five, and he, so to speak…" here Skovorodnikov paused again, as if searching for words. "He, so to speak, immediately falls to the floor, because Comrade Silantyev gave him a good push in the shoulder, and I myself take and step on his right hand, in which this freak was still holding the phone with the porn still playing on its screen. Because of my trick, this freak, so to speak, unclenched his fingers, and dropped the phone! But he didn't have time to take it, because Comrade Silantyev took and hit him on the head with his towel-wrapped hand."

"And what's the towel for?" suddenly, for no apparent reason, Ando blurted out, who, listening to this exciting story from Private Skovorodnikov, even forgot about the items found in the bag lying on the table.

"That is, so that no traces of the beatings remain," the blond condescended to explain and continued. "And then comrade Solonin, who at the time when we were beating up the clone soldier number eighteen point zero five, was quietly standing behind our backs, suddenly takes and for no apparent reason picks up the phone that fell out of the fingers of this freak and…" Skovorodnikov paused again, and this time his gaze stopped right in the eyes of Jorge Osorio. "Mister Head of the Corporation, will you allow me to speak?" he asked.

Jorge Osorio, whose face remained stony, nodded silently, and Skovorodnikov continued:

"Comrade Solonin, excuse the expression, unbuttoned his fly, pulled down his trousers, and I saw how a second later he began to jerk himself off with one left hand, while with the other right he was clutching the phone in his hands, from the speakers of which women's oohs and aahs continued to be heard. Well, you understand that in such a situation I could not remain indifferent. I also wanted to look at what kind of chick my comrade was so immediately, hot off the press, as they say, starting to pull the trigger, and then this freak, which was lying on the floor, suddenly takes and, crawling up to comrade Solonin, takes and bites his leg! And comrade Solonin, who was about to burst into a fountain of sperm, suddenly screams: "Aa-ah, bi-ii-itch!" and tried to kick clone soldier number eighteen point zero five in the face, but couldn't take it anymore and immediately fell to the floor, dropping his phone and managing to get his sperm on comrade Silantyev's collar in the process," the blond's face convulsed with disgust at the memory of this.

"And I, it turns out, watch as this freak picks up his phone from the floor and runs away from the barracks! And then I realized that he outsmarted us all. I, it turns out…"

Here Skovorodnikov again, unexpectedly for everyone, for no apparent reason, suddenly stopped mid-sentence and looked at Jorge Osorio just as intently as he had looked into Nar-Tai's eyes before, but since he did not respond to this with a single glance or gesture, the blond had to return to his story.

"So, I whisper in Comrade Silantyev's ear: "Listen, let's catch up with him!" And Comrade Silantyev answers me so quietly - I didn't even really hear what exactly. But then I see that he suddenly rushes after this freak, and I follow him, and the two of us…"

"What happened to Private Solonin?" Deadend Graver interrupted.

"My fault, Comrade Colonel," Skovorodnikov replied, looking him in the eye. "I already said that Comrade Solonin fell to the floor when he was bitten by that freak, but I forgot to say that he continued writhing on the barracks floor while Comrade Silantyev and I rushed in pursuit of clone soldier number eighteen point zero five."

"Where is he now?" Jorge Osorio asked him, speaking for the first time in this office.

"In the hospital, Mister Chief of the Corporation," answered Private Skovorodnikov. "Our doctor diagnosed him as follows: Comrade Solonin's soleus muscle has been bitten right down to the bone!"

"Well, that clone soldier of yours, number eighteen point zero five, has some teeth," Nar-Tai couldn't help but comment.

"Yes sir, comrade I-Don't-Know-How-Your-Job-Title," the blond measured him with a glance.

[alfvaen]

That Which Passes, Passes Like Clouds

In the summer of 2011, we found a kitten in our backyard.

We'd seen kittens back there before, but always before there'd been a mother cat.  We’d had one that had nested under our lilac bush and had her litter, apparently, and some of them wandered onto our patio, though they were skittish.  We tried to tempt them with a bowl of bread soaked in milk, and while they were happy to eat it, they wouldn't let us get near.

But this kitten seemed to be alone, and friendly.  No idea where she came from.  But we were catless at the time (our previous cat Felicity having proved to have kidney failure after we took her in to the vet for peeing all over the basement, so we'd had her put down), and it seemed like the time was right for a new one.  Though there was one snag--we were already planning on going on a vacation to Victoria and Vancouver in a few weeks...so we didn't bring her inside yet.  When we got back, we discovered our neighbours had also made plans to adopt her, and even taken her to the vet...but they allowed us to keep her because they already had a cat or two, and we didn't.

