#taking cuttings of a plant they will never see in full bloom

[plantanarchy]

interesting thing today was i was planting up the trial poinsettias and on some of the tags they had a label with a bar code and i was able to figure out that the label was actually the name of the worker who had taken the initial cuttings.

in ethiopia. all the names were ethiopian. these particular poinsettia cuttings shipped from ethiopia about a month ago to somewhere in michigan where they were rooted out and then sent here in pennsylvania where they were planted and will live here for the next five months.

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[satoruhour]

nanami who loves his sweetheart gf so much bcs she's so good to him (giving him the nastiest head and taking his thick cock like a champ)

a/n: sorry guys ty for waiting, finally got the theme up! enjoy x / very fun to witness these three @marimogf @jabamin @redskyvenus ’s live reactions last night LOLOL (1.5k)

warnings: fem!reader, dry humping, semi-public oral (m! receiving), almost getting caught, deep throating, cumshot on face, brief unprotected p -> v sex, gojo being annoying as always, n*sfw under the cut

nanami never forces you into anything you don’t want to do — you’re not too big on changing the deteriorating dresser because it was a gift from your mom, nor were you keen on changing from echire to yotsuba hokkaido butter even if the former option was a little pricier. he simply accepts it because you could do no wrong in his eyes, but this, he feels that you’re hurling head first into this.

he can’t help but check his watch every few seconds even when the meeting was supposed to be fifteen minutes later, while you sat obediently in his lap with arms around his neck. he keeps sparing glances toward the locked door, too, and you only bring his face back to you with a frown.

“do you not want me to?”

“no— no! no, darling, i’m just worried if i’m forcing you into anything since you’re not one to reject often. are you sure?”

and if nanami wasn’t sure about your answer before, you lean forward to press another kiss to his lips, slipping your tongue in just to feel his. under you, you can feel him growing against your cunt, grinding down against his bulge until he starts groaning softly. you take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, infectious giggles affecting him, too when you feel a smile appearing on his face.

he lets you do anything always (you could do no wrong), letting you loosen his tie and unbuttoning the first button of his shirt just to mark the skin there. it blooms into a bluish-black, something that you admire after sucking at his neck. he makes sure your hips don’t stop, either, large hands planted on your ass to keep you grinding.

“kento . .” you mumble, thighs around his body tightening and tensing up as you hump your clothed core into his hard-on, the restriction of fabric so irritating yet exciting. and he responds by moving his hips into yours as well, mumbling praises into your lips — but, as always, gojo has to be annoying.

nanami grunts when he hears a message notification sound out.

[9:54am, gojo -> nanami]: HEELLLOOOO GOOD MORNING NANAMI !!! r you comin to the meeting in 5 min????? i think the higher-ups want cams on btw ~~~

he gives you an apology at having been interrupted, but you don’t mind when you’re patting his cheek and leaving his lap to get to your knees, smiling from under his desk. he’s just glad gojo isn’t here physically to see nanami be so filthy, mentioning something about going to the countryside for some nasty curse, but you? he’s so thankful you didn’t twist your face one bit at his request (“are you up for some . . mischief during the higher-ups meeting, doll?”).

the way he asked too was cute, feeling the lewd words get stuck in his throat but you know what he’s referring to anyway, quieting his fears last night with one sweet kiss. 

and nanami spares one last glance to you, a grateful smile before he clicks into the meeting, turning on the camera. only then do you get to work, letting nanami feel a sense of security before you’re unbuckling his belt and removing the underwear. as usual, the sight of his cock never fails to give a chill right down to your pussy, hearing him hiss when the air touches his shaft.

“pretty,” you mumble to yourself, wrapping a careful hand around his length before you’re pumping him to full hardness, swirling your tongue around his tip just a little to test the waters. you knew these meetings never needed for the sorcerers to turn their mics on, so you could be as sloppy as you wanted to.

before long, you start bobbing your head and his hands drop to his thighs to squeeze at it because your mouth just feels so damn warm, mirroring exactly how your pussy felt just last night.

even with the mic off, you try to keep the sloppy gurgling noises to a minimum, but it’s proving difficult when there was just so much saliva. with one hand, you’re stroking the base of his cock and the other plays with his balls, squeezing and fondling when you hear nanami groan out loud. you grin.

you know he’s already checking the microphone symbol every second, but your mouth just does that: make the ever stoic nanami lose control over everything.

“s-shiit . . baby,” he mutters, hiding his mouth with his hand, “mouth feel so fuckin’ good, darlin’.”

you hum from under the table, like a devil’s temptation and nanami caves so easily, glancing down to see you take his fat cock like a champ. there you are, spit and pre-cum smeared all over your face as you lick the underside of his length from its base right to his tip before tapping his cock on your tongue, slaps reverberating throughout his office.

“good girl,” he grins, rolling his office chair closer to you just to see his cock enter your mouth again before a resounding first-grade sorcerer nanami kento, is everything okay? comes through his laptop speakers and he scrambles, eyes blown wide and fingers searching for the unmute button.

“everything is fine, gakuganji-san, just—” nanami clears his throat, “thought there was a bug on the floor.”

the higher-ups don’t care, frankly, but the thrill was still there; at being found out, at being caught. blindly, he reaches for your head, watching his reflection in the meeting call just to make sure he isn’t making any suspicious faces before he’s pulling you right onto his cock.

“mmph—!” you let nanami use your mouth, bringing you right down to the base of his cock where your nose met with his blonde pubes, and you try your best to breathe through your nose. your nails dig into the sides of his thighs, prompting him to look down again and nanami gives himself some leeway. if the higher-ups didn’t care, he wouldn’t either, looking at his baby kneeled under the table so adorably.

“you’re taking it so well, doll, fuck,” he swears, feeling sweat run down his back from just how collected he’s trying to look on camera, “still bein’ a pretty girl even with all that cock down your throat.”

his words make your pussy throb, but you’re too busy trying not to gag when his tip touches the back of your throat; one sound from you is enough, though, for nanami to pull you off of him, easily finding your chin and grabbing hold of it. with repeated glances to the screen and you, he decides that your stuck out tongue is too pink and perfect to waste it on paying attention to a lame meeting.

with the other hand nanami starts pumping his cock, moaning shamelessly, now. his lips part in low profanities and groans, spurred on by the wet shlicks of his stroking hand that gathers both his pre and your saliva. even without words, you sit there with tongue out and eyes trained on him, just begging and asking.

“please, kento,” and then the words send him into overdrive, “wan’ your cum all over my face.” his grunts turn louder, choked and strained and he’s sure his quads are pulled so tautly from how close he is to cumming. 

“c— close, ’m gonna give it all to you, yeah?” you nod, scooting closer on your knees while his hand switches to quicker strokes, desperate for release until you make the mistake of suckling on his tip, the added stimulation making his cock twitch and soon your mouth is full of his cum. it overflows so much that it spills onto your face, too, his hot, thick seed covering your cheeks in white.

“o-oh . . fuuuck, doll,” nanami continues to pump himself, drunk on ecstasy as his whole body shakes and your grin while licking the cum from your face, cleaning up perfectly until you’re turning around and presenting your ass to him. he almost ends the call right there and then, staring hypnotised at your unclothed pussy that you must have taken off when he wasn’t looking.

like always, you can do no wrong, wriggling your ass back just onto his still weeping tip until he can just barely feel the warmth of your pussy and he chokes out your name again.

“c—can’t . .”

“can’t, or won’t, kento?” you scooch back again onto his dick, juices dripping from your pretty cunt that he exhales. gakuganji is wondering what’s wrong again though so he calls on your boyfriend again and he answers with a callback to his previous reply — “s-sorry, gakuganji-san, it wasn’t a bug but rather an arachnid. y-yeah, they scare the crap out of me, so please continue on without me.”

the camera’s and mic’s off and nanami simply falls from his office chair, fully sheathing himself in you with a loud whiny moan. he wastes no time, thrusting into your tight pussy and obsessing over how it wraps around him like a vice, too drunk on you to notice another notification from the annoying sorcerer.

[10:23am, gojo -> nanami]: didn’t know u were freaky like that. care to invite me next time?

[the-real-fandom-person]

SAGAU-related brainrot knocking around my skull lately: Lady Maria!Creator.

Noble, graceful, remorseful, powerful, melancholy, otherworldly Lady Maria. The Creator isn’t a pure and untouched soul, she’s a scarred and battle-hardened warrior, ridden with guilt. Trauma has made her cold, yet paradoxically gentle.

Teyvat makes lumenflowers blossom everywhere to herald Maria!Creator’s arrival. Big ones, small ones, towering ones, blooming after sundown alongside the glaze lilies. Even in extreme temperatures, the cold, pale flowers make themselves at home. Slotting peacefully into the local ecosystems without becoming invasive. 

The Pari and the Aranara wake up to find lumenwood groves just outside their respective homes. The Melusines become enamored with these new ‘moon blossoms’ sprouting throughout their village, even the parts that are completely underwater. Amurta students and Fontaine researchers scramble over each other to study this new species. Nilou makes M!C a lumenflower crown, and it replaces her hunter’s cap for the day. Nilou gets the first ever hug from the Creator. Suck it, Azar.

Albedo and Sucrose experiment on these new plants immediately. Xiangling is already using it in some strange new recipe, something Chongyun will actually eat for once. Tighnari, Ganyu, and Shenhe take curious bites out of a lumenflower cutting. The taste isn’t unpleasant, just incomparable to anything else in Teyvat.

Inazuma characters, especially Kazuha, are absolutely fascinated by the Rakuyo (and maybe a little jealous). So graceful is M!C with her strange weapon, so easily she wields it on the battlefield. Every blacksmith in Teyvat hears the words ‘trick weapon’ and takes it as a challenge. Many come close, but none can truly replicate the genuine articles. May they never have a true need for beast-slaying weapons.

Imposter AU? With one of Bloodborne’s toughest bosses? Laughable. RIP anyone stupid enough to try. And if there’s a fake Creator pulling the strings? Not after a quick visceral attack, there isn’t. M!C pulls a blood blade to cut down the imposter’s guards (she notices the stars in her blood that weren’t there before) and the imposter receives the most satisfying visceral ever. 

Up to this point M!C put no stock in the ‘god’ thing. All she sees is mad cult, led by a petty and jealous brat on a power trip. But then she sees the stars in her blood, hears the voice of Teyvat itself, puts two and two together and just… laughs hysterically, because this whole situation is patently ridiculous. Byrgenwerth and the Healing Church failed in their quests for ascension, their heinous crimes being all for naught. Now here she is, thrown headfirst into unwanted ‘godhood’ and getting hunted by her supposed worshipers. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

Once people see the cosmos reflected in M!C’s blood, they fall over each other trying to apologize. Since she’s reached negative patience for everyone’s bullshit, she ignores them and fucks off to the Nightmare. After coming into Teyvat, M!C gained the power to enter and exit the Nightmare at will. The Nightmare doesn’t bend to her will, but it doesn’t treat her as an intruder. The Silverbeasts and Winter Lanterns don’t bat an eye at her presence. She’s a true denizen of both the waking world and the world of dreams, now. 

