#sweet-brier

[drhoz]

The Great ACT-NSW-NZ Trip, 2023-2024 - North Island Volcanic Plateau

Strictly speaking the Taupō caldera complex is just one part of the volcanic plateau covering much of central North Island, which also includes ash deserts, crater lakes, lava plateaus, the Ōkataina caldera complex, and the Tongariro Volcanic Centre. It's very active - Mount Ngauruhoe for example, is a beautifully cone-shaped stratovolcano 2,291 m tall, and less than 2500 years old. In fact the plateau is currently the most frequently active and productive area of silicic volcanism on Earth.

You might also recognise it as Mt Doom from the LOTR films.

In 1974 a champion skier (and presumed lunatic) by the name of Jean-Claude Killy skied down the side of Ngauruhoe you can see here, as part of a promotional campaign for Moët & Chandon. He hit well over 100kph. And he was doing this while the volcano was erupting.

Mount Ruapehu, south of Ngauruhoe, is also active, but is also the site of the North Island's only glaciers and major ski resorts. The eruptions have certainly been deadly, but most of the fatalities occured on Christmas Eve 1953 when the tephra dam constraining the crater lake collapsed and sent a landslide of mud, rock and water down the Whangaehu River minutes before an express train came through.

In 2007 two climbers nearly drowned on top of the mountain, when they took shelter in an alpine hut 600m from the crater, and an underwater eruption in the crater lake drove a surge 2km from the crater. Luckily for them the floor gave way and the water drained into the seismometer vault beneath the hut. One of the mountaineers still had a leg crushed by boulders in the debris.

East of the volcanoes is Te Onetapu, also known as the Rangipo Desert. It gets a decent amount of rain and occasionally heavy snow, but doesn't hold onto any of it because the entire area is thickly buried in unconsolidated ash and other volcanic debris and it immeadiately drains away.

It also doesn't have any trees to speak of, because the supervolcano eruptions at Lake Taupo 26,000 years ago carbonised every living thing in the area, including the seeds, and the ecosystem is still recovering. Forests on the western side of Ruapehu were partly shielded by the height of the volcano, and survived.

While @purrdence spent a few hours at the military museum south of the desert, I drove back up the road and went looking for insects. Some were abundant, like the Tiger Beetles, but they amazingly frustrating to photograph, taking off and being whisked away by the wind the moment I came near. Or being chased off, sometimes in flight, by the aforementioned ravenous beetles. At least the plants stayed in one spot, and the bumblebee was enthralled by the blue paintjob of the car.

[1st-worldsaver]

Question to the world: is it time to panic when you see unpollinated springflowers when all the other ones are starting to fruit

[lilac-hecox]

Reddit Stories Guest Stats

So, for fun I kept track of the guests on Reddit Stories from when they began (counting current format and not the initial videos they did). The guests are in order of their chronological appearance except they are also in order of the number of the appearances on the show.

This is just for fun and for interesting purposes to see the break down of the guests on the episodes and what duos are featured most as of now.

I intend on keeping this updated as Reddit Stories comes out via editing and reblogging each week when a new episode comes out.

I'd love thoughts, comments, etc. on thoughts on this!

--

Smosh Reddit Statistics

Courtney & Angela: 4 – Relationships Gone Wrong | Relationship Flops | Reddit Soup For The Soul | 2024’s Worst Person

Chanse & Angela: 4 – Most Unpredictable Reddit Stories | Iconic r/AITA Stories | The Devil In Disguise | Congratulations Are In Order

Amanda & Arasha: 3 – Secondhand Cringe | I’m Sorry, WHAT? | Who Do They Think They Are?!

Courtney & Trevor: 3 – Am I The Ex? | You Won’t See This Coming | Are They Better Off?

Ian & Damien: 3- Most Disturbing Stories Yet | Play Stupid Games | The Messiest Relationships On Reddit

Ian & Courtney: 3 – Break Ups And Brush Offs | Nightmare Vacation Stories | Why Would They Do This?

Arasha & Trevor: 3- Are These Relationships Doomed? | Dating Dos And Don’t’s | Not So Happy Holidays

Olivia & Amanda: 2 – Revenge | What Were They Thinking?!

Ian & Arasha: 2 – Did They Go Too Far? | Stories That Make You Go “Oof”

Spencer & Tommy: 2- Office Nightmares | Shayne’s Favorite Reddit Stories

Ian & Anthony: 2 – Unexpected Reunions | It’s Brutal Out Here

Angela & Damien: 2 – Why Are They Like This? | And They Were Roommates

Amanda & Angela: 2 – Once A Cheater | Reddit’s Messiest Drama

Tommy & Amanda: 2 – Looking For Revenge | The Reddest Red Flags

Tommy & Courtney: 2 – Reddit’s Biggest Regrets | Friend Or Foe?

Courtney & Spencer: 2 – Worst Of The Worst | From The Weird Corners Of The Internet

Ian & Amanda: 2 – Am I Safe??? | Catching Flights And Starting Fights

Angela & Spencer: 2 – Is He Cheating? | Office Horror Stories

Tommy & Chanse: 2 – The 4/20 Episode | The Most Unhinged Dating Stories

Amanda & Damien: 2 – The Weirdest AITA Stories | Reddit Stories To Tell In The Dark

Tommy & Damien: 2 – It’s Just A Prank Bro | These Reddit Stories Will Blow Your Mind

Arasha & Courtney: 2 – Is Blood Thicker Than Water? | The Most Self-Centered People On Reddit

Chanse & Kimmy: 1 – Unhinged Holiday Stories

Mac & Jackie: 1 – Unhinged / Say Less

Spencer & Ian: 1 – Is She The Villian?