She was interesting cat, not quite Siamese or anything but with a vaguely similar colouring; our vet thought she was probably part ragdoll (not a breed I'd heard of before).  Her fut was quite light when we got her, and we named her Cloud.  Somewhat of a long-haired cat, too, which was a new experience.  She grew quickly, and her fur darkened.

We ended up letting her go outside (in warm weather, at least), since she'd come to us from outside and we'd left her there before.  Some will say that this makes us bad people, but whatever.  She was unhappy if she didn't get to go outside, although she wasn't a very vocal cat so she didn't meow about it that much, nor did she scratch.  She would tend to just sit patiently by the patio door and wait for us to notice her, and the same when she wanted to come in.

We moved houses the spring after we got her, which was stressful for her, but she adjusted quickly to the new home.  The previous owners had had cats and dogs, and Cloud hardly ever went down into the basement (though we put a second litterbox down there for her, she never used it).  Maybe it smelled too strongly of the previous pets?  Not sure.  She would come down once in a while, particularly if my wife (the house's usual denizen, and Cloud's favourite) was out or in the shower or something.

She was also not a lap cat to speak of; my wife was able to get her to sit on her lap for short intervals after patient training, but she would jump off if you so much as twitched.  I could pick her up and cuddle her, and we'd rub faces, but she didn't want that for too long either.  She was always a little standoffish with our kids.  Our oldest, who loves cats to bits, had a bedroom in the basement, which didn't help.  (I gather that cats will generally attach themselves to the dominant adult in the house...I remember being similarly frustrated with being neglected by the cat I grew up with.)

She was also not a fussy eater at all--we went through several kinds of canned food (which we gave her once a day, on our vet's recommendation) and she didn't have a problem with any of them (though she had some trouble with the "flaked", as opposed to "paté", kind).  Her outside life seemed to give her lots of exercise, as the vet was always commenting on her good muscle tone.  After eight years or so we moved to the "senior" dry cat food (which was harder to find, but we got big bags), which she also didn't have a problem with.  And she was the kind of cat where we could just leave the bag sitting on the floor, top wide open, and never once did it occur to her to knock it over to steal extra food.

She was also not a very good mouser--we've had a few over the years, and once I saw her ineffectually try to bat at one that was running up the stairs.  Sometimes she would sit near a cupboard and watch it intently for a few minutes, and maybe there was a mouse there at the time, but she'd always wander off before too long.  We never could get interested in chasing the red dot; when we played with her, we'd try to drag string on the floor, or perhaps wave it through the air, and sometimes she'd pounce and sometimes she'd just watch it inscrutably.

Her most annoying habit was probably that of jumping from the floor onto our headboard, via the corner of the bed or my bedside table.  This was her way of waking us up in the morning to be let out, or perhaps to be fed.  If it was too early, then we'd sometimes must shut her out of the bedroom, whereupon she would sometimes manifest her other annoying habit of clawing at the carpet.  (There is a noticeable trough in the carpet right in front of our bedroom door.)  But mostly, as I say, she was content to just wait for us to notice that there was a problem.  She also was not a licky cat like some--she tended to bite my fingers, the legacy of some improper conditioning from fingerplay as a kitten, probably.

#

This year we'd made plans to go up to northern Alberta to visit my mother on the Victoria Day long weekend (May 22nd, this year).  As the time drew nearer, it became to seem less likely we'd do it, because the wildfire season had started off with a bang early in May, and there were some nasty ones near Highway 43...which led to the evacuation of not one but two of the towns that were regular stops on our trips up Highway 43.  So we cancelled.

And this was probably a good thing, because Cloud had stopped eating and was acting listless.

My wife and my oldest son took her to the emergency vet clinic on the Sunday, and they diagnosed her with Stage 4 kidney failure.  But they gave us some medicine--some appetite stimulants, some anti-nausea, and supplies for injecting her with water subcutaneously, as well as special food that was supposed to be easier on her kidneys.  She visited the litterbox a lot more frequently, and started peeing other places as well, and not cleaning herself off as well so she smelled and left stains on the places where she was sitting.