That night, every soul in Teyvat has the same nightmare - the Celestial gods attempting to forcibly summon the Creator, only to have themselves snatched from Celestia and dragged into a hostile, eldritch world of unfamiliar mish-mashed environments. At every turn, it is full of nightmarish creatures out for their blood. One by one, all but a select portion of Celestials become beast food, with M!C protecting the final ones herself.

Celestia, responsible for planting the fake Creator, falls from the sky the next day, its grand architecture reduced to mere rubble that rains from the heavens. Found amongst these ruins are the mangled, blood-drained and half-eaten bodies of Celestial gods. Spears made of blood impale many of the bodies, spears that seem to have sprouted from inside the flesh. Those that still have intact faces bear identical looks of horror. They find The Sustainer of Heavenly Principles in literal pieces - crushed and torn apart by hands that must have been the size of a grown man.

New stars and constellations appear in the night sky, as the illusion created by Celestia slowly fades. The curse placed on the people of Khaenriah gradually dissipates as well - the hillichurl tribes withdraw from the world, content to leave it alone. Every day, the curse lifts a little more from the people of Khaenriah; one day, Dainslief, Pierro and all the rest will finally be able to die. 

In Celestia’s place rises a second moon - a snow-white harvest moon, always full, large and visible even when clouds blanket the sky.

The Archons try to follow M!C into the Nightmare, but like Celestia, they get their shit wrecked by the denizens of the Frontier. The Archons don’t die for real, they’re just permanently cut off from the Nightmare. It takes Nahida, with dream powers of her own + Traveler and Wanderer in tow, to reach M!C and convince her to give the people of Teyvat a second chance. Nahida succeeds because she has the sense to treat M!C as a person, not some untouchable idol.

Sumeru is warm and welcoming, nothing like Yharnam or Cainhurst. M!C has fond memories from her time as a Byrgenwerth scholar, and the Akademiya feels like home. Sumeru becomes M!C’s preferred nation by default, to the pride of the locals and the despair of everyone else.

M!C has trouble wrapping her head around how mundane Teyvat’s supposed ‘gods’ are. Elemental powers or not, these Archons are too human to be divine; the only divinity M!C knows is eldritch, alien, far beyond mortal comprehension. The Traveler is fractionally closer to true godhood than any Archon. But then, just as the Great Ones were beyond human comprehension, so too are humans beyond the understanding of the Great Ones - perhaps it’s better for humans to have human gods.

Speaking of gods, M!C and Nahida bond over their dream-related powers. If this is before the climax of the Sumeru quest line, the Akademiya gets real quiet, especially when M!C publicly points out how asinine their logic is (she was closely associated with Byrgenwerth and Laurence, she knows their kind all too well). For all of his failures, all the disastrous consequences, Vicar Laurence at least had genuinely good intentions; these fools only care about themselves and preserving their own power. Scaramouche, Azar, the traitorous Sages - selfish, ignorant children all, meddling with forces they only pretend to understand. Crushing them herself is merciful compared to the other outcomes.

Through tactical manipulation of dream worlds, M!C busts Nahida out of baby jail long before Traveler and co. have to, and the Akademiya goes into panic mode because the Creator herself is coming for them. Traveler and co.’s plans turn instead to finding the hidden laboratory under Sumeru City - the combined power of dreams horrifically distorts the battlefield around the Shouki no Kami, even after his defeat. M!C doesn’t kill Azar after the fact, but she doesn’t let him go into exile empty-handed... because she cuts off his hands. Cyno is too unsettled to laugh.

Scaramouche resents her for her part in ruining his apotheosis (and because the Creator didn’t do shit for him in his tragically long life) but as the Wanderer, he and M!C bond over a shared disgust for the Second Fatui Harbinger.

And speaking of the Fatui... Well, they try to recruit her to the cause, and she has this to say:

“I’ll not serve your organization while any part of Dottore yet lives. For too many years, I stood by and did nothing while so-called ‘doctors’ brutalized the innocent and vulnerable for their supposed research, their dreams of godhood and divine revelation. Never again. If your leaders possess a shred of self-preservation between themselves, then perish the thought this instant.”

Fatui agent(s): ...

They don’t give up, of course. The less friendly ‘recruiters’ get sent back to Snezhnaya in pieces. The only Fatuus M!C tolerates is Tartaglia, because aside from being the Traveler’s friend, he’s a decent punching bag/sparring partner. She finds his Foul Legacy transformation cute, like a kitten baring its teeth at a lion.

Related idea: M!C meets Dottore’s remaining segment, and after everything she’s heard (let’s say from Collei and Wanderer, maybe Nahida too) she barely lets him get two words in before cutting his head clean off. Will this affect Dottore in the long run? Probably not. Does it make her feel better? Yes, actually. Collei certainly isn’t upset by the news. Wanderer is, only because he feels M!C was too merciful. She lets him dismember the segment so they can stuff it in a box and send it back to the Doctor as a warning.

If a scourge of beasts were to descend on Teyvat, probably because of Dottore M!C would lead the defense. This is not a war that mortals alone can fight, she insists. By her orders, every available god (herself included), adeptus, dragon, and most of the older allogenes are on the front lines, staving off the worst of the horde. Pyro users are in high demand, for the beasts fear them the most. In lieu of blood ministration, the various healers of Teyvat are working ‘round-the-clock. An entirely new crop of Vision-wielding healers spring up, because Teyvat’s top god herself unconsciously wills them into existence. Because M!C would never make use of the Old Blood, not after seeing and experiencing its effects firsthand. The burden of being a capital-H Hunter, the sweet, intoxicating call of blood - M!C remembers Byrgenwerth’s sacred adage, and she has learned from the mistakes of Vicar Laurence. Yharnam was merely the latest in a cycle of destruction, all because of the Old Blood. She will not doom Teyvat to suffer the same fate.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the wall between us

kinktober, day sixteen

a/n: ...yeah, this one is weird, but also kinda wild

summary: pov, you live in a cult where there is an impregnation ritual on your 18th birthday

warnings: steve harrington x reader, smut, cult au (they are both members), cult leader!jim hopper, weird birthday impregnation ritual, public sex, fem gloryhole, breed kink, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, forbidden romance

word count: 773

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“Always a blessed day when a flower blooms and becomes ready to expand on our wonderful family,” you heard Jim, your charismatic and adorn leader boast from the other side of the thin wooden wall, “now, gentlemen, let us bow our heads and pray, please, grant me the power to deduce who will bless this girl with a babe….” after a moment of dead silence, Hopper broke it with a loud, “ah! I can see it!” the others in the audience rumbled as he finally revealed, “it is you!”

“Me, sire?” a voice in the crowd cut through, sounding completely taken aback. 

“Yes, you bear the seed she needs, my child,” his proclamation prompted the other members to cheer loudly as you heard footsteps near. 

Laying on your back, legs resting up against the wall, you felt a gust of wind kiss your bottom that stuck out of the meticulous cut-out, indicating that a person had stepped up.  

“Hi,” he greeted in a hushed tone, the crowd still bustling from behind him. 

“Hello,” your fingers apprehensively fiddled with the fabric of your white dress, crumbled and gathered at your waist. 

“Uh, happy birthday.”

“Oh,” you blinked a second, surprised by his demeanour, “thank you.”

“Can I ask you something?” his low voice was clear, though his touch hadn’t found you yet.

“Sure.” 

“Are you nervous?” 

“A little, yeah,” you gnawed at your bottom lip, “I’ve just waited for this for a very long time… are you?”

“I know I shouldn’t be, but he’s just never picked me before, so…” he admitted, staying quiet a moment before checking, “is it alright if I begin?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you rushed to say, adrenalin pumping through your veins. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt his touch ghost over your skin, just your hip, the exposed part of you that was the furthest away from your core. Your fingers tightened their grip on your dress as his gentle touch slowly fluttered closer to your presented pussy, “is it strange that I wish I could see you?”

“Not at all,” he nearly chuckled, “I feel the same way,” his broad thumb came up to brush over your glistening folds, his touch staying ever so light as he tickled your clit. 

Just then, you heard a heavy pair of boots come near, “come on, son,” you heard Jim whisper into the man’s ear, “you haven’t got all day,” a threatening aura laced his tone, “complete the ritual,” a callused hand suddenly crept over your skin, “look,” and without warning, a finger plunged into you causing you to gasp, “she’s practically begging for you to pump her full,” momentarily curving his digit, he tickled a spot inside of you that made you shiver, “don’t make me pick somebody else,” though his controlling touch then faltered, parting ways by swiftly landing a sharp slap across your bottom, a hushed yelp bubbling from your lips. 

“I’m sorry, sire,” the man quickly apologised, hastily rushing to bury himself in you. 

Turning his attention back towards the crowd, Jim then roared, “and the ceremony has officially begun!” boisterous cheers promptly erupted, “soon we will be blessed with more abundance!” 

Keeping his voice low, you heard the man whisper as he bucked into you, “I’m sorry, I really wanted to do this differently, take our time…”

“It’s alright,” you breathed, “it’s how it's done…” your whole body rocked with each of his efforts to fulfil his duty. Planting your palm on the wood parting you two, where you presumed his visage was, you couldn’t help but imagine what he looked like… exactly the way his hips snapped into you… had his hair fluttered down to obscure his vision? Was he looking at you and you alone? Because if he looked anything like how he sounded or how he felt, then you couldn’t even begin to comprehend what that could mean, but what you did know was that it enticed you in a way you’d never felt before, “…maybe one day we’ll meet again and there won’t be a wall between us. Will you show me then how you had wished to do it?”

With a low and strangled moan, you felt him twitch inside of you and his movements quickly slow as he filled you up. 

“What’s your name?” he asked breathlessly. 

“Y/n,” you felt your heart flutter as you stared at the wall, “and yours?”

“Steve,” he whispered, his touch warm as his fingers fluttered over your goosebump-ridden flesh, “I’ll find you, Y/n. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I promise I won’t stop till I do.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[tgirlrobot]

Karyn Felicidae, Third Floret was a very sneaky floret. She knew that if Mistress had caught her in the act she'd probably be punished in an absolutely embarassing way, but she didn't want to dwell on that while she carefully cut a small piece of ribbon. The last time Maryn was caught with scissors, and god forbid, cutting some material, she was put into a doll-body with no motor control for a week! Mistress was especially mean to her during that time, making her say such embarrassing things like how she "loved her Mistress so much" and that "she would always be a good girl" and and and...

A small mental hiss of xenodrugs stopped the thoughts from going off-course. her spine-friend, her Haustoric Implant, she reminded herself. She needed to stay on travk while she built this... what was it she was building again? No matter. She laid the ribbon into a bath of ichor-black goop before placing it on the handheld structure, smiling as it contracted into a small, loose curl before the substance grew transparent, showing the shining silk underneath.

"Darn 'fini and their dumb... stuff." Karyn muttered to herself as she placed a green rod into the contraption, nodding to herself as she watched everything warp around it, accepting the additional mass and shifting it about, adding onto the figure in front. This was absolutely helping her escape plans of finally rejoining her crew before launching her attack on the stars-darned evil plants that gave her this pretty dress and fancy collar...