Rachel & Ify: 1 – Family Drama

Mac & Tommy: 1 – Gay Drama

Damien & Noah: 1 – Are They The Devil?

Damien & Courtney: 1 – World’s Worst Roommates?

Jackie & Keith: 1 – Toxic Friendships

Spencer & Noah: 1 – High School Drama

Ian & Tommy: 1 – Parties Gone Wrong

Chanse & Courtney: 1 – First Date Flops

Noah & Courtney: 1 – Siblings Stories

Noah & Amanda (Swell Entertainment): 1 – Getting Nerdy

Angela & Thomas Sanders: 1- Wholesome

Spencer & Zach Kornfeld: 1 – Try Not To Cringe

Chanse & Amanda: 1- Serving Drama

Amanda & CallMeKris: 1 – Scary Stories

Garrett & Olivia: 1 – Travel Horror Stories

Keith & Noah: 1 – The Dumbest Stories Of All Time

Chanse & Arasha: 1 – Not Getting Married Today

Tommy & Noah: 1 – They Did WHAT?

Courtney & Amanda: 1 – Am I The Grinch?

Arasha & Anthony: 1 – 2023’s Worst Person

Angela & Tommy: 1 – Feel Good For Once

Damien & Quinton Reviews: 1 – Offscreen Drama

Sabrina Brier & Angela: 1 – Mean Girls In Real Life

Courtney & Sarah Whittle: 1 – World’s Worst Co-Workers

Chanse & Mac: 1 – Party Nightmares

Tommy & Morgan (Two Hot Takes): 1

Trevor & Angela: 1 – Most Embarrassing Stories Yet

Arasha & Spencer: 1 – Spilling Reddit’s Secrets

Anthony & Courtney: 1 – The Best And Worst Friends

Arasha & Angela: 1 – Seeking Sweet Revenge

Cammie & Taryn: 1 – The Pride Episode

Arasha & Tommy: 1 – Back To School Stories

Angela & Mac: 1 – Updates Only

Spencer & Amanda: 1 – A Bad Case Of The Sillies

[milolovesbmc]

This might be the first ever gruesome playground injuries fanart…

Close ups under the cut!

Flower meanings (from top to bottom)

St John’s wort: Superstition

Astragalus: “Your presence softens my pain”

Sweet brier: A wound to heal

Anemone: Sickness

[fragrantblossoms]

Edwin Hale Lincoln (1848 - 1938). Wild Flowers of New England Photographed from Nature. Top- Rosa Rubiginosa, Sweet Brier, Eglantine / Middle - Rosa Carolina (Swamp Rose) / Bottom -Rosa Humilis (Pasture Rose)

[esotheria-sims]

Adam had been studying his spellbooks all morning. He'd been livid when he learned of Beatrice's run-in with the neighbour yesterday and vowed to put the insolent woman back in her place. Bea, sweet thing that she is, seemed to think that the neighbour had a point, but Adam was of a different mind. Nobody tells him what to do in his own home! And more importantly, nobody messes with his daughters!

For a Mellifera Attackum spell to work, he needed a Viper's Essence and two Eyes of the Newt. The reagents had to be crafted in a cauldron, but the instructions didn't seem too different from following a recipe. Adam was positive he could manage it.

Some hours later, Holly Brier was sitting at his table with a coffee and a sandwich, completely unaware of what was about to befall her. She thanked him for his hospitality and got up; as she turned to leave, Adam took his chance.

The spell hit the unsuspecting woman squarely in the back; a swarm of angry bees erupted out of thin air and immediately began circling a terrified Holly. Adam watched with amusement as she screamed and ran laps around his apartment, only to bolt through the door, bees still at her heel. Good! That should teach her.

Next time, she'll think twice before deciding to threaten his girls in his absence.

[k-vanity]

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire; I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon’s sphere.

Fairy from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream Act 2, scene 1, lines 2-7

Welcome, strangers, though I hope we can call each other friends by night's end. As you find your course through the fantastical veil, be cautious. What lurks may be either friend or foe. Safe travels.

Choose any prompt(s) and create a tale or graphic to celebrate the summer.

Prompts

Themes:

Reincarnation 

Mistaken identities

Transformations

Fae

Strangers to Lovers

Hybrids

Summer solstice

Love Affairs

Weddings

Royalty

Scenarios:

A stranger gives you a love potion, but it affects everyone you come in contact with, either making them fall madly in love or despise you.

Your dreams start to come true.

A fae Prince is looking for his soulmate, he stumbles upon your home, injured and desperate to make you remember who he is.

They knew hearing music in the woods was a bad sign, but why was it so pretty?

A late night walk along the beach with a stranger that’s actually your soulmate?

Dialogue: 

“I’ve been alive for seven hundred years, and you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not asking for your good graces. I’m asking for your throne.”

“You have everyone else in this family fooled, but not me.”

“I know it’s impossible to believe, but I think I might actually have feelings for you.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“This has been a wonderful date, but I think we should never, under any circumstances, ever see each other again.”

“If I told you, you’d hate me forever.”

“Why? Are you falling for me?”

“Oh, you sweet, sweet fool… If only you had seen what had already been right in front of you.”

“How did you not realize you were getting tricked by her/him?!”

“I think you should go outside for a bit. Take a walk, maybe hug a tree…”

“For someone who got raised by fae, you are exceptionally bad at recognizing when one wants to murder you.” 

Rules

Must be a member of the net

Writers - must be at least 500 words

Visual artists - can be moodboards, gfx, gifs, icons, etc.

Include prompt(s) in some part of your work

Tag #kdream and #kvanity

Net rules and regulations apply to the event

Event Timeline

June 20th-August 31st

M.list posted September 7th

[mybookof-you]

“…Mrs. Todd was an ardent lover of herbs, both wild and tame, and the sea-breezes blew into the low end-window of the house laden with not only sweet-brier and sweet-mary, but balm and sage and borage and mint, wormwood and southernwood. If Mrs. Todd had occasion to step into the far corner of her herb plot, she trod heavily upon thyme, and made its fragrant presence known with all the rest. Being a very large person, her full skirts brushed and bent almost every slender stalk that her feet missed. You could always tell when she was stepping about there, even when you were half awake in the morning, and learned to know, in the course of a few weeks' experience, in exactly which corner of the garden she might be.”

Sarah Orne Jewett, The Country of the Pointed Firs (1896)

[imaginedreamwrite]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CrNdEfMo9Kn/?igshid=MmJiY2I4NDBkZg==

Please would you write something on mod steve falling for the reader at first sight based on this reel

Please Please please ❤️

Arrangement of roses, picked up for a photoshoot by PA — Sarah

Steve’s expectations of what to come had been nearly undone by the small trail of petals left behind on the counter of his and his mom’s flower shop. The note left behind while she darted across the city to deliver a tray of bouquets for a wedding had given him little insight into who and what PA would be coming but apparently they had already come.

“Left a few.” Steve gathered the unbound roses in his arms and departed the shop for the street, following the petals until he had found the woman he was looking for.

Though a break and entering had been a mild concern to the client, Steve had to find amusement in the woman walking down the street trying to contain the bundle of roses in her arms. With as much mirth as he could anticipate, Steve had followed after her with long strides in order to keep up, bound and determined to catch her before she got out of view.

“Excuse me!” Steve called out and watched the woman stop and take pause, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. “Sweet-Brier-”

“Excuse me?” He caught up to you and welcomed your surprise even before he had felt the shift in the air, tension and a sudden pulse radiating between the two before it felt like puzzle pieces clicking into place.

“You forgot some of your roses.” His smile was on the cusp of awkward, he figured, and your confusion grew before mild embarrassment settled over you. “If you would’ve waited for a few more moments-”

“I’m late. My boss is a hard ass. I have to go-”

You cut each other off with further retorts, and then Steve lifted his head and looked passed you. The street was getting busier and he knew that if you hadn’t gotten some help your roses would be broken and damaged by the time you reached the location.

“Let me help you. Save you time from picking up the rest of the roses.” Steve’s offer hung in the air and there was a pause before a sigh fell from your lips.

You weren’t irritated rather you seemed rushed.

“Steve Rogers,” he spoke before you could, hearing your hesitation and I don’t trust strangers echo in his head, “I’m not a stranger now.”

“So that’s it? We hear each others thoughts?” You frowned, brows furrowed. “Fine. I don’t have any other options.”

“Do I get to know your name, Sweet-Brier?”

You scoffed, still a little distrustful.

“Suit yourself, Briar Rose.”

“I’m a princess who got locked away until my 16th birthday and cursed an entire kingdom. How do you know the princess?”

“Im a huge Disney nerd.” His smile grew and his eyes were softer than he anticipated.

“I don’t exactly look like Aurora.” You started walking and he was quick to follow you, carting himself off in the same direction after offering to carry some of the roses for you.

“She’s a a cartoon character, there’s no limit to what she looks like.” Steve added, slightly nudging his hip against yours. “Anyone can be Aurora.”

“You’re kind of odd, Steve Rogers.”

“We’re soulmates. You’re stuck with me.”

[elfboyeros]

Elfboyeros Masterlist

Every Original Work I have ever written is housed here, please enjoy!

Updated: November 24th, 2024

Content Key: Smut 💋 Angst🩸 Fluff🧸 Informational🗄️Mature Themes and LanuageⓂ️ Multiple Parts 📚 Slow Burn 🐌 Short (Less then 1,000 words) 🍰 Long post 🪜 Complete Series 🏁 Pictures 📷 Suggestive or Trigger Content (Warnings are also on the posts!)⚠️

Bridgehid

Bridgehid Secrets Ao3 and Wattpad | Bridgehidien Forest Ao3 and Wattpad | Brier's Three Ao3 and Wattpad

Bridgehid Secrets {Side A}🩸Ⓜ️📚🐌🏁

On their sixteenth birthday, orphan, Rowan King, is finally but in the care of their foster parents, Indigo, and Calvin Bookstone-Corals. While deciding to enroll at Bridgehid College for Magic and Alchemy Rowan, they discover that they there lost memories of childhood maybe connect to the hallowed institution.

Welcome Home | Returning | Class Morganite | Semester One | The Bridgehidien Ball | Rainy Days | Blackout | Family Dinner | Sneaking Around | The Gladiolus Festival | Healing Pools | Echoes | Down Tower | Until the Marigolds Bloom

Bridgehidien Forest {Side B} 🩸Ⓜ️📚🐌🧸

Now enjoying summer break with their friends, Rowan meets Estelle Venus a young girl their age that seems to be holding something against them. However, Rowan had no idea who Estelle is or what they done to her if they had done anything at all.

Summer June |

Brier's Three {Side C} 🩸Ⓜ️📚🐌🧸

On Marquis Island, there is something afoot causing many of Bridgehid College's healthiest students fall drained of any ability to perform magic or alchemy. The Bookstone-Corals children, Aurora, Alexandria, and Finnegan, take it upon themselves to figure out what is going on.

Raining Academics | Photogenic

Indigo and Calvin: Faithed EncountersⓂ️| Never🧸 | Cold Comfort 🩸🧸| Bloody Knuckles 🍰🧸| Black Satin, Purple Lipstick, & 8-o-Clock Dinner 💋🧸 | Their Northern Lights 🩸🍰| White Chocolate & Nutmeg🧸| Almost Caught 🍰Ⓜ️🧸 | Early Morning 🍰🧸| A Husband's Concern 🩸🍰 | Christmas Morning 🎄🧸🍰 | Hair and Statues 🧸🍰 | Sweet Spring 🍰🧸 | Keen Eye Ⓜ️🩸🧸🍰 | Bits of Patience 💋🧸 | Silence 🩸| Poisoned Coffee 🍰🧸

Others: Office Talk 🍰🩸 | Pride 🩸| Ceirse, Miel, and Trickster Ⓜ️🧸 | Gloves 🩸🧸🍰 | Embrasser les mains 🧸🍰

Information

Character Sheets📷🗄️| | Bridgehid Memes by @jj-pines 📷| Character Moodboards 📷

Hallows

Hallows Academy: Read on Wattpad and AO3

Hallow Academy Ⓜ️⚠️🩸📚🧸🐌

After a violent incident at a summer party, Amora Seawright is sent to Hallows Academy, a known school for troubled teens, by her mother. In a series of strange events, Amora acquires psychic abilities to commune with the deceased and unearth a rabbit hole incidents that she never wanted to become a part of.

Orientation | Favorite Subjects ⚠️ | The Dead Man | A Scholar's Rotunda | Overcast Coastline | The Chase | Snooze

| Before Senior Year⚠️🩸Ⓜ️|

Information

| Character Aesthetics📷 | Character Designs 📷 | Character Sheets 📷🗄️|

Purus Sanguis* 🩸Ⓜ️⚠️📚🧸

*Because Purus Sanguis has extremely explicit references and themes the series has its own separate Masterlist.

The Necromancer's Wife

Read Collection on AO3

A Collection of oneshots about an old necromancer and his rich painter Wife

Written Works

Neat Whisky 🧸Ⓜ️ | Party Games 🧸Ⓜ️ | Proposal 🧸Ⓜ️

Information

| Character Sheets 📷🗄️ |

[drhoz]

#2133 - Rosa rubiginosa - Sweet-Brier

AKA sweetbriar rose, or eglantine (Middle English eglentyn, Old French aiglantin, from aiglent 'sweetbrier'), from Vulgar Latin aculentus, from Latin aculeus 'prickle'. The leaves do indeed smell pleasantly of apple.

A native rose uncommon to rare across most of its native range - most of Europe - but a highly invasive weed everywhere else. The seeds, eaten with the very Vitamin-C rich hips, are easily spread by cattle.

Cooma, NSW

[malrie]

generated random numbers out of 250 (referring to table of contents) to pick my lineup because knowing me I’ll only want to read the ones I’ve already read or know about so… forcing myself to try new ones!!! They definitely won’t all be spooky though lol. I might sub in or add too if it’s too short or annoying which occasionally they may to be.

211 - Bluebeard

79 - The Water Nixie

240 - Misfortune

82 - Gambling Hans

179 - The Goose Girl at Spring

17 - The White Snake

26 - Little Red Cap (it’s like winning the lottery!!!!!!!)

189 - The Peasant and the Devil

242 - The Robber and His Sons

55 - Rumpelstiltskin (we’re back in business)

Already did Bluebeard so it’s a freebie for future me ^_^ / The Pea Test

25 - The Seven Ravens

50 - Brier Rose (my gacha luck is killingggg)

239 - Saint Solicitous

230 - Fragments

178 - Master Pfriem

139 - The Maiden from Berkeley

114 - The Clever Little Tailor

222 - Okerlo

210 - The Hazel Branch

186 - The True Bride

167 - The Peasant in Heaven

105 - Tales About Toads

84 - Hans Gets Married

A bit of these I already have gone through thanks to Grimm Reading lol but I’m happy to take another swing at them. I think this is definitely a well rounded selection of ones I’ve read or heard before and other wholly complete mysteries….. If I forget or miss a day I’ll just read the missing days alongside the story of the day. If anyone sees this or even cares I love you sweet pea !!!!! *3*

[foxclcves]

𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒆 (𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 04)

Howls in the distance echoed low and overlapped, gaining in numbers and moving closer, but the woman continued her trek through the forest without looking over her shoulder. The hood of her cloak covered her face from view and the occasional, whispering breeze that would find her between the thick trunks of ancient trees.

The creatures had been stalking her since sundown, when she had long since adequately distanced herself from civilization and any road. They skittered in the undergrowth and their eyes flashed gold and orange, like candles being hastened down corridors, their carriers desperate to escape the engulfing blackness of night. She felt no desperation in being surrounded. They were becoming more daring. The sky might have cleared, but on this night there was a new moon, leaving all across the land at the mercy of the darkness. And let them hide; blockade their windows and doors from any sort of monsters that lurked under atmospheric cloak, and let the humans’ hearths remain fueled until dawn. Her determination had not left her since she had entered this nefarious wood. She flinched not at any snarl or snapping of twigs, too close. They were becoming brave, yes; strength in numbers and low visibility on their side. But they still kept their distance, kept their gnashing, salivating jaws at bay, for they knew her to be a monster, too. Her smile never left her face.

