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I am building delicious soups from powerful broths you couldn't even comprehend.

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My heart goes out to the 27 victims of the recent ligma outbreak. You will be in my thoughts and prayers.

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theoses·.

                                                                          @entrvpic·

          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐔𝐍  𝐈𝐒  𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 .  a stroke of irony considering her heritage, but the normally welcome beams of light instead have her overheating, chest heaving after her dozenth flip in a row. with her hand she shield her eyes to get a proper look, sighing heavily when she realizes gabe still has his headphones in and is still not looking at her. 

         she’s starting to think it’s on purpose. for a moment alex debates leaving as though nothing transpired at all, but there are a few people giving her curious looks, wondering if she’s simply flipping as some sort of practice or sport, and not to get a boy’s attention. it’s enough to motivate her to make it worthwhile, converse stomping through the grass of the quad to yank out one of gabe’s earbuds.   “  whatcha listening to ?  ” she asks, grinning dumbly. “ hope it’s not a ted talk… ” 

                             gabe’s two thirds of the way through his podcast when one of his headphones is unceremoniously tugged from his ear. he starts slightly at the surprise, but mellows out once alex’s enthusiastic voice takes the place of the calm australian who was telling him about sunfish. “seacreatures podcast,” he answers, attention focused primarily on pausing it so he doesn’t lose his place. “i can’t do ted talks. my mom sends them to me when she’s pissed off.” 

he smiles at her, winding the wire of his earbuds around his phone once he’s confident that he’s paused it. his brows knit together, disappearing behind his sunglasses as he takes in the state of her. it’s not altogether unusual, but her breathing is a little funny. and her cheeks are a little more pink than he remembers. “are you feeling okay?” he asks, genuine concern for her well being washing over him. “you look a little...” well. he knows better than to finish a sentence like that, lest she end up sending him a ted talk about how to talk to women. he shifts his backpack to make room for her, settling on a different approach. “maybe you should sit down?”

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sunyearned·.

      it’s not that he doesn’t register ren’s voice from downstairs at all,  but it’s decidedly distant, unlike the open assignment in front of him that he’s working his way through grading.  he won’t complain,  this is preferable to games played in class that he has yet to figure out how to assign a fitting grade to.  his focus is just hard to move.  it’s really the bark that first pulls it, an easily recognizable i’m impatient and hungry followed by the announcement that pulls a grin across features. a less muddled awareness that ren is home.  he decides the assignment can wait.

glasses still sit on the bridge of his nose as he makes his way down,  not yet committed enough to the day to be out of contacts or out of pajama pants that aren’t actually his.  ❛  pebbles would never feed me runny eggs,  or the prune juice we don’t have.  ❜  he barely touches on his ten minute limit, turning into the kitchen a beat after ren’s breakfast threat.  ❛  and he isn’t self serving.  he’s practicing self advocacy.  it’ll be critical for developing interpersonal relationships later on.  ❜  and they can’t say it didn’t work,  pebbles has already busied himself eating newly dolled out food as ridley’s defending him. 

❛  that wasn’t long at all.  good day for crepes  ?  ❜  he knows it was fast because of what the stove clock tells him, but time they spend apart tends to drag.  he steps around pebbles, and from there only has to lean in to steal a good morning kiss.  ❛  french toast for breakfast  ?  ❜

              ��     though it stands to reason that he boards this train of thought a few times daily, ren is fully confident that this is his favorite version of ridley. the glasses-clad one that looks all cuddly in stolen--- appropriated, the well-read voice in his head supplies--- pajama pants; one of the biggest pitfalls of his work is missing out on it, more often than not. “if pebbles could feed anyone anything, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he snorts, reluctantly pulling his eyes off of ridley to locate the juice. his next words are muttered, spoken to the inside of the fridge “and if he’s planning to form more interpersonal relationships, he should probably focus on sniffing less ass on his walks, first.”

once he snakes his arm through and pulls the juice from the back of the bottom shelf, ren is pleased to see that he doesn’t have to close the distance between them. he answers the first question with a hum, not willing to let a flippant comment about the track team derail the course of ridley’s lips. he’s a simple man with simple interests. 

“french toast for breakfast,” he agrees as soon as there’s an inch between their noses, but he’s quick to dive back in, lips closing back in for a second pass. this time when he pulls back, he’s lifted an eyebrow in suspicion, the taste of coffee he didn’t drink lingering on his tongue. it pairs well with the smell of the coffee brewing a few feet away. “what’s your mug count, right now?” he knows it’s at least two, considering last night’s tea and his current empty-handed state. history tells him that’s a low count. “more or less than six, before i dirty a new one?”

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                    “hey, rid? i’m back.” he’s toeing off his shoes and letting pebbles loose in the apartment when he calls out, voice just loud enough that ridley will hear it if he’s up but not so loud that it’ll wake him up, if he’s not. the coffee pot is empty, he notes. ren’s only been gone for two hours-- crepes sell out fast, when he parks near the track-- so he knows that ridley hasn’t made his way out of their room yet or he’s downed an entire pot of coffee in that time. both are plausible. either way, he empties out the last batch’s grounds and starts up a new one. “pebbles, scoot,” he murmurs, shooing him away from the fridge. 

                    “go find the man that paid for you and tell him i need to know what he wants for breakfast.” for a second, ren actually believes that he might, watching the dog trot toward their bedroom before stalling at his own food dish and letting out an indignant bark. “you’re so self-serving,” ren tells him, eyes rolling in half-hearted disappointment. “our son is self-serving,” he announces, a little bit louder, crouching to plug the machine that doles out the corgi’s food back in. “i think i’m a bad influence.” he won’t pretend to understand how it works or how it manages to find itself out of commission so often. ( his money is on the blind-as-a-bat man who made it giving it a good accidental kick on his way to bed for the night. )

                    “pebbles told me to ask what you want for breakfast but he said he caught your anxiety and he’s too afraid to ask, himself. if you don’t show your face in the next ten minutes, he said to say it’s gonna be eggs. runny ones. and prune juice.”

@sunyearned​ come get y’all juice 

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 !

                            private multi-muse ! written by kq , 25 , she / her !

featuring : 

aisling dunn , 23 , child of hypnos  ( abigail cowen ) drew abernathy , 22 , child of iris ( owen joyner ) fae salter , 29 , child of demeter ( aisha dee ) gabe ortiz , 21 , child of zeus ( michael cimino ) laurence lavoie , 26 , child of dionysus ( adam dimarco ) naomi coates , 26 , child of khione ( kiana madeira )

               ** icon , page break , and header courtesy of deathlyrph !! thank you !!

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Kiana Madeira as Moe Truax in Trinkets ↳ 1.02 Paper Tigers

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Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

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AISHA DEE A Book Of (2020)

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Because zach woods delivery of that line was too good not to post

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I thought you were working on recovered memory spells. We did. Now, we’re relaxing.