Who knows what they've done to her head, though! She might be a brainless slave working in the mines and all this was right now was a machination of her mind! Perishing that simply idioitic thought, Karyn simply fitted the final piece of glass into the masterpiece of an escape tool before leaning back, taking in the full thing in all its two-foot wonder. Green strips of material swung around and around, creating ropes and intricate patterns implying a greater depth to the humanoid model. Moss and red ribbon laid on the top, creating a facsimile of terran hair. Half-moon glasses sat in front of a pair of diamond gemstone eyes.

"Perfect!" A voice harmonied Karyn's, looking upon the mkdel figure of herself. "Look at all that detail, pet! Aren't you proud~!"

Karyn turned around to see her. Mistress Dandel Felicidae, 12th bloom, clapping a pair of woven vined hands together excitedly. The doll in her hands being a significantly downscaled version of the being towering over her. "Fear me, plant lady! My escape is assured woth this!" Karyn pushed the doll towards Dandel, who simply laughed in reaction.

"Of course it is, sweetie! Now come on, let's get you to go for a bath~ then you'll totally get rescued by your pinnates!" Dandel replies, picking up the doll with a single vine, to add to the collection on a shelf of "escape tools", like the adorable knitted sweater she got for her Coreday, or a bookmark made so she wouldn't lose her place in the adorable floret's domestication contract.

"Can we use the purple class A shampoo again? Please?" Karyn batted her eyes as the both walked to the bathroom. "The overnet said it makes me immune to head scritches! And the "class A" meant "Anti-Affini"!"

Dandel laughed jovially. Making a closed overnet where it was only her and the floret was the best decision ever. "Of course petal. You're surely going to be unstoppable if you're immune to head-scritches~"

Funnily enough, Karyn Felicidae was never immune to head scritches, and lost tonight's game of "can she escape the compact" (she never wins~)

[carpe-aurore]

On rose bushes

Back when I was a kid, when we lived with my monster of a stepfather, we had a rose bush in front of our house. I remember I loved that thing, since it was the only plant that would grow in our home. Anything I tried to put in the ground died almost immediately. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, ever grew in there. But this beautiful, huge red rose bush did. It thrived, even. I took care of it everyday, watered it, trimmed it. And every spring, it grew the most gorgeous and fragrant red roses. The petals would cover the whole front yard. You could smell the fragrance halfway down the street. My stepfather hated it, since he would always get scratched by a stray branch when he walked through the front door. We joked that the rose bush only hated him, cause it never happened to anyone else. Years later, after having enough of all the abuse, we moved out. That week was the week that the rose bush was about to bloom again for the spring. We came back at the end of the week to get the rest of our things and found the rose bush halfway dried and dead. It had not been tampered with, as far as we could tell. Nothing has been poured on it, or sprayed. It seemed to have just shriveled up in just a matter of days.

We moved in with my grandmother while we got back on our feet. She's always had a green thumb, and had the most beautiful garden in her backyard. She had a tiny, scraggly rose bush next to the window of my room, and told me that she had no idea what the color of the flowers were since it had never bloomed once in all the years she had lived in that house. But she told me I could try to take care of it if I wanted, and so I did. I watered it, trimmed it, and watched it slowly grow. The next spring she shouts at me from the backyard, excited as she's ever been, telling me to come look. Tiny buds are growing all over it. They bloomed into gorgeous little red roses. We both were so excited at seeing such tiny flowers. A couple of years after we moved out of her house, she tells me it never bloomed again after we left.

While we were still living with my grandmother, a friend from church approaches us and tells us she and her husband are renovating a house to put up for rent. They invite us to come take a look so we can see if we would like to live there. As she's giving us a tour, she tells me there is a rose bush out in the backyard that the previous owners had planted. She says it's very likely to die, since the weather has been hot and it had begun to shrivel up. But she knows I love roses, and tells me I'm more than welcome to try and revive it when we move in. We pack up our things from Grandma's and with the help of many friends and family, arrive at our new home. She tells me she'll be back at the end of the month to cut down the rose bush if it's dead. For the next month, waking up early each morning surrounded by halfway unpacked boxes, I get up to water the rose bush. I trim away at the dead foliage, and feel how much I have sacrificed to get there. I wipe my tears with hands that smell of cut leaves. I still remember the shock on her face when she arrived, garden shears in hand, to see a rose bush full of new green growth and tiny rosebuds. It bloomed into beautiful, bright red roses. We have lived here for about 7 years, and this rose bush has tripled in size since then. I water it, I trim it. I harvest the blooms each spring to place them in vases around the house, to gift to friends. I make rose jam out of the petals. I make rose tea to drink. Petals cover our whole backyard every time it blooms. The little girl that trimmed the rose bush has grown up, but the petals smell as sweet as always. And she's there as a woman now, harvesting the life she couldn't have before. She places a petal in her mouth and she thinks the roses taste especially sweet this year.

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is Shine for @thefinaljediknight

The planet sings. Cal feels it the moment they touch down. This world is so alive, and not because there’s a Maw somewhere beneath him, waiting for its next meal. The Force gushes and froths, a rapid river ready to swallow him whole. Beyond the cockpit, the planet’s incredible plant life shimmers in the soft rain, yellows, reds, purples, oranges, pinks, humming and swaying. The Force wants to take him by the hand and lead him in a dance. He looks to Cere. Does she feel it too? If she does, she shows nothing. Is that how effectively she’s cut herself off from the Force? Cal can’t imagine not feeling this, even if the Force might pull him apart like petals on the wind.

“Cal?” Greez calls as he finalises the landing procedure. “Something wrong? You’re looking spacey.”

He shakes his head, unable to put it into words. What would he say to someone who can’t feel the Force at all? How could he explain how this planet shines? BD too. He has no sense of this.

What a terrible, inexplicable loss for them. Cal can’t bear it. He can’t.

“Hey, whoa, what – ” Greez’s confusion is silenced when Cal wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight. “You okay, kid?”

Cal feels Greez patting him on the back, offering comfort when it should be the other way around. He reaches out, pulls BD in close too. “I wish you two could feel this.”

“Uh – ”

BD gives a curious beep.

Cal can’t speak.

“This planet is very, very strong in the Force,” Cere explains for Greez’s benefit. “Cal is a little overwhelmed by it.”

“Oh,” Greez says. He returns the hug. “If this is what Cal looks like when he’s overwhelmed, I think we can handle it.”

BD announces Cal scan results suggest he’s high.

Cere’s smile catches on the Force and flutters off on golden wings. “Yes, it probably feels a lot like that for him.”

Cal can’t contain himself a moment longer. Releasing Greez and BD, he rushes to the hatch, hits the override, and opens the ship up to the world ahead. He throws himself to the ground before the ramp can finish extending. His feet hit the grass – bare feet because he didn’t stop to put his boots on. Pollen and seeds cast themselves into the air, sparkling in the light when the sun breaks through the rainclouds. Cal tilts his face to the sky, eyes closed as he basks in the energy humming around him. No, he won’t fly away here. Maybe he’ll sink instead, into a cloud of light and life, streams of light dancing around him. He does a one-legged twirl worthy of BD just to take it all in, pulling the Force around him so it gathers like a cloak. The Force takes his hand and pulls him away, leading him up, up, up, above a forest of flowers in bloom and trees finding new life in spring. The world is coming back to life after a long, hard winter, and the planet sings with such joy the Force swells and rises.

A hand lands on his shoulder. “Cal.”

It’s hard, returning to himself. Cere’s warm hand, the cupped light that is her true self a beacon calling him back. He opens his eyes and sees a meadow around him, flowers turned to him like he is the sun. He’s on his knees, Cere at his side. Lungs full of fresh, clean air, he reaches out, lets the yellowpinkpurplered petals brush over his fingers. “Cere,” he breathes. He can’t capture what this place is. He’s never felt anything like it. Never. And with his slowly healing Force connection, it feels like… like maybe he really can do what Cere’s asking of him, expecting of him.

Trust only in the Force.

Cere crouches down, wrapping an arm around him. “I know,” she says.

He falls against her side, closing tear-filled eyes. Such joy. He doesn’t want to leave.

“Can you hold onto yourself while Greez and I head into town, or do we need to go somewhere else?”

It’s an effort to pull back, to put a barrier between him and this wonderful place. He is drunk on this place, so high he could brush the stars with his fingers.

Cere’s hand closes around his, pulling it down. “I think Greez might need to go on this trip alone.”

Cal falls forward, pressing his ear to the dirt. He can hear the planet’s song. He wants to listen to its ebb and flow forever.

“Is he okay?” Greez’s voice blends with the music.

“Can you manage the resupply?” Cere’s voice soars above the chorus. “I need to stay with him.”

Cal can’t contain himself. “I can hear the song.”

BD whistles, his weight leaving Cal’s back. The next thing he feels is Cere’s hand once more, resting on his back. She is a mute dulling the music, and he can’t stand it. He can’t. He doesn’t want to simply hear it; he wants to be in that flow.  “Let go,” he tells Cere.

“No. I know, Cal, I know what this must be like for you, but you mustn’t let it carry you away. Hold onto yourself. Let the Force flow around you here, not through you. If the Force is a river, you are standing on the banks watching it rush by.”

He doesn’t want to watch. It’s not enough. He’s never felt the Force so completely before, so happy, unrestrained, life, so much life, everything alive and –

Cere’s touch is more insistent now, a sharp tug where a Padawan braid once would have hung. Startled, he stares at her. “I know, I’m sorry. Focus on me. We’re going back to the ship.”

“To meditate?”

“No, not here. I think you’d disappear forever.”

“Become one with the Force?” It would be like being all the colours of a rainbow. He can’t help smiling.

“Definitely no becoming one with the Force, Cal. We’re going to ground you, one way or another.”

The Mantis hums around him, and Cal can’t remember if that’s the ship’s usual sound or if maybe it’s found a song to sing too. Cere sits him down on the couch.

“Potolli weave really is so comfortable,” Cal sighs.

“Come back down from the sky.” Cere sits on the table ahead of him.

“You shine,” Cal tells her. He pokes her. “You can’t hide it from me!”

Cere smiles, a strange smile, all sad and wistful. “When your master wanted you to hone your focus, what did he make you do?” she asks.

Padawan, it is –

“ – time for instruction.” He giggles at his own impression of Master Tapal.

“And what were those instructions?” Cere asks gently.

Focus on the here and now, what you see ahead of you, the scent in the air, the feel of the deck beneath your feet and the clothes against your skin. Tell me all about it.

By the time Cal’s done telling Cere all about it, the Force’s song has dropped in volume and he feels very aware of himself. Was he always so unwieldy? So clumsy? He stares at Cere, feeling the blush on his skin. Did he really try to hug the ground? Maybe if he asks nicely it will swallow him whole. “Sorry, I – ”

She cuts him off. “It’s very special, isn’t it?”

He grins. “Very.”

[flamingo-writes]

What would you think if Hobie asks reader to cut the ends of his hair that bother him because of the mask and while she was doing it, she sang a nice song to him, meanwhile some little flowers began to bloom around them.

