rustwoods

[rustwoods]

oh didn't post it here, on hiatus until 7/31 ✌🏼

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Gavin Casalegno as Jeremiah Fisher In The Summer I Turned Pretty Season 2 (2022 - 2023)

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“I thought this summer was going to be like all the other summers, but it’s not. Because I won’t let it be.”

THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY SEASON ONE, 2022

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Seeing as how the Big Beautiful Bill just passed, here's are some websites that offer discounts on medications:

- GoodRx

- SingleCare

- Pharmacy Checker

- WellRx - this one compares prices across different pharmacies

- Cost Plus - thanks to @thedamnqueenofhell for suggesting!

-NeedyMeds - a nonprofit that helps pay for prescriptions. Thank you to @allitdoesispause for the suggestion! They also suggested checking the manufacturers website for a paitent assistance program, which can give you a coupon for free or cheaper meds.

- Scriptcycle - thank you to @teleomancer for the suggestion!

-Ask for a discount card - thank you to @cccshutdown for the reminder!

-Walmart - They have a $4 generic list! Thank you to @tristese !

- Nurx - is a Planned Parenthood alternative. You can get birth control and other medication here. Thanks to @tomhenks!

- Costco Pharmacy - which offers discounts and you don't need a membership to access. Thank you @alarmed-father!

- Walgreens RX Savings Finder - This let's you compare prices and applies discount codes from sites like GoodRx to find the most affordable option. Thank you to @maledictionwolf !

- CVS - which automatically applies discounts if you don't have insurance. Thank you, @imtrying-ok !

- MDsave - which provides lower costs for self-pay procedures. Thank you to @mustacchiofurioso who also recommended the next entry.

- Jasonlabs - for labwork.

Stay safe, everyone. Things are about to get much, much worse in the US.

EDIT: if you're worried about doctor/therapy appointments, see if there's a sliding scale clinic near you (and ask your therapist if they offer sliding scale prices)

@scribblingandscrawling recommended Open Path, a service that offers sliding scale therapy

@Ilbertas had a great suggestion to check your community and colleges for free clinics.

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✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 .    (  a collection of  mixed action prompts.   adjust phrasing as desired.   potentially mature content within.  )

[ 1. ] sender steps between receiver and an aggressive stranger, voice low and steady: "walk. away."

[ 2. ] sender teaches receiver self-defense, hands firm on their hips as they adjust their stance.

[ 3. ] sender presses their forehead to receiver's, voice breaking as they murmur, "i don't know how to fix this, but i'm not leaving."

[ 4. ] sender shoves receiver out of the way of a projectile.

[ 5. ] sender combs their fingers through receiver's hair in the aftermath of a traumatic event, whispering words of comfort.

[ 6. ] sender whispers, “i’ve thought about this all day,” before pinning receiver against a wall for a searing kiss.

[ 7. ] sender wipes away the receiver’s falling tears with their thumb and whispers, “i’m here."

[ 8. ] sender patches up receiver's wounds, hands trembling as they whisper, "you can't keep doing this to me."

[ 9. ] sender shoves receiver into a hiding spot, hissing, "stay here or i’ll kill you myself."

[ 10. ] sender finds receiver drunk at a party, sighing. "let’s get you home."

[ 11. ] sender is discovered sleepwalking by receiver.

[ 12. ] sender steals receiver’s weapon and presses it to their own chest, daring: “go ahead. prove me right.”

[ 13. ] sender ‘accidentally’ flashes receiver while changing, purring, "see something you like?"

[ 14. ] sender whispers, "you’ll ruin me," before biting receiver’s lip hard enough to draw blood.

[ 15. ] sender takes over while receiver is giving themselves stitches, promising to handle it.

[ 16. ] sender frantically grips receiver by the shoulders, "don't you dare close your eyes."

[ 17. ] sender fixes receiver’s crooked [ tie / jewelry ], teasing, "nervous?"

[ 18. ] sender shakes receiver out of a nightmare, comforting them in the aftermath. "same nightmare again?"

[ 19. ] sender brings hot tea and medication to a [ hungover / ill ] receiver.

[ 20. ] sender invites receiver to dance with them, insisting, "what? this song's perfect."

[ 21. ] sender leaves a single rose on receiver’s windshield with a note: "you’re being followed. smile."

[ 22. ] sender pins receiver’s wrists during a sparring match, grinning, "yield."

[ 23. ] sender playfully steals something from receiver, initiating a chase. "come and get it, then."

[ 24. ] sender drapes a blanket over receiver, accidentally waking them. "sorry, go back to sleep."

[ 25. ] receiver returns home only to find sender already there. "finally."

[ 26. ] after a pleasant night out together, sender asks: "can i kiss you goodnight?"

[ 27. ] sender wipes the blood from receiver's face, murmuring, "let's get you cleaned up."

[ 28. ] sender shoves receiver against a vending machine to dodge security, breathless. "act natural."

[ 29. ] sender wakes receiver in the throes of a nightmare, reassuring them, "it's okay, it's not real."

[ 30. ] sender purposefully antagonizes receiver, hurling insults; "what are you gonna do about it?"

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the house had settled into that rare serenity they were only met with when charlie girl was slumbering ⸻ the kind that only showed up after the world had tired itself out, after both kids were finally down for the night and the lone star state stopped tryin’ to holler through their windows. no sirens or dishwasher hums, just the soft creak of old floorboards and the occasional rustle of wind whipping around the pecan trees out back. judd stands barefoot in the kitchen, heavy-shouldered in his typical quietude, holding a chipped mug like it'll anchor him to the night. the coffee inside had long gone cold, but he sips on it anyway ⸻ more for the ritual than the taste. grace always said that cup should’ve been retired years ago, but it still manages, it holds up, much like he does.

he turns his gaze toward the hallway, where just past the dim light he can hear the faintest hush of baby monitor static and the lingering echoes of the lullaby grace had sung hours ago. “ y’know, gracie, ” he calls out quietly, “ i was standin’ by the rig this mornin’ and got to thinkin’ bout that chapel in fredericksburg. the one with the crooked steeple and them stained-glass windows you liked so damn much. ”

the silence stretches after that, not to fill the space, but to honor it. the memory had clung to him all day, threaded through the smoke and sweat and clamor of a shift that had left his body aching and his heart even more tender than usual. there's something about the way time folds in on itself when he reminisces about her like that ⸻ how years could collapse into seconds, how a glimpse of her then could still steady him now. not because it was perