#landscape supply in Milton

[nerissa01]

Creating a charming and functional garden pathway is an excellent way to elevate the overall appeal of your outdoor space. Pathways guide visitors, connect focal points, and add structure to gardens. Choosing the right materials can ensure your pathway is both durable and visually appealing. If you’re considering options for your project, it’s essential to explore reliable resources for landscape supply in Milton, helping you find materials specifically suited to your local needs. Below, we’ve broken down some of the best materials for crafting beautiful garden pathways.

Learn More: https://www.spreadlibertynews.com/best-materials-for-creating-garden-pathways/

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - October 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles on Patreon!

1. All 160 dogs at Florida shelter found homes ahead of Hurricane Milton

“[The shelter] offered crates, food and anything else the dogs would need in exchange for the animals to spend just five days with the foster parents if the human didn't want to keep them for longer. […A]fter about a day of receiving around 100 messages every 30 minutes, Bada said, all 160 were gone from the shelter and in safe and warm homes.”

2. Restoring Ecosystems and Rejuvenating Native Hawaiian Traditions in Maui

“[Volunteers] are restoring water flow to the refuge, removing invasive species, and restoring a loko iʻa kalo using ʻike kūpuna, ancestral knowledge. […] This human-made ecosystem will provide food for community members and habitat for wildlife while protecting coral reefs offshore.”

3. Solar-powered desalination system requires no extra batteries

“In contrast to other solar-driven desalination designs, the MIT system requires no extra batteries for energy storage, nor a supplemental power supply, such as from the grid. […] The system harnessed on average over 94 percent of the electrical energy generated from the system’s solar panels to produce up to 5,000 liters of water per day[….]”

4. Threatened pink sea fan coral breeds in UK aquarium for first time

“The spawning is part of University of Exeter Ph.D. student Kaila Wheatley Kornblum's research into the reproduction, larval dispersal and population connectivity of Eunicella verrucosa. […] Pink sea fans are believed to have been successfully bred by only one other institution, Lisbon Oceanarium, in 2023.”

5. Tiny 'backpacks' are being strapped to baby turtles[….]

““We analysed the data and found that hatchlings show amazingly consistent head-up orientation – despite being in the complete dark, surrounded by sand [… and] they move as if they were swimming rather than digging[…. This new observation method is] answering questions about best conservation practices,” says Dor.”

6. New California Law Protects Wildlife Connectivity

“A new state law in California will instruct counties and municipalities to conserve wildlife corridors when planning new development. […] This could entail everything from creating wildlife crossings at roads or highways, employing wildlife-safe fencing, or not developing on certain land.”

7. ‘I think, boy, I’m a part of all this’: how local heroes reforested Rio’s green heart

“By 2019, [the program] had transformed the city’s landscape, having trained 15,000 local workers like Leleco, who have planted 10m seedlings across […] roughly 10 times the area of New York’s Central Park. Reforested sites include mangroves and vegetation-covered sandbars called restinga, as well as wooded mountainsides around favelas.”

8. Alabama Town Plans to Drop Criminal Charges Over Unpaid Garbage Bills

““Suspending garbage pickup, imposing harsh late penalties and prosecuting people who through no fault of their own are unable to pay their garbage and sewage bills does not make payment suddenly forthcoming,” West said. [… The city] has agreed to drop pending criminal charges against its residents over unpaid garbage bills.”

9. New Hampshire’s low-income community solar program finally moves forward

“The state energy department is reviewing seven proposals for community solar arrays that will allocate a portion of their bill credits to low-income households. […] New Hampshire’s strategy of working with utilities to automatically enroll households that have already been identified streamlines the process.”

10. The Future Looks Bright for Electric School Buses

“EPA has awarded about $3 billion in grants from the infrastructure law, which paid to replace about 8,700 buses. Of those, about 95 percent are electric. [… Electric buses are] cheaper to operate and require less maintenance than diesel buses and will soon be at cost parity when looking at the lifetime cost of ownership[….]”

October 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[ontariobusiness]

Embracing Sustainable Landscaping Practices in Milton

In recent years, sustainable landscaping has become a focal point for homeowners and landscapers in Milton.

This approach not only enhances the beauty of outdoor spaces but also promotes environmental responsibility—a trend that aligns with global efforts to combat climate change.

Incorporating Native Plants

One of the foundational elements of sustainable landscaping is the use of native plants. These species are naturally adapted to Milton's climate and soil conditions, requiring less water and maintenance. By choosing native flora, homeowners can create vibrant gardens that support local biodiversity and reduce the need for chemical fertilizers and pesticides.

Water Conservation Strategies

Water conservation is a critical aspect of sustainable landscaping. Implementing efficient irrigation systems, such as drip irrigation, ensures that water is delivered directly to plant roots, minimizing waste. Additionally, incorporating drought-tolerant plants and utilizing mulch can significantly reduce water usage, aligning with the growing trend of low-water landscaping.

Soil Health and Composting

Maintaining healthy soil is essential for plant vitality. Integrating organic soil amendments, like compost, enriches the soil with necessary nutrients and improves its structure. This practice not only enhances plant growth but also reduces the reliance on synthetic fertilizers, contributing to a more sustainable garden ecosystem.

Creating Wildlife Habitats

Sustainable landscapes can serve as sanctuaries for local wildlife. By planting a variety of flowering plants, shrubs, and trees that provide food and shelter, homeowners can attract beneficial insects, birds, and other fauna. This approach fosters a balanced ecosystem and enhances the overall health of the garden.

Reducing Lawn Areas

Traditional lawns require significant water and maintenance. Replacing portions of lawn with alternative ground covers, ornamental grasses, or planting beds can reduce upkeep and resource consumption. This shift not only supports sustainability but also adds texture and visual interest to the landscape.

Implementing Rain Gardens

Rain gardens are designed to capture and filter stormwater runoff, allowing it to seep naturally into the ground. By directing rainwater into these planted areas, homeowners can reduce erosion, manage stormwater more effectively, and recharge local groundwater supplies.

Conclusion

Adopting sustainable landscaping practices in Milton is a meaningful way to contribute to environmental conservation while creating beautiful and resilient outdoor spaces. By focusing on native plants, water conservation, soil health, and wildlife habitats, residents can enjoy gardens that are both eco-friendly and aesthetically pleasing.

[milton-landscaper]

10 Stunning Hardscape Designs for Milton Homes

As a landscaper serving the vibrant community of Milton, Ontario, I've had the privilege of transforming countless outdoor spaces into stunning havens of beauty and functionality. Hardscaping, in particular, plays a crucial role in creating visually appealing and practical landscapes that enhance the charm and value of homes. Whether you're looking to revamp your backyard patio or add character to your front yard, here are ten breathtaking hardscape designs that are sure to inspire you:

Natural Stone Patio with Fire Pit: Imagine a cozy gathering space where friends and family can gather around a crackling fire on cool evenings. A patio made from natural stone, such as flagstone or slate, and a built-in fire pit create a warm and inviting atmosphere.

Contemporary Concrete Pavers: Consider concrete pavers laid in clean, geometric patterns for a sleek and modern look. These can be used to create pathways, patios, or even minimalist garden borders that complement the architecture of your home.

Rustic Wood Decking: A well-designed wooden deck adds a touch of rustic charm to any outdoor space. Incorporate built-in seating or planters to maximize functionality while seamlessly transitioning between indoor and outdoor living areas.

Zen-Inspired Garden Path: Create a sense of tranquility with a Zen-inspired garden path made from smooth river rocks or gravel. Pair it with carefully placed stepping stones and minimalist greenery to evoke a sense of peace and serenity.

Tiered Retaining Walls: Perfect for sloped landscapes, tiered retaining walls made from natural stone or concrete blocks prevent erosion and provide additional planting space. They can be adorned with cascading plants or integrated lighting for added ambiance.

Charming Cobblestone Driveway: A cobblestone driveway gives your home a touch of old-world charm. Cobblestones' irregular shapes and textures add character and visual interest, making a lasting impression from the moment visitors arrive.

Elegant Outdoor Kitchen: Transform your backyard into an entertainer's paradise with an outdoor kitchen featuring durable countertops, built-in appliances, and ample seating. Incorporate a pergola or shade structure to create a comfortable dining area.

Water Feature Oasis: Enhance your garden with a soothing water feature, such as a cascading fountain or tranquil pond. The sight and sound of flowing water can create a relaxing atmosphere while attracting local wildlife.

Artistic Mosaic Patio: Add a splash of color and creativity to your outdoor space with a mosaic patio or pathway. Use tiles in various shades and patterns to create unique designs that reflect your style.

Sustainable Permeable Pavers: Consider eco-friendly permeable pavers for your driveway or patio. These allow rainwater to seep into the ground, reducing runoff and replenishing groundwater supplies—a perfect choice for environmentally conscious homeowners.

Each of these hardscape designs enhances the aesthetic appeal of your home and adds functionality and value to your outdoor living spaces. Whether you prefer the timeless elegance of natural stone or the contemporary appeal of concrete, there's a hardscape solution to suit every taste and budget.

At Toroz Contracting, we specialize in creating personalized outdoor environments that exceed your expectations. We're committed to bringing your vision to life, from initial design concepts to meticulous installation. Contact us today to schedule a consultation and discover how we can transform your Milton home into a masterpiece of landscape design.