A visit to our regular vet invited the possibility that it might just be acute kidney problems caused by an infection, and we got some antibiotics.  We tried a number of things over the next few weeks (and racked up over a thousand dollars in vet bills), but apart from a couple of days where she ate desultorily, she hasn't been improving.

The horrible thing is that I believe I know what happened.  We'd recently switched grocery stores (as the nearest one to us just closed down) to the nearest Superstore...and when we were there the day before Mother's Day, they offered us a deal on "Mother's Day flowers" on our way out, and we decided to get them, possibly under some pressure at the checkout to make up our minds and stop holding up the line.  Now, we're not really plant people--we rarely have plants in our house, and if we do they're just picked flowers.  I don't really know what was in that flowerpot...but I have the horrible suspicion that one of them might have been some variety of Lillium or something that is extremely toxic to cats.  We may have poisoned her with some stupid flowers that we didn't even really care about.

Today she was scheduled for her last vet visit, the one she didn’t come home from.  I saw her briefly this morning, gave her a few pets, and that was the last time.

On social media I see plenty of posts about people devastated over the loss of their loyal pets.  And I tend to think to myself, "That's not me."  I am not going to be devastated at the loss of Cloud, as I was not at the loss of Felicity before her.  I'm already thinking about things like, "Well, we should remember to empty out the litterbox, and tape up the food packages.  Maybe donate them somewhere because we probably won't be getting a senior cat again right away.  Clean out the cat food dishes."  Etc.  Sounds pretty cold-blooded.  It's like...I just can't make those kinds of deep bonds with pets, for some reason.  Maybe I'm just dead inside, who knows.  I mean, it's not like I cried a lot over any of the grandparents that I've lost, either.  So, dead inside, probably.  (Which is why I'm posting this on tumblr instead of, say, Facebook.)

I don't know how my oldest son is going to handle it, honestly.  He has been a trooper in dealing with the injections and pills and stuff over the last few weeks, and he was the one who officially announced the euthanasia choice last night, but I know that every time he comes up the stairs he's always saying "Where's the kitty?" and I worry about what he's going to do now.  (He seems to be doing okay at the moment.  Starting a Murderbot reread.)

We'll probably end up getting another cat.  Not sure how long.  When we adopted Cloud we hadn't really made up our minds to get another one, and I don't recall offhand how long it had been since Felicity's passing.  Maybe it will come down to chance again, or maybe we'll decide at some point, "It's been a year, we're ready."  Or something.  Who knows.  Our next cat will likely be different, and meow at us to be fed at 5:00 in the morning, and be an inside cat, and maybe curl up on our laps or lick our hands.  Maybe they'll go down to the basement, maybe they'll catch mice or play with balls of yarn.  Who knows.

Until then, my brain will probably attempt to construe random sensory information as "oh, that's just the cat" and then I'll have to remember, no, it's not the cat.  Because brains leap to conclusions all the time.  Nothing supernatural about it.

[bethestaryouareradio]

Plant this! Don’t Plant that!

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“Kings and cabbages go back to compost, but good deeds stay green forever.” ~ Rick De Marinis

Have you ever thought good deeds may be planted? So many of the flowers, bushes, trees, and vines that we use in our gardens can be both good and bad. Some plants that are excellent in one yard are a disaster in someone else’s landscape. Most of these plants are sold at nurseries and garden centers. The key is knowing what will be best for your garden.

In this article, I will share what has worked for me and what has not. I call my hypothesis, “Plant this, but don’t plant that!” 

Jasmine

As I open my living room doors, the sweet fragrance of jasmine fills the room. If you want a fast-growing vine to cover an arbor, pergola, or fence, jasmine fills the bill. Every spring, the pink-tinged white clusters of delicious smelling blossoms will perfume your yard. Taking cuttings for bouquets will perfume your bathrooms and other areas without the use of any chemical sprays. As much as I love jasmine, I must also caution you that it can be an aggressive grower if not managed. Jasmine climbs trees and can also suffocate other plants. I am forever pulling strands from boxwoods and cutting vines that have climbed over azaleas. However, for me, the beauty, blooms, and heady scent throughout my garden pushes the positive check marks. Should you plant jasmine?  My verdict: Only you can decide.

Ivy

Three decades ago, a new neighbor wanted an instant green, easy-maintenance ground cover. Against my ardent appeals to not plant an invasive species, they chose ivy. Those neighbors are long gone, yet thirty years later, I am still battling that ivy that crawled under and over fences. I’m sure other neighbors are also attempting to eradicate it. Ivy boasts glossy-green leaves, creates beautiful topiaries, and in many parts of the country, ivy is welcome, even coveted. Yet here in California, this rapidly growing species harbors rats, strangles trees, damages structures, and is almost impossible to completely contain. My verdict: DON’T PLANT IVY!