Really like the last post and this came to my mind immediately.

Listen, I’ve been daydreaming of this the entire day. I think this idea was very cute!

Also, little disclaimer: I was born and raised in Mexico, so, I’m very unfamiliar with how black people’s hair works. I know culturally it has a lot of importance, but other than that I knew very little of the different types of hair and ofc the insane variety of treatments and proper care as well as the different ways to give maintenance to different kinds of dreads. Also, as someone who has had very short hair for 2/3 of my life, as well as shaving my own head for the better part of the last 4 (5?) years, in general hair care and routines are something I’m wildly unfamiliar with, the longest I had my hair in the latest years was a 6 inch or so Mohawk I grew two years ago. Hobie has been a very good opportunity for me to educate myself a lot in hair (especially black people’s hair) and I spent a good portion of my evening watching videos/TikTok’s and reading on dreadlocks and their maintenance. If I wrote something inaccurate or wrong, please let me know, help me see my mistake, and I will fix it as soon as I can.

This came from this other request, I’m thinking of turning into a series.

Flower Bed — Hobie x Reader

Also, you said little flowers, but my brain decided to go for a full flower bed 😭 I hope you like this!

Warnings: none.

“Oí, luv…” Hobie said walking out of the bedroom, looking around you.

“Bathroom!” You shouted as he followed your voice, noticing the bathroom door opened and you kneeling by the shower.

Plants cramped in the shower as you watered them.

“Oh, never mind, you’re busy” He said.

“I’m almost done. I just need to water the ones in the kitchen sink and the monsteras…” You said as you’d todo up and stretched your back. “I’ll be done in ten minutes, what’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you if you could help me trim my hair, it’s starting to get long and gets stuck in the mask and, you know…” He asked softly. “But I can’t see the back of my head,”

“Sure, I’ll help you,” You said giving Hobie a kind smile.

He smiled back, walking up to you and kissing your forehead.

“Need help with the plants?”

“As you wish,” You replied happily. “You were asleep earlier and didn’t want to wake you, so I started watering them on my own…”

“I’m awake now,” He said. “I’ll water the monsteras,”

“Thank you, babe,” You purred.

By the time you were done with the plants, you went ahead and started helping Hobie out. You sat on the edge of your bed, as he sat on the floor. Since Hobie was tall, this was the most comfortable arrangement. It wasn’t also the first time you trimmed his wicks. He asked you to help him every few months.

As you put some soft music in the background, you got started, trimming dread by dread. Taking care to cut the hair while keeping the end of the dread rounded. Cutting just across each wick was already hard as they were thick, but you also wanted to keep them looking nice and rounded. Which was also a reason why Hobie asked you for help. You did a much better job at it than him.

Even when he didn’t admit it, or didn’t look like it, every single detail in his appearance was planned. Especially his hair. He liked taking care of it, and over all treated his hair like this very intimate thing, he hated having other people touching his hair. Except you. He actually loved it when you touched his hair, ran your hands through it, your fingers disappearing between the dreads. And the particular care and dedication which which you seemed to tend to every wick.

Deep in your concentration, watching over the little details, you were unconsciously singing. Something you also did quite a lot. When you were deeply focused on something, you’d start humming and eventually singing. Which only added to the relaxing time Hobie was having.

Between your gentle hands running through his hair, and now the soft sound of your voice singing in a low voice, going along with the music. Hobie lived for these little peaceful moments, making him feel absolutely contempt with his life. These little moments were everything to him.

As he had his eyes closed, focusing on every brought of your touch against him, he didn’t notice at first the plants growing around you.

It wasn’t plain on obvious. In fact, Hobie didn’t notice until he felt something tickling his elbows. He opened his eyes and saw flowers growing out of the floor, tiny plants growing buds and flowering. All in a matter of several seconds. And you continue to sing, concentrated. He blinked several times, wondering if you were aware of what you were doing, as he kept staring at the flowers growing and multiplying, coming out of the wooden floor tiles.

“Uh, luv?” Hobie asked in a low deep voice.

“Hm?” You hummed, answering Hobie’s question, sounding way too focused in your job as you were rounding one of the last wicks.

“Are you aware of the fact that you pretty much brought spring into our bedroom?”

“Huh?” You asked confused, breaking your hyper focus and looked around, noticing the flowers covering almost the entirety of your floor. White, red, lilac, and pink flowers, extending across your small bedroom. “Fuck,”

Hobie laughed softly.

“You didn’t notice?”

“N-no…” You whispered softly.

“That’s amazing…” Hobie sighed. “It’s beautiful, by the way…”

“The thing is I don’t know how to…un-grow them…And they’re a lot…” You said softly, the concern building in your voice, making Hobie chuckle. “What are we going to do with all of them?”

“We can always collect them and sell them or whatever, you know?” Hobie chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

“In the meantime, we can always enjoy this beautiful scene, what do you say?”

“You’re way too calm for someone who has his bedroom full of flowers…”

“You made them. They’re beautiful. I don’t see the issue, basically a work of art,” He said looking at you over his shoulder, as you rolled your eyes playfully at him.

“Hobie, pollen give you allergies,”

“Sleeping on a flower bed one night isn’t going to kill me,” He pointed out. “Besides, ever since the spider thing, I get less allergies from flowers,” He said lifting a finger up, making you chuckle.

“Fine! You win this argument!” You chuckled.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I love you too”

“That’s why I don’t mind the flowers. Because you made them,”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Hobie’s cheek before you continued tending to the last two wicks.

“Thank you,” You said.

“For what?”

“Being you,” You sighed. “I’m not precisely fascinated with all the flowers in the bedroom, but the fact that you are, makes me feel better”

“Why, you’re welcome, sweet’eart. Thank you for helping me with my hair,” He said looking at you and giving you a cheeky smirk.

“Anytime,”

[hedgehog-moss]

Some plant news! I've been waiting impatiently to see if the stuff I planted last autumn had survived the winter, and it's looking good so far. All my young fruit trees are blooming (quince, cherry, apple, mirabelle)

The persimmon has no blossoms but some microscopic leaves, I hope it grows more vigorous... I only lost one baby chestnut tree, which seems to have been massacred by a very angry animal. A boar having a bad day? I'll have to plant a couple more this autumn and protect them better. I can just use the remains of one of the many types of fences that Pampe has defeated.

My greenhouse now has to wear a blanket in the afternoons so it doesn't get too hot inside. I planted four flowering shrubs around it in November, so their roots will consolidate the new terraces, and I'm happy to say they are all accounted for—these two have already doubled in volume, they seem thrilled to be there:

Whereas these two all but disappeared during the winter, the ground just swallowed them; I wasn't too optimistic but they showed up again last month, with timid new leaves :) (The pics are very zoomed in, the resurrected shrubs are about the size of my fist but I'm proud of them)

Also I found wild redcurrants by the stream last year and I snapped a few small branches and just stuck them in a pot without really believing it would work. Internet said it would work but it seemed impossible. I left the pot outside all winter, never watering it or taking care of it in any way, with these four bare sticks that I sometimes looked at dubiously. It worked!!! They have leaves now! I made new redcurrant plants by sticking branches in dirt, it feels magical. They're my favourite berries too...

(My project for next autumn will be to propagate elderberry cuttings alongside the fence.) And speaking of berries, I got to eat my first aquaponic-grown strawberry today, it was delicious <3 Congratulations to the 42 fish who are hard at work fertilising the plants in the towers. There are many more strawberries in preparation!

I leave the greenhouse doors open all day when it's sunny so there are pollinators busily flying in and out, doing their job. I tried to relocate a few ladybirds to the strawberry towers to eat aphids but without success, I think they left immediately...

My lettuce and tomato plants are doing great, but the courgette plants got decimated by slugs despite my efforts to repel them. I ended up buying some organic antislug product a friend of my mum's recommended. I started new courgette seeds, and I'll wait until they're bigger to transplant them to slug territory.

The little Mexican orange tree is blossoming, and finally making new leaves (the new ones are yellow) after looking worryingly bald for a while this winter. The blossoms really do smell like orange blossoms! I know it's right there in the name but I'm still like oh look at you you talented orange tree, you got the smell of your flowers right on the first try and everything

Congrats to Mascarille who was looking for the greenhouse entrance in the above pic (she always has to walk around it a few times, she's confused by glass walls) and eventually triumphed over adversity.

Oh and I'm still getting fresh peas, in homeopathic quantities. I found that they grow well in the middle of winter so I'll plant a lot more this autumn when the towers aren't full of strawberries and herbs; for now I've started just eating them raw like little green candy.

Last but not least, Louise Michel the new hen has finally learnt how to climb my homemade stairs that lead to the greenhouse! Look at her showing off her new skill, all casually like this problem hasn't stumped her for weeks:

[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 2

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Indentifying! Reader Summary: You and Robert fall into a routine of your Friday Physics meetings with the never skipped dinner after. But as the tension grows stronger, the meetings suddenly cease to be about Physics with a newfound realization; and sudden change Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: N/A Notes: GOD, HE LOOKS SO HOT THERE!!! Anyways! Not even twenty-four hours later. I know, I'm very unwell and couldn't help myself. Thank you so much for all the love and support so much! The next part should be coming out very soon. And let me say, it may or may not get spicy *insert evil cackling*. I am also working on a new and refined masterlist! It'll be linked here, along with a taglist if you are interested.

Masterlist | Taglist

The image of you and Robert formed, and your Friday afternoon meetings with him soon became a little routine between the two of you. However, this barrier created a bond and broke through the force of physics into something else. 

You would always arrive ten minutes before, and Robert certainly noticed this. He enrolled you in watering his flowers outside, which you had no issue doing. Robert insisted on paying you ten dollars, which you felt guilty for taking. Every Friday, when you walk down Shasta Road, the flowers are more giant in bloom, full and radiant in their muted colors. Robert had even put a tiny vase of pomegranate flowers on his desk. In one of your meetings, he confessed that he didn’t know such a plant was growing in his garden. You told him now he had pomegranates to make with his meals. After each session, Robert gave you a pomegranate to go home with. Like him, they were hard to resist. 

The first hour of your meeting would be about physics, but the length of an hour began to shorten down to thirty minutes, forty-five minutes sometimes. You could sense that Robert wanted to get out of Physics much as you on your late Friday afternoons together. 

And then Robert would ask that same old question of wanting to stay for dinner. He’d preface it with the meal he was making, which was starting to fall into the pattern of recipes you recommended. 

And without fail, you would always say yes, lacking hesitation. 

In the first set of meetings, Robert would cook. He’d ask you to go into his living room to turn on one of the records. You’d ask what record, and he answered with any since he would like what you would put on. In the third week of meetings, Robert stopped directing you to his record player, as you soon could locate the record in the middle of his bookshelf. 

Simeusolty putting on a Prokofiev’s Cinderella Record, Summer Fairy began to play low. The intricate and angular melodies to powerful and dramatic orchestration played as you ran your fingers across the bookshelf, observing the elective collection of books Robert had collected. Running your fingers against the thin pages, you looked down at his coach. Two pillows were propped up, and you could see his coffee table in the light. A copy of Sentimental Education rested beside the ashtray of many burnt-out cigarette buds. Robert was in the same chapter as you were. 