Transform your outdoor living experience with our expert hardscaping services—because your home deserves the best.

Conclusion

Transforming your Milton home with these Milton hardscape designs can create an inviting outdoor space that combines beauty, functionality, and sustainability. Ready to get started? Contact our team today to discuss how we can bring your vision to life.

Start designing your dream outdoor space. Contact Us Today

Toroz Contracting - Landscaping

Phone Number: (647) 687-8276

Email: torozcontracting@gmail.com

Website: Mississauga Landscaping Contractor - Toroz Contracting

Hours: Monday to Saturday 9 am to 7 pm

[torozcontracting]

10 Stunning Hardscape Designs for Milton Homes

As a landscaper serving the vibrant community of Milton, Ontario, I've had the privilege of transforming countless outdoor spaces into stunning havens of beauty and functionality. Hardscaping, in particular, plays a crucial role in creating visually appealing and practical landscapes that enhance the charm and value of homes. Whether you're looking to revamp your backyard patio or add character to your front yard, here are ten breathtaking hardscape designs that are sure to inspire you:

Natural Stone Patio with Fire Pit: Imagine a cozy gathering space where friends and family can gather around a crackling fire on cool evenings. A patio made from natural stone, such as flagstone or slate, and a built-in fire pit create a warm and inviting atmosphere.

Contemporary Concrete Pavers: Consider concrete pavers laid in clean, geometric patterns for a sleek and modern look. These can be used to create pathways, patios, or even minimalist garden borders that complement the architecture of your home.

Rustic Wood Decking: A well-designed wooden deck adds a touch of rustic charm to any outdoor space. Incorporate built-in seating or planters to maximize functionality while seamlessly transitioning between indoor and outdoor living areas.

Zen-Inspired Garden Path: Create a sense of tranquility with a Zen-inspired garden path made from smooth river rocks or gravel. Pair it with carefully placed stepping stones and minimalist greenery to evoke a sense of peace and serenity.

Tiered Retaining Walls: Perfect for sloped landscapes, tiered retaining walls made from natural stone or concrete blocks prevent erosion and provide additional planting space. They can be adorned with cascading plants or integrated lighting for added ambiance.

Charming Cobblestone Driveway: A cobblestone driveway gives your home a touch of old-world charm. Cobblestones' irregular shapes and textures add character and visual interest, making a lasting impression from the moment visitors arrive.

Elegant Outdoor Kitchen: Transform your backyard into an entertainer's paradise with an outdoor kitchen featuring durable countertops, built-in appliances, and ample seating. Incorporate a pergola or shade structure to create a comfortable dining area.

Water Feature Oasis: Enhance your garden with a soothing water feature, such as a cascading fountain or tranquil pond. The sight and sound of flowing water can create a relaxing atmosphere while attracting local wildlife.

Artistic Mosaic Patio: Add a splash of color and creativity to your outdoor space with a mosaic patio or pathway. Use tiles in various shades and patterns to create unique designs that reflect your style.

Sustainable Permeable Pavers: Consider eco-friendly permeable pavers for your driveway or patio. These allow rainwater to seep into the ground, reducing runoff and replenishing groundwater supplies—a perfect choice for environmentally conscious homeowners.

Each of these hardscape designs enhances the aesthetic appeal of your home and adds functionality and value to your outdoor living spaces. Whether you prefer the timeless elegance of natural stone or the contemporary appeal of concrete, there's a hardscape solution to suit every taste and budget.

At Toroz Contracting, we specialize in creating personalized outdoor environments that exceed your expectations. We're committed to bringing your vision to life, from initial design concepts to meticulous installation. Contact us today to schedule a consultation and discover how we can transform your Milton home into a masterpiece of landscape design.

Transform your outdoor living experience with our expert hardscaping services—because your home deserves the best.

Conclusion

Transforming your Milton home with these Milton hardscape designs can create an inviting outdoor space that combines beauty, functionality, and sustainability. Ready to get started? Contact our team today to discuss how we can bring your vision to life.

Start designing your dream outdoor space. Contact Us Today

[gclandscape]

Why Pick Sustainable Landscape Gardening Milton Keynes

In the bustling heart of England lies Milton Keynes, a city renowned for its unique blend of urban living and abundant green spaces. As residents and urban planners alike strive to preserve the city’s natural beauty, the demand for sustainable landscape gardening has surged. But why choose sustainable landscape gardening in Milton Keynes? In this exploration, we delve into the myriad reasons that make it not just an eco-friendly choice, but a wise one for both the environment and the community.

First and foremost, sustainable landscape gardening aligns with the city’s commitment to environmental conservation. Milton Keynes has long been a pioneer in sustainable development, boasting expansive parks, wildlife reserves, and green corridors that form an integral part of its urban fabric. By opting for sustainable gardening practices, residents contribute to the preservation of these vital ecosystems, ensuring they remain vibrant and biodiverse for generations to come.

Landscape Gardeners In Milton Keynes

Moreover, sustainable landscaping promotes resource efficiency, a cornerstone of eco-conscious living. From water-wise irrigation systems to native plantings that require minimal maintenance, sustainable gardens are designed to thrive with minimal inputs. In a city where water conservation is paramount, especially during dry spells, such practices not only reduce water consumption but also alleviate strain on municipal resources, benefitting the entire community.

Beyond environmental considerations, sustainable landscape gardening offers a plethora of social and economic benefits. In Milton Keynes, green spaces serve as communal hubs where residents gather for leisure, recreation, and socialization. By fostering greenery in their own yards, homeowners contribute to the city’s collective well-being, creating micro-havens of tranquility amidst the urban bustle. These green oases not only enhance property values but also promote mental and physical health, offering respite from the stresses of modern life.

Furthermore, sustainable landscaping supports local economies by bolstering demand for green products and services. From nurseries specializing in native plants to eco-friendly landscaping companies, a thriving market for sustainable gardening supplies and expertise emerges, generating employment opportunities and stimulating economic growth. By patronizing these businesses, residents not only invest in the local economy but also promote innovation and entrepreneurship in the burgeoning field of sustainable landscaping.

In addition to its environmental and economic advantages, sustainable landscape gardening fosters a deeper connection to nature, enriching lives in ways both tangible and intangible. In an era marked by urbanization and digitalization, reconnecting with the natural world is paramount for human well-being. By cultivating gardens teeming with native flora and fauna, residents forge a symbiotic relationship with their surroundings, gaining a newfound appreciation for the intricate web of life that sustains us all.

Moreover, sustainable gardens serve as educational tools, offering valuable lessons in ecology, conservation, and sustainability to residents of all ages. Whether through hands-on gardening workshops, guided nature walks, or community-led initiatives, sustainable landscapes provide a living classroom where individuals can learn about their local ecosystems and the importance of preserving them for future generations. In doing so, they instill a sense of environmental stewardship that reverberates throughout the community, inspiring others to follow suit.

But perhaps the most compelling reason to choose sustainable landscape gardening in Milton Keynes lies in its long-term impact on the planet. As we confront the realities of climate change and biodiversity loss, every action we take today shapes the world we leave behind for future inhabitants. By embracing sustainable gardening practices, residents not only mitigate their ecological footprint but also contribute to a more resilient and regenerative future.

In conclusion, the choice to embrace sustainable landscape gardening in Milton Keynes is more than just a matter of personal preference — it is a testament to our shared commitment to safeguarding the environment, supporting local communities, and nurturing a deeper connection to the natural world. By choosing sustainability, we not only enhance the beauty and vitality of our surroundings but also leave a lasting legacy of stewardship for generations to come. In Milton Keynes, where green spaces abound and innovation thrives, the possibilities for sustainable landscape gardening are as boundless as the horizon itself.

[poem-today]

A poem by Thomas Gray

Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,          The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,  The plowman homeward plods his weary way,         And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

  Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,         And all the air a solemn stillness holds,   Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,         And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

  Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r       The moping owl does to the moon complain   Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,       Molest her ancient solitary reign.

  Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,       Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,   Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,       The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

  The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,       The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed,   The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,       No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

  For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,       Or busy housewife ply her evening care:   No children run to lisp their sire's return,       Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

  Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,       Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;   How jocund did they drive their team afield!       How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

  Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,       Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;   Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile       The short and simple annals of the poor.

  The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,       And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,   Awaits alike th' inevitable hour.       The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

  Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,       If Mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise,   Where thro' the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault       The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

  Can storied urn or animated bust       Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?   Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,       Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?

  Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid       Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;   Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,       Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.

  But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page       Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll;   Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,       And froze the genial current of the soul.

  Full many a gem of purest ray serene,       The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:   Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen,       And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

  Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast       The little tyrant of his fields withstood;   Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,         Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.

  Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,       The threats of pain and ruin to despise,   To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,       And read their hist'ry in a nation's eyes,

  Their lot forbade: nor circumscrib'd alone       Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd;   Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,       And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,

  The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,       To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,   Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride       With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.

  Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,       Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;   Along the cool sequester'd vale of life       They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

  Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect,       Some frail memorial still erected nigh,   With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,       Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

  Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse,       The place of fame and elegy supply:   And many a holy text around she strews,       That teach the rustic moralist to die.

  For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,       This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,   Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,       Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind?

  On some fond breast the parting soul relies,       Some pious drops the closing eye requires;   Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,       Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires.

  For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead       Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;   If chance, by lonely contemplation led,       Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,

  Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,       "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn   Brushing with hasty steps the dews away     To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.

  "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech     That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,   His listless length at noontide would he stretch,     And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

  "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,     Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove,   Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,     Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.

  "One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,     Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree;   Another came; nor yet beside the rill,     Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;

  "The next with dirges due in sad array     Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him borne.   Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay,     Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."

THE EPITAPH

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth     A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.   Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,       And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.    Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,       Heav'n did a recompense as largely send:    He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear,       He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.    No farther seek his merits to disclose,       Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,    (There they alike in trembling hope repose)       The bosom of his Father and his God.

Thomas Gray (1716–1771)

Image: The Cemetery Entrance by Caspar David Friedrich

[moderndeadpoetssociety]

hi! my favourite poem is Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard by Thomas Gray, it’s sort of a long poem though

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,         The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way,         And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,         And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,         And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds; Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r         The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,         Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,         Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,         The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,         The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,         No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,         Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return,         Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,         Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield!         How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,         Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile         The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,         And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour.         The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,         If Mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where thro' the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault         The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust         Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,         Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death? Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid         Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,         Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page         Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,         And froze the genial current of the soul. Full many a gem of purest ray serene,         The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen,         And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast         The little tyrant of his fields withstood; Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,         Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,         The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,         And read their hist'ry in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade: nor circumscrib'd alone         Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,         And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,         To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride         With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,         Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life         They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect,         Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,         Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse,         The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews,         That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,         This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,         Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind? On some fond breast the parting soul relies,         Some pious drops the closing eye requires; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,         Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead         Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led,         Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,         "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away         To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech         That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch,         And pore upon the brook that babbles by. "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,         Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove, Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,         Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. "One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,         Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill,         Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; "The next with dirges due in sad array         Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay,         Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth       A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown. Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,       And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,       Heav'n did a recompense as largely send: He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear,       He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose,       Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose)       The bosom of his Father and his God.

[nerissa01]

Creating a charming and functional garden pathway is an excellent way to elevate the overall appeal of your outdoor space. Pathways guide visitors, connect focal points, and add structure to gardens. Choosing the right materials can ensure your pathway is both durable and visually appealing. If you’re considering options for your project, it’s essential to explore reliable resources for landscape supply in Milton, helping you find materials specifically suited to your local needs. Below, we’ve broken down some of the best materials for crafting beautiful garden pathways.

Learn More: https://www.spreadlibertynews.com/best-materials-for-creating-garden-pathways/

[bearni]

Global Respiratory Humidifying Equipment Market By Type ( Hospital, Homecare), By Application ( Adults Neonates), By Country, and Manufacture – Industry Segment, Competition Scenario and Forecast by 2029

Industry analysis and future outlook on Respiratory Humidifying Equipment Global Market brings a systematic perspective of the market execution and assists in strategic decision making for worldwide and additionally the regional situation. Detailed sections provides in-depth arrangement, the Respiratory Humidifying Equipment contemplate that make sense of different perspectives relating to the global market. To begin with, the Respiratory Humidifying Equipment market definition, applications, arrangement, and industry esteem chain structure are incorporated into the answer, to target gathering of people on restricting Respiratory Humidifying Equipment market elements including drivers, limitations, openings, patterns, applications, topographical/local Respiratory Humidifying Equipment markets, and aggressive scene.

Global Respiratory Humidifying Equipment Industry Market was valued at USD XX Million in the year 2020. The market is further estimated to grow at a CAGR of XX% from 2020 to reach USD XX Million by the year 2029.

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Respiratory Humidifying Equipment market rivalry by top makers/players, with Respiratory Humidifying Equipment deals volume, Value (USD/Unit), Revenue (Mn/Bn USD) and market size for every producer/player; the significant players include:

Fisher & Paykel Healthcare Teleflex Incorporated Intersurgical Flexicare Medical Limited Vapotherm WILAmed Hamilton Medical Armstrong Medical Pacific Medico Breas BioCare Besmed Health Business Shenyang RMS

Worldwide Respiratory Humidifying Equipment statistical surveying report uncovers that the Respiratory Humidifying Equipment business will develop with pivotal CAGR over the estimated forecast period of 2021 and 2029. The global Respiratory Humidifying Equipment market in forecast years 2021-2029, is expected to hit Mn/Bn$ XX USD by 2029. The Respiratory Humidifying Equipment market gives broad development openings over the both created and creating economies. Further, the Respiratory Humidifying Equipment business sectors could profit without a doubt from the expanding interest to bring down Respiratory Humidifying Equipment expenses of treatment over the globe.

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Key Highlights of the Report:

Respiratory Humidifying Equipment Market Report provides forecast and industry outlook for the period of 2021-2029 with 2020 as the base year and covering historic data for years 2015-2019.

Respiratory Humidifying Equipment Market outlook with Porter’s 5 Forces Analysis will provide market dynamics (Drivers, Restraints, Opportunities & Threats).

Respiratory Humidifying Equipment Competitive landscape section gives you the competitive edge over other key players in the market (Key Business Strategies, Recent Development M&A, Company Overview, Products/Services Portfolio & Financial Overview).

Respiratory Humidifying Equipment Technological Scenarios & Expected Developments.

Respiratory Humidifying Equipment End-Use Industry & Consumer Behaviour Trends.

Respiratory Humidifying Equipment Export-Import Scenario.

Respiratory Humidifying Equipment Regulatory Policies across each region.

Respiratory Humidifying Equipment In-depth analysis on Industry Trends & Dynamics across each segment covered in the report.

Based on Type, Respiratory Humidifying Equipment market report shows development rate of each type, covers:

Hospital Homecare

End clients/applications, Respiratory Humidifying Equipment market report centers around the status and viewpoint for best applications/end clients, development rate for every application, this can be isolated into:

Adults Neonates

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In conclusion, the global Respiratory Humidifying Equipment industry report unveils research finding, outcomes, conclusions. Likewise, disclose various Respiratory Humidifying Equipment data sources, traders/vendors, suppliers, manufacturers, sales channel, and addendum. In short, the overall Respiratory Humidifying Equipment report is a lucrative document for people implicated in Respiratory Humidifying Equipment market.

Global Impact of COVID-19 Analysis:

COVID19 is an unrivaled global public health emergency that affects almost every industry, so the projected long-term impact will affect industry growth over the forecast period. The report provides insights into COVID19, taking into account changes in consumer behavior and demand, purchasing behavior, supply chain diversion, the dynamics of current market forces, and significant government intervention. Insights, analysis, estimates and forecasts considering the impact of COVID19 on the market.

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GlobalResearchView (GRV) is one of the leading market research company which aims to serve the most excellent research to the various sectors of business. We are prominent in satisfying all kinds of market research needs.

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[theburrowedartist]

Icebreaker:

Name?

My name is Milton. But I might change it (still thinking of new names for my self. Feel free to let me *More specifically M names pls*)

2. How old are you?

Here in our wonderland I am 16.

3. How would you describe yourself?

I would say shy or timid to most. While I am also really philosophical or a thinker. I would rather not get too dep into that part though.

4. Favorite food?

Not sure. I would like to try pizza some time or cake. Strawberries are good too.

5. Sweet, spicy, or salty?

I like spicy stuff a bit more. Just depends on how spicy. I am pretty indifferent at the moment with food.

6. Hobbies?

Painting and drawing seem to be my go to. I also plan on dabbling in poetry and puppet making.

7. Favorite color?

I like earthy tones like sage, browns, etc. Also muted colors and warm earthy tones like beige.

8. Favorite animal?

I like rodents like mice but sheep and cows are pretty cool too.

9. Favorite season?

Fall and winter. Winter gives nice landscape scenes I feel like. You don't get the same type of scenery with the other seasons.

10. Favorite type of art supply?

Depends on my mood but I feel like paints and pastels are up to my speed. Trying out digital too sometime.

[kangacav69]

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[siribear]

with the paint job finished and dried, all that’s left is to prepare for the trip. the sun creeps overhead as minutemen continue to bustle about the castle. her people strap the minigun she took from the museum of freedom to the back of her new power armor; others load in enough ammo to take down another deathclaw. 

meanwhile, whisper and deacon sit underneath a canopy, double, triple checking their usual weapons of choice.

‘you’re sure this old thing will protect you out there?’ whisper rolls the fabric of the hazmat suit between her fingers. the material has thinned and worn over the past couple centuries, and even now her hands come away with dust.

‘no rips or tears,’ deacon says confidently. ‘des and carrington looked it over.’

this time, she switches to the helmet. the surface is scuffed and dirty, but intact. ‘the respirator? all the valves work? does it - ‘

‘yes.’ he sets aside his rifle and snatches the helmet from her hands. ‘it’s not as sturdy as your walking death machine over there, but it’ll do.’

whisper frowns. ‘i’m just trying to make sure you’ll be safe, deacon.’

‘then keep you and that minigun between me and any glowing sea creatures.’

another minuteman drops by with a bag of supplies: more stimpaks than she can count, a few bottles of rad-x, a handful of radaway. they’ve already packed away their rations and ammo. now they’re down to basic necessities and however many rolls of duct tape whisper can find. just in case.

the longer they sit, the more anxious she gets. every step brings her closer to shaun, but she has to take those steps. ‘i’m sure no one would notice if we just snuck out now.’

‘with the power armor?’

‘sure. i’ll distract them.’ he stands and points in a random direct. ‘everyone, look over there!’

they share a laugh when a few minutemen do stop and look, only to stare at them when nothing appears. though whisper has to wave them off in apology, she feels her nerves abate, if only a little.

-

an hour later, she’s back in her quarters, slipping into a spare suit of underarmor danse found for her. the muted black bodysuit offers little protection itself, but danse had said it would make walking around in the armor feel a little less awkward. pulling on the gloves, she finds they fit well enough just over her wedding ring. a break between the wrist guards and gloves gives her enough room to reattach her pipboy. the needle stings more than usual going under her skin, thanks to the mottled black and blue bruise around her wrist.

somewhere, back at home, is a picture of nate wearing a similar suit under a set of combat armor. 

all dressed, she returns to the courtyard. there stands deacon, just outside and away from the crowd, ready in his bulky hazmat suit. ‘well,’ he says when he sees her, ‘you look good.’

she adjusts her collar. ‘not as good as you, partner. are we ready?’

deacon nods his head toward the others, gathered around her new navy blue power armor. ‘they’re ready for you. careful you don’t get caught up in a parade.’

preston, sturges, ronnie shaw, and alan, who runs radio freedom, do look like they’re gathered with purpose. organized. preston better not have made this into an old minuteman ceremony she doesn’t know about. when she approaches, she asks preston the same question.

‘would have killed them to give ya a new suit of armor, huh?’ sturges puts a hand on the arm of the suit. ‘but she shouldn’t give you any trouble out there. she’s even an even better model than the one you picked up at the museum, and that survived a deathclaw, too.’

‘she gets the sturges seal of approval?’ she says with a hint of a grin. ‘maybe the brotherhood doesn’t hate me so much.’

‘but don’t take any unnecessary risks,’ preston argues.

‘can’t have the minutemen fall apart again so soon,’ ronnie chimes in. ‘not when you’re doing some actual good, here.’

whisper shakes her head. ‘if anything happens to me, preston becomes - ’

‘nothing’s going to happen,’ her second-in-command interrupts, shaken. ‘you,’ he says to deacon, approaching, ‘you’ll keep her safe.’ his tone brooks no argument.

‘of course,’ deacon replies easily, too easily, in preston’s opinion, because he frowns.

‘well then!’ sturges claps his hands. ‘let’s get you in this thing, boss.’

at the press of a switch, the back of the armor opens. arm and leg plates unfold, and she steps into it, fitting herself once more into the frame. the thin material does help, as danse noted, and the metal joints barely dig in with the protective padding the underarmor provides. sturges hands her the helmet and, because she has to try it once, she tosses it in the air and flips it like she’s seen danse do before. she catches it and clicks it into place, hiding the giddy grin she’s now sporting.

the heads up display boots up immediately, picking up information from her pipboy and feeding it into the edges of her vision momentarily. she checks the fuel levels, and it’s at - ‘uh, sturges? this is reading me at half fuel right now.’

‘ah, right. we took your old fusion core from the other set of armor. figured it’d give you a little more oomf to get you out there.’

‘everything else good in there, partner?’

‘one thing,’ she says, almost to herself. there was one modification she specifically asked sturges to handle, other than the new paint job. she flips on her headlamp and aims at the ground.

‘little early for the floodlights, isn’t it?’ deacon asks, looking at her. but when she directs him to look down, at the picture that will be lost when the light is cast into the distance, he smiles. in the center of the light, in a shadowed grey, is the silhouette of the railroad lantern. she turns off the headlamp, pleased.

‘everything looks good in here, then. time to head out.’

their escort takes them to the edge of the castle’s new neighborhood. minutemen fall in line behind preston and the others walking behind her and deacon. it is a parade, in its own right, but the entourage breaks off before travis can start a rumor about the minutemen marching through the commonwealth.

and then it’s just her, deacon, and the sound of metal footsteps on broken pavement.

-

whisper leads the way west across south boston, sticking to the flat roads. anything to conserve fuel. december hits the commonwealth differently than she’s used to. by her birthday she’d normally be bundled thicker clothes. long sleeves, jackets. but now that it’s passed, she’s content in the underarmor, and deacon hardly looks cold in his suit.

beside her, he stretches his hands upward. ‘you’re carrying me there if i get tired, right?’

she holds her arms out in front of her. ‘feel free to hop on whenever, as long as you return the favor.’

‘sure thing, partner. as long as i get to take that armor for a test drive.’

‘what? no. after all i went through for this, you’re carrying me and the armor.’

he takes a deep breath. ‘did i ever tell you about the time i carried a whole suit of power armor on my back?’

deacon proceeds to tell her a story of how he once saved a brotherhood soldier in the capital wasteland. ‘couldn’t get that hatch to open,’ he says, pointing toward the back of her armor. ‘so i had to carry him all the way back to the doctor in rivet city. mind you, that took hours.’

she doesn’t try to keep her indulgent hum even remotely convinced. he continues anyway.

‘dropped him off at the entrance to the city, where he finally woke up. didn’t know where he was, just remembered almost getting gunned down by super mutants. so, i told him that i,’ and he flexes, ‘brought him all the way to the city.’

‘let me guess, the city threw you a party for being a hero?’

he shrugs. ‘nah. he accused me of being a synth and held me at gunpoint until the guards stepped in.’

‘i see. there’s a lesson in there somewhere, isn’t there?’

his gaze catches somewhere to their left. the landscape is different. even from the road, she can see the metal fences and structures obviously erected long after the war. even the coast looks too close, with buildings half swallowed by the sea. massachusetts bay university. whisper remembers a few friends that went there. along with the poisoning incident that appeared in the news.

‘what’s over there?’ she asks when deacon steers them further away.

‘institute took over university point a few years ago,’ he says, gravely. ‘get too close, we might run into the stragglers.’

there’s something more to it, she figures. he’s too tense for fear. but she doesn’t fight him, instead finding a road outside jamaica plain to travel further west.

-

just outside milton general hospital, whisper picks up a faint distress signal. deacon stops his patrol of the area as she plays it through her speakers.

‘if anyone is out there, please... help.’ deacon sits next to her, face illuminated by her pipboy light. ‘what’s going on out there? i felt the ground shake, and nothing since. it’s been... four days, i think?’

‘this is... pre-war,’ she says. felt the ground shake. they’re still a few days away from the impact sight, but even from sanctuary hills, she remembers the sound of it. loud above even the grind of the elevator. a crack of thunder, then the shockwave coming over them like a wave only seconds later.

‘i’m so thirsty. please... somebody, hurry.’ the message ends with the woman crying, and the jarring monotone voice notifying them that the message will repeat. and it does. trapped in the jewelry safe - please help.

‘hey, shut it off.’ deacon reaches for the dial himself when she doesn’t move. ‘it’s been hundreds of years. you can’t do anything for her now.’

she snaps out of it. ‘i know. i know, but - ‘ four days. longer? no water, no one to save her. trapped in that small hole in the wall, like - like her neighbors in the vault. suffocating in their pods. and she just - slept. ‘i know.’ travis comes over the radio and flips to a new song. she lets it play through the night.

-

days later, they finally approach the edge of the glowing sea. blown apart trees and scattered car frames cover the area. the air grows thick with yellow-tinged fog. her geiger counter clicks slowly in her ears.

deacon snaps his helmet into place, the respirator hissing as it begins to recycle the irradiated air. ‘shit. never really thought i’d have to come out here.’

‘you can still turn back.’

he rolls his shoulders. ‘the walk back to hq would be boring without you. come on. sooner we get in, sooner we get out. maybe des will finally approve my vacation request after this one.’

stepping into the glowing sea is like diving head first underwater. whisper leads the way, branches crunching underfoot. with every step, the ground looks more cracked. ‘if not, you could always be a full-time minuteman.’ she pushes aside the shell of a car so they can pass. ‘i’ll approve your vacation myself.’

‘well, then.’ he gives her a salute. ‘yeehaw, sugar.’

through the fog, the entire landscape looks the same: stretches of fallen highway, buried underneath irradiated dirt; pools of orange water, feral ghouls wading through the sludge. one group notices them, and though whisper tears through them with the minigun, her geiger counter becomes a stream of noise instead of a steady click. deacon raises a hand in a thumbs up, unscathed.

they hardly speak, for fear of attracting unwanted attention. neither of them can tell what’s over the next hill, or the next. is that the sound of her steps or something else? did she breathe too loudly in her helmet? even though there’s nothing around them, whisper feels surrounded. even deacon is silent as he scouts ahead. quieter than her, he presses forward, keeping them away from roaming deathclaws.

though he can scout over hills, she has the advantage when the land becomes flat. a scanner built into her power armor picks out enemies in the distance, too far for him to see without a scope. when the yellow fog camouflages another pool of feral ghouls, she leads them out of the way.

as night descends upon the sea, it becomes almost untraversable. whisper keeps them at a slow pace with her night vision, but deacon is forced to stick close. a church steeple becomes her beacon in the night as she aims for a place for them to stay. though it’s half-buried, when she looks through the hole in the roof, she can see the sanctuary is still safe. mostly. she picks off the few feral ghouls she can see through the holes.

‘we can climb in through the steeple,’ she tells deacon, crouched at her hip. ‘clear out the last ghouls and we’ll be safe for the night.’

‘and how are you getting in there? you step out of that suit, you’ll die.’

he’s right. though the power armor has kept her safe from most of the radiation, her rads are still ticking upward every second. she won’t last an hour without it.