Lilac  

When lilacs bloom, spring has arrived. Lilacs are known for their beautiful, fragrant flowers in colors of white, pink, lavender, purple, and blue, which add an attractive touch to any landscape. My mother grew the most spectacular lilacs and I am continuing the tradition. Lilacs are low-maintenance plants that thrive in a variety of soil conditions and climates, making them a versatile choice for gardeners. Beyond their aesthetic appeal, lilacs provide valuable ecosystem services. Bees and hummingbirds are attracted to the delicious and substantial nectar produced by lilacs. Some studies suggest that the scent of lilacs may have a calming effect on the human nervous system, making them a great choice for creating a relaxing outdoor environment. My verdict: Plant this.

Euphorbia

While euphorbia may be a beautiful and eye-catching addition to a garden because of the chartreuse-colored blooms, it is important to exercise caution when considering planting this species. Euphorbia contains a toxic sap that can cause skin irritation, and in some cases, severe allergic reactions. In addition, euphorbia self-seeds and spread quickly, making it difficult to control and invasive. Seeds from euphorbia blew into my garden from the surrounding hillside. At first, I was thrilled because I had seen this specimen in the nursery and thought the color was so unique. A single plant multiplied the following year to hundreds, then thousands, suffocating and killing most of my other plants as the roots strangled other roots. For the past five years, I have been pulling plants by hand and discarding them into the garbage bin. Despite my earnest efforts, euphorbia still invades my orchard and attempts to creep into my garden beds. My verdict: DON’T PLANT EUPHORBIA.

Mock Orange

The mock orange tree, also known as Philadelphus, is a beautiful flowering shrub that produces fragrant, white, or cream-colored blooms that attract butterflies and hummingbirds. This shrub is relatively low-maintenance and easy to grow, making it an ideal choice for novice gardeners. It is often used as a natural screen or hedge, providing privacy, and adding aesthetic value to your outdoor space. I planted my two trees next to a brick stairway to enjoy the soothing and relaxing fragrance as I passed.  Prune and shape the way you wish. My verdict: Plant this.

Poisonous Hemlock

Despite being highly toxic to humans and animals, poisonous hemlock was introduced to the United States from Europe as a decorative plant in the 1800s. All parts of the plant are poisonous. It contains a toxin called coniine, which can cause respiratory failure, paralysis, convulsions, and ultimately death if ingested in large amounts. (Remember Socrates?) Poison hemlock is a member of the carrot family and resembles Queen Anne’s lace. Hemlock is easy to identify by the crimson streaks on the stems. The leaves are fern-like and the white flowers delicate, but beware, this invasive plant grows to twelve feet or more and is very difficult to eradicate with its long tap roots. Wear protective clothing when pulling or mowing. Do not put the plant in the compost pile. Dispose of the entire plant in the garbage and make sure that the seeds have not spread. Like euphorbia, poison hemlock seeds blew in from the adjacent open space and began to take over my hillside. Euphorbia and hemlock often grow in tandem. Both are extremely difficult to control. Every year I get a bit closer to extermination, but plants still find their way to grow. My verdict: DON’T PLANT HEMLOCK!

Roses

Many people believe that roses are challenging to grow and not worth the effort. The thorns are also a major turn-off. Despite my many scratches, I find roses to be one of the most rewarding plants in my garden with a blooming time that lasts nine or ten months. Although I’ll plant a rose from any breeder that captures my fancy, most of my roses are David Austin English roses which were hybridized to combine the characteristics of old-fashioned roses with the repeat flowering of modern roses, resulting in a stunning range of colors, shapes, and sizes. They are also highly fragrant, producing a delightful scent that fills the air and lifts my spirits. I grow climbing, rambling, tea, shrub, and more. Deadhead as flowers fade to encourage continuous blooms. My verdict: Plant this.

As you probably deciphered, I adore plants that supply flowers, fragrance, pollinator benefits, and beauty to my garden. I’m willing to do a bit of extra work to experience the specimens on my “plant this” list, but I do not recommend any of the “do not plant” groups.

We will all return to compost one day but meanwhile, what good deeds will stay green in your garden?