Most of the time, you would get bored sitting at the island table as Robert smoked, cut, and cooked. All you would do is drink his Martinis, which you hated before but now loved.  Without asking, you simply started to help Robert with the cooking. Robert never protested against this. 

As the two of you cooked, your conversations ranged in topic and vulnerability. 

Robert asked about your family life and hobbies. You told him you had family in New York City but spent a lot of time hiking in Europe or the Southeastern United States being outdoors. Your mother was much older than your father, but it was never an issue. You were the youngest of three much older siblings, two of whom were your step-siblings. You were into reading and art outside the classroom but absolutely loved the outdoors. Some things you didn't even share with Hatomi, you ended up sharing with Robert. 

Robert also shared parts of his life; in each part, you two learned that you were somewhat similar, as Robert would say, “kindred souls” who have found each other. Robert was also from New York City, but like you, wanted to escape the East and came out West for a change and its natural beauty. He also enjoyed the outdoors, a found horseback rider. In his youth, he was an avid rock collector and even told you that when he applied for a club, they asked him to come to be a keynote speaker. It fits his character. 

One night, as you cut vegetables and Robert sauteed the chicken, he blatantly asked if you have a boyfriend. 

You turn to him, and instead of being flustered and embarrassed, you deadpan and say no, before asking if he has a wife. 

“Had,” Robert corrected. 

Robert had been married to a woman named Kitty, whom Robert said was similar, yet harsher than you. They had divorced three years back, and two had two children together who were three years apart, Peter and Toni. Kitty had moved out to Pittsburgh with their two children but would visit with them every month. Robert did not seem sad by the divorce, saying they still cared for each other but no longer loved one another. 

The two of you remained silent until dinner was ready that night. 

Your meetings further continued with no issue after that conversation.

 It was like any other Friday night meeting. You closed your Physics notebook as Robert got up to prepare dinner, which would be chicken with pomegranate seeds, asparagus, and mashed potatoes which you taught him to cook. You got up and snuck beside Robert, taking pomegranate seeds and putting them in between your lips. 

He looked over and smiled, shaking his head. He mumbled something under his breath in which you missed. 

“Robert, you must stop asking if I will stay for dinner,” You casually teased, bringing another seed to your lips. You moved the bubbly and wet seed around your lips, adding a glossy red color to the center of your lips, “Especially when you know the answer.” 

Your playful words hung in the air, accompanied by a faint smile that danced at the corners of your mouth. The atmosphere was light, and the tension between you and Robert was more of an enjoyable banter than anything serious. The act of painting your lips with the seed was oddly captivating, a unique blend of sensuality and playfulness that added to the moment.

On the other hand, Robert appeared slightly flustered but still managed a sheepish grin. "Well then, why do you always stay, y/n?”

You chuckled softly, savoring the gentle rhythm of your exchange. "Maybe it's your irresistible cooking that keeps me coming back, or perhaps it's the charm and wit of the company."

In mock astonishment, Robert feigned a dramatic sigh, his hand on his chest. "Ah, so you're saying it's not my dashing good looks that have you hooked?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, a mock expression of disbelief on your face. "Oh yes, Robert, your dashing good looks are definitely a bonus. But it's the entire package that keeps me intrigued."

The two of you shared a lighthearted laugh, the energy between you bubbling with a mix of familiarity and affection. Clearly, this banter was a delightful ritual you both enjoyed, a way to express your fondness for each other without saying it outright.

Robert leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I might have to keep asking about dinner just to hear your flattering reasons."

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Well, if that's your plan, then I'll just have to keep giving you reasons, won't I?"

The playful challenge hung in the air, the unspoken understanding between you both weaving a tapestry of shared moments and shared jokes. As the evening continued, the seed on your lips became a symbol of this unique connection, a touch of color that spoke volumes about the newfound chemistry you shared with Robert.

After finishing dinner and cleanup, Robert invited you to his living space. From what you have seen in his house, the living room was by far the biggest. The room smelt like oakwood with its Mahogany shelves of aged books and artifacts from Europe. Prokofiev’s Cinderella plays slowly as Robert and you rest on the couch, only a few inches apart. 

In a quiet moment that exudes an air of undeniable allure, Robert reaches into his pants pocket to fetch another box of cigarettes. His fingers move with a graceful confidence, effortlessly withdrawing a sleek pack of cigarettes. The soft glow of ambient light plays upon his lean features, enhancing the sharp angles of his jawline and the subtle smirk that graces his lips.

As he taps the pack against the palm of his hand, a sense of anticipation seems to envelop the surroundings. The action is as deliberate as it is captivating, every movement purposeful and measured. With a smooth and calculated gesture, he slides a cigarette from its sanctuary within the pack, drawing attention to the meticulous attention to detail that defines his every action.

Bringing the slender cylinder to his lips, his eyes remain fixed on the horizon, an enigmatic gaze that hints at depths of both experience and mystery. His fingers deftly produce a matchbox, which, when opened, reveals a single matchstick ready for ignition. The flame is brought to life with a flick of his thumb, illuminating his features momentarily and casting an enchanting glint in his eyes.

The first inhalation is a languid dance between his lips and the cigarette, an intimate connection that only accentuates his innate allure. A plume of smoke curls gracefully from his lips, an ethereal veil that frames his visage like a work of art. The atmosphere seems to pulse with his intoxicating energy as if drawn into the magnetic pull of this captivating moment.

As he exhales, the tendrils of smoke disperse into the air, a testament to his ability to command the space around him and the elements that entwine with his presence. The remaining smoke dances and swirls in the air, mimicking the invisible threads of attraction that weave between observer and observed.

You watch the smoke dance across the dark room in its dark and light hues. Robert sees you in admiration of the smoke (and him, but that’s a secret you keep to yourself) and pulls a stick out, holding it out in front of you. There’s no need to respond verbally; you let him put the cigarette between your lips. 

Robert’s fingers, capable and elegant, hold the cigarette with a reverence that speaks of his attentiveness to the details that matter. The slender cylinder is presented not as a mere object but as a gesture of connection, a bridge between the worlds of conversation and quiet contemplation.

He raises the matchbox, its lid flipping open with a soft whisper of anticipation ember at the tip of the match glows with an ephemeral beauty, casting a warm radiance that highlights the contours of his hands and the contours of your cheek.

Drawing the match to the cigarette, the flame bends obediently to his command, transferring its life to the waiting tobacco. As the cigarette ignites, its end glowing with an ember-like intensity, Robert's eyes meet yours, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment.

Robert brings the cigarette to your lips with a tender elegance, his fingers barely grazing your cheek in a caress that sets the heart aflutter. The touch is fleeting but leaves a lingering impression, a sensation of connection that transcends the physical realm. The smoke dances gracefully from the lit end, curling into the atmosphere like a wisp of shared conversation.

The gesture encapsulates more than a simple offering; it encapsulates his genuine nature and ability to infuse even the most ordinary moments with a touch of extraordinary intimacy. In this ephemeral exchange, the barley touch of Robert’s fingers against your cheek lingers like an echo, a reminder of the subtle and beautiful connections forged through the simplest gestures.

You fall back and take a drag into the cigarette, exhaling the smoke. It was your first time with a cigarette, so you inhaled too much smoke and coughed slightly. 

Robert looks back at you, and like a sly predator watching its prey, he too leans back. You can feel the weight of the pillow sink back. Your mouth nearly drops the cigarette as you look over, goosebumps now appearing over your legs. Shifting in your position, you don’t move farther away. Oppenheimer’s another atom bond, in which you feel connected, despite your differences. 

Hearing your mother’s and older sister's voice ridiculing dating a man who could be one of your brother’s ages, you take another drag and exhale smoke as the nicotine soothes your anxiety. 

“I understand now why people smoke.”

You can feel Oppenheimer’s intense stare, not that it bothers you at all. 

 There’s a small silence for a few minutes. The two of you bask in the setting sun, watching the smoke play against the hues of the sun. You swear you feel your eyes get heavy, both from the buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine of the cigarette. 

The couch feels lighter as you feel Robert get up and walk over to the bookcase. Admiration mingles with a sense of awe as you watch your professor navigate the rows of tomes. His movements are measured and deliberate as he selects a book that promises to unfurl a tapestry of thoughts and ideas. The act itself is a testament to his insatiable thirst for knowledge, a quality that you have deemed extremely handsome to the tall and slender man. 

He walks in front of you and flips through the pages, putting the book down in your lap. 

You put your cigarette in the ashtray and hold the book to examine it, “Les Fleurs Del Mal.” 

“One of my recommendations to you,” Robert responded as he sat back on the couch. The room suddenly got hotter as he felt closer than he did before, “It’s scattered poetry. You can skim, but I don’t recommend it unless you want to enjoy it.”

Your speculation proved to be true when Robert pointed to a page in the book, feeling his thigh scrap against yours. Butterflies danced in your stomach as your cheeks got that burning sensation again. 

“These are some of my favorites,” Robert pointed, his finger gracing the page, “That I want you to read.” 

Halting your breath, you look at him, and he’s looking right at you. More like right into you. Robert's eyes are like an ocean; they're truly the bluest you have seen. They hold a depth that draws you in, in which you find yourself lost, embraced by an intimate connection that speaks volumes without a single word.

“Read?” You almost stutter, “to myself?”

“Outloud, dear.” Robert’s smooth voice politely commands. 

Suddenly, your limbs feel both hot and weak. Robert leans in closer, taking another drag of his cigarette. His gaze does not once leave you. 

You put one hand on the page and the other on the soft pillow as your fingers soften the material. Clearing your throat, you look at the first poem and take in a deep breath to contain a noise of ecstasy and pleasure. 

I know your heart, which overflows With outworn loves long cast aside, Still like a furnace flames and glows, And you within your breast enclose A damned soul's unbending pride;

But till your dreams without release

Reflect the leaping flames of hell;

Till in a nightmare without cease

You dream of poison to bring peace, And love cold steel and powder well;

And tremble at each opened door, And feel for every man distrust, And shudder at the striking hour - Till then you have not felt the power Of Irresistible Disgust.

My queen, my slave, whose love is fear, When you awaken shuddering, Until that awful hour be here,

You cannot say at midnight drear :

"I am your equal, O my King!"

Robert only responds by turning the page to the following poem, A Carcass. In the corner of your eye, his hand rests on the couch, only an inch away from yours. Before looking back at the page, you uncurl your fist, lying all of your finger against the couch, less than an inch away from Robert’s. 

Recall to mind the sight we saw, my soul,

That soft, sweet summer day:

Upon a bed of flints a carrion foul,

Just as we turn'd the way,

Its legs erected, wanton-like, in air,

Burning and sweating pest,

In unconcern'd and cynic sort laid bare

To view its noisome breast.

The sun lit up the rottenness with gold, To bake it well inclined,

And give great Nature back a hundredfold

All she together join'd.

The sky regarded as the carcass proud

Oped flower-like to the day;

So strong the odour, on the grass you vow'd You thought to faint away.

Robert’s index finger is now hooking onto your smaller pinkie. You relax your hand as his hand covers yours, his touch gentle and alluring. You don’t know much you’ll be able to read in a controlled state. Robert turns to the next poem as his hand covers yours, his thumb stroking the top of your hand. 

“My personal favorite,” He murmurs—Love’s Lighting. 

Gulping, you proceed to read, slowly breaking down. 

Last night as I lay awake in bed A flash of you came into my head And into my heart, and straightway fled.

It passed from the chamber suddenly,

Leaving no trace to know it by

But a tightened breast and a wet, glad eye.

Like a moonray soft it came and went,

Which glimmers through where the cloud-wrack's

rent,

Hovers a moment and then is spent;

Or a bee against a window-pane,

Which taps but once and never again, Some autumn day, before the rain.

For one brief moment I felt it stealing Along the verge of thought and feeling

As though some great vague thing revealing,

As though for that moment sad and sweet

My soul was out in the infinite, And Life and Death were as one to it.

You close the book and look at Robert, catching his eyes before looking at your intertwined hands. His hand covers yours, his fingers laced within yours. He gently squeezes your hand, propelling you to move closer to him, which you do. 

“Your eyes,” You murmur as Robert brings you closer to him, your faces an inch apart, “There blue. But there’s something in them. There’s a spark, an explosion. There’s a burning desire, surrounded by the never-ending sea.” 

Robert is just as enchanted as you are. He brings his free hand to your cheek, stroking your smooth skin like you are a fragile China doll. 

“If there is a god, he spent more time on you,” Robert confessed, moving to the back of your hair, entangling and losing himself within the silkiness.

“Y/n, you are among the most beautiful creatures I have seen. Can you let me kiss you?” 

Your hand moves to Robert’s cheek, and he leans into your touch. 

"If there is a god, he spent more time on you," Robert confessed, his voice a warm breath against your skin as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your hair, entangling and losing himself within the silkiness.

"Y/n, you are among the most beautiful creatures I have seen," he murmured, his gaze locked onto your lips with a mixture of desire and reverence. His thumb brushed your lower lip in a gentle, teasing caress. "Can you let me kiss you?"

Your heart fluttered in response, your chest rising and falling with each anticipatory breath. Your fingers moved to cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble against your palm as you leaned in, your lips drawing closer to his. The world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the soft, charged atmosphere between you.

His lips met yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It had been your first, so you let him overtake as you enjoyed. It was a dance of sensations, a slow exploration of desire and affection. The touch was gentle, as if he was savoring every moment, every nuance of the connection that formed between your lips. His mouth moved against yours with delicate precision, a symphony of longing and intimacy that left you breathless.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the possessiveness in the way he held you, his fingers threading through your hair, anchoring you closer. His hand, which held yours found the small of your back, a reassuring pressure that drew you impossibly nearer. 

Time lost meaning as your lips moved together, a rhythm that spoke of shared longing and a connection beyond the physical. It was a kiss that whispered promises of intimacy and trust, an unspoken understanding that bound you together in that stolen moment of tenderness and desire.

As Robert kissed and held you, you loved the sensation of being adored. The romance between you, too, however, was forbidden. He was thirty, and you were a teenager, albeit legal, but recently, a little girl. But you couldn’t resist, and he couldn’t control his desire. After all, Life and Death were as one to it. 

[musiclover84898]

Okay, so i suck at coming up with ideas but i was wondering if you could write maybe taking cliff to a garden or a feild and picking flowers and making flower crowns and silly stuff like that🤭

Ahhh this is so cute! I based the title of this story off of a Cure song called A Chain of Flowers. Thank you so much for your request💋

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Word count: 910

A Chain of Flowers - Cliff Burton

Spring had always been my favorite season; I enjoyed watching the buds of flowers bloom into all sorts of vibrant colors and shapes. It was never too hot or too cold, the temperature just warm enough to start wearing short-sleeved tops and pretty sundresses. Most of all, it the was perfect time of year to make my beloved flower crowns.

Ever since I was little, I had always been obsessed with stringing together small wildflowers and dandelions I had plucked from my mother’s garden and creating a crown to decorate my head. Even after the plants dried out, I still kept my favorite ones. My boyfriend, Cliff, would take me for a drive every year, right around the time when all of the flowers were in full bloom so we could make each other flower crowns. Today, he woke me up bright and early so we could make our way to the wide field. It was always the prettiest in the early morning just as the sun rose when all of the dewdrops were still fresh on the ground.

“I love doing this with you, sweetheart.” He said to me as he drove, one of his hands firmly resting on my leg. The coolness of his silver rings against my skin made me shiver, but I didn’t mind; it was a sort of comforting feeling that I had gotten used to. I smiled warmly at him, admiring how the sun shone down on his red-brown hair with a golden glow. We’d been together for so long, and yet somehow I still felt like a lovestruck teenager whenever I looked at him for too long.

“Me too. It means a lot to me,” I told him, resting my hand on top of his. My gaze wandered towards the scenery outside the car, taking in the trees we would pass every now and then and all of the clouds in the blue sky. I could make out a few shapes within them; one of the bigger ones looked like a heart. I grinned to myself, looking down at the basket of string and charms at my feet. I couldn’t wait to make his crown, and the idea of what it would look like had already etched its way into my head.

❀

We were both sitting in the grass, a handful of flowers in each of our laps. We promised we wouldn’t look at the crowns we were making for each other, but it was so tempting to not look over his shoulder to see what kind of flowers he had picked for me. The anticipation of seeing the results was one of the parts of this that I enjoyed the most. My fingers tied a few roses to the string, adding blue and purple charms to the mix of color.

“Are you almost done?” I asked, my voice cutting through the blissful silence. I could hear the rustling of the trees in the distance, and the chirping of crickets as my eyes drifted towards Cliff. He smiled at me, shielding the small crown he had been working on from my eyes; I laughed out loud at the gesture.

“No! Don’t look, sweetheart. I’m almost done.” He chuckled, leaning over to place a kiss on my neck. His callused fingers continued to tie small knots into the string, binding his work together. The rising sun was shining against his rings, casting an almost shimmery glow over them. My eyes returned to the crown in my lap; all I had to do was tie a few more knots to ensure it wouldn’t fall apart. Just as I finished, Cliff stated he was ready to show me his creation.

“Okay, on the count of three, we both look.” I declared with a proud smile, closing my eyes as I placed the crown in his lap. I could hear him heartily laugh, and I could feel him placing his work in my hands. We both counted to three, opening our eyes in unison. His blue eyes widened as he took in the mix of red roses and purple tulips, mixed together with the charms I picked from our little basket. He looked at me with an expression of love and gratitude; I could feel my heart swelling the more I stared at him.

“It’s so beautiful. I love it,” he moved closer to me, wrapping a free arm around my waist and pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. My body slumped against his in a comfortable position, my back resting against his broad chest. He was warm, a familiar feeling that always seemed to comfort me no matter the situation. After a moment of looking at him, I fixed my gaze towards the crown he made for me.

It was gorgeous; he had picked an array of daisies, sunflowers, and bright orange lilies. The string looked like it had been braided, decorated with a few shiny charms. I gently placed it on my head, peering up at him as he did the same. The sun was fully risen now, brightening up the blue sky as the puffy clouds passed through the air. We both lain down on the grass, wrapped up in each other’s embrace and the pleasantly overwhelming feeling of love and affection. As I drifted off into a peaceful sleep, the last thing I felt was a tender kiss on my temple and a sweet murmur of ‘I love you’ in my ears.

A.N: This was so rushed omg…anyway I love writing for Cliff! I miss him so much. Thank you @waarmsalad for requesting this ilysm !!! 🤍

© musiclover84898

[starrymused]

@lannamused

They'd tried everything "by the book" as they possibly could but nothing was happening. Even Makoto's sister said that Haru's situation was difficult because of the legal processes behind it. Takakura had assured Haru that they were working on ending the engagement but it would take time. Time, time, time. Just wait and it'll all get better in time. Why did they always have to hear that? Time didn't solve everything, which was why Ren was making the decision to go ahead with the only plan left to them.

"Haru." He approached her as she worked in her usual spot on the school's rooftop. The plants she so lovingly cared for were in full bloom, the water droplets from her Junes exclusive watering can shining in the late afternoon sun. It only felt right to compliment her on them rather than directly launching right into what he was here for. Ren cared so very deeply for his friends, wanted them to flourish just like these flowers had, and find happiness that they'd been neglected of for too long.

"They look good. Like the sort of flowers you see in Ghibli movies." He'd never seen leaves that green outside of actual florists. If Yusuke was here he'd probably compare them to some artistic shade that he used in his paintings. Ren grabbed the broom that was leaning against the fence and got to work sweeping up some spilled compost.

"Not a lot of progress is being made with this contract you're under. I'm not saying Takakura isn't working hard, I'm sure he is, but there still isn't enough being done." His broom paused as a tiny bug tried to wiggle its way onto the brushes. Leaning down, Ren let it crawl onto his finger so that he could relocate it to one of the flower pots.

"Makoto's sister says there isn't a lot that can be done, at least not for a while." Especially if it involved a political connection. "So, I think the best way to deal with this is have it come from his end." He, of course, was referring to Sugimura. Ren looked up, taking a moment to lean on the broom.

"Futaba searched on the Meta-Nav and found he has a palace. I think we should infiltrate and change his heart. It's the only way I see this ending rather than waiting for something that might happen." And by that time, the opposing lawyers might try to cut deals so that Haru would end up worse off in the end.

"I haven't brought this up to the others yet because you should be the first to know. You don't have to go if you don't want to but I'd like to hear your thoughts." Ren didn't like seeing her so down and unable to achieve her full potential just because of this annoying little leech of a man that thought himself far more important than he was. He had vowed to help each of them as well as those outside their group that needed it, so he found it near enough impossible to wait around any longer.

[paperstorm]

Thank you for the tags @honeybee-taskforce and @heartstringsduet!

The next missing moment is still giving me sass but I started writing another story so that's something

She pulls him into a tight hug so quickly after opening the door that Carlos barely catches a glimpse of her before he has a face full of flowery-scented brown hair. Her arms wrap around his neck, dragging him down to hunch closer to her height. Carlos squeezes his eyes shut – knocked off-kilter as he always is by sympathy – and hugs her back.

He hasn’t seen her since the funeral. It’s only been days, but it feels like a lot longer. Iris has texted him a few times, and then left him a voicemail two nights ago to say that she understands if he isn’t up for talking and not to worry about texting back. She’s always understood him, always known how much he is a creature of duty and manners and obligation. He hadn’t been able to text her back, that much was true. He was too busy being consumed by grief and anger like a bit of cotton fluff dissolving in a fast-moving stream. But it was nagging at him, how many messages he’d left unanswered, how many people had reached out and he hadn’t reached back, how much kindness and good nature he wasn’t returning.

“How are you?” she asks, when she finally pulls back. “Stupid question, I know. Come inside. You don’t have to answer. Want a Dr. Pepper?”

Carlos steps inside, following after her and watching her long hair swish back and forth as she walks briskly toward the kitchen. He closes the door behind himself and leans briefly against it before pushing off and following her.

Iris has her head buried in the open refrigerator. Carlos licks his lips and leans on his hip against the dark blue countertop. It’s a sunny day, and light is pouring in through her kitchen window. She has a collection of potted plants on the windowsill, succulents and vines and something with bright orange flowers. It suits her, this place. It’s been a little bit messy all three times he’s been here, but he knows there’s structure to the chaos even if he can’t see it. She creates patterns in her mind that don’t make sense to anyone else, she’s always been like that even before her diagnosis. It’s for Iris to see, not him, and he loves how bright and lived-in her apartment feels. She deserves to be safe and have as many potted plants as possible, after so many years of displacement and uncertainty.

“You still like Dr. Pepper?” he asks.

“Duh.” Iris comes back out of the appliance with two cans of it in her hands. She holds out for him and he takes it. “Don’t tell me you’re too sophisticated for it now.”

Carlos smiles. “I don’t know about sophisticated. Just haven’t had one in a while.”

Tags under the cut!

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @carlos-in-glasses @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @tailoredshirt @goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @mooshkat @liminalmemories21 @sznofthesticks @chaotictarlos @lemonlyman-dotcom @whatsintheboxmh @inkweedandlizards @bonheur-cafe @reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms @freneticfloetry @orchidscript @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @fallout-mars @honeybee-taskforce @vineofroses @fitzherbertssmolder

[wriheart]

I’ll probably never write a full fanfic for Ever After High (or at least, it will in the far, far future), but since I’ve been seeing so many eah posts lately I thought I’d ✨grace✨ the internet with my rewrite ideas.

As a bit of context, if I ever were to rewrite eah, it would not be a hate rewrite. I love this series so much, so my rewrite is coming from a place where I want to see more, expand on concepts, and add my own twist to things. (A hate rewrite would be if I were to rewrite Miraculous because that show makes me want to go on a deep dive of everything wrong with it.)

Anyway welcome to part one of

🍎🐦‍⬛Wri’s Ever After High Rewrite🧺🌹

For my world of Ever After, I am taking a lot more inspiration from the original grim tales. This doesn’t mean the stories will be exactly like the originals (especially since there tend to be many variations with translations and whatnot), but I will be staying as loyal to them as I can. This means that many of the villains will not survive their story (we’ll come back to this later though ;)) and some characters will be cut, such as Farah Goodfairy (I’m sorry I know she’s so pretty but I like the original tale where Cinderella is helped by the animals). Additionally, I will be adding characters, since the original show doesn’t always give us all the characters from a story (like how they gave us multiple princesses but only two prince charmings) (I didn’t forget about Darling but from what I remember she was in the damsel in distress class so she doesn’t quite count since the school didn’t consider her getting the destiny of a prince). I’m also cutting most non-grim stories, such as Pinnochio and The Little Mermaid. (There’s a small chance I might use cut characters and just say they’re from other fairy tales. For example, I don’t want to cut Sparrow, so I’ll just say that instead of being the Son of Robin Hood he’s the son of a grimm fairytale character.) DON’T PANIC, I’M NOT CUTTING WONDERLAND. Wonderland is staying because I love the characters and world so much and I also have a great idea to make it make sense. Anyway, those are just some of my notes, let’s get into the world.

Welcome to the world of Ever After, a grand empire made up of a plethora of kingdoms whose rulers report to the highly-respected and loved Emperor Grim. Emperor Grim is said to be older than the stories themselves, and it was through his guidance that the kingdoms were founded, and their stories remembered.

There are many kingdoms in Ever After, including the Kingdom of ___, ruled by the descendants of Snow White; the Kingdom of ___, ruled by the descendants of Aurora Beauty, and the Kingdom of ___, ruled by the descendants of Cinderella. These kingdoms and their rulers report to Emperor Grim, so while they are allowed to make decisions regarding their kingdoms, these decisions must be made under Grim’s guidelines. This allows the Emperor to easily rule Ever After, as the kingdom rulers are loyal to him.

After all, they know what will happen if they stray from the path.

But more about that later.

Within each kingdom of Ever After, there is an enchanted forest. The trees in these forests are very special, as they are the birthplace of the stories. When a story is completed, a seed can be found on the last page of the storybook. A few years after all of the stories are completed, each seed is planted in its kingdom’s enchanted forest, and from the seed, a magical tree grows. The tree produces flowers that, once bloomed, reveal children within. The children are the future fairy tale generation, who will relive the stories of their kingdom.

The tree does not give birth to every character who plays a role in the story, instead, the tree only gives birth to children who are to be the main characters of their tale. For example, the trees within Snow White’s kingdom will only give birth to the next Snow White, Evil Queen and Prince Charming (and maybe the seven dwarves, I haven’t fully decided yet). The rest of the characters will be found. (More on this later.) Every story that is completed is planted within the kingdom, the children are born, and when they are old enough, they are sent off to Ever After High, where they will complete their education before signing The Storybook of Legends and fulfilling their story.

Many of the villain children do not have parents who can raise them, since upon the tale’s completion, the villain dies. These children are raised by noble families. The families were long ago granted titles by the Emperor, and have been raising the children for generations. Each kingdom has at least one or two noble families, such as the noble family who have raised The Evil Queen or the family who have raised The Big Bad Wolf.

Ever after high is a four-year school in which all of the fairy tale children are prepared to relive their stories of their predecessors. For the first three years, they go through many general classes, such as potion making for the villains and good kingdom management for the royals. Then, at the end of their third year, they sign the storybook of legends, and for their fourth year they take story-specific classes to make sure they are officially ready.

For the characters not born in the enchanted forest, Emperor Grim invites regular citizens to apply to attend Ever After High. These roles include The Huntsman and The Twelve Wise Fairies, for example. These characters must go through many tryouts to prove they are worthy of being a part of this great tradition.

When a story isn’t completed, the kingdom vanishes. A few kingdoms have vanished in the past, such as the Kingdom of the Seven Ravens (the kingdom of the seven ravens is subject to change). While on the outside these kingdoms look like they are gone, with a dark forest in their place, in reality, they are still there. Grim traps the kingdoms under a bubble that stops people from entering or leaving the kingdom, and stops those on the outside from seeing the kingdom.

This threat looks over the villain kids at Ever After High. Even though most have no interest in completing their story, there is a very real threat that they, along with their kingdoms will cease to exist if they do not comply. It isn’t until Raven Queen starts digging that she realizes that the kingdoms might not truly be gone.

————

All EAH AU Posts

[v-ternus]

Dedicated to @iamthecomet, who got me back into writing. Im the anon from your box a day or so ago. Hope you love the brain rot that you've elicited.

MDNI

18+ . t!Rain and Dew first time. (cunt, pussy, cock, dick, clit for what Rain has going on, and cock/dick for Dew).

Almost 3k and I dont know how it got this long. Idek how to really tag this. Its nasty, full of yearning. Dew takes good care of our boy.

If you see a mistake, no you didnt.

-Vee

“It’s puff, puff, pass dude. Not puff and hog it”. Rain chides, sending him a jokingly accusatory look. Dew takes one more long drag before handing it to Rain and telling him to finish it off. A warm silence blooms between the two, enjoying the cool night breeze under Omega’s tree. Dew, Aether and Mountain had planted it when he retired with Terzo. After a while, Dew is the one to break the silence. 

“Why don’t we do this more often? We have the time now that tour is done. I'm sure Mountain wouldn't mind sprouting some more of the good stuff.” 

Rain doesn’t answer. He knows why they can’t do this more often. 

Being around you makes my chest cave in. I have to force my eyes shut or I would never stop looking at you. Your full belly laughs when Swiss says something dumb gets my stomach tied up in knots. The way your chest rises and falls when we’re laying out on the docks rips the breath out of my lungs. The warm stare of your pale blue eyes is blinding. I love you too much. It hurts that I can’t tell you- show you. Being around you without telling you is an unimaginable pain. 

Rain can’t bring it up. He can't risk ruining whatever they have. And besides, Dew wouldn't want him. 

“—Rain?”

Rain is yanked back from space to Dew sitting up, leaning over him. He really must've clocked out. It takes a long second for him to notice Dew’s hand right on his chest. The skin underneath it is on fire. It's too much and not enough. He wraps his own hand around Dew’s wrist and it makes sparks run through his arm. He shoots his head back and takes a deep breath. 

“I'm ok. I think I'm a little too high. You shouldn't have made me finish it” Rain tries to joke, to offer up a convincing chuckle, but fails miserably. Dew doesn't believe him. He taps Dew’s hand, asking to be let up. He leans himself against the tree and Dew follows. 

The closeness makes Rain more lightheaded than the weed. He starts rubbing the edges of his thighs, focusing on the feeling of denim against his hands. The texture is calming when he’s high. He looks over to Dew— his head against the tree, the bob of his damn Adam’s apple, the lines that make up that dumb face, the slender neck he wishes he could hold. It’s all too much. 

Before he can even register it, he’s bringing his hand up. It finds itself on the back of Dew’s neck, with his thumb caressing the skin right behind his ear. Soft. Dew shivers and his eyes shoot open. Once he realizes what he’s done, he jerks his hand back. 

I'm sorry, I don't know what that was. I'm too high. I'm sorry Dew. 

It’s all he can spit out. He’s ruined it. It's all ruined. He’s upset him. Dew doesn't want him and now Dew is angry at him. Dew grabs his wrist and Rain waits in anticipation— expecting pain or a push. Instead, he's quickly brought up to his feet by a solid tug. 

“What? Dew I—“

“Just come on Rain”

It's only a short walk to the dorms, but it feels like eternity. Rain can only register pounding in his ears and the feeling that his heart is going to beat out of his chest. They get to Dew’s room, and the door is shoved open. Dew is the first to speak 

“Are you serious?” Rain manages to find anger in the words somehow. He’s expecting the worst. The reality of the situation has sobered him up and panic is creeping in. He can’t live with Dew being angry at him.

“I'm sorry Dew, really. Can we just forget it? I’ll stay out of your way from now on. We do—“

His ramble is quickly cut off by the wind being knocked out of him. Dew, in all of his small stature, has shoved him up against the door. 

“I really hope you’re serious Rain.”

Dew’s lips find Rain’s before he can register the words. It was fast, their teeth knocking and sending the smallest cringe through both of them. But none of it mattered. Rain melts, held up by Dew and the door. His hands find purchase on Dew’s waist— fistfuls of his shirt. And he’s pulled lower, deepening the kiss. 

It's messy, hungry. It's everything he’s wanted and more. Dew is sweet— he still tastes like the weed they just smoked, earthy and floral, but underneath it is Dew. Rain swears he tastes like honey, golden amber spilling out of those sly lips which are softer than whatever Rain’s imagination could cook up. He tugs on his bottom lip as he pulls away. He can feel Dew’s gasps, hot against his cool skin when they separate to actually breathe. But it’s not enough. He needs more. 