The sliest of glimpses over her shoulder, and she saw a few flee back into the brush, the trees parting enough to lead her into an aisle of gnarled brier. They were well adapted, certainly; their coats not fur but grass and moss, always in a human’s sights but only seen out of the corner of the eye. They were fast and magnificent beasts, and the only thing that would give them away was their gleaming eyes, only visible if you were to look straight into them, but by that time, it might be too late. They used the brier now, no longer as subtle as they were when they first began following her trail. They shifted, blended, soft green smothered by vicious coils of vines and thorns. They tugged free of the abrasive plant without harm, shaking it off as a dog would and feasting their eyes upon her venturing figure yet again. She looked ahead, her chin lifting in the slightest.

If they devoured her, she would not be angry. Not at ravenous dogs for their cravings of flesh and blood. How starved they were, ever since humans became wary of these woods and seldom wandered far into it these days. No, her wrath would consume them first because her starvation vastly outweighed theirs, and it could not be conquered. Once it sank its own fangs into any unfortunate soul, it would hold them; clutch them until they were lifeless. Blood drained and left to stain the floor; stain the carpet, the bed sheets, absorbing into wood and oozing through, seeping into the earth. Lifeless in her arms, and hers, hers, hers. She was sure the beasts sensed this within her, their desperate tenacity keeping them at her heels but their instincts made them wander at bay. Her pace did not quicken, did not slow. She continued to take her time, oh, so slowly, and she would not be deterred by monsters. She was far worse than any wolf, for she did not need to wait for the death of a day’s sun to torment anyone. But she waited for the right time; oh sweet, prolonged reveal. For tormenting death was exactly what she set out to do.

[alder-saan]

The Path of Poisons .5

Sweet Brier

Larissa Weems x Gn! Oc

the Path of Poisons masterlist . [01] . [02] . [03] . [04] . [05] . [06] . [07] . [08] . [09]

words count: 1.2k

WARNING: I'm translating this from French to English. As it takes sooooo much time to do it myself, I use an automatic translator. BUT neutral doesn't exist in French so even if I proofread to change every "he/him/his" or "she/her/hers" in "they/them/their" I might miss some.

"Yeah, hello Thalia?"

*Rei ? Are you ok?*

"Yes, yes."

They switched the phone to her ear and jammed it with their shoulder so they could do their nails properly, sitting at the small table in their tiny greenhouse. At the other end of the receiver, they could hear Thalia tinkering.

"Say, I'm calling about your proposal to advise me to Mrs. Weems."

*Yeah? Have you thought about it?*

"Mostly I asked if the florist needed people and she said no, so well…"

*perfect, I'll plead your case*

"You don't tell her who I am, you just say I have degrees in botany, which is true. No mention of the book, no mention of ANYTHING that would allow him to identify me."

*okay boss!*

"So, how are things with Elizabeth?"

*Pretty good.*

"I'd like to meet her one day!"

*If you become a teacher, you'll meet her. Ouch, shit!*

"Are you okay?"

*Yeah, yeah, I pricked myself with a tooth from my saw.*

Rei chuckled and then made a face, they had a little overflow with their black varnish.

"What are you doing?"

*I'm making a birdhouse.*

"It's a little late, you know?"

*It will be useful for next year.*

"Especially for the wasps…"

*Well, it's gonna be a wasp house.*

"Be careful, 200 stings are deadly."

*who gets stung 200 times?*

"I don't know..."

*Well, I'll leave you to it, and submit it to your new crush right away.

"Stop calling her that."

*Don't act like she doesn't do anything to you. What did you say last time? "Why does she have to be so beautiful?"*

"Yeah, okay, I think she looks pretty good. But that doesn't mean she's my crush!"

*Yeah, for sure. Ciao.*

"Ciao"

And Thalia hung up. Rei tried to slide her phone along their arm. They couldn't touch it with their hands, because of the nail polish that wasn't dry. They waved their hands a little to dry it and then went back to their little house. They wanted to buy some flowers. They put on their jacket, their shoes, and then got on their bike. The city was not far from the land they had inherited, and from the little house that was on it.

After about 15 minutes of pedaling, they arrived in the city center. They hung their bike on a fence and walked through town to the florist. They stood for a while and looked at all the plants on all sides. The urge to buy everything on the spot was growing inside them. They looked for the flowers they liked best to put in a bouquet in ther house. Sweet brier. It's nice, it's pretty. They asked the florist for a big bouquet and she went to prepare it.

The door opened. It was Larissa, in her perfect updo, perfect dress and perfect make up. Rei tried not to stare.

"G… Good morning, Mrs. Weems."

"Oh, please, call me Larissa. May I call you Raine?"

"Of course you can."

Apparently, Thalia hadn't told her yet about the job. Good.

"Do you know anything about flowers, Raine?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. There are so many choices, I could use some advice."

"Well it depends on the occasion, is it for someone? Is it just to look nice in your living room? If it's a gift, who do you want to give it to? A relative? A friend? A lover? And then if it's for you, it depends on where you want to put it, and what that place looks like."

Larissa thought for a while. She hadn't anticipated all these questions.

"Well… I'm not sure. It was to put in my office at Nevermore. I like a little color."

"So you can match your office colors, or your colors…. Red roses would go great with the color of your lip ink."

Larissa blushed. Was Raine flirting with her?

"Oh, I see… But red roses are really meaningful… Isn't there something a little more… Neutral? Understand, I don't want everyone to start speculating about a fictitious lover."

"You're single!"

That wasn't a question. It was an observation, and amazement. Maybe a little hope, too.

"Uh… yes. Is that a problem?"

"What? No! I just… I just thought that a woman like you couldn't be single."

"What's a woman like me?" Larissa laughed a little. "And why is that?"

"I thought all the most beautiful women were already in a relationship."

They smiled at her. Larissa looked away, trying to hide her pink cheeks. She coughed.

"So, what do you recommend?"

"In that case, I think primroses would be great. You can choose the color."

"Renewal, huh?"

"Absolutely."

She smiles at Rei.

"Can I buy you a coffee?"

"I'd really like to, but I'm busy, I have to go home. It wasn't sensible to come to this store, I could spend all day here."

They headed for the counter when the florist notified her that her bouquet was finished. Larissa's smile disappeared when she saw the bouquet of sweet briers.

"Nice to see you again, Larissa Weems."

"Yes, thank you again."

Rei left, and put the bouquet of flowers in the little basket they had on the back of their bike. They were a little embarrassed that Larissa had seen the flowers… She might wonder.

Sweet briers, huh? Did they mean to give them to someone? Maybe it was nothing? Or was she mistaken? She had to check the meaning of the rosehip. She pulled out her phone as Thalia's number came up. Larissa picked up immediately.

"Hello, Thalia?"

*Hello, Larissa. I'm calling because I have a new candidate for the botany teacher position.*

"Who is it?"

*Raine. They've studied botany extensively. They don't know much about teaching but I can teach them. To be honest, they're going to run out of money soon and are desperate for a job, so I told them I'd plead their case with you.*

"Uh… Yes, we'll think about it, tell them to make a form, you will bring it to our next meeting."

*no problem, thank you very much.*

Don't forget to tell them to apply for housing if they want to sleep on the academy. And if they want to live there with someone else, they should specify that.

*They has a house, I think it will not be useful*

"Have a nice day"

*You too*

Larissa hung up the phone, a little annoyed. She had tried to get information about Raine's potential relationship status, but it hadn't worked… But who buys a house to live alone? Oh well, too bad. If Raine wasn't single, she wasn't going to make a big deal of it either.

[sweetbriermouse]

Welcome💕

Welcome to my page!

My Name: call me Brier or Rose 🌹

My stats:

CW - 171.8lbs (77.92kg)

SW - 175.6lbs (79.65kg)

HW - 230lbs (104.32kg)

My age - 24yrs old

Measurements: temp. Paused due to no measuring tape anymore.

Upper Thigh - 25in (63.5cm)

Mid Thigh - 21in (53.34cm)

Waist - 32in (81.28cm)

Underbust - 32in (81.28cm)

Hips - 42in (106.68cm)

Upper Arm - 13.5in (34.29cm)

GW1 - 165lbs (74.84kg)

GW2 - 155lbs (70.30kg)

GW3 - 145lbs (65.77kg)

GW4 - 135lbs (61.23kg)

UGW - 125lbs (56.69kg)

My height - 5'8" (172.72cm)

♡ I hate myself and my body. This page supports recovery, its just not for me. I don't want to get worse but when your entire body is falling apart from physical and mental illness ya choose your battles 🤷🏼‍♀️

☆ Chronically ill in multiple ways so this page includes not just 3D but also m3d1c4l problems, goals, fears, it's a vent blog it's a bit of everything

☆ I love a lot of things. Cozy games like stardew and sims, gardening, baking sweets (not that I can eat most of them, I can't handle sweets), anime, reading, makeup, and more!

○ Habits I am building are:

Less carbonation

Improving my diet (healthier shiz)

Walking daily (increasing steps until I can hit 10k with ease)

Skincare!!! Daily skincare!

Structure, learning structure for my best life!

Mental mindfulness - we on that hot girl boss girl shiz

I am also attempting to journal more often and practice my penmanship for those cute soft aesthetic academia styles for when I go back to college.

◇ Tracker

178 177 176 175 174 173 172 171 170 169 168 167 166 165 164 163 162 161 160 159 158 157 156 155 154 153 152 151 150 149 148 147 146 145 144 143 142 141 140 139 138 137 136 135 134 133 132 131 130 129 128 127 126 125

Aiming to be at or close to 140 by Christmas and hit my ugw by the end of February! I want to look my best when we move ���🤭

Stay safe 💕

[manwalksintobar]

North Winter  // Hayden Carruth

Coming of winter is a beech sapling rising silverly in a brown field in bramble in thicket the raspberry the rosemallow all gone to rust is a silver sapling to which in wind and the judaskisses of snow the starved brown leaves cling and cling.  

In spring the mountain was a fish with blond scales in summer the mountain was a crab with a green shell in fall the mountain was a leopard with a fiery coat in winter the mountain is a bird with lavender feathers and a still heart.  

Snow ice bitter wind the body of love.  

Where two boots labored yesterday across the snowdrifted pasture today each boothole is an offertory of bright seeds bittersweet yellowbirch hemlock pine thistle burning unconsumed.  

Stronger than destiny is pain and in the leaf the marvelous venature is stronger and in the year the last morsel of pancake of the forty-third breakfast is stronger.  

Caught in a brier of stars the lunar scrap blurred like paper fluttering in a gale carrying away a faintly remembered poem of a summer night.  

Twenty-two degrees below zero and only the blade of meadow like a snowpetal or foil of platinum defends the house from the glistening mountain and the unwinking moon.  