‘i jump through the roof, obviously.’ she turns on her headlamp, illuminating the broken roof for deacon to see. it’s definitely large enough for her to fit through, and with the armor she won’t even feel the impact. ‘the steeple is big enough for me to climb back out in the morning. it’ll be fine.’

they aren’t left with very many options. the area is dangerous enough during the day, but at night? and with deacon unable to see, they have to stay somewhere. there’s nowhere else nearby that she can see, either.

deacon laughs, shakily. ‘you first.’

-

they find a room underneath the stairs for shelter. a priest’s room, it looks like, with a now-broken desk and filing cabinets full of faded sheet music and sermons. a wooden cross still hangs stubbornly above the desk.

‘feel at home?’ whisper asks, taking up the space near the door. if anything gets curious about the gunshots, they’ll have to go through her solid power armor first.

‘ha-ha,’ he intones. ‘haven’t heard that one before. you’re as bad as glory.’

‘don’t compare me to her. you’ll hurt her feelings.’

deacon settles himself in a corner, helmet hitting the back wall with a dull thunk. whisper remains standing, fearing if she sits she’ll never get back up. ‘we’re in a church, sugar. i’m a deacon. anything you want to confess?’

‘bless me, father, for i have sinned,’ she begins, and deacon leans forward to listen. ‘i made fun of a brotherhood paladin, once, for sleeping in his power armor. and now i find myself in such a situation.’

‘i see.’ deacon sighs heavily, playing the part. ‘your penance will be to step in his shoes. rest in your armor for the night and pray we don’t have to do this again,’ he finishes, breaking character near the end. she laughs.

‘amen.’

-

her alarm wakes them just before dawn. deacon climbs the steeple first, stairs creaking beneath his feet. he calls to her when he’s outside, and then it’s her turn to mount the stairs. she climbs quickly, each one threatening to give with every step. but it’s only when she ducks under the steeple roof to jump to the ground that it gives. the tower leans, wood cracking beneath the power armor’s weight. she jumps, landing hard on her knees. the wood snaps, tower crashing to the ground.

‘uh,’ she says, getting to her feet. ‘that’s not blasphemous, is it?’

deacon raises a hand, makes the sign of the cross. ‘you’re forgiven. but let’s get out of here before something comes and smites us.’

they head west, toward a building barely visible on the satellite view of her pipboy. given that they have little information to go on, checking any potentially sealed building sounds like their best bet. there’s nowhere for him to survive anywhere else out here.

keeping up their previous strategy, they make quick work across the sea. any heavy footfalls that don’t belong to her drive them slightly off course but they continue to follow her map west. they’re almost upon it when deacon holds out his hand to stop her.

‘do you hear that?’

whisper holds her breath. her scanner doesn’t pick anything up on the horizon, but she does hear... something. a slight rumble, then - rain. light patters turns to a downpour in moments. she relaxes, thinking it’s just the storm, until something shifts in her peripheral. she only has time to turn before a giant creature bursts out of the ground.

she sidesteps an oversized stinger before drawing her minigun. the thing steps back, large, black claws held high and threatening. it looks like a scorpion, but its size easily dwarfs a car. its body is covered in a hard, black carapace, broken up only by its exposed joints, glowing a faint green. the thing screeches, high and piercing, and whisper brings the minigun to life, firing directly into its face. green blood splatters across the ground, but it doesn’t stop the thing from charging.

deacon fires, hitting the stinger hard enough to send it plunging into the ground instead of her face. whisper continues to spray into its head, bullets flying wildly. the scorpion squeals again, and a roar answers to her right.

a deathclaw stares the trio down with pale red eyes.

‘the building!’ deacon yells, and she spins without a second thought. stinger still stuck fast in the ground, the scorpion doesn’t follow immediately, but the thundering footsteps that follow tells her they aren’t the only ones running.

she looks behind her to see the deathclaw tear into the scorpion. its massive jaw closes around the tail, snapping it off with ease. though it tries to fight back, the damage it sustained from the minigun keeps it from lasting very long. another roar, victorious, the albino deathclaw turns its attention toward the fleeing humans.

deacon turns the corner on the building’s second floor, easily accessed from a nearby hill and a hole in the wall. she hears two gunshots before she’s upon him, two feral ghouls dead on the ground. the footsteps grow closer. he runs toward an elevator at the end of the hall, and she pries open the doors to - an empty shaft.

rifle held ready, he turns back toward the hall and the albino deathclaw, slowly turning the corner. no need to chase prey it knows is cornered, apparently. but whisper has other thoughts. she grabs deacon without warning, scooping him into her arms, and jumps. they land on top of the elevator cart, the crash echoing through the shaft. above them, the deathclaw roars, thundering down the hall. it tries to fit through the elevator door. head first, then shoulders, then -

‘down!’ deacon yells, lifting the elevator hatch at her feet. this time he jumps and she follows, down into the basement. the deathclaw roars long and low, but never follows.

-

they head deeper into the building’s basement, clearing any feral ghouls in their way. ground zero, she thinks with each one they kill. each feral wears the tatters of office suits and dresses, likely still working before the bombs fell. too late, before anyone saw it coming.

she doesn’t know when, but her geiger counter stops clicking at the constant presence of radiation. she double checks it, just to make sure it’s working, but her screen still shows her status. and if those numbers are correct, then likely she and deacon need to stop regardless - their rads are at the edge of ‘healthy’ levels.

stepping out of her power armor in a back room, she breathes a sigh of relief. she unzips the top of her underarmor and peels herself out of the sleeves. the cooler air of the basement chills the sweat on her skin. after a moment, she returns to the main room they’ve made their shelter with a bundle of food and radaway. deacon sits, legs outstretched, in front of a fire he’s built out of old papers. whisper rests her legs atop his as she prepares to hook up their bags of radaway.

deacon flinches when she pulls away from inserting his IV. ‘what happened to you, hero?’ he reaches out toward her neck, fingers brushing against her throat, down her arm, to her wrist. she follows the trail he leaves, and sees what he means. illuminated by the firelight, her bruises stand in stark contrast to the orange glow against her skin. ‘maybe i should have gone with you, if this is what going with the brotherhood gets you.’

‘danse stopped it from being worse,’ she says, leaning back to set up her own radaway.

‘is this the lead up to, you should have seen the other guy?’

her stomach churns from the radaway. ‘considering the supermutants are dead now?’

‘i should have gone with you. the brotherhood - ‘

‘i know! look, i don’t like the brotherhood either, but danse and his team - ‘ well, haylen, if anyone. ‘ - they’re not bad people. if i hadn’t found preston first, i could have been in the brotherhood.’

‘you wouldn’t have lasted.’

‘how do you know?’

when he shifts, his knees brush against hers. she refuses to move. ‘i know what kind of person it takes to be in the brotherhood,’ he says as she stares him down.

‘deacon - ‘

he sighs, and turns the basement of the abandoned offices into his confessional. ‘you’ve put up with enough of my bullshit. if there’s one person i should come clean to, it’s my friend, right?’

whisper swallows, throat as dry as her bag of radaway. she removes her needle as he does the same. ‘i’m a liar. everyone knows it. i don’t try to hide it, because the truth is: i’m a fraud. to my core.

‘when i was young,’ he tilts his head. his eyebrows rise just above his sunglasses. ‘a hell of a long time ago, i was... scum.’ his voice cracks on the word, voice rough. she wants to tell him to stop. it’s okay if she doesn’t know if it hurts him too much, but she finds that she can’t.

she wants to know.

‘i was a bigot, like the ones in the brotherhood.’ he tosses his empty bag into the darkness. ‘a very violent bigot.’

‘like the brotherhood?’

‘worse. i ran with a gang in university point.’ he pauses, lets the pieces fall into place. that’s why he was looking at the old university. running away from his past, not the synths. ‘we called ourselves the UP deathclaws. for kicks, we’d terrorize anyone that we thought was a synth.

‘we kept egging each other on. started with some property damage. broken windows, broken fences. graduated to some beat downs in back alleys. then, inevitably,’ he swallows, ‘a lynching. the claw’s leader was convinced we’d finally found and killed a synth. looking back, i’m not so sure.’

she blinks. doesn’t say a word. nods when he continues to stare. she isn’t running away, not from him.

he hangs his head and continues. ‘i broke all contact with my brothers, after that. time passed, i became a farmer, if you can believe that.’ he laughs, smiles, wistful. then, ‘one day, i found someone.’ he removes his sunglasses and looks to the dark ceiling, blue eyes bright. watery. ‘she saw something in me i didn’t know - didn’t think - was there.’

‘what was she like?’ she asks, curling her legs against her chest, resting her head on her knees.

‘barbara,’ he sighs her name, ‘she was... she just was.’ he looks to her. ‘when she smiled, it was like those old magazine covers. her eyes - ‘ with a hand on his face, palm pressed against the bridge of his nose, he laughs softly. ‘ - we were trying for kids.’

she sits up straight, at that. a family. he wanted -

‘then one day, it turns out, my barbara? she was a synth. she didn’t know that. i certainly didn’t. i don’t know how the deathclaws found out, but... there was blood.