Rain steadies himself and pushes off of the door, it makes Dew take a small step back. The small step turns into a few more as Rain keeps moving forward. Dew finds himself being pushed towards the bed. His knees hit the edge and Rain gives a final push, knocking him down. He sits himself down over Dew’s legs, placing soft kisses along his jaw, working his way down his neck. The kisses get harsher the lower he goes, he hopes they leave marks. He sucks a little too hard at the base of Dew’s neck and pulls away to a mark already forming. Dew is just as wrecked as he is– his hair is a mess, lips are a puffy red from their kisses, and breathy moans are wrung out freely. They only serve to fuel Rain on more. He licks a stripe up to his ear, biting it, worrying it between his teeth.

Dew whines. 

Rain sits back and stares at Dew— all pink with blush as he registers the noise he just made. It’s adorable, for lack of a better word. He’s wanted to see this since he was summoned. He’s wanted to see the fire ghoul wrecked for him.

“I'm serious Dew. Im more than serious.” 

Rain leans back in for a kiss and Dew is happy to let him indulge. He lets Rain pull him in closer, even though they can't physically get any closer. He lets him loom over him, as far as he’ll go. Dew reaches for the hem of Rain's shirt and gives it a tug. A silent request. The only response Rain is capable of is a quick please before Dew is pulling the shirt over him. 

Dew grabs Rain by the face, placing a soft kiss to his forehead. He continues down– his mouth, over his chin, down the column of Rain’s neck. He dips down lower, kisses his sternum, and drags his tongue back to Rain’s collar bone. His teeth graze the sensitive skin where his neck meets his shoulders and he feels Rain shake from it. Rain weaves his hands up to the nape of Dew’s neck, tugging gently at his hair.

It makes Dew bite down, not enough to break skin, but just enough to drag a moan out of the water ghoul. Rain doesn't know if he wants to push his head off or pull him in closer. Dew follows what Rain did moments before and makes a mirrored bruise at the base of his neck— reflections of one another. 

“Beautiful. So beautiful for me. My rainbow.” Dew barely spits out his praise before Rain is pulling his shirt off and pushing him onto his back. Dew fiddles with his belt, struggling to get his pants off. Rain– impatient as he is– takes it upon himself to start what Dew couldn't. He steps off of Dew to finish pulling his pants off and moves to take off his own, along with his soaked boxers that get thrown somewhere. He’s dripping desperately and is back on Dew as quickly as he was off. He lowers himself and buries his head into the mattress. He groans and drags his wet cunt over Dew’s still clothed cock. He thinks he could cum just like this– haphazardly grinding against Dew, hearing his moans right in his ear. He mutters something in the crook of Dew’s neck. 

“Louder Rainy,”. Rain doesn’t repeat himself. Instead, he props himself back up on his hands, and grinds himself down harder onto Dew. His dick catches on the fabric but Rain bites back a whimper. The drag is intense. Dew finds his hips and pulls them down just enough that a high pitched moan escapes Rain. He can feel Rain soaking through his boxers, slick just warm enough over his hardened dick that it’s maddening. 

With his head down and hair falling over his face, concealing it entirely, Rain finally lets it out, he nearly chokes on it. 

I thought you wouldn’t want me.

He sounds so wounded, ashamed. Dew brings a hand up to tuck some of Rain’s hair behind his ear, finally cradling his face. Rain leans into it with his eyes screwed shut, afraid to look at Dew. He feels so small. 

“Oh rainbow—“ Dew could almost sob. The idea that he wouldn't want Rain makes his chest tight. He’s wanted this just as much, but this is Dew. He doesn't know how to ask for what he wants. He’d rather wallow in his misery than tell Rain all that he’s been thinking- afraid of the same rejection. Afraid of driving him away.

Dew runs his thumb along Rain’s lip, trying to think of ways to comfort him, to calm his worry. 

“Rain, look at me” Dew tries to sound as comforting as possible, not wanting to give the ghoul any reason to find malice in his words. “Please look at me,”. Rain angles his head up and opens his eyes just enough for Dew to see.

“Can I show you how much I do?” 

Rain chokes on his own breath. Dew flips them over, running his hand down Rain’s side. It leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake but he needs more. He wants to give Rain anything, everything. 

Dew runs his thumb over Rain’s hip, inches away from where he really wants him. It makes Rain throb, he’s getting wetter the longer Dew makes him wait. “Dew… please. I can’t do it anymore, please,” 

Dew gives a comforting squeeze right as he brings his hand down to Rain slick pussy. Dragging his fingers up and down his slit, he feels Rain get impossibly wetter. He slips a finger in and feels Rain clench and flutter around his digit. Dew wishes it was his cock. His wish makes him realize that he unfortunately still has his underwear on– that’ll change soon enough.

 “All this for me Rainy? You’ve got yourself all wet for me?” Dew punctuates his question by slipping another finger in. The stretch has Rain rutting against his hand, desperate. Dew makes the mistake of looking back at Rain’s face– lip caught between his teeth as he tries to hold back his noises, his palms dug into his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure as Dew works him open. Dew kisses under his jaw before readjusting himself, lowering himself to rest between Rain’s thighs. He pulls his fingers out and watches Rain’s cunt clench around nothing. Rain opens his mouth to voice his disappointment but is quickly silenced by Dew licking a long drag from his hole up to his cock. Rain’s back arches off of the bed. 

“Be good and let me hear you,” Dew gets his lips around Rain’s stiff little dick, sucking softly at first, testing him. Dew dips down again, lapping at Rain’s pussy before bringing his mouth back to his throbbing dick. He holds it in his mouth, he can feel how heavy he is against his tongue. Rain can only mewl, a litany of please and don't stop flowing from his mouth. His brain feels like it’s melting out of his ears with the way Dew is eating him out.

Dew slips his fingers back in and tongues at the underside of his cock. He feels more slick gush out, pooling in his palm and dripping down to soak the bed underneath them. His fingers curl and feel around, searching. Dew knows he’s found it when Rain’s legs clamp around his head, spasming from the pleasure. It makes Rain see white. Everything is driving him towards the edge, but this isn't how he wants it to end.

Rain reaches down and grabs under Dew’s chin. He brings him up and meets his lips and Dew removes his hand so he can steady himself. You wont be empty for long.

Dew hums and licks into his mouth, sharing the heady taste of his slick. Rain cradles his neck pulling him down further, he can feel Dew’s thrumming pulse. He drags a hand down, pausing over Dew’s pounding heart. Mine. He doesnt now where the courage came from, but Dew quickly ducks his head by Rain’s ear and whispers it back. “Yours, raindrop. Whenever you want. Forever.” It's a promise he makes as he roll his hips into Rain’s thigh. Rain ignores it for now and decides to drag a little lower to the silver rings adorning Dew’s chest. He tugs lightly, it earns him a gasp. He keeps thumbing at the reddening nub, toying with it. Dew moves back in to get his lips on Rain’s, to drown himself in his taste. Rain's hand reaches further, moving past the band of Dew’s boxers. 

He finally gets a hand around Dew’s cock and all he can feel is Dew shaking with anticipation. He’s hot, burning even, and heavy in Rain’s hand. Rain runs his hand down the length, giving a gentle squeeze to the base. Dew isn't quiet like Rain, not ever. So Rain touching him has him groaning into Rain’s shoulder. Rain brings his hand back up to swipe over the head and he feels Dew stiffen. 

“Take them off Dew,” Dew huffs and all but throws himself off of Rain, quickly pulling off his ruined boxers and throwing them towards the edge of the bed. Dew goes back in for a kiss, and Rain gets his hand back on his cock- twisting around the head. Dew is practically leaking, remnants of his water ghoul days. Rain drags his hand back down, spreading his pre over his length. Dew is larger than he expected, Rain feels a tinge of worry that he might not fit. Everyone thinks the small ghoul would be proportional, but they couldn't be more wrong in this division. 

“I need you Dew. Please fuck me,” Who is Dew to deny his pretty little siren? He centers himself between Rain’s legs, pushing his legs open wider. His pussy on display. He ruts his cock through Rain's wet folds, making sure to drag his head over Rain’s clit. Rain shakes with Dew’s little movements. He wraps his legs around Dew's torso and Dew picks up on the cue, finally lining himself up. 

He eases the blunt head in, hoping Rain is adjusting enough. By the sounds he’s making, Dew knows everything is fine. He slowly pushes in inch by inch, but the stretch is still enough to have Rain choking on his own breath. Dew leans down, “Almost there baby, just breathe. Such a good boy for me. You’re taking me so well.” His words make Rain dig his heels in and it forces his cock in to the hilt. The stretch is sudden, and it's harder for Rain to adjust, but he can only think of how Dew is reaching into him. Perfect. They fit together perfectly, molded for each other.

Dew starts with shallow thrusts, inching in and out. He wants Rain to feel it all. His thrusts get faster, more desperate, almost pulling out entirely before carving himself back in. Rain swears he can feel him in his stomach, with each thrust knocking a quick moan out of him. Rain starts meeting his thrusts, rocking his hips perfectly. Every thrust hits his G-spot and has him seeing stars. Dew brings his hand down, swiping his thumb over Rain’s cock. His eyes drag down to where they meet, where Dew is gliding into him. Rain feels his cock twitch in him. The lewd sounds of skin against skin fill the room. 

The speechless noise is interrupted by Rain. “Can I ask for something… please?” 

Anything Rainy, anything you want. 

He reaches down for Dew’s hand, dragging it up. Both of their hands rest around his neck and he squeezes Dew’s down against the sides, right under his humming pulse. Dew realizes what he wants and is dumbfounded, he thinks he’s dreaming, but quickly indulges Rain. He squeezes a little harder, and watches as the water ghoul’s eyes roll into the back of his head. Dew feels him clamp down harder on his cock. The tight and wet grip Rain has on him has him right on the edge. Rain taps his hand and Dew loosens his grip. “So good Dew, fuck– its so good.”

His thrusts turn into grinding his cock deeper into Rain, he manages to reach further and further with each roll of his hips. Dew tightens his grip again, just to feel Rain flutter around him.

“Close Rain, please... together?” Rain gives him a quick nod before reaching down to tug at his neglected clit. Dew steadies his hand on Rain’s neck for just a little while longer, just until his thrusts become a little less coordinated. Then he squeezes harshly, “Ive got you Rain, cum for me.” The gentle words prove to be his undoing, he goes rigid against Dew, cumming as he keeps fucking into him.

Feeling the coil tighten further, Dew is sent over the edge by Rain pulsing around him. He spills deep inside Rain as his aftershocks continue to wring him dry. He sags against Rain and wraps his arms against his waist, both of them sticky with sweat. Rain feels like a live wire against Dew.

He would be content to just lay like this for forever, listening to Rain’s heart as he comes down from his own orgasm, feeling his body against his. But he knows that they need to get cleaned up- especially Rain. 

They bask in each others after glow just for awhile longer, feeling each others breath even out. Dew is the first to find his voice,

“I wish you would’ve said something sooner,”

Rain places a kiss against Dew’s hair, and squeezes him closer. “Me too wildfire, me too.”