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like this for plotting / a starter!! i will come 2 u once got is over xoxo 

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bloomshops‌ // patch.

                      𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑺    𝑪𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑷    𝑩𝑬𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬    𝑯𝑬𝑹    𝑨𝑺    𝑻𝑯𝑬    𝑭𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑻    𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑺    𝑰𝑵    𝑺𝑬𝑴𝑰    𝑪𝑰𝑹𝑪𝑳𝑬    ,   the    smile    still    curved    upon    the    rim    of    those    lightly    painted    lips    .      ❝     —————-     i    guess    you    just    get    used    to    it    .    to    be    fair    ,    by    the    end    of    the    day    i    can    hardly    smell    anything    .    a    blessing    and    a    curse    ,    maybe    ?    who    knows    .    —-    pretty    sure    i    would    take    sweet    over    your    choice    any    day    of    the    week    though    .    ew    ,    by    the    way    .    ❞

‘ yeah, i’m sure most   people would agree with you. ‘ she leans on the counter, watching patch’s deft fingers arrange the flowers, and she’s struck by how effortlessly she makes things beautiful. they both must be delicate in their work, but patch has a true delicacy, a gentle touch that sparks beauty and joy. jazz’s form of delicacy involves floating an iv catheter into a tricky vein, or turning a seizing patient onto their side so they don’t aspirate their own fluids. her form of delicacy involves blood and muck and she looks at patch with longing, wishing she could learn to be this kind of delicate instead. ‘ we still on for dinner? ‘ 

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imalus‌ // ivy. 

                               “if i’m dying. don’t let them pump me full of chemicals and lock me in a box.” melodramatic, maybe, but ivy’s kept control of everything in her life and, in death, she’d lose just as much too. she wants to rejoin the green, feed the children that she’d dedicated her life to protecting.

“am i? dying, i mean.” the hospital thrums, vision blurring in her periphery. she’s never died before, wouldn’t know what it felt like either way – but this one, taking a radial pulse, seems overqualified.

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‘ well, we’re all dying,  really. ‘ but it’s said lightly, two fingers placed on the stranger’s wrist -- a strong pulse, at least, clearly not too much blood lost from the wound in her leg. not tachycardic, blood pressure’s good -- she seems to have dodged a bullet, even though she hadn’t dodged whatever made this wide gash.  it’s strange, though. upon touching the woman’s skin, there had not been one scene of death, concrete and sure -- instead the visions seemed to shift like sand, as though her future itself was uncertain, blowing with the wind. jasmine had never seen anything like it. but as she busies herself putting a pressure dressing on the still-bleeding wound, she keeps her voice steady, easygoing. ‘ but you don’t seem like you’re gonna waste away right now. whatever -- or whoever -- happened to you, it missed your femoral artery. your vitals look good. i’m sure the doc’s gonna just want to stitch you up, monitor you for a little while. but i’ll make sure to let everyone know -- no chemicals, no -- uh -- boxes. ‘ 

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@bloomshops // patch

‘ how do you stand   this smell all the time? ‘ her nose wrinkles, fingers shifting along the edge of a pink petal. ‘ i can handle the smell of GI-bleed poop better than this. it’s so ....... sweet smelling. ‘ 

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