#large-flowered evening-primrose

[unkn0wnvariable]

Large-flowered Evening-primrose

The large bright yellow flowers of large-flowered evening-primrose, flowering in the sun at RSPB Fen Drayton Lakes.

[suksatoru]

'𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐈 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎'

summary ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ryomen sukuna's most devoted follower gives him a gift that sets his frozen heart alight.

cw; none. ruler!ryomen sukuna x reader. yes this is not maybe definitely inspired by lady gaga's song, judas . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Ryomen sukuna was a man with a lifestyle like no other. His life, no doubt - was lavish. He earned every bit of it by tearing through bodies like a needle through fabric - constructing a world where he ruled from his throne.

He had many things to enjoy - counting how the world worshiped the ground he walked on like a god, praising him and offering their undying worship. He enjoyed the praise - he deserved it.

So when his personal servant - personal favorite - is kneeling before him - your hands clasping something as you bow your head and await his command to speak - he can't help but grin.

"And what is it that you would like, y/n."

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴡᴀꜱʜ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴇᴇᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ʜᴀɪʀ ɪꜰ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ ʟɪᴇꜱ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜɪꜱ ʙʀᴀɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ, ʜᴇ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏꜱ ᴍᴇ

His voice was bewitching - that was how you'd describe it when he practically purred your name. You knew you were his favorite - he treated you with respect reserved only for his most loyal followers - there was no one more loyal and devoted to him than you. No one.

"My king - I have something for you." You say, shy smile peeking through as you feel your cheeks heat when he tilts his head towards you with an amused smile

He sat on top of his throne - relaxed and drunk on your loyalty. You truly were such a wonderful thing.

"Show me."

Your eyes finally lift off the ground to meet his - and something warms like a fire in his chest when he sees your face.

He was too focused on holding your gaze to even notice your hand had moved forward and placed something in his palm - he looks down, fingers pinching the thing curiously as he twists it between his finger tips

"A flower?" He muses, unable to stop his eyes from softening just the slightest bit when he recognizes just what type of flower you had retrieved for him

The Japanese primrose was a special flower - referred to as Sakurasou. It symbolizes eternal love. Sukuna recognized this.

You had unknowingly broken the final barrier between you and the King of Curses.

He wordlessly stands up from his throne - large palm outstretched towards yours as you look up at him from your spot on the ground - confusion spreading all over your beautiful face when the man who ruled the world - the King of Curses - kneels before you.

ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ꜱᴏ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴛꜱ ꜰᴏʀɢᴀᴠᴇ ʜɪꜱ ɢᴏᴏꜰʏ ᴡᴀʏ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʟᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙʀɪᴄᴋ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴜɪʟᴅ ᴀ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴏʀ ꜱɪɴᴋ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ʙᴏᴅʏ

"Do you think you can give this to me and leave my throne room alone?" He asks, his voice hoarse and so feeling - his words reverberate through your ears as your eyed remain wide and unblinking - he was on the ground with you, close and warm and everything felt fuzzy in your mind when he moved forward to kiss you.

Warm. Strong. Sukuna -

He pulls away - and you feel dizzy when he reaches forward and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear - his eyes watched you closely as something shifted in his expression - realization falling on his face as he understands what he needed.

"Stay with me, y/n. Be mine. All mine." He says, his voice soft and firm at the same time - demanding and hopeful as he awaits your response patiently - his hand didn't move from where he cradled your cheek as your heart beat quickens

ɪ'ᴍ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʜᴏʟʏ ꜰᴏᴏʟ, ᴏʜ, ʙᴀʙʏ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴊᴜᴅᴀꜱ, ʙᴀʙʏ. ɪ'ᴍ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʜᴏʟʏ ꜰᴏᴏʟ, ᴏʜ, ʙᴀʙʏ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴊᴜᴅᴀꜱ, ʙᴀʙʏ.

"Yes."

It was a whisper - quiet and filled with adoration as you watch him smile - a devastatingly beautiful sight.

[danikamariewrites]

The Happiest Day

Bat boys x reader

A/n: I can't believe @polyacotarweek is almost over. I know I'm late for celebration but I wanted to make sure I got out what I wnated to say. I wrote this one because I've never really liked my birthday but in the last few years I've started to enjoy celebrating. I didn't have anyone I liked celebrating with (minus my immediate fam) until college. When people really love you and want to celebrate with you that's what makes the day special in my opinion.

Warnings: none

Another year another century started for you. Today marks your 400th year and Cauldron did you not want to celebrate. Not that you didn’t like your birthday. Quite the opposite actually. You love having a day where you get to do all the things you love. But when it’s just you. 

At some point in your youth your family started celebrating multiple birthdays together. The day no longer felt special. When you were old enough you started doing your own thing. 

Having a calm afternoon to yourself, treating yourself to nice things just felt right. Of course that semi-stopped when you met your mates. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel always made you feel special and your birthday was no exception. 

Stretching and rolling around the soft sheets you reach out for your mates only to be met with their cold pillows. Your fingers brushed over a note against Rhys’s spot. Your name was written in his elegant handwriting on the outside. Opening the parchment it read, Happy Birthday darling! We’re sorry we aren’t there to kiss you and hold you on our favorite day but you will see why later. We love you very much y/n. Enjoy breakfast in bed. 

Putting the note down on the bedside table a tray appeared. A small vase with Evening Primrose sat in the corner. Chocolate croissants, fruit, toast, and bacon were laid out on beautiful blue and white plates. 

You decided to enjoy breakfast, choosing not to dwell on the giant party your mates are putting together for you.

—

Mor knew exactly where to find her cousin this morning. Entering the grand ballroom of the House of Wind Mor weaved between fae carrying large flower arrangements and party decor. She shook her head, blonde waves bouncing around her shoulders. 

Rifling through the stack of papers in her hand she picks out the one Rhys needs to sign. Looking around the room Mor spots Rhys in the middle with the party planner. He was pointing animatedly as Cass and Az lifted the heavy stuff for the decorators. Mor cleared her throat once she was behind her cousin making him slightly jump. 

Once he faced her, Mor gave Rhys a shit eating grin. “Excuse us, I just need the High Lord a moment.” The party planner gave a bow of her head, scurrying off to go perfect something else. “Cousin,” Rhys sighed, “what can I do for you, I am very busy.” Mor hands him the papers and a pen for his signature. As Rhys read through them Mor looked around the ballroom, truly taking in the lengths the males will go to celebrate you. 

Mor’s brows furrowed as she thought back to your last wine night. If she recalled correctly you hated celebrating your birthday with a huge party. “Here,” Rhys shoved the papers back into her arms. Rhys began to walk to the banquet table and Mor followed. “Does y/n like these parties? All seems a bit, ya know…much.” 

Rhys stops dead in his tracks slowly turning to face his cousin again. “Of course she likes the parties. Why would you ask that?” Mor’s eyes go wide along with that stupid smile she’s still wearing. “Oh, you have no clue do you.” 

Cass and Az have now joined the conversation. Confused looks pull at their features which are bringing Mor so much joy. The males look at each other, having a silent conversation. “Mother above you three are thick in the head.” Cassian waves his hands urging Mor to tell them. To stop teasing them with this secret information she’s holding over their heads. 

“She doesn’t like big parties. Have you ever wondered where she goes during the day on her birthday? Why has she only asked for a party with the family?” Their faces drop as the realization hits them like a ton of bricks. “Excuse me,” Rhys murmurs, quickly turning on his heel to tell the party planner to stop everything. Mor let out a triumphant hum, leaving the other two glued to the floor.  

—

On your way to the kitchen you found the house oddly quiet. Usually you could hear the hustle and bustle from the ballroom. People hurrying through the kitchen and foyer, cooking and setting up decorations for the party Rhys insists on throwing you every year. But nothing. Odd for eleven in the morning.

Normally you take the day to yourself to mentally prepare for the large party in the evening. You never liked big events or being the center of attention. It was never fun to be used by your people as a reason to climb a social ladder or gorg themselves on food and alcohol Rhys provided. 

Not that you would ever tell your mates this but you have shed a few tears after putting on your gown. Eventually you pull yourself together. Putting on a smile to look ready to celebrate.   

Shyly poking your head in the kitchen you find it empty. Your brow furrows as you place the breakfast tray in the sink. “Rhys,” you reach out to him in your mind. “Yes, darling.” His voice a purr in your head. “Where is everyone?” “We’re waiting for you in the living room.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You smirked, something told you your mates are up to something. 

You found them in various states of excited and nervous. Cassian was pacing while Rhys and Azriel sit in large arm chairs conversing quietly. Clearing your throat the three perk up, smiles plastered on their lips. Cassian made it to you first, pulling you into a bone crushing hug, “Happy birthday, sweet pea.” He pulls away from you to kiss all over your face leaving you giggling. 

Azriel pulled you to his chest next then into a searing kiss. “Happy birthday, princess. How was your breakfast?” “Delicious.” 

Rhys held your hands, resting his forehead against yours, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. “You look like you want to ask something, darling.” You exhale a little. Not wanting to seem greedy but you needed to know. “No, I was just expecting the house to seem…busier.”

Rhys hummed, “Yes, you have Mor to thank for that.” Your cheeks turn red from the shame of your friend speaking up for you. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Azriel asked softly. Letting out a sigh you look down to avoid eye contact. “You seemed so happy having the party and I didn’t want to upset you.” After a few long moments of silence you feel Cassian’s hands gently grip your chin, tilting your head to look at them. Frowns replacing their smiles. 

“You could never upset us y/n.” Smiling at them you feel happy tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Your mates pull you into a group hug, sending pulses of love down the bond. Letting go Cass ruffles your hair. "No more tears today." He says.

"We have the whole day planned," Rhys starts, "we're going to go to all your favorite shops and then have a nice relaxing night in. Az will cook dinner and we can do whatever you want." Your face lights up at the thought of having your mates with you, doing your favorite things on your day is all you've wanted.

[screamintoad]

Silanche kid-Fleur Vanrouge

“Now I’m one step closer to becoming a knight!”

Voice claim: TBA

Character info

  Finally we have Fleur Vanrouge, eldest child of the Vanrouge family. When she was younger her hair formed thick and fluffy curls that seemed to be as wild as her personality, as she grew older, nothing changed. She’s rarely found inside, she’s mostly outdoors with the animals, exploring the forest around their house, or running around castle Draconia. She aspires to be a knight like her father and uncle Sebek so she did everything to become one. She learned horsemanship, sword fighting, and studied everything that she could. From linguistics, to history, and science. When the time came for her to be sorted into her dorm at NRC she was ready to hear the mirror shout “Diasomnia!” Only it didn’t, it shouted the name of her mother’s dorm. Pomefiore. Now she’s an agent of chaos for the current dorm leader as a type of rebellion. 

  Growing up in such a large household is something she adores. When she was younger she would always go with Silver to the castle if he didn’t have to be on patrol, if he was then she would hang out with her grandpa or uncle Sebek. As kids, Lilia gifted her and Alaric matching crystal necklaces that were enchanted with a protection spell, ever since then they always wear them. 

Fun facts: Always has something stuck in her hair (flowers, leaves, twigs, etc.). When her or Alaric visits home, they have a tradition of going on a trail ride past a waterfall that they’ve dubbed the “Fire Fall” because at sunrise the water appears golden-orange, then they’ll race back home and the winner chooses their next activity. Always has some type of armor on under her casual clothes post-graduation. Veryyyy baby-faced during her first year at NRC. People assume she’s a daddy’s girl but that’s not 100% true, she loves her dad and is his mini me but much like her brother she’ll always call Blanche “Mama”.

Basic info

Age: 16-20 (first year-post graduation)

Height: 167cm/5’4 during first year, 182cm/ 5’10 at graduation 

B-day: May 17th (Taurus) 

Dominant hand: right

Family: Blanche and Silver (Mama and Dad), Alaric (brother), Lilia (grandpa), Granny Primrose (great grandma “granny”)

Nickname: Wildflower (by family and close friends)

School years

Class A

Club: Horseback riding club

Best subject: P.E

Hobbies: archery, horse riding, loving her significant other

Pet peeve: People underestimating her 

Favorite food: Her mom’s baking

Least favorite food: Her grandpa’s cooking

Talent: Swordsmanship 

Unique Magic: Rose Armor, similar to Blanche she can grow thorny vines around her and even grow roses from the vines. Similar to Miss Acacia from Jack and the Cuckoo-clock Heart. 

Character dynamics

Alaric: Thick as thieves, they’re inseparable when either of them comes home. Despite having different hobbies and interests she tries her best to remember everything he likes. 

Jane: Little sister numero uno. Fleur sometimes enables Jane’s chaotic tendencies but she always makes sure that she doesn’t get hurt. They would explore the Vanrouge property and Fleur would show her all the good spots to look for rare rocks. Girl talks go hard between Jane, Fleur, and Luna. 

(Jackrose AU)

Joey Howl: Lovers! They grew up together and have a classic friends to lovers relationship. She’s a year older than him so at NRC they meet up either between classes or after the school day to talk about stuff. Usually it’s Joey complaining about the ruckus at his dorm or Jane complaining about Pomefiore. 

Luna Howl: Little sister numero dos. If Luna wasn’t causing trouble with Jane and Alaric she would be with Fleur. There’s been numerous times where Fleur’s had to stop her from chasing the chickens. 

(Emmeleus AU)

Aria Draconia: They’ve known each other forever and Fleur is even her personal guard. As serious as she likes to be on duty, Aria always reminds her that they’re friends first before knight and princess. Perhaps even more than friends. One day Aria began leaving gifts for Fleur and she assumed it was because they’re friends or maybe the princess was being polite or she knew about Fleur’s crush on her and is just indulging it in a way that isn’t rude. Until one day the king himself pulled Fleur aside to ask if her and Aria were in a courtship. 

HOWL KIDS AND ARIA BELONG TO @blood-red-hummingbee

TAGS: @gimmeurmoneyagh @babyghoul138 @skibidibabygirl @4necdote @twtysevapr

@angelwishess @moonyasnow @beneathsakurashade @h0neybane

@justm3di0cr3

@bunniehunn @midnightmah07 TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED OR NOT. TAGGING EVERYONE THAT I REMEMBER FOR THE FANKIDS

[abutterflyobsession]

*breathing hard* I just wrote 800 wordsd I . . . I'm so sleepy. Kidnapping AU, attempted excerpt, love me a symbolic dream yessir

There were always leaves here in the shadow of the forest’s border, whatever the season may be. The distinction of spring were the soft slips of pink resting gently on the cracking, ragged leaves. Her fingers ran along the edge of a petal, soft, rounded, moist from the damp sheltered in the shade. A chill of fear seeped into her fingertips, sweeping up her arm and over her heart, making it ache with each beat. This was wrong. Touching the fresh smoothness was wrong. Dangerous. No good could come of touching the petals.

She couldn’t pull herself away.

Where the outline of the petal met and dipped down to form twin arches, a tiny tear appeared. Her heart beat faster and she was certain that if the tear grew to reach her fingers it would rip her hand apart too. Already her hand throbbed with the anticipation of pain, as if she had felt the pain before, made the same mistake of touching the tempting sweetness of the petal before and learned nothing from it.

The tear grew, the petal curling into two halves. From the raw wound welled up red drops of blood that stained the pink, racing the tear to reach her fingers.

She couldn’t let go.

Except for the painfully quick breath that rasped in her throat her body wouldn’t move. The flower had been so beautiful she had taken it in without a thought. In the desolation of the forest it had been the promise of softness. How it was a pink heart ripped in two and sodden with warm blood.

The fresh red was frighteningly beautiful.

She couldn’t let go.

It hurt so much and she wanted it so much. A split formed between her finger and thumb and she gasped then sobbed but she couldn’t let go. Her fingers clenched it more tightly. She didn’t want to let go. It was beautiful and it hurt and it was hers and she wanted it.

A shadow from the leaves, jagged and unbeautiful, slipped over the dripping mess of the petal and her hand. She gasped again, even the illusion of losing the petal causing as much, maybe more, pain than the tear in her skin.

The shadow settled over her hand, washing away the throbbing pain in soft darkness. It should have been cool, but it was warm. Not the ugly heat of the bleeding petal, it was a firm handclasp where before she had grasped only dissolving pink. The pink was white now, the blood almost completely consuming it as it wrapped around her hand and the comforting shadow. Between her hand and the shadow beat what felt like a small heart and the blood no longer feel senselessly on the ground but circulated, sustaining some tiny little life.

“May what has been bound never again be parted.”

Fire smoldered in her hand, consuming petal, blood, fingers, and shadow. It ate away at her skin, leaving burnt nothing and she became indistinguishable from everything else in the heart of the flame.

It hurt so much.

It was so beautiful.

-----------------

Marianne wheezed out a small gasp that set off a spasm of coughing. Once that was finished she was awake enough to be uncomfortable and to feel her fingers unconsciously tracing the scar of her marriage oath on her right hand. It was still deep winter and the bloom of flowers, primrose or otherwise, was a long, long way off.

A rumbling snore raised prickles on Marianne’s skin. Nobody she knew that might possibly me that close to her at night snored like that. Not even with Dawn’s worst cold produced that deep a sound. A flash of hot-cold panic coincided almost immediately with confusing realization and she froze while she tried to process it.

She was wrapped up in about twenty layers of blankets, typical of her life recently, with even a nightcap pulled snugly over her ears. Yes, that was to be expected. It was the rigid frame underneath all this over-protective padding that was unexpected. The large fingers that petted the top of her nightcap when she had stirred were completely and totally unexpected.

After a brief internal struggle Marianne expelled a wheezy breath and let herself relax. This was fine. This was good. This was normal. Or had been for the past two whole days and nights. Every since they had fallen asleep talking and she’d woken up hours later with her head on Bog’s lap—albeit separated by multiple pillows. Pillows and blankets seemed to be breeding among themselves lately and producing offspring more quickly than rabbits.

Bog had succumbed to the illness going around the castle—because everyone was getting it, there was no connection between kissing and catching it. There wasn’t.

[itcanbegoodagain]

Pregnancy Cravings

Word Count: 1288

Rating: N/A

Inspired by this video.

"There's no rules, baby," Peeta says softly, the corner of his lip quirking up in amusement at my frustration. "Do what your instinct tells you to."

I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Then, carefully, I dip the brush into the light pink I made, swirling together white and red. I bring it to the canvas and begin to fill in the gentle lines Peeta drew for me. I start at the edges of the petals, bringing the color down in quick strokes. I've learned that if I think too much about how I move the brush, the more I mess up.

A few minutes of silence pass by before Peeta murmurs that I'm doing well, and the primroses look beautiful. I smile, not taking my eyes off the painting in front of me. "Eyes on your own work, Mellark."

He laughs next to me, and I hear him shift before putting his palette down. He holds my head steady, pressing a kiss to the side of it. "What can I get you to eat? I'm going to the kitchen."

"I'm okay," I reply.

"Yeah, sure, the noises coming from your stomach totally mean you're not hungry," he says with an eye roll I can hear.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, clearly admitting he's right. "Do we have any leftover cinnamon rolls from yesterday? I could probably eat a whole baker's dozen in three seconds."

"Lemme check." Then he's out the door, taking the warmth of his hands on my head with him.

Cabinets open, then he yells back. "No cinnamon rolls."

Immediately, tears spring into my eyes. They blur my vision slightly, but I focus on the flowers and holding the brush correctly. Slowly, one drips down my face. Down the drain that hope goes.

He walks back into the room, holding a small plate of date bread he made today. "I brought the bread from this morning to hold you over until-" he breaks off. Peeta sets the plate down with a quiet sigh. He nears, frees my hands, then kneels in front of me. He holds my hands to his chest and looks up at me. "What's up, Katniss?"

I sniff, feeling ridiculous, and say, "I just... cinnamon rolls sound really good right now. I wasn't lying when I said I could eat a lot of them."

He laughs quietly. "I know -- you can always eat a lot, even when there isn't a baby asking for more." He brings my hand to his lips for a kiss. "What do you want me to do?"

"Can you make some?" I ask hopefully.

"I don't have everything here," he says, protesting when my face breaks again. "But hey, hey, there is some dough at the bakery that I've had proving since last night. I can go get it and make you some fresh rolls in less than an hour."

"No, Peeta, I don't want you to go all the way there for me."

He smiles, shaking his head a little. "What, like that's the most taxing thing I've ever done for you?"

"Peeta, I'm serious," I cry.

He pulls me into a hug. "Me too, Katniss, okay? I love you and our baby you're carrying, and if you both want some cinnamon rolls, who am I to deny you?"

I brush my hands over my face, wiping away the tears. I look at him, and my heart feels so close to bursting it's hard to breathe. "Are you sure?" I ask quietly.

"There is nothing else I want to do right now," he replies. My stomach does a little flip at his words.

"Okay," I whisper. "Thank you."

He grins at me, leaning forward to press a kiss to my lips. I hold him there for a moment, relishing in his warmth and comfort and love.

"I'll be back soon. Get comfy, or keep painting, and there will be cinnamon rolls before you know it." He presses one more kiss to my lips before walking to the doorway. Once there, he pauses for a moment, leaning against the doorway to watch me compose myself. When I start painting again, he taps the wood with his hand a couple times and he's gone.

--

I'm in the living room when I hear the timer go off for the oven. I'm curled up on the couch with a blanket, stroking Buttercup's fur.

Soon, Peeta exits the kitchen with a large plate in hand, a knife and napkins in the other. He sits beside me, setting the plate on the small table before us. "There, fresh and warm. All for you," he tells me, laying an arm across the back of the couch.

I reach forward and grab one with my fingers, ignoring the knife completely. As I bring it close, I get a close whiff of its smell, and my stomach turns. My mouth closes, my face turning away from it and Peeta.

"Katniss?" he asks. "What is it?"

I break down into tears again, putting the roll back on the plate. I cover my face, getting a little bit of frosting on my forehead with the movement.

I cry and laugh simultaneously, not believing the state I'm in right now. This is absolutely stupid. "I..." I begin. I feel his hands on my back, rubbing soothing circles, and I cry harder.

"Katniss," Peeta says again, real concern pushing through.

I drop my hands and look at him, tears running down my cheeks. "I know I said that cinnamon rolls sounded good, but... But they don't anymore. And you went all the way to the bakery to get the dough and make them for me, and I don't even want them anymore, and I'm so picky and ungrateful-"

"Woah, hey," he says, cutting me off. "First of all, you are not picky. You would eat food off the floor. Second, you are not ungrateful, Katniss, okay?" His hands move to my face, brushing away the hair there so he can get a good look at my tear-stained cheeks. "You thank me all the time even though you don't need to. We're married, so you never have to feel bad or thank me for taking care of you. It's the pride of my life."

Without conscious thought, I crawl into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms circle me, pulling me close. Slowly, he rocks us back and forth, and my slight hiccuping sobs grow smaller before they fade away entirely. He presses kisses to the side of my head the whole time, whispering little things about his love for me in my ear.

"Okay?" he asks, minutes later.

I take in a shaky breath. "I'm okay," I tell him quietly. "And I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for," he replies. "You're doing something incredible, giving over your body for months for something we both get to enjoy for the rest of our lives. I don't have to feel what you do. I want to take care of you, no matter what that looks like."

He pulls my head from his neck. "I love you, Katniss, and the baby you're growing in your stomach. If I wasn't in it for the ups and downs, for the long haul, I wouldn't have married you. But I am, so I did."

"I love you, too," I say, leaning forward to kiss him. It's a little snotty, a little teary, but that's okay. "You make me feel so safe. I wouldn't be able to do this without you."

Peeta hugs me close for a few minutes more. "Katniss," he says quietly, "I can literally feel your stomach growling. What sounds good?"

[libraryofmoths]

Moth of the Week

White-Lined Sphinx

Hyles lineata

The white-lined sphinx is a part of the family Sphingidae. They are sometimes known as the hummingbird moth because of their size and how they hover over flowers for nectar. The were first described in 1775 by Johan Christian Fabricius as Sphinx lineata.

Description The forewings are dark brown with tan stripe cutting across mirrors on both sides. The veins of the forewings are lined in white. The top edge of the forewing or the “costal margin” is outlined in a light brown and the forewing’s side edge or the “outer margin” is lined in gray. The hindwings are black with a pink stripe called the “median band.” The furry body is also dark and light brown with black, pink, and white stripes and spots.

Wingspan Range: ≈5.1 - 7.6 cm (2 -3 in)

Diet and Habitat Caterpillars of this species eat a variety of plants such as: Willow weed (Epilobium), Four o'clock (Mirabilis), Apple (Malus), Evening primrose (Oenothera), Elm (Ulmus), Grape (Vitis), and more. Caterpillars can form large groups when finding food and damage many gardens and crops.

Adult moths drink the nectar from various flowers such as: Columbines, Larkspurs, Four o'clock (Mirabilis), Petunia, Honeysuckle, Moonvine, and more. The type of flower an adult feeds from depends on the visibility during certain times of the day. At night they will feed from white flowers because they are easier to see in the dark. Durning the day, they will feed on brighter flowers.

This moth has a large range spanning from Southern Canada down to Central America, going through Mexico and most of the United States. They are found occasionally in the West Indies and on even rarer occasions in Eurasia and Africa. They live in habitats such as deserts, gardens, suburbs, and the Mountains of Colorado. However their population varies in many places.

Mating This moth has two generations per year with more in warmer climates. Eggs are laid in the spring on the host plants. A female can lay hundreds of eggs, which overwinter as larvae and emerge in February to November. This is also when they begin eating.

Predators This moth prefers to fly at night but can be seen during the day. It is preyed on by common enemies of moths: birds and bats.

Fun Fact Caterpillars were, and still are in some places, eaten by Native Americans. They were skewered, roasted, and dried to store/ground. When compared to hamburger meat, the larvae have almost as much fat but 1/3 less saturated fat and more energy in calories, protein, carbohydrate, riboflavin, and niacin.

(Source: Wikipedia, Moth Identification)

[diogenesprintco]

Dog roses, or the other large floral piece I've been working on lately, which I have to admit was also inspired by a passage in Maurice:

Not far from the lodge there was a nasty little climb, and the road, always in bad condition, was edged with dog roses that scratched the paint. Blossom after blossom crept past them, draggled by the ungenial year: some had cankered, others would never unfold: here and there beauty triumphed, but desperately, flickering in a world of gloom. Maurice looked into one after another, and though he did not care for flowers the failure irritated him. Scarcely anything was perfect. On one spray every flower was lopsided, the next swarmed with caterpillars, or bulged with galls. The indifference of nature! And her incompetence! He leant out of the window to see whether she couldn't bring it off once, and stared straight into the bright brown eyes of a young man.

Even though (unlike the primroses) this is a one-off reference, it always catches my attention because, as the saying goes, there's a LOT to unpack here. For a while I could only interpret this as a specific example of the decay of Penge (and of Maurice's relationship with Clive), and then Alec cutting through that to see him, which mirrors the scene of Maurice's arrival the day before. But it's odd to have a one-off reference at all in this book where Forster so often repeats phrases and images to give them significance or place them in a different context, ie: "bright brown eyes" - and actually, in the Abinger edition, there is a second reference in a deleted bit of dialogue where Alec says something like, "Remember the roses in the other rain?" again placing the focus on the roses when he really means, remember me in the other rain, chasing after your carriage and hiding in the shrubbery to catch another look at you? So nature did bring it off once, but in a way Maurice didn't expect, and which influenced him only subconsciously in the first reference.

[katiajewelbox]

Canadian Goldenrod Part 1:

While the world’s finest athletes were going for gold in Paris at the 2024 Olympic games this summer, I was going for gold in my own garden. By “gold”, I mean this gorgeous Canadian Goldenrod (Solidago canadensis) plant.

If there was a plant Olympics, Canadian Goldenrod could win a gold medal in the invasive species category. This large and in-charge plant has numerous attributes that enhance its successful invasion of new habitats. Canadian Goldenrod is a herbaceous perennial plant that can grow up to 6 feet (180 cm) tall, a height which gives its airborne seeds an advantage in travelling to new areas far from the parent plant. The plant propagates via underground rhizomes that produce vast genetically identical populations that can take over an area. This species will eagerly take over habitat disturbed by natural disasters like forest fires as well as areas disturbed by human activity before other plant species can establish a foothold.

A resilient plant, Canadian Goldenrod can thrive in a wide range of climates corresponding to the USDA hardiness zones 3 through 9. Even in its native habitat northeastern and north-central North America, the plant will form natural monocultures where it has out-competed the other indigenous plants.

What happens when this plant goes to compete with native plants in other parts of the world? Find out next time.

Please note: The large bushy plant I am hugging is the Canadian Goldenrod. The other yellow flowers are a different species called Evening Primrose (Oenothera biennis).

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

My Garden Flowers Part 3

All photos mine. The small buttercup and evening primrose are edited for colour since the camera didn't catch it and washed it out.

In order of appearance:

In order of appearance:

061. Wild Basil (Clinopodium vulgare) Didn't do so well the last place I had her in, but she seems happy in this spot, so fingers crossed.

062. Crested Iris (Iris cristata) Not pictured as she hasn't flowered yet.

063. Smallflower Buttercup (Rancunculus abortivus) Not much to look at compared with other buttercups but one of the only native buttercups with (limited) edible uses.

064. Smooth Solomon's Seal (Polygonatum biflorum) Not pictured as she hasn't flowered yet. Soon, hopefully!

065. False Solomon's Seal (Maianthemum racemosa) Not pictured as she hasn't flowered yet, but she's growing well so hopefully next year.

066. Blisterwort (Ranunculus recurvatus) I didn't plant that. She just turned up last year. Not pictured as I haven't got any pictures yet.

067. Fairy Spuds (Claytonia virginica) Not pictured as she hasn't flowered yet. She's a wee little spud in the ground.

068. Flowering Dogwood (Cornus floridus) Not pictured as she hasn't flowered yet but she is slowly spreading out.

069. Plantain-Leaf Sedge (Carex plantaginea) Not pictured as I haven't got pictures yet. I should. It's a neat plant. Evergreen, too!

070. Virginia Bluebells (Mertensia virginica) One of the prettiest plants I've ever seen, from the shape and texture of the leaves to the purplish pink buds to the bright blue bell-shaped flowers. They're spring ephemerals, though, so they're long gone by now. But will emerge next spring!

071. Evening Primrose (Oenothera biennis) Only lives for two years and reseeds itself. It's a common weed along sidewalks, but its flowers glow yellow in the evening and often remain in bloom at night.

072. Squirrel Corn (Dicentra canadensis) Not pictured as she hasn't flowered yet. The leaves are really cute, though.

073. Large Toothwort (Cardamine maxima) Not pictured as she hasn't flowered yet.

074. Wintergreen (Gaultheria procumbens) Not pictured as I haven't got any pictures yet.

075. Great Burnet (Sanguisorba officinalis) A cultivar, not sure which one. I'll get the wild type if/when I can.

076. American Plum (Prunus americana) I was not expecting her to flower this year! Hopefully she will next year too, and without aphids this time so I can have some plums. :)

077. Smooth Aster (Symphyotrichum laeve) So like I said, I do think New England asters are the prettiest of this genus, but smooth asters are very nice in their own way. Tender bluish leaves, and delicate light purple flowers.

078. Sweet Grass (Hierochloe odorata) Not pictured as I haven't got any pictures yet. She only flowered one year. Hasn't since. I won't miss a photo next time.

079. Nodding Onion (Allium cernuum) What's better than pretty flowers? Tasty pretty flowers!

080-081. Swamp Rose Mallow (Hibiscus moscheutos) Two different cultivars and the red one has died, but I did get my hands on the wild type! That will hopefully bloom this year.

082. Stiff Sunflower (Helianthus pauciflorus subrhomboideus) Holds her own against the much more aggressive Nuttall's sunflower. Sometimes called beautiful sunflower. I don't know how one decides which species of a very showy genus gets that name, but I guess she won out.

083. Pearly Everlasting (Anaphalis margaritacea) Another one that was hard to choose a photo of. You just hardly believe they're real!

084. Marsh Marigold (Caltha palustris) I planted her where there's a drip from the eavestrough so she can get very wet when it rains. :) She is not a marigold but instead part of the buttercup family.

085. Nuttall's Sunflower (Helianthus nuttallii) Whenever I am expressing frustration about sunflowers, it is almost always this species. lol Very beautiful but very aggressive.

086. Larkspur Violet (Viola pedatifida) Not pictured as she hasn't flowered yet.

087. White Turtlehead (Chelone glabra) Not pictured as she hasn't flowered yet.

088. Small Sundrops (Oenothera perennis) Not quite as intensely yellow as some of her relatives but still very bright.

089. Bigleaf Aster (Eurybia macrophylla) You generally grow her for foliage rather than her flowers, but flowering she is! Very drought-tolerant, but spreads more readily in less harsh conditions.

090. Bride's Feathers (Aruncus dioicus) Southern Ontario and surrounding area's evolution really went off on the lacy white flowers, and this species' flowers might be the laciest of them all.

[leopardfang15]

Ok but. Percy’s idea of romance is most definitely from his parents. Traditional romance, courtly love and chivalry. Him sending flowers to reader as a secret admirer and her not getting it at all because they’re all single flowers that are very different. Until she drags Keyleth into it and they do some research. Look up “Victorian Language of Flowers” for inspo.

“Undying love” “true beauty” and all kinds of sweet meanings behind each flower. He’d get Keyleth to help because she’s a romantic and number 1 shipper.

Floriography

AN: Here’s a link to the website I used for this info. This ended up being OC x Percy. It’s just what I’m most comfortable writing. Writing with the character being simply ‘reader’ feels too bare for me. I love reading reader inserts but I’m just not good at writing them. Anyways, enjoy.

The first one was a confusing incident. She’d been up before dawn, like always. It was a remnant from her time at the Monastery; a strict schedule to keep that never changed and even after she left her internal clock still woke her up before the sun rose to greet Tal’dorei. She enjoyed doing her morning stretches as she watched the sun rise.

It was also nice to have some peace and quiet in the keep. While Ansuya adored them all it was quite irritating to constantly be subjected to Scanlan and Val arguing, Grog shouting and Vex snapping at them to be quiet. But with the sky still dark she was able to wrap her hands and change into her loose, dark red pants which cinched at the ankles. Her black, high necked crop top revealed hard, toned muscles beneath her ebony skin.

Ansuya was just finishing her braid when she noticed something on her windowsill. Opening her window she saw it was a singular red flower. It was large and very bright, six petals on it. As she traced the red plant gently, she wracked her brain for what it was; an Amaryllis. She looked around and didn’t see a note or anything to indicate who left it or why. Her dark brows furrowed before she shrugged. For all she knew the wind or a bird carried it up to her. Best get it a vase and some water. She had to do her morning prayer before she went to the court yard for her morning ritual.

The second flower appeared outside her bedroom door. She’d almost accidentally stepped on it, in fact. Ansuya had finished an afternoon of meditation in her room when she found it. She noticed footsteps outside her door but perhaps she’d gotten so used to tuning out the noise of the keep when meditating it had allowed whoever had left it to do so undetected. Turning the plant over in her calloused hands she could not find a note or any clue as to who could have left it.

She couldn’t tell what flower it was, only that it was purple and bell shaped. She stepped back into her room and placed it in the vase with the first flower. In no way did they go together but she felt it was a waste for a singular flower to get a whole other vase when it could easily fit with her first flower. She decided to leave her questions for another time. She wanted to get some training done.

Within a month she had two dozen flowers. Ansuya could recognize a few, like lilies or primroses but she didn’t have enough botanical knowledge to know every flower. Not to mention they were so random. A series of roses could make some form of sense but she’d gotten so much variety she couldn’t discern any pattern or thought process. Her feelings towards these mysterious gifts had gone from confusion to flattery but after receiving a flower almost every day with no clue as to who was leaving them or why she was beginning to get frustrated. The mystery had lost its appeal and now she wanted answers.

She was sitting in her room, glaring at her vases of flowers when she heard a knock at her door. Not many in this keep actually knocked so it narrowed down the list of possible visitors. “Come in.”

Keyleth’s freckled face appeared in the door. “Hey Ansuya, I was-“ she paused and looked at all the flowers. “Wow, still getting these?”

Ansuya nodded. “I still haven’t figured out who’s sending them either.” At first she decided to stay up and see if she could catch her little ‘admirer’ but it seemed like they knew what she was thinking because now they came exclusively through courier. Which also meant that now everyone knew she was receiving these botanical gifts.

“Do you not like them?” Keyleth asked. That was when Ansuya realized she was so deep in thought she’d ended up glaring at the flowers without even realizing it.

“They’re nice, they just don’t make any sense.” Ansuya said, standing up from her seat on her bed and putting her hands on her hips. “They’re all so random, even if they are just guesses for my favorite flower.” She didn’t even have one but that was beside the point. She watched Keyleth wave a hand over the flowers, giving some of the first ones a magic boost that made them brighten and perk back up.

Ansuya crossed her arms. “My admirer hasn’t left any notes or any hints as to who they are.”

“Maybe they’re shy?” Keyleth suggested, fiddling with her hair.

“So shy they just plan on sending me flowers forever without doing anything else?” The dark skinned woman asked, racking her brain for an answer. “Is there supposed to be some kind of secret meaning?”

“You know…” Keyleth gently caressed the yellow tulip in one of the vases. “I heard that there’s something called the ‘Language of Flowers’. Nobles send bouquets and they have different meanings.”

“You think my gift giver is a noble?” Ansuya asked, raising a brow.

Immediately the Druid blushed and started waving her hands. “N-no! He could j-just know about it. Maybe he has a… garden?” There were a few moments of awkward silence before the Druid spoke again. “I uh… think we have a book on it.”

Putting aside any disbelief she felt towards the idea of a noble taking an interest in her, Ansuya focused on this ‘Language of Flowers.’ “Would you be able to get it for me, Keyleth, and maybe help me figure out the meaning? I don’t know enough about flowers to identify them on description alone.”

The Ashari perked up and smiled. “Sure, happy to help.” When she went to exit the room she nearly collided with someone else. “Oops! Sorry, Percy.”

Ansuya lit up. Maybe she’d get an answer sooner than she originally expected. She darted to her door and poked her head out the door to see the familiar gunslinger. “Percy, can you come here, please?”

The bespectacled man blinked, surprised by her animated behavior. “Of course.” He said, nodding to Keyleth who was grinning wildly for some odd reason.

Ansuya closed the door behind him once he entered.

“You’ve kept them all?” Percy asked, looking at the vases of flowers.

“Seems a shame to throw them out.” Ansuya said, walking to stand beside him as she took in the sight of her hastily thrown together bouquets. “Someone’s very determined to get my attention.” She shook her head. “Anyways, Keyleth said something about how nobles send secret messages through flowers. Do you know it?”

Percy nodded, avoiding eye contact. Were she not so focused on possibly unraveling this mystery she would’ve thought about how adorable he looked with a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“Would you help then?” Ansuya asked, adding a small smile to her question. “There haven't been any notes or signatures and these are too random to be guesses at my favorite flower.”

“Do you have a favorite?” Percy asked.

Ansuya thought for a moment. “No… where I come from there weren’t a whole lot of flowers around and I was usually too focused on training to consider what my favorite flower might be.” She then turned to Percy. “But that doesn’t matter. I can’t think of any rhyme or reason for someone to send me random flowers unless there’s some kind of hidden message. Could you help me, please?” She asked, looking up at him.

His gaze softened at her pleading expression. “You only ever need to ask for my assistance.” He said, before smirking. “Besides, you’re one of the few people in this keep who actually says ‘please.’”

“And ‘thank you.’” Ansuya said, sharing a brief laugh with Percy.

“Where would you like to start?” The white haired man asked, turning his gaze to the flowers.

“This was the first one.” Ansuya said, plucking a large red flower from the vase.

“An amaryllis.” Percy said, taking in the image of her holding the flower. “It means ‘splendid beauty.’”

Ansuya turned to Percy, surprised. “Are you serious?” She asked, her dark green eyes wide.

Percy frowned. “Why would I lie to you?”

“Sorry, I just…” Ansuya was thankful her dark complexion hid her slightly flushed cheeks. She wasn’t sure whether she preferred the idea that she was simply flustered by the compliment or that Percy himself had said it, even if he was just relaying the message. “I’ve just never been given something like this. It was… different when I thought these were just flowers.” In an effort to avoid any uncomfortable silence she plucked the next flower. “What about this?”

“That’s a pansy, it means ‘you occupy my thoughts.’”

Before long, Percy’s voice filled her room.

“Lungwort: thou art my life. Yellow Jasmine: modesty, grace and elegance. Calla Lilly: Magnificent Beauty. Chickweed: I cling to thee. Diosma: your simple elegance charms me. Peach Blossom: I am your captive. Yellow Tulip: there is sunshine in your smile.”

She’d stopped thinking about who had sent the flowers and was only focused on Percy’s voice, imagining that he was actually saying these things to her. She wasn’t even hearing what the flowers were anymore, just listening to the beautiful words he spoke to her.