‘they killed her,’ she says, knowing. blood - nate’s vault jumpsuit turning red with it.

when he croaks out a, ‘yes,’ she slides in next to him. barely touching. ‘i don’t remember much clearly after that. i know i killed most of the claws.’ he laughs again, this one broken. ‘i must have made a big impression because the railroad contacted me. figured i’d be sympathetic, seeing that i lost my wife. and, well, what i did afterwards.’

‘you know i know what that’s like.’

‘yeah. you against kellogg? that was - i should have said something sooner. i’m sorry. i don’t even know why i lie anymore, but i can’t tell the truth. everyone - tom, des, you, even carrington - they deserve to be in the railroad.

‘i don’t. i’m everything wrong with this whole fucking commonwealth. but you’re the only friend i got. i don’t deserve you being okay with this, and i’m not asking for forgiveness. i just... figured you should know who you’ve been traveling with.’

‘i know who i’ve been traveling with,’ she says quickly. takes her own sunglasses off, just to prove it. ‘you’re deacon. the one friend i’ve got in this place. all that you’re doing with the railroad, everything you’ve been helping me with - you’re trying to make up for your past. that’s admirable. i’m on your side, you know?’

deacon shifts back against the wall. ‘well, i’m not really the hugging type so. good talk, partner.’

and yet, he doesn’t move away when she shifts that extra inch closer to lean her head against his shoulder. nor does he move to put his sunglasses back on. instead, he rests his head against hers. ‘john,’ he mumbles, eventually. ‘my name’s john. feel free to forget that in the morning.’

together, they watch the fire burn down to embers before bedding down, back to back in the shadowed corner of the basement.

[hearts-hunger]

“D’you need a pencil, love?”

Part Seven || Masterlist

Summary: Making good on his promise to show you the sights, Roger takes you to Tate Gallery, too busy romancing you to pay attention to the paintings. Later, you go by Roger’s and Freddie’s flat so Roger can get ready for the show, and Roger asks if you’d like to do his makeup.

Pairings: College!Roger x Reader

Genre: Fluff, just a lot of blushing and giggling mainly

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: None!

A/N: After 900000 years of silence, this series has been resurrected! God bless Ben Hardy and his ability to make me pine over him so hard that it makes me dust off a series I’d long since given up on. I’m so thankful for your encouragement and patience, and how a lot of you have kept hope alive that this series would come back one day. It means so much! I don’t know when the next part will be, but this is at least a start! ♡

“Which one do you want to look at first?”

You tucked your hand under Roger’s arm and looked at the pamphlet he was holding, taking a moment to read all the names of the different galleries listed. Roger had suggested taking you to the Tate Gallery for the first stop on your touristy trip through London, and you couldn't have been more pleased; you’d been wanting to go ever since you arrived in London, and you were much happier to be going with Roger than to be going alone. 

“Well, we could just start...” You tapped the room on the map that had a number 1 on it, labeled 16th and 17th Century Painting. “There. At the first one.”

He gave you a cheeky grin. “Oh, aren’t you clever?”

You giggled. “Why, which one do you want to go to first?”

He looked over the map. “Hm, we could try Romantic Painting,” he said. “Sounds right for us.”

You blushed and buried your face against the sleeve of his jacket, drawing a laugh from him.

“You’re very cute, sweetheart,” he said. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Shut up,” you said, nudging him lightly. He chuckled and kissed your forehead.

“We’ll start with the first one, like you said. That’s the better idea. We’ll get to Romantic Paintings eventually, and maybe by then you won’t be so shy and I can kiss you in front of all these posh art connoisseurs.”

You lifted your head and met his eyes, unable to help a smile at the thought of him kissing you. “Who says we aren’t posh art connoisseurs?”

“Quite right,” he agreed, gently steering you to the side of the walkway as a group of students came in. “Let’s go make wild critiques of art that nobody in their right mind would agree with.”

You laughed. “Okay. Lead on, Mr. Taylor.”

You kept yourself tucked close to him as he led you into the gallery proper, letting you take as long as you wanted to take in the beautiful high-ceilinged rotunda before finding 16th and 17th Century painting. The gallery was warm and quiet, the sound of shoes hardwood floors and people’s quiet comments creating a soothing atmosphere as you and Roger looked at the many paintings that graced the walls.

“So, you’re studying history,” Roger said, his voice low and gentle as he looked from one of the paintings to you, a cheeky smile on his face. “What happened in the 16th and 17th Centuries?”

You gave a soft laugh. “Lots. Shakespeare, Galileo, Sir Francis Drake, Milton, Newton... lots.”

“That’s five more than I would have been able to name.”

“You could probably guess someone off the top of your head and they would have been doing something in the 16th or 17th Centuries.”

Roger grinned. “Okay, um, how about da Vinci?”

“Yep, 16th Century.” You smiled. “See? I told you?”

He laced his fingers with yours as you moved to the next painting, a portrait of a pale young woman in Tudor-style clothes.

“I wish I knew more about art and history,” Roger said, studying the painting. He glanced over at you. “Sorry I’m a bit useless when it comes to this sort of thing.”

You stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “If I wanted an art expert, I would have come with Freddie.”

“You actually should come with Freddie sometime,” Roger said seriously. “He’ll spend the whole day here, and he actually knows things about art, like you said.”

You laughed. “Maybe I will, sometime.” You liked that idea, and you could imagine yourself whiling away the hours talking about art with Freddie. “But for now I’m having the grandest time with you, even if you don’t know anything about art.”

Roger smiled and you didn’t miss the endearing pink across his cheeks. “The grandest time, eh? Well, I’m glad. You deserve the grandest of everything, love.” He looked back at the painting, looking over it a little less self-consciously now he knew you were having a good time with him even if he couldn’t place the style or history of it at all. “I do like her style, though. Very flashy.”

You giggled. “I think Brian would love it if you suggested you wear Tudor-style outfits for your show.”

“That’d go over well with our audience at the pub, don’t you think?” he said with a chuckle. “Honestly, Brian could probably be persuaded. Freddie’s probably tried. It’s just Tim who’s always so resistant to anything out of the ordinary.”

You looked up at him, trying to make out how he felt by watching his expression. He noticed and gave you a kind smile.

“I’ve been told my face is rather hard to read sometimes,” he said. “But you can ask me if you want to know what I’m thinking.”

You blushed. “I don’t want to pry.”

“You’re not,” he said. “I promise, love, I’d tell you if I didn’t want to talk about something. But you can always ask. I’m pretty much an open book anyways.”

You bit your lip and thought of how to word it as you walked to the next painting, a landscape with a river and a little village in the background.

“Are you and Tim friends?” you asked.

Roger shrugged. “I mean, we’re mates, I guess. You can’t really play music with someone all the time and not be at least drinking buddies.”

“But...?”

“We’re not close,” Roger said. “Brian and Tim have known each other since secondary school, and they were playing long before I came along.”

You considered that. “You’re close with Brian, though, right? Or am I... misreading that?”

Roger smiled. “No, you’re not misreading that. Brian and I are - well, I don’t want to sound too sappy, but it’s like we’ve known each other forever. And Freddie’s the same. We just... I dunno. Fit.”

You smiled and gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. “You can be as sappy as you want with me, I won’t tell anybody.”

Roger chuckled. “I appreciate that. I’ve got to keep up this cool exterior somehow. Can’t have the two of them thinking I’m too fond of them. It’d go straight to their heads.”

You laughed and leaned your head against his shoulder. You had the feeling that whatever Roger said, Freddie and Brian knew how much Roger loved them, and that they felt the same in return. You didn’t want to make a snap judgement against Tim - after all, you’d known him for less than a week - but somehow he didn’t seem to click with the three of them like that, nor did he seem to want to.

“But, yeah, things with Tim are a little... frayed,” Roger supplied. “He keeps picking fights and talking about joining a different band.”

“Does he really?” you asked, a little surprised. “But you’re... you’re doing an album. Would he really up and quit like that?”

Roger shrugged. “I dunno. Tim’s always been one for a lot of bluster but it honestly wouldn’t surprise me if he did quit Smile. He’s always going on about these other bands that play the same circuit we do, like Humpy Bong - God, he’s really got a hard-on for them - ” He cut himself off, a fierce blush coloring his cheeks.

“Sorry, I -” He cleared his throat. “That was a bit vulgar of me.”

You laughed, not to be unkind, but because his embarrassment was very endearing. “It’s ok, Roger,” you said. “I’m not offended.”

“Yeah, but...” He gave you a bashful smile. “I’m really trying very hard to be a perfect gentleman, you know.”

You smiled and gave him a chaste kiss. “I know. And you’re doing a wonderful job, honey. Even if you do say things like ‘hard-on’.”

His blush deepened and he put a hand to his face to try and hide it.

You gave a soft laugh and took his hand in yours, pulling it away from his face. “What?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, though he was fighting a beaming smile. “Just... that’s the first time you’ve called me some kind of nickname.”

You realized it was, and you smiled up at him. “Did you like it?”

“Not at all,” he said dryly. He smiled when you laughed. “Of course I did, silly thing, why do you think I’m an absolute mess? And it’s very American of you, too. ‘Honey’ isn’t a very common term of endearment here. It’s cute.”

You grinned. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got an American girlfriend to call you honey all the time.”

He put an arm around your waist and drew you close. “Quite right, I have.” He kissed you gently, the tenderness of it making you a little weak in the knees. You didn’t even think of how it would look to the other gallery-goers around you to see Roger kissing you like that in front of God and everybody, but you didn’t mind. You actually kind of liked it, and you gave him a breathless smile when you came up for air.