Happy Gardening. Happy Growing.

Read Digging Deep with Cynthia Bria: https://lamorindaweekly.com/archive/issue1707/Digging-Deep-with-Goddess-Gardener-Cynthia-Brian-Plant-this-Dont-plant-that.html

Raised in the vineyards of Napa County, Cynthia Brian is a New York Times best-selling author, actor, radio personality, speaker, media and writing coach as well as the Founder and Executive Director of Be the Star You Are!® 501 c3. 

Tune into Cynthia’s StarStyle® Radio Broadcast at www.StarStyleRadio.com. Her newest children’s picture book, No Barnyard Bullies, from the series, Stella Bella’s Barnyard Adventures is available now at https://www.CynthiaBrian.com/online-store. Hire Cynthia for writing projects, garden consults, and inspirational lectures. Cynthia@GoddessGardener.com 

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More:

https://lamorindaweekly.com/archive/issue1707/Digging-Deep-with-Goddess-Gardener-Cynthia-Brian-Plant-this-Dont-plant-that.html

https://cynthiabrian.substack.com/p/plant-this-dont-plant-that

[a-story-i-will-never-write]

An open letter to love:

I painted her because i loved her so much i wanted her immortalized forever. My works are novice level, not near the masters of the past, and may never end up in a museum, but i hope maybe a thousand years from now someone will dig up a painting, or a piece of the plate i painted with her name and favorite flower flower across the front (her grandfathers lilac bushes still decorate our front yard) and display her beauty, her name, her essence again for the world, or even maybe in a hundred years a painting will find its way to a thrift shop and find a place above someone's fireplace, or in their kitchen, or maybe in a local library. I became an artist to immortalize the things I love most. Back then i didn't know i could love someone so much as I do her

The bad part about this plan is that no one will actually Know her, they'll see her for her beauty but not her intellect (especially on the plants littering the yard), or her charm, or her smile when the snow is especially thick and looks like a fairytale. They won't know she is an avid history nerd, or that her favorite book was Dracula of all things (will Dracula be around in a thousand years?) Or how she loved that jabberwocky poem from Alice in Wonderland and could quote it word for word (it's nonsense but sounds so lovely falling from her lips that i can't help but be engrossed by every word)

But her face will live on, and maybe our not yet existing descendants will find this, buried in her hope chest in the attic, with her name scrawled on the back, and go oh, that's our family history, that's where my nose or my hair or my eyes are from, or that's who the heirloom ring came from or that necklace in grandpa's dresser

Out of everything of her, I hope they have her smile

[fluffydisneyprincess]

New Tastes

We had just barely crossed the threshold into our apartment when I couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey Ness?" I asked in that way that failed to be casual. She tossed her bag down on one end of the couch and dropped herself down on the other end. She sighed and I caught the faint smell of something soft and fragrant. Like cozy naps and sweet dreams. "Why did you start wearing florals?"

It was something so small but it had been driving me crazy for weeks. First it was just a passing breath. Then a lingering scent. Now it was like her every movement was permeated with it. I wouldn't mind if it weren't so odd. She had always hated floral smells. Even at eight years old I remember her aggressively pushing a lilac away saying it smelled like soap and magic. By now I had gotten used to her scent of apples and oranges. Ripe bitter cherry and raspberries. There was still some of that occasionally, bit even that wasn't the same. Now it was like... bitter apple. Something left in the sun to become too sweet to be pleseant.

"I didn't. If I wanted to wear florals I would just drown myself in handsoap," she replied with a tired laugh.

"You're wearing them now. I can smell it. You smell like... roses and baby powder." I grimaced. It wasn’t an unpleasant scent but it was uncharacteristic on her, to say the least. Why would she lie about this? She knew my senses were keener than a humans. She slowly sat back up, watching me warily.

"Has this been just me? Or everyone?" She asked it like she was investigating a crime scene. My stomach knotted. I hated that tone. It always meant she was about to tell me something I didn't want to hear. When I didn't answer right away she nodded as the pieces fell into place. "How long has this been happening? About a month?"

Just after my birthday. Dammit, she was right. I groaned and dropped down next to her with my face in my hands. Close up I could more clearly smell the coconut spray she had used this morning. The dreamy baby powder scent faded a little and I wasn't sure if I was thankful for that yet or not.

"Okay. Just tell me. What do you think I'm actually smelling?" I looked up at her to see her grimacing in a very 'don’t shoot the messenger' kind of way. I stifled the urge to groan again.