“I dreamed of thee. You'll always be beautiful to me. You’re everything to me. Your presence soothes me. I can’t live without you.” And so many times, “Unending love. Eternal love. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Oh she wished he was actually saying that to her, but he was simply relaying a message. She took a breath to slow her pounding heart and began placing the flowers back in their vases. “Thank you, Percy.”

There was a moment of silence. “What do you think of them?”

“They’re beautiful.” Ansuya said honestly. “Both in appearance and meaning. I’ve… never been given anything like this or had so much thought put in. But…” she sighed, “I don’t really know how to feel about this if I don’t know who’s sending them. If it’s some stranger I’d say I’m flattered but put off that someone I don’t know claims to be in love with me. If it’s someone I do know… well, I guess it depends. Some people outside our little group are decent enough, I could give them a chance.”

“What if it’s a Vox Machina member?” Percy asked, crossing his arms. Ansuya paused, getting an idea of where this was headed but not wanting to jump to conclusions.

“It would depend but not too many members would do this. Vex and Pike would straight up just ask me. Same with Grog, and I don’t think giving me flowers would ever cross his mind.” Ansuya said, chuckling fondly. Grog was a sweetheart but he was probably the least subtle person she’d ever met.

“What about Keyleth?” Percy asked, tilting his head.

“This does seem a lot like her but she hasn’t given me any hint that she’s interested in me. Besides, she’s already got her eye on one of our favorite half elves.” She smirked, an expression that Percy mirrored.

“Speaking of, Vax?”

“If he were to give me flowers it’d probably just be one and he’d leave a note.”

“Scanlan?”

Ansuya laughed. “He might also give me flowers but that would be accompanied by an obnoxious serenade that would barely drown out my laughing.” She shook her head with a grin. “He’s not serious enough for this and I’m not interested in any of them.”

“And what if they’re from me?” He asked, causing her to freeze. Ansuya looked at him. He seemed a bit shy but he wasn’t averting his gaze.

“Are these from you?” Ansuya asked, not one to beat around the bush.

“What would you say if they were?” He asked, folding his arms behind his back to hide his fidgeting hands.

It took a lot of self restraint for Ansuya to keep from telling him to just admit it. She took a breath to try and find the words she wanted to say. She remembered nights huddled around the fire on jobs, whispering to each other. Or enjoying each other’s more reserved company in the tavern before a brawl inevitably broke out. He’d said what he wanted to say (eventually) so she couldn’t be a hypocrite and keep her mouth shut.

“I’d say this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. I’d say your an amazing friend and that I trust you with my life. I love spending time with you and I would love to see where this takes us.” She went and grabbed the pansy before handing it to him. She couldn’t give him one of the many flowers declaring love quite yet but she could easily see herself giving one to him, someday.

There was an excited squeal from outside her door. Percy sighed. “Keyleth, the only reason I’m not yelling at you is because of your help. Thank you, but you may leave.”

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Keyleth’s rapidly retreating voice called. Ansuya just laughed.

[dougdimmadodo]

Fireweed (Chamaenerion angustifolium)

Family: Evening Primrose Family (Onagraceae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Least Concern

Growing rapidly and reproducing very frequently, Fireweed thrives in areas that have been recently cleared of other plants due to forest fires or other disruptive events, earning it its name. Widely distributed throughout the northern hemisphere, it is a textbook example of a pioneer species (the first species of plants, or other non-motile organisms, to spread onto land that has been cleared of its previous occupants) ; unable to compete with taller, more “aggressive” species of plants that will have taken over older habitats, its seeds remain dormant in soil for years at a time, while adult plants may remain in small numbers in clearing or frequently-disturbed forest edges, or may be entirely absent. When a fire occurs the seeds respond to the heat and begin to germinate, allowing young individuals to emerge after the fire has subsided and most potential competitors have been eliminated. After sprouting, young Fireweed can reach considerable heights (potentially growing to be up to 2.5 meters/8ft tall, although in areas with limited resources they may never exceed 0.5 meters/1.6ft) and, upon reaching maturity, will develop numerous 5-petaled pink flowers each year that, once pollinated, develop into long strings of tiny seeds covered with cottony parachute-like structures that allow them to be carried away from their parent on the wind, settling in new ground where they may later germinate. Members of this species can live for several years, but as slower-growing but taller and more competitive plants gradually return to a cleared area Fireweed populations will gradually decrease as their access to sunlight and soil nutrients is reduced. As such, once an area has “healed” from the disturbance that cleared it, adult Fireweeds become rare once again, but the seeds they produced when more abundant remain dormant in the soil until another disturbance provides them with an opportunity to grow. In human-influenced habitats faced with near-constant disturbance (such as railways or roadsides,) it is possible for adult Fireweeds to remain abundant permanently, and the ease at which members of this species adapt to urban environments, combined with its impressive hardiness, has led to it becoming somewhat prominent in folklore, featuring on the flag of the Canadian territory of Yukon, being referenced in the works of Rudyard Kipling and J.R.R Tolkien, and earning the name “Bombweed” in the UK after large numbers of Fireweeds were observed growing in the ruins of bombed-out buildings leveled during World War II. Ecologically, various species of deer, bears and hawk-moths are known to feed on the leaves, flowers, nectar and seeds of this species.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Image Source: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/564969-Chamaenerion-angustifolium

[bonefall]

HELLO I HAVE MORE CLANMEW NAMES (and a quick concept i came up with that you might like!)

you've said before that you don't like names like Mushroom, Primrose, or Dragonfly because they're too long; with the clan cats's love of contracting things, what if this was an in-world belief? a lengthy name like "Dragonfly" would be so obnoxious for a kitten to learn how to say; just shorten it to a more reasonable form to be given as a name!

also. dragonfly words? :eyes:

Anyway the most fun one to come up with was my character Dragonflystar. She's called "The Leopard of RiverClan" in my canon, which is a title of incredibly high honor so I gave her like. three Clanmew names. First of all I had to translate "Dragonfly" and it is part of her story that her name is... bad. Obnoxiously long. (My clans have a tradition where whoever finds an abandoned kit names it, and the young warrior who found her gave her... a very long and unwieldy name instead of a short, reasonable one. The queen who took her in would've probably called her Papamew if she'd been consulted. Short, sensible. Easy to say.)

Anyway I came up with the word "Kafakakaka" for "Dragonfly." It's one of her character quirks that she insists from a very young age on her full, long name being used because she sees it as "prim and proper." Her warrior name is Kafakakakafaf, or "Dragonfly[fur]" (although it's translated as "Dragonflypelt") which is. so hard to say.

Her title "the Leopard of RiverClan" I translated as "Ssarsaor," [other clan leader/force of nature + leopard], but her own clanmates might call her Saorkychkarrao ["leopard + natural disaster, hurricane" (this is also a reference to her mom wanting to name her Rainkit!)] if they're talking about her in her absence! To her face, of course, she is always Kafakakakashai.

...

The other names I have are! Rhododendronfeather and Petalfang.

"Rhododendronfeather" has a joke name and he's very proud of it. He's always bragged half-jokingly about having the longest name in the clans; his mother before him was likewise a bit of a prankster and all of her kits have slightly silly names! In Clanmew, he's actually named after a hydrangea, which don't grow in my clans' territory-- his mother made up the word after a plant she saw in a twoleg garden exclusively to be a silly, ridiculously long name for her kit (which is why it's translated as "Rhododendron," which is a similar plant with a much longer name).

The word I made up is "Peskeyaywiponma" [cluster petal + intense, saturated color + flower] which is, notably, Not Contracted At All. this makes it completely ridiculous both as a word and a name, which was exactly the intention. His warrior name is Peskeyaywiponmapwyfao, with "pwyfao" for the feathering he has on his feet. Obviously nobody calls him this, though. He's always been called Peskepwyf....

At least, until his kits were born and he named one of them, which looked quite a lot like him, Peskemew! Petalkit. Her dad's been called Pawipwyf since she was born. Now she's earned her warrior name, too: Peskeki!

For names in Clanmew, it can be as long as one wants because the full name is rarely said. "Squilf" is canon, they typically take one syllable of the prefix, and one of the suffix, and then combine them together into a nickname.

Anyway! Dragonfly words!

I am fully planning to drop the -fly part in my own translations. There's just no need to keep the -fly part when Dragonclaw sounds so cool.