The morning ice on the window is opaque as beaten silver and the poet in his ninefootsquare hut stamps rhythmically breathing out plume after plume of warmth while the stove nibbles a few frozen sticks.  

In the snowy woods of morning the new deer tracks run cross and criss and circle among the snowappareled spruces and the gray maples telling of revels by night of joy and delight and happiness beyond any power of consciousness although the small green pellets mean a hard diet.  

The tamarack with needles lost and a thousand curled stiff twigs like dead birdsfeet takes the snow greedily and in snatches to cover its misshapen nakedness.  

Think not of chaste snow always nor of crystalline coldness think of spruce boughs like the swordblade breasts of negresses and of the bull mountain humped over the white soft valley and of stags raging down the rutting wind and of northern passion crackling like naked trumpets in the snow under the blazing aurora.  

The song of the gray ninepointed buck contains much contains many contains all a whole north for example the sweet sharp whistling of the redpolls caught overhead in the branches of the yellow birch like leaves left over from autumn and at night the remote chiming of stars caught in the tines of his quiet exaltation.  

The snowy owl moved across the snowsmooth meadow to the dark balsam without sound without wingbeat more quiet than a fish more effortless than the gliding seed as if it were a white thought of love moving moving over the pasture to home.  

Five jays discuss good and evil in a white birch like five blue fingers playing a guitar.  

Eons gone by the sea hissed among these promontories in ageless stress and despair now stilled but memorialized in the frozen whirl and floodtide of the snow.  

Like a frozen lake the sky on the bitterest night cracks in rays a black elm rising a spray of limbs revealing the longdrowned lurid moon.  

Cold hunger tripped her but her years held her downfallen in this snow hollow this small death valley where small beaks and talons will slowly chip her frozen being though in the snow desert she will not bleach and her eyes will stay soft and beautiful a long long time in the winter light and she will modestly wear her genteel tatters of old flesh and fur.  

The frozen brook sprawls in sunlight a tree of glass uprooted.  

Snow buntings whirling on a snowy field cutglass reflections on a ceiling.  

The dog flies with his ears across the snow carrying a deer’s legbone in his jaws the bone flops threejointedly and the little hoof dances delicately in the snow.  

The window the icicle the gleaming moon when the lamplight fails.  

The night is an immense cauldron four farms of boiling snow under a gale from the pole and the highway where headlights cringe seethes with a furious froth and melts away.  

This wind this screaming parrot this springing wolf this down fall this ab solute extinc tion this deton ating godhead this wind this.  

Blizzard trampling past has left the birches bent as in humiliation the soft scotch pines laid down as in subjection the beeches snapped at the top as in a reign of terror the balsams scarred but upright as in the dignity of suffering and all the woods in sorrow as if the world meant something.  

Pale dawnlight spooks the mist and the valley glimmers and higher behind the mountain whitely rises another peak in remote majesty a presence silent and unknown and gone by noon.  

In cold the snow leaps and dances lightly over the earth but in thaw the sullen fingers of snow heavily cling to each stalk and to every stone.  

Tracks of the snowshoe rabbit across the snow are a ridiculous ominous alphabet of skulls.  

The brook has holes in its cover this morning where the black water flows rippling menacing through the snow which mounds in untouched purity except where threaded prints of the mink delicately deathly stop to drink.  

Snow comes bits of light flake from the sky day breaks whirling in early night.  

Beginning with the palest and most delicate lavender deepening downward murex purpure arras of old brocade kingly loveliest hues imaginable snow blending the bare hardwood maples beeches birches forests called green in summer now this unbelievable intricacy shaded purple gray hanging wavering trembling over the valley this is the mountain.  

Heavy gloves or better mittens the north silencing savoring and saving that lewdword finger.  

After the thaw after illusion the cold comes again returning changed in aspect a great body of death and inertia a corpse flung down a whale perhaps gray and still and immense crushing everything day becomes hard and silent night stiffens heaving to support the weight while the woods groan and the soft snow turns metallic barren and brittle the house creaks under the burden in mindless suffering and its nails burst out with a sound of cracking bones moon sets in afternoon jays huddle say nothing and endure.  

Sky like fishblood deprecative lurid thin evening blush on the mountain and here the foreground very near a sheen of vitrescent snowcrust and reflected light thin lurid deprecative fishblood.  

Gunmetal snow icecolored sky granitic meadow sullen noon stunted yellowed loplimbed pine flayed birch elm tattered with empty nests poverty hunger bitten fingers retracting in splayed gloves dead sun gray hair poverty poverty.  

Wet fire it turns out is better than no fire.  

Sky yellow sky wet sky reeky sky lax some god’s old diaper.  

The day the brook went out was still midwinter locked in zodiacal fastness yet rain fell and fell in fact so much the snow turned green and the water in the brook covered the ice like urine until at one crack the whole damned thing let go ice and muddy water trees stones bits of lumber snow like a racketing express through a local stop and then subsided leaving the banks dark and dirty raw and torn with new patterns of rocks looking unfamiliar what a purgation it was wild and beautiful the result wasn’t bad either all told for now the brook is rising again after the long icebound repression singing a midwinter rebel song.  

Lover of balsam and lover of white pine o crossbill crossbill cracking unseen with of all things scissors seeds seeds a fidget for ears enpomped in the meadow’s silence silence a crackling thorn aflame in the meadow’s cold cold.  

i n  f o      e 39.   Snow’s downstrokes climb softly up the  c          r.