"Sin."

Gods I loved Nessa sometimes. She was clever and painfully direct when she needed to be. She didn't beat around the bush or try to spare my feelings. On this particular occasion I almost wished she would have. I stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"Excuse me?" I couldn't have heard her right. Was it even possible to smell sin?

"So um... According to what I've read... Demons can often detect emotions in a person's soul. Some demons prefer particularly sinful souls to... um..." She fidgeted uncomfortably, no longer able to meet my eyes.

"Are you telling me... that I am smelling the sin in people's souls... so that I can eat them??"

I stared waiting for her to laugh. Waiting for the punchline. This was obviously a joke. It had to be. Yet even as I tried to convince myself she was messing with me something in my gut told me she was right. I could smell souls. Talk about puberty issues. Here I thought no one being able to teach me how to retract my demonic assets was a problem. This was so much worse.

"But! Since you're not completely a demon, you shouldn't need to actually claim souls..." She quickly offered. That helped a little. It would have helped more if I couldn't sense the fear coming off of her in an entirely new way. I guess I could at least be relieved that 'fear' apparently wasn't appetizing to me.

[esleep]

this is a diary entry now, sorry, i’ve been going through old photos and sorting out feelings.

there was a family of deer that loved to graze around that back hill (the hill in the second pic) - a mother doe and her set of twins, who we watched grow up and then continued to stay together as a trio through the years. the neighbors to the left had an apple tree as well as a crabapple in their yard, which the deer would feast delightedly on every autumn as the fruit fell. then they would bed down in that tall grass on our hill, or sometimes in the garden right up against the house, surrounded by a curtain of jewelweed. we would find deer beds in the morning, big pressed-down ovals of grass and flowers.

if you’re looking at that back hill and turn to the right a bit, you’ll be looking right at a diseased old cherry tree and some black raspberry bushes a little ways behind it. we expected that cherry to die every year, and every year it kept producing fruit like a champ despite being completely covered root-to-crown in lichen, with soft rotting bark nearly everywhere you poked it. i hope it’s still hanging on. it was like having a nearby grandmother who has been in poor health for as long as you remember, but keeps living and moving and giving you little candies every time you see her - aged and ageless all at once.

keep going to the right and walk behind the house to the other side, and you’ll run into the lilac bush that smelled heavenly every spring, right next to the creek we used to jump over to reach our neighbor’s house. that’s the creek where we found my cat Ivy as a kitten, half-buried in the bank and screaming her little head off, covered in dirt and fleas. there were tadpoles in the slow-moving pools of that creek every year, and then by late summer most of the water would be gone until the late fall rain or snow came to refill it for next spring. every night for much of the year we could hear a chorus of bullfrogs and green frogs and spring peepers. there was also invasive honeysuckle all over that side of the house and around the creek, which we loved to pick and nibble on whenever it bloomed.

in front of the house was the redbud tree that told us when spring was truly underway by throwing up arms full of pink flowers, an ancient and huge multi-trunk maple tree (which eventually fell during a massive storm one year - it was our favorite climbing tree and we mourned it like a lost pet), and the largest white pine tree i have still ever seen, which survived being struck by lightning twice, even with a split almost all the way down the trunk with scorch marks on either side. carpenter ants eventually moved into the gap and im not sure if that tree is currently still there or if the new owners had it taken out for safety. it was the guardian of the steep hill that ridged the middle of the front yard, which my brother (at 5 years old) attempted to ride his bike down and instead ended up skidding down on his face. it took all the skin off the bridge of his nose and i’m amazed he doesn’t still have a scar there.

i was so fortunate to grow up where i did, with the family i had. we moved in when i was around 8, out to an 1840s log cabin in the country full of wasps and mice and ladybugs, away from a much more suburban area in another state. i remember there being formal garden beds full of non-natives all around the house at first, which my mom slowly transitioned back into low-maintenance native plant havens over the next few years. rich, diverse animal and plant life thrived all around our house and we spent a lot of time outside, which permanently instilled in me a deeply personal relationship with the natural world and made me appreciate that earth is such a nice home to have. this house and this property will always be the little corner of my heart that my mind runs to when i’m looking for peace and calm.

talking about mint always makes me think of the garden of my childhood home, where we learned of one thing that can and will put mint in its place: jewelweed. our cabin backed right up to the woods, and our gardens were completely overrun by jewelweed, which was aggressive enough to even crowd out the mint. to this day mint and jewelweed both make me think of home.