“Was that ok?” he asked. “Not, I mean - well, was it an ok kiss, first, but was it ok that I just kissed you like that in front of the whole gallery?”

You put your fingers to his lips and he kissed them gently.

“Yes, it’s ok,” you said, endeared to his concern. “And possibly the best kiss we’ve had so far.”

He grinned. “Well, fancy that. I think we’re getting better with practice, don’t you?”

“Without a doubt,” you said confidently. His expression showed a bit of pride at that, and you couldn’t help a smile. You tucked your arm around his waist under his jacket, enjoying the feeling of his warmth and steadiness as you continued around the gallery, moving from 16th and 17th Century Painting into different galleries up to the turn of the century. Roger made up little stories and scenarios for each painting you saw, some funny and lighthearted and others showing a distinct passion Roger had for issues of social justice and politics.

He made good on his promise to sweep you off your feet when you got to the Romantics, too. Though he listened interestedly when you explained Romanticism as a philosophy, he made up elaborate romantic scenarios for the paintings and said so many sweet things to you that you wore a permanent blushing smile all the way through. 

You noticed as you walked through the gallery on Surrealism that Roger kept discreetly checking his watch; you hadn’t thought it was late enough for you to head to the Foxtail for the set, but you guessed you could be misjudging what time it was.

“Is it almost time to go?” you asked.

He looked a little bashful. “Well, not technically - we don’t have to be at the pub until seven.”

“But you’re ready to go?” you guessed.

“I was hoping to swing by my flat to change, if that’s alright,” he said apologetically. “But I don’t want to rush you. I really can just go in this, I’ll be fine.”

You smiled. “It’s ok, honey, I don’t mind. We couldn’t have done the whole thing in one day, anyway, so we can go so you can get ready for the show.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” you said, kissing his cheek.

He beamed at you. “Thank you. I can drop you by your flat if you want to get freshened up, or you can just hang out at mine and Freddie’s until we leave for the show, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you said. 

“Well, I'd love that too,” he said sweetly. “Come on, then.”

You followed him through the winding rooms and hallways until you got back to the main entrance, thanking him as he held the door open for you. The fall air was crisp and cool compared to the warmth of the gallery, and you tucked yourself close to Roger as you started the walk back to his flat. Brian had taken the van from De Lane so you and Roger wouldn’t have to worry about it, and he'd meet you at the pub with all the equipment and Roger’s kit later.

You chatted as you walked, asking each other questions and continuing to get to know each other. Roger lit up when you asked him questions about music, what he imagined for Smile and how he hoped to be able to contribute songs someday like Brian and Tim did. He admitted he had a few songs he was working on, though he didn’t think they were very good. You made him promise to show you sometime, and he just blushed and said he’d love to.

It was getting dark by the time you got to his apartment building, the cozy glow from inside the flats shining through the curtained windows onto the street below. Roger let you up to the third floor, stopping at the door sporting a tarnished brass 305. He didn’t bother to check if it was unlocked, and you assumed that meant Freddie was already home.

“Fred,” Roger called as he ushered you inside. “I’m back, and I’ve brought Y/N.”

You stood just inside the door, feeling a little bit shy, unsure where you should go as Roger hung his jacket and set his wallet on the kitchen counter. The flat was small but homey, the kitchen and living room separated by a small island; there was a hallway off to your left you guessed led to the bedrooms. A Jimi Hendrix record was playing, and the light of the lamp on the side table by the couch was warm and soft.

Freddie emerged from the hallway as Roger took your coat from you and hung it up, a beaming smile on his face.

“Y/N, darling!” he said happily. “Welcome to our home. It’s lovely to see you.”

You smiled. “Thanks for having me over,” you said. “Roger invited me to hang out for a bit while he got changed for the show.”

“You’re perfectly welcome anytime you’d like to come over, my dear,” Freddie said. “Our home is your home. Can I get you a cup of tea or anything?”

Even though you felt perfectly comfortable with Freddie and Roger, it always made you a bit anxious to go to someone’s house for the first time; you hated the idea of being an inconvenience and were always a little shy accepting hospitality. Roger must have sensed your hesitance, because he put his hand on the small of your back and gave you a gentle smile.

“We’ll both have one, please, if you’ve got any on,” Roger said to Freddie, saving you having to ask for yourself. You gave him a grateful smile and felt yourself fairly glow with affection as he returned it with one of his own.

“I’m no barbarian, Roger, darling,” Freddie said with a wave of his hand. “Of course I’ve got some on.”

He busied himself with making tea as Roger gently steered you into the living room, taking your hand in his as you reached up out of habit to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Don’t have to be nervous,” he reminded you, kissing your knuckles gently. You blushed and leaned your head against his chest to hide your face.

He chuckled and kissed your hair. “‘S ok, sweetheart. It’s just us. And I won’t be but a minute getting changed.”

“Okay.” You gave a soft laugh. “Sorry I’m being... weird. I don’t know.”

He smiled. “You’re alright, love. You’re welcome to explore, if you want, but it’s up to you. Loo’s the first door on the left down the hall, Freddie’s the door after, and I’m the door on the right.”

“Go get dressed,” you told him, giving him a light nudge towards his bedroom. “I’ll spend some quality time with Freddie.”

“Ooh, I love quality time,” Freddie said, affectionately teasing. He brought two mugs of tea over, handing one to you and one to Roger.

“Alright, then, I’ll leave you to it,” Roger said. He have you a quick kiss before heading to his room, leaving you and Freddie in the living room. You cradled your tea in your hands, sipping at it slowly.

“Did I make it alright, darling?” Freddie asked.

You smiled. “Yeah, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Nonsense, dear, you’re very welcome,” he said sweetly. “I’m just going to tidy the kitchen so I won’t have to do it after the show, you can stay in here or come sit at the bar or whatever you like.”

He crossed to the kitchen and started to wash the few dishes in the sink; you looked around the living room and found a large collection of records on one of the shelves of the bookcase.

“Hey Freddie?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Can I look at these records?”

He smiled. “Of course you can, darling. You can turn Jimi off and play a different record, if you find one you like.”

You thumbed through Freddie’s and Roger’s record collection, discovering that they had excellent and slightly eclectic tastes in music. The records ranged from the Beatles and the Rolling Stones to opera and classical music. Each record looked well-loved, and you were endeared to the idea that Freddie and Roger’s home was one that always had music playing.

“Bloody hell,” you heard Freddie say. “Is that the time?”

You looked over and saw him frowning at the clock on the wall.

“I’m going to get dressed, darling,” he told you, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “Oh, also, if you’d like, there’s Jammy Dodgers up in the cabinet above the sink.” He gave you a mischievous smile. “Just don’t tell Rog, he’ll eat them all if he knows where I’ve hidden them.”

You giggled. “Ok. Thanks.”

Freddie headed back to his bedroom and nearly crashed into Roger, who was coming out of his room with an eyeliner pencil and an eyeshadow palette in hand.

“Well hello, Rog,” Freddie said. “Where’s the fire?”

“Can you do my makeup?” he asked.

Freddie bit his lip. “I’ve still got to get dressed, darling.” He brightened. “Have Y/N do it for you. Hers is lovely, so she knows how to do it, and that’ll give me time to get dressed.”

Roger looked over to you. “Would you - I mean, only if you want, but - ”

You smiled. “Sure, I can do your makeup for you.”

Have gave you a relieved smile. “Thanks.” He came over and flopped down on the couch, offering you the eyeliner pencil and palette. “You’re wonderful, anyone ever tell you that?”

“You’re the only one that matters to me,” you said, making him grin.

“Is sitting here ok?” he asked. “I can do whatever you need me to do.”

You were a little distracted by how pretty he looked in the soft warm light, looking up at you. “Um, yeah,” you said. You set your tea down on the coffee table. “I’ll just, um - ”

You bit your lip. “Can I sit on your lap?”

His eyes widened. “Oh, uh, yeah, if you want,” he managed. You fought a smile at how adorably nervous he was and how obvious it was that he was trying to hide his excitement at the thought. He patted his thigh. “All yours.”

You briefly debated straddling him before deciding that both of you might implode, and decided on sitting sideways in his lap. His hands immediately went to steady you, resting on the small of your back and over your thigh. You could feel his warmth through the flouncy fabric of your skirt and felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“Hi,” you said, a little breathless with how close you were. You could feel his breath on your skin, his scent of laundry detergent and cologne and cigarette smoke a heady mix.

He smiled, showing laugh lines by his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before. “Hi.” He cocked his head as he looked at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blushed. “Roger,” you mumbled, suddenly shy. 

He chuckled. “It’s true. And you’re very pretty when you blush.” He tweaked your cheek gently as if to prove his point, and you felt a little dizzy with how enamored you were with him.

You shook your head slightly to clear it. “Um, so, eyeliner.”

He grinned. “Eyeliner,” he agreed. “And a little bit of eyeshadow, if you wouldn’t mind.”

You opened the palette and let it rest in your lap, looking over the few tones of gold and rose it held. You had the feeling that if you looked through Freddie’s makeup you would find more flashy and outrageous colors, which suited him, but you knew without seeing them on him that these colors would look good on Roger.

“What color were you thinking?” you asked.