Lichen and liverwort laurel and brome lightened and gravamen of old stones a cellar hole far in foliate woods the dry cistern where sweet water stood the stepstone to nothing that summer entwined softly and now drowned in the snow.  

Astigmatism breaks the crescent moon into two images set asymmetrically so that they cross in the upper third like two scimitars flung down at rest in the Sahara.  

In freshfallen snow marks of pad and paw and even partridge claw go delicately and distinct straight as a string of beads but marks of a heeled boot waver shufflle wamble ruckle the snow define a most unsteady line then spell it out once so death knowledge being heady it hath not the beasts’ beauty goeth tricksy and ploddy and usually too damn wordy but drunken or topsyturvy gladhanding tea’d or groovy it arriveth it arriveth o you pretty lady.  

Lichen is a hardy plant hardy hardy taking sustenance from the granite ledge nouriture from the dead elm bole icy plant hoar plant living kin to rime the north plant flower of death poverty and resolution.  

On Lincoln’s birthday the forest bound in fifty degrees of frost stirs tentatively with a creaking here and there in the new strength of the noticeably higher sun.  

Four greens the aspen trunk the lichen on the aspen trunk the shadow of the aspen across the snow the vanished leaves of the aspen fluttering all over the sky.  

Under the hill a winter twilight darkens to evening colorlessly without sunset and yet the birches rising leaping across the way cry pink cry lavender cry saffron the instant the darkness freezes them.  

When conditions of frost and moisture are just right the air is filled with thousands and thousands of points of light like the fireflies come back only tinier and much more brilliant as if the fireflies had ghosts to haunt the February night.  

Small things are hardest to believe a redpoll snatches the drops from an icicle.  

In late winter cold nights and warm days bring the untimely harvests bright pails and smoke in the sugarbush and the snow called cornsnow on the mountain whining under the skis like chickfeed plunging in the chute  

One day music begins everywhere in the woods unexpectedly water water dripping from fir boughs spilling from ledges singing unexpectedly as when a woman sleeping speaks a strange word or a name so winterfolk the chickadees give over harshness for a sort of carol and the poet appears emerges brushing the mist from his shoulders amused and yawning tasting the snowwater crumbling a bit of tanbark in his teeth water water the pools and freshets wakening earth glistening releasing the ways of the words of earth long frozen.  

Aterword: What the Poet Had Written

. . . and sun the blear sun straggled forever on the horizon an unvarying scrutiny around around as they limped and stumbled holding each other against the wind over the ice that crumbled under them in the tremors of unseen currents and the compass plunging and rearing the sun the livid sun smeared in the wind watching watching never relenting till exhaustion inundated them yet they slept with their eyes open clinging together just as they walked often with their eyes shut hand in hand and fell at last tripped on their destination their sextant snagged their compass wild with incomprehension and they looked over the sides of the world    The sun the bloated sun ever on the horizon ballooning and they shuddered and turned to each other and then dropped down their plumbline under them and payed out its knots hand over hand to the end to fifteen hundred fathoms and felt the plummet still swinging in the void. . . . . . nothing they were nothing afloat on nothing frozen by the winds of nothing under the meaningless glare of nothing’s eye there where the compass points down there where the needle turns in. . . . . . why had they come so far what had led them drawn them into the remoteness and the hostility of north what did north mean and why why was one of them black and the other white these were the points in doubt    There in confrontation they gave over the last dissemblings and the last nostalgias nothing against nothing yet more than that the infinitesimal nothing against the nothing of all the nothing of the real and in this giddiness they became at last the objectivists    They drew back not in fear for fear had consumed itself but as the painter retreats from his canvas and so they saved themselves now seeing how this was their only virtue the withdrawing mind that steadies before reality and they turned slowly together through the whole arc of absurdity with outstretched hands bestowing cold benediction on the north and then sank down    Another confrontation stoned them as they peered into each other’s eyes . . . . . . and saw nothing nothing    Oh in the low gutteral inner voice they exclaimed the misery the destitution of nothing. . . . . . and saw nothing except yes this is the object nothing except the other’s returning gaze which each knew also saw nothing And in this likeness this scrap of likeness that contained their likelihood they arose once more calmly the tall twin centers of compassion in the wide field of cold and horror    And the sun the huge sun circled around them. . . . . . they came back trudging in love and hardship while the sun took a month to set cowering lidless on the extremity of the ice floe where they crouched    Aurora flickered and mounted pale brightening caparisons of yellow and green falling fluttering swaying in such majestic movements that that elemental silence pealed with trumpets and they truly listened with their eyes    Did they then see with their ears the changing simplicities of wind and snow the purity of whiteness whispering everywhere in dunes and fastnesses and cascades Reality gladdened them and all the more when the astonished walrus fell off his seat backwards whopping the sea and they smote their knees and wallowed in the snow. . . . . . north is a horror from which a horror grows a purity and fervor to which in opposition an equal purity and fervor supervene north is the latitude of the near remote lying beyond hope and beyond despair lying in destination where the compass points down the needle turns in where the last breath of meaning is borne away on the cold wind north is the meaninglessness of beauty uncaused in the complete object auroral flickerings on the eternal snows the eye swimming in the mind’s deluge the blue mountain floating on emptiness the shadow of the white bear gliding underfoot north is the vacancy that flowers in a glance wakening compassion and mercy and lovingkindness the beautiful dew of the sea rosmarine the call dying in silence so distant so small and meeting itself in its own silence forever north is north is the aurora north is deliverance emancipation . . . . . . north is nothing . . .  

(found at the Virginia Quarterly Review, issue 40: summer, 1964)