[naturally-naive]

You know, maybe it isn't all bad

[kaemaki-enthusiast]

Heyyyyyyy i have one for isabella

So, reader is a person who makes dyes and paints out of berries way out in the forest

While still living pretty seperated from the rest of Encanto.

So one day when isa was growing tored of purring on her act out in public for everyone, she spots reader head out into the forest with the baskets and asked if she could help carry the basket along the way.

She finds out that this person has never heard about the Madrigals ans has mostly focused on their business and making enough money since their mother is sick and they need the money asap.

Anyways, so she decides not to tell this person about her beinf a Madrigal and dresses in clothes that are more fitting for a long trip in the forest

And goes with them weekly. This also includes the fact that she never tells them that shes engaged to someone and thwy start dating secretly.

But julieta notices that hwr daughter ia much more happier and that shes missing from encanto one certain time in the week and asked for Dolores to listen in and Dolores tells Julieta, but Alma overhears thwn thw next timw she sees Reader in thw market, she invites them over for dinner (note: same dinner that Marianos going to propose to her) then they arrive juat as Mariano gets on his knees in the middle of thw chaos

Im not sure about the rest from there, so could you handle it? Thank you again!

i love this req sm! also sorry but i made reader know of the madrigals, just not very much about them or their specific powers and made them live in the encanto, sorry about that! it just made the fic easier to write ^_^

@kindlykima

for some reason the spotify one just wouldn’t work

the berry grove

isabela madrigal (she/her) x gn!reader (they/them)

warnings: little angsty, sick mother, i think that’s it!

[1,536 words 😧]

———————————————————

crouching down by the berry bush you collected all the blueberries you could reach, when you heard a crunch behind you, turning your head you saw a girl with long black hair and a lilac dress,

“oh! um sorry for startling you” the girl said tucking her hair behind her ear and looking down slightly, you grabbed the last berry you could reach and stood up and fully turned your body to look at her,

“you’re fine, I could use company if you don’t mind, do you know where I could find some orange flowers? im y/n by the way” you gave a small smile as she looked at you with an eyebrow up, she then formed a bouquet of cosmos. she was a madrigal,

“im isabela” she gave an uneven smile to you as she handed you the bouquet, you explained how you didn’t really pay attention to her family, even though you lived in the encanto, because your mom had been sick and so you were trying to get the money with your dyes for her medicine. you chatted while helping you find berries, soon it got to dusk and she walked you back to the town square as she parted ways to go to la casa Madrigal, you stared at the back of her with a smile as you entered your home, greeting your mama, switching out the wet towel on her forehead, and reheating soup on the stove.

you sat at the table crushing the flowers and berries to make your dyes the next day. when you decided the soup was warm enough you poured some into a bowel, grabbing a spoon, you brought it to your mamí in the living room crouching beside her with a small smile on your face from the lovely girl you had spent your afternoon with.

“ay mijo/mija, what’s got you so happy” your mother uttered with a cough after, she rarely talked because it hurt her throat so you turned your head to look at her, your cheeks heating up as you explained your day,

“and she was tan bonita, mama” you finished as she gave you a smile, she had finished the soup you reheated, you brought the empty bowl to the kitchen before you returned to her, bringing a chair from the kitchen to sit next to her.

“ay, estás enamorado mi hijo/hija” she lifted her hand to tuck some of your hair behind your ear and cup your face, your thumb stroked back and forth against your mothers hand as she fell asleep. you stood up, covering her in a blanket as you teared up a bit, once you got to your room you broke down, sobbing messily, if you lost your mother you lost everything.

the next day, you woke up a little later than you meant to, quickly going to the market to buy the groceries you needed, bumping into Isabela, her abuela a few paces behind her, her eyes widened a bit and before you could say hello she turned away from you, her arm hooked around her abuela’s. you pushed it off and finished your shopping before going back to your home to make a quick breakfast for your madre before getting to work, little did you know your berry girl had seen where you entered.

later that day you had just finished mixing your crushed up flowers and berry to add to the base dye when you heard a small knock at the front door. you got up wiping your hands on your apron and opened the door to be met with Isabela,

“hola y/n, im sorry about earlier, my abuela wants me to be perfect and that means not knowing of me going to the berry grove, i’ll accompany you anytime i can, if you tell me your schedule..” she looked up, her face still facing the ground slightly. to her surprise you had a smile on your face,