He shrugged and gave you a smile. “Whichever one you think is best,” he said. “Freddie usually does my makeup because I’m not very good at it, and he just does whatever the hell he wants. It turns out well every time but I don’t have any say.”

You gave a soft laugh. “Well, I think the gold would look good with your outfit,” you said. He’d changed into snug, dark jeans and a loose-fitting black button down, conveniently forgetting to button the top three; you’d been trying to keep from outright ogling him since he came out of his bedroom. As if he wasn’t enticing enough, he wore a plain gold necklace that rested right at the base of his throat and a longer one with a gold charm in the shape of a bird. 

You couldn’t help yourself; you gently touched the little gold bird on his chest and felt your fingers brush over his warm skin. 

“Pretty,” you said softly. You were a little lost for words, so close to him and so drawn to him.

His smile was gentle. “Thank you.”

You looked up at him. “Close your eyes.”

He did as you said, a smile lingering on his face, his fingers against your back tracing little patterns over your sweater. You studied his face in concentration as you did his eyeshadow for him, using the gold like you’d said you would. It caught the light and shimmered a bit over those long, beautiful lashes that laid gently on his cheeks.

You took a steadying breath when you finished his eyeshadow, relieved you hadn’t messed it up. “I’m starting your eyeliner now, ok?”

He smiled. “Fine by me, love.”

You put your fingers to his jaw, tipping his face up slightly so you could see better. You felt his pulse beating steady and fast; your begged your hands to stop trembling.

“Hey,” he said gently. He opened his eyes and looked at you, putting your hand over his on his cheek. “You ok?”

“Y-yeah,” you managed.

He looked worried. “You’re a little shaky, love. You sure you’re alright?”

You bit your lip. “Um... you - you make me nervous,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Not in a bad way, just - you’re very pretty, and I kind of can’t believe I’m sitting on your lap and doing your makeup, and I want to kiss you so bad I can’t think straight.”

His smile was beautiful as wonder and affection replaced the worry in his expression, looking up at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. Your breath caught in your chest.

“Okay,” he said gently. He gave a soft laugh. “I’m sorry I make you nervous, love, I don’t mean to. But you should know that all of that going on in there - ” He tapped softly on your chest, right where your heart was beating fair to burst. “That’s all going on for me, too.”

You twisted the cap of the eyeliner pencil around and around. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” he said, meaning it. “God, sweetheart, I forget how to breathe when I’m with you. I feel like my heart’s gonna give out any second with you so close to me.”

You blushed and couldn’t help a smile. “Hopefully not. I need a drummer with a heart to take me to his show tonight.”

He chuckled. “You’ve already got this drummer and his heart, love.” He kissed you then, slow and tender, drawing you out and stilling the shaking in your hands. You were a little dazed when you parted and gave him a soft smile.

“You’ve got my heart too, you know,” you said softly. You laughed. “You’ve also got some of my lipgloss on you. Hold still.” 

You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, cleaning off the rosy sheen of your lipgloss. 

“I should do your eyeliner before Freddie freaks out at me,” you said.

Roger smiled. “He wouldn’t. He’d fuss at me, but not at you.” He closed his eyes again, and you rested your hand on his cheek to steady it as you drew in the dark color over his eyeshadow. It didn’t look half bad, you thought, but that was more a credit to Roger’s lovely features than any skill of your own. When you were finished, you took a moment to study Roger’s face while he waited patiently for further instruction, memorizing the curve of his cheek and the very light freckles over his nose and the way the corner of his mouth started to tip up in a slow smile.

“Enjoying the view?” he teased lightly.

You blushed and kissed the tip of his nose; he rewarded you with the cutest laugh you’d ever heard.

“What was that for?” he asked, looking up at you with those incredible blue eyes, his face lit up with his smile.

“Just because,” you said, feeling a little cheeky.

He grinned. “Well then - ” He gave you a quick kiss. “That’s just because, too.”

You smiled as you stood from his lap, setting aside for the moment the thought that you’d like to do it again sometime very soon, offering your hand.

“Come on,” you said. “Let’s go take a look and you can tell me how terrible I did.”

He laughed as he took your hand, walking with you to the bathroom. “I’m sure it’s perfect.” He stood beside you and admired your handiwork in the mirror, batting his lashes and giving you a smirk.

“I think it looks dashing,” he said. “Very well done, sweetheart.”

You could see the way your cheeks pinked at his tone and that expression on his face. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t botch it. Gold looks very pretty on you.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

You were going to try and say something quite charming about him looking pretty no matter what color he wore when Freddie came in, his hands fluttering in a bit of a panic.

“Roger, darling, you haven’t seen my - ooh, that gold looks lovely on you!” He put a hand to Roger’s cheek and looked at Roger’s makeup more closely. “God, your lashes are long, aren’t they? I’ll be jealous forever, dear. But that gold really does look quite stunning on you.”

Roger smiled. “Thanks.”

“Lovely job, darling,” Freddie told you with a smile. “However did you get him to sit still for you?”

“I have my methods,” you teased. You and Roger shared a glance and both couldn’t help your bashful smiles.

Freddie gave a delighted laugh. “Of course you do, darling. Well, in any case, I’m glad your methods were useful. Rog looks good enough to eat.”

“Quite a compliment, coming from you,” you said sweetly. Freddie was indeed dressed to kill, as he always was, in tight black pants, a shiny white shirt, and an outrageously flowered blazer. His studded silver belt matched the cuff bracelet on his wrist.

Freddie winked. “Got to make an impression, darling.” He looked over the counter, searching for something. “Though neither of you have seen my necklace, have you?”

“Which one?” Roger asked. “The dog-collar one?”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Yes, Rog, though it’s not a dog-collar.”

Roger grinned as he rummaged around in the first drawer. “I beg to differ.” He found the necklace in question, a rigid silver loop with a little black jewel dancing from it.

“Dog-collar,” Roger confirmed as Freddie put it on. Freddie just gave an exasperated laugh and straightened it until he was satisfied it rested perfectly around his neck.

“Well then,” Freddie said briskly. “Are we all ready?”

Roger looked over to you in question and you nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Can I actually - ” Freddie started, reaching a hand out to you. “Can I do something really quickly to your hair, darling? I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

You smiled. “Sure,” you said, knowing Freddie’s efforts to style you would be an improvement on your look. You hadn’t done anything with your hair besides put it in a loose bun, and you were happy to let Freddie make you a bit more fashionable.

He grinned. “Lovely! I don’t want to do much, I’ve just got - ” He stepped around Roger, who graciously made room, and took the ponytail holder out to let your bun down. “I’ve got a lovely hairpin I think would go with that sweater.”

He fished around in the same drawer Roger had found his necklace in until he pulled out a slender hairpin with delicate blue flowers on the end. Freddie gently tousled your hair until it fell over your shoulders, loosely pinning your curls back from your face. The flowers caught the light and sparkled in your hair, giving you a touch of glamour, and you wondered at how Freddie was able to work such magic with so little.

“Oh, darling, that looks simply dazzling with your hair color,” Freddie said. “Do you like it?”

You beamed. “Yes, I love it,” you said. You turned your head to admire the pin better in the mirror. “It’s so pretty. Where did you get it?”

“We get all sorts of odds and ends at Kensington, dear,” he said. “I always keep a variety here, because you never know what an outfit might need, or if you might have a lovely guest who looks marvelous wearing little trinkets in their hair.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Freddie. It’s beautiful.”

He waved you off and gave a smile that was a little bashful. “No need, my dear. You brought out the beauty of the thing, not the other way ‘round. What do you think, Rog? Doesn’t it look lovely?”

Roger took you in, from the sparkly blue flowers in your hair to the heel of your shiny black shoes. You felt like a bashful schoolgirl under his gaze and thrilled at his smile.

“Beautiful,” he said, and for a second, that was the only thing in the world that mattered to you. He brushed his knuckles over your cheek and gently tugged at your curls. “Quite lovely indeed.”

You grinned. “Well, now we’re all dolled up, shall we go watch you play some rock ‘n roll?”

Roger offered you his arm in a gallant gesture, making you giggle. “Indeed we shall, my lady.”

Freddie followed the two of you out of the flat, locking it up behind you, and gave you and Roger a fond smile as the two of you walked hand in hand towards the Foxtail for Smile’s show.

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[elucubrare]

As, when in tumults rise th' ignoble crowd, Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud; And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly, And all the rustic arms that fury can supply: If then some grave and pious man appear, They hush their noise, and lend a list'ning ear; He soothes with sober words their angry mood, And quenches their innate desire of blood: So, when the Father of the Flood appears, And o'er the seas his sov'reign trident rears, Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains, High on his chariot, and, with loosen'd reins, Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains.

Vergil (trans. Dryden) Aeneid I

Thus they their doubtful consultations dark Ended, rejoicing in their matchless Chief: As, when from mountain-tops the dusky clouds Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o'erspread Heaven's cheerful face, the louring element Scowls o'er the darkened landscape snow or shower, If chance the radiant sun, with farewell sweet, Extend his evening beam, the fields revive, The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings.

Milton, Paradise Lost II 

[sublimerhymes]

Elegy Written in a Church Courtyard by Thomas Gray

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share, Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:- The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death? Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre: But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenour of their way. Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind? On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, -- Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn; 'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high. His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. 'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,- Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'

The Epitaph

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown. Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melacholy marked him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to Misery all he had, a tear, He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God.