Nymph = Mohol A baby dragonfly. A swimming, beetle-like creature that is a terror in the water. Applied metaphorically to a cat who is a good "grappler" with large fish, as some nymphs can catch things their own size.

Dragon (Generic) = Krriki Four-winged, predatory insects capable of advanced flight and catching their prey mid-air. Widely beloved, with stories of even larger versions of these creatures featured in certain Great Clan myths.

Damsel = Akiswa Thin-tailed dragonflies, notoriously more flexible than their counterparts, able to bend like a cat's tail. Includes bluets, the banded demoiselle, spreadwings, etc.

Darner = Gsaki Thick-bodied dragonflies, much stiffer and typically much bigger than a damsel. Includes the broad-bodied chaser, the blue emperor, the common darter, etc.

[thecoffeelovingfreak]

don't ever wonder

Pairing: Akiko Yosano x gn!Reader

Writing Genre: drabble

Genre(s): romance

Word count: 611

Warnings: alcohol & its consumption, me trying to write a first date having never been on a date before

Notes: I've been wanting to write a fic w/Yosano, and I figured that this was the perfect opportunity! And yes, this fic is titled after Ascension by Maxwell ;)

Bouquet Meaning: red roses - love & romance; sunflowers - adoration, loyalty, hope, peace; monarch butterfly - rebirth/starting something new

for the 'New Beginnings' collab by @venexus

Read it on ao3!

~~~

The crisp, natural scent of the bouquet in your hands momentarily eased your nerves as you thanked and paid the florist. Red roses and sunflowers formed the delicate shape of heart, and a bright monarch butterfly rested on top.

Is this too forward? No, Yosano is direct, if anything this is perfect… right?

You snuck another sniff from the bouquet to quell your pestering anxiety. The hum of the car’s engine was soon overshadowed by a soft song playing on the radio as you drove along the familiar route to your coworker’s apartment.

—

The gentle knock you rapped on Yosano’s door echoed the beating of your heart as she opened it. An off-the-shoulder dress crafted in red silk was the first thing to greet your vision – a large slit over her right leg drew your attention next. By far the most beautiful, however, was her dazzling smile encased in red. Her dark hair held a light curl, and her stunning magenta eyes were decorated with small, black wings.

“You look enchanting tonight, Akiko.”

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“I have a gift for you.”

Revealing the bouquet from its hiding place behind your back, you watched excitement bloom in Yosano’s eyes.

“Oh, wow, I love flowers!”

"I see a new arrangement on your desk every week, and I figured that you might."

"So, you've been watching me?" she queried, setting the bouquet down on her entry table.

"How could I not?" you replied, lifting up your hand for her to take as she finished locking the door.

"You're quite the charmer this evening, Y/n." she spoke, slipping her fingers through yours.

"Think of it as your effect on me." you smiled coyly, leading her to the car.

—

The dim light from glittering chandeliers highlighted Yosano’s golden jewelry – your eyes transfixed by her graceful movements as she finished her choko of sake. Her eyes twinkled as her fuchsine gaze fell over your features. Slender fingers traced over yours as she tilted her head, seemingly analyzing the emotions in your eyes. She hummed with a light chuckle, appearing to be both pleased and amused at what she found.

The waiter brought the check a moment later, and you slid your card in between the leather. Together you finished the tokkuri, feeling the hot sake warm up your body as it went down. The waiter brought back your check and card, and you thanked him before signing it.

Standing up, you grasped Yosano's hand and left the classy establishment.

"Thank you for the lovely dinner." she spoke.

"You're welcome, but the night's not over yet." you voiced with slight mischief.

She looked at you with curiosity and miniscule suspicion as you led her down the street, nearing a melodious park.

The trees were wrapped in little glittering lights, and bright delphiniums grew from the soil with diverse shades of snapdragons and primroses. A small orchestra stood off to the side of the cobblestone center – a smooth, slow, and romantic composition blossoming from their instruments.

"Did you do this?" she asked, still observing the dazzled environment.

"Of course! Why else would I have left the office early?" you replied.

"This is beautiful, Y/n, thank you." she smiled sincerely.

"It's my pleasure." you said softly, taking her right hand in yours, as her left slid to your shoulder, and your right moved to her hip.

Together you swayed gently, basking in comfort and an ever-growing feeling of love – one that had been blooming since you first met five years ago. This chilled night under the stars would become the first of many with Yosano, and mark the beginning of the next chapter in your lives.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

taglist: @kunikinnie @valonava @nakaharaswife @chuuyasboots @livingforteaandorange @exo-lllllll @hnnnnnnnm

[screamintoad]

Silanche kid-Alaric Vanrouge

I liked both vers so take em. RSA pride and Diasomnia pride

“I was hoping to attend NRC like my sister but…maybe I fit in better here.”

Voice claim: TBA

Character info

  Alaric is a quiet and sometimes timid young man. He prefers his own company unless he’s around people he likes. Sometimes others will find him curled up somewhere taking short naps in between longer classes. Sometimes the third year students will poke fun at him because they know his sister went to NRC but he always brushes them off, until they find a snapping plant in their dorm rooms a few hours later. Despite that though he’s a straight A student, he’s quiet but he’s learned a lot from growing up in Briar Valley and around the royal family. He actually talks a lot to his roommate, especially about books they’ve read or are reading. 

  His household is quite large since it’s him, his older sister, his parents, grandpa, and great grandmother all living together. Not including the animals. But, he wouldn’t have it any other way. His mom told him about when it was just her and her grandma living together with their old dog and he’s always thought about how lonely they both must have been. At home in Briar Valley he’ll be all over town, from helping at his mama’s bakery, to his granny’s flower shop, to hanging out at the castle when Silver is on duty. 

Fun facts: Aroace icon. Certified mama’s boy. He doesn’t want to become a knight but he would be around his sister when she was training so he learned some things that way. Blanche and Granny Primrose made sure to teach him all about plants and botany, y’know, just in case. When he visits home, him and Fleur have a tradition of going on a trail ride past a waterfall that they’ve dubbed the “Fire Fall” because at sunrise the water appears golden-orange, then they’ll race back home and the winner chooses their next activity. 

Basic info

Age: 16

Height: 173cm/5’6 during first year, 185cm/6’ at graduation 

B-day: February 2nd (Aquarius) 

Dominant hand: left

Family: Blanche and Silver (Mama and Dad), Fleur (sister), Lilia (grandpa “old man” for funnies), Granny Primrose (great grandma “granny”)

Nickname: Lil bat (by family), Ricky (by friends)

1st year

Class B

Club: Horseback riding club

Best subject: Botany

Hobbies: Gardening, reading, baking

Pet peeve: People who can’t mind their business

Favorite food: His mama’s cooking

Least favorite food: His grandpa’s cooking

Talent: Tending to plants

Character dynamics

Fleur: Thick as thieves, they’re inseparable when either of them comes home. Even as kids he would always follow her around. If he’s busy with something then she’ll be the one to find him and hang out until he’s finished. 

Jane: Opposites into best friends. He doesn’t encourage her late night visits but he always hints that it’s okay. 

Luna Howl: If he has bite marks they’re from her. Somehow she always drags him into her and Jane’s shenanigans, yet he never complains. 

Joey Howl: Big bro. But seriously they’re close as well, he helped push him into confessing to Fleur. 

Mika Bucchi: Roommateee. They spent the first week at RSA in complete silence, until Alaric saw him reading one of his favorite books and got so excited he asked about his thoughts on it. Ever since then they’ve talked to each other a lot more. He still forgets to warm him when Jane visits. 

HOWL SIBS BELONG TO @blood-red-bumblebee AND MIKA BELONGS TO @twtysevapr

anddd extra tags: @gimmeurmoneyagh @babyghoul138 @bunniehunn @angelwishess @moonyasnow

@skibidibabygirl @justm3di0cr3 @midnightmah07 @beneathsakurashade @4necdote

@theolivetree123 TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED OR NOT

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Tagged by @calicoy

How-to: Post seven Snippets, from different stories or the same, it's up to you. Tag seven people to play next.

Tagging @likegemstone @thatndginger @tabswrites @authoralexharvey @blind-the-winds @runner-owen @duckingwriting

Writing under the cut (warnings for some blood/gore in the final snippet)

From that new Apophenia beginning:

Taking an assignment along the Broken Coast always got a reaction. Everyone from the archivist gathering relevant case materials to people not even in Isaac’s department eagerly volunteered a list of their deepest fears whenever they heard where he was going. Storms out that way were ten times as crazy—tornadoes, hurricanes, flash floods that could sweep away anything or anyone in their path. Then all the earthquakes left over from the break to boot? The drive from Chicago was brutal, at least twenty-six hours, assuming the highways were in decent repair and smugglers hadn’t set up roadblocks to ambush travelers. No civic guards in the territories made it a wonderland for criminals plying their dark trades, from thieves to serial killers. Any decent people that far outside a reliable grid scratched out an existence through hunting and gathering, their tech and habits straight out of the paleolithic. The coast was as far from civilization as anybody could get without joining half of California under the ocean.

Which was why Isaac had let out a sigh of relief when Director Khang told him this job was strictly classified. Not a word breathed to archives or his colleagues. Nevermind he’d been sent on the Coven equivalent of a wild goose chase. He got paid per diem anyway.

@dysthanasia-series or AO3 for updates

From some random later scene in Fair Trade:

The temple entrance had been carved out under a set of splayed finger bones. Or Celina took the twisted spires jutting from the crater wall to be fingers anyway. She counted seven aside from a thumb. All of them tipped with scythe-shaped talons that could have cut open a train boxcar like a tin can. She caught herself reaching out as she and Vess passed under. Whatever smoky, translucent black stuff made up the skeleton of the creature entombed within the stone had a curiously glossy texture. Something along the lines of fingernails or chitin. They produced a very unbone-like tink tink tink when tapped.

“What is this thing?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

Yet Vess paused, offering a shrug as it glanced over its shoulder. “A god. Dead one.”

Celina pulled her hand away and frowned down at her palm. No glitter or glow. Not even a residual tingle. Whatever deities were made of wasn’t all that special apparently. “What can kill a god?”

“Being a fool. The right weapon and timing. Crashing through the vaults of the heavens and landing face-first in the dirt. Same things as the rest of us. Now, are you done gawking?”

From The Primrose Path:

Despite the lack of any other living soul, the grassy area above hadn’t grown wild. A slim path of white bricks, swept clean and only slightly mossy, snaked its way further in. Belly full of dread but heart driven by determination, Ân followed it to a small, crumbling stone temple. A storm or maybe just age had sent a large tree branch crashing into the roof, caving half of it in. Vines dripping with bell-shaped white flowers were busy pulling down the walls. The anxiety that had been poisoning him for weeks drained from Ân. This? This collapsing hovel was the symbol of Shadyrus’s glory? He could demolish what remained with a few good kicks.

“Welcome, illuminator. We’ve been expecting you.”

Ân tensed at the crackling rasp in the otherwise mild voice. One that spoke Heaven’s Speech just as naturally as he did. He directed a glare at the figure in white robes he caught leaning against the wall by the arched (and doorless) entryway. This revenant had once been a man old enough to be a grandfather. Its jaw and cheeks were coated in a close-cropped gray and white beard. A crown woven from the wall’s small flowers sat atop its soft cloud of similarly pale hair. Despite the creases in its skin, the creature’s back and shoulders remained straight and strong, letting it tower over Ân.

“I take it your god is somewhere in this heap then?” he said, refusing to be intimidated.

With its lids half-closed over eyes gone the same blue as the sky, the revenant took on a dreamy look when it smiled. “Shadyrus is waiting for you below, yes.”

His heart gave a nasty lurch. “Below?”

“Take the winding stairs behind the altar. They go down into the vaults.”

@the-primrose-path-story or AO3 for updates

From a prompt that I'm turning into a possible future Dysthanasia scene:

Renato turned his head and leaned in a fraction as if straining to hear better. “I’m sorry. I thought you said you wanted me to—”

“Hypnotize me. Dorian says it’s possible to learn how to break out of bloodborn trances with practice. So…help me train.” However, Isaac kept his gaze—usually so direct, so sharp—trained on the far corner of the bedroom. One arm crossed over his middle, gripping the opposite as he shifted from foot to foot.

While his body certainly knew what it wanted, Renato’s mind (namely the conscience section) hesitated. “What prompted this?”

“Aside from the entire Unseen Hand wanting us dead now, you mean?”

“Ceph isn’t trying to kill us.” Not that they were going out of their ghostly way to help either.

It might’ve been hunger tinting Renato’s perception, but a warmer, rosy undertone crept into Isaac’s skin. “According to Kinslayer, I’ve got a bad habit of looking into vampires’ eyes."

From Whumptober 2022 Day 2:

Silver doesn’t burn. That’s the thing people always get wrong. They think it’s like sunlight is to bloodborn. It’s more complicated than that, however. Tilda might even say worse, but then she’s never been set on fire for comparison. Not yet. Her naked skin is mottled with bruises and crusted with old blood, the silver chains crisscrossing her chest and shackled to her limbs and neck heavy, cold. Her shoulder and hip ache from lying on the concrete floor of the cage. The cellar stews in the smells of spoiled meat, sour sweat, and animal piss. But her prison is also dark, quiet, cut off from the ersatz life of the Mayer household above. Tilda’s eyelids droop, her mind finally going fuzzy around the edges after hours, or maybe days—time doesn’t exist down here—without sleep.

Naturally, that’s when the lights snap on. The precise click click click of her mother’s heels on the stairs has every muscle in Tilda’s body ratcheting tighter, until she’s shaking. Inside her, the wolf raises its own hackles. Fur, wet and matted by her blood, rubs against the underside of her prickling skin, pushes against it. Phantom teeth nip at her pounding heart in frustration. Invisible claws scrabble against the bars of her ribcage before she can assert control. A growl vibrates up from her chest and rumbles out of her own throat when the wolf meets the barrier of silver, unable to tear its way out of her.

The rest of the scene is here.

From "Covenant", a short story for Halloween:

On they traveled until concrete and rows of houses gave way to grass and towering trees. A park, humans called it. The last remnant of land before it had been parceled into farm fields and tamed enough for the town to take root was what it was. Here it remained at the heart of civilization, the shadows of evening creeping across it like spilled ink as they had for millennia.

And, as they had for the past fraction of that, cats met beneath the tangled boughs for All Hallows’ Night.

White, silk-furred heirs of Persia sauntered in with sleek Siamese and temple-bred Maus. Rangy strays padded alongside fat housecats and barnyard mousers. Calicos, tabbies, maltese, pointed—all came to honor the pact they and their ancestors before them had made. They streamed in to where the ancient trees grew thickest. Where the chill had little to do with autumn and the barren branches overhead crisscrossed like a jumble of old bones. No birds flitted or called their goodnights there. The usual tiny creatures that skittered through the leaf litter hadn’t reported in for their graveyard shift. A dank, primeval smell gave the air a weight it didn’t have elsewhere.

Fur bristled along the backs of the younger cats as they passed under the cobweb-like shadows. Their elders led by example, pressing on into ever deepening gloom. Finally, they saw it. At the dark heart of the old grove the ground gradually swelled up under their paws, rising into a large mound. Shaggy tufts of gray-green grass covered it like a mangy pelt. Fissures scarred the damp earth.

Three silent figures waited for them.

The whole story is on AO3.

From Ch. 19 of Phagophobia:

Dimas had the enforcer pinned to the dirt, jaws clamped on eir shoulder. There was no romance to the scene. No seduction or grace. He snarled and shook his head like a (pale wolf on two legs) dog mauling (his tía) a shrieking rabbit. Quinn’s clawing and thrashing just tore eir wounds wider, deeper. Blood bubbled around Dimas’s lips, splattering his cheeks. Teeth still clenched, he jerked away, ripping fabric and flesh to ribbons. He darted back down to seal his mouth over the hemorrhaging fountain he’d created. Quinn’s sounds ebbed into more sob than scream.

He had Zamora’s pistol this time instead of his dad’s rifle, but Isaac figured it would do him the same amount of good. Thought faded away after that. He pounced on Dimas from behind. One arm wrapped around his waist for stability. His free hand darted to the bloodborn’s face. Fingers delved against hot gore. Wormed their way under snarling lips, aided by the life spilling out of Quinn. Sharp teeth split his skin, but Isaac tugged. Gentle but insistent.

Dimas vibrated with a warning growl.

Another tug. “Don’t,” Isaac whispered against the back of his neck. “Please. Don’t do it. You don’t have to. Please, please, please.”

Coming soon to AO3, patrons, and @dysthanasia-series