“yeah i’d like that” and that’s how it was for weeks, she would accompany you on your twice a week journey to the berry grove, and if you needed some flower for dye quicker she’d make a bouquet of the flower for you,at some point she had confessed she was in love with you, but your relationship had to be secret, you didn’t question her, immediately admitting to your reciprocated feelings, eventually she met your mother, who adored her, calling Isabela her hija already.

on your love’s side however, her mother became suspicious of her oldest daughter being much happier than she has been. that’s when she consults her niece

“Dolores, cariño, do you mind listening in on Isabela when she leaves today, even though I hate going behind mi vida’s back but i’m just so curious!” and of course Dolores agreed to her tia’s request. when Isabela headed down the hill, Dolores followed her prima, keeping a keen ear out. She heard her greet the townspeople, nothing unusual until she heard her prima say something.

“hola, mi mariposa” isabela had greeted you in your berry grove, she followed her voice until you and Isabela came into view. Isabela cupping your cheek as you held her hand to your chest. Dolores squeaked out of instinct and isabela turned quickly, almost shifting you to be behind her.

“Dolores! I-I can explain” she gave a nervous laugh to her prima with wide eyes. she tried swallowing the lump in her throat, her eyes threatening tears to form.

“Isabela, please explain to me what is happening, i’m not mad if that’s what your worried about” Dolores stated, Isabela walked a distance away from you, as for you not to hear, but not before giving you a kiss on the cheek. She explained to her prima how she didn’t like Mariano and how she fell in love with you and had been seeing you for weeks, Dolores comforted her prima and left, not without saying a pleasant goodbye to you, and headed back to Casita to explain to her tía of what was happening with su hija. However, someone else had heard what was happening with the eldest madrigal grandchild.

the next day, you had been in the market buying bread to make some food for your madre when the Alma Madrigal had approached you, requesting to speak. you obliged, slightly cautious because of the events of yesterday. She had invited you to dinner that night, and to come at 8. you agreed and finished buying the bread you needed and headed home, explaining to your mother how you would be gone that evening.

time skip to 8pm

you arrived at casita’s door, before your hand reached the door to knock it opened on its own, shuffling its tiles in greeting, you smiled at it and gave a little wave, walking in you were guided to the dining room by the floor tiles, you heard a thud as a piano being dragged by Luisa down the stairs, you squeezed past it seeing a sight you wished you never did. there was el amor de tu vida being proposed to by some classic perfect guy, she looked up from the man, her perfect smile dropping and eyes widening as her eyes met yours, you could feel your tears already start to fall as you ran out, hearing isabela knock over her chair yelling out a ‘mi amor!’ as well as what seemed to be the man’s abuela yelling out ‘what is happening?!’

You rushed out of Casita’s door running down the hill, almost slipping multiple times because of the newly wet tiles from pepa’s thunderstorm that had just begun. Soon you heard the door close again and footsteps after you,

“please let me explain, mi amor” you felt more tears come on as she got closer to you, you turned to her as she cupped your neck and tears formed in her own eyes,

“i never wanted to marry him, i didn’t have a choice, mi abuela matched me with him and i have to be the perfect child,” she leaned her forehead against yours and closed her eyes, “please believe me, amor, im only in love with you, i only want to marry you.” you gave her a tight hug, putting your face against her neck.

you both separated slightly when you heard a pair of footsteps, as isabela turns her head to look behind her, and then to look to the side, eyes following the figure, you can only assume this is Julieta, Isabela’s mamá.

“ay, Mamá, I-“

“it’s okay, mi amor, i know you love them and as long as you are happy, me and your papí are too” she gave a very motherly smile to her daughter, and then to you. Isabela let go of you as she let her tears run as she hugged her madre, Julieta then opened her unoccupied arm to invite you into their mother-daughter hug, you complied and joined them, isabela giggling as her mother covered her face in kisses.

after Isabela’s tío, Felíx had calmed down Pepa, Isabela led you back into the house, Isabela’s youngest sister missing, she introduced you to her familia. Them being as accepting as always, Camilo wondering how you fell in love with her, but all in all, you and Isabela were together, and not just in secret.

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AHHH!! i finally got it to save and i finally finished this draft!! sorry for the super long wait !!

also sorry if any spanish is ungrammatical or inaccurate, i use google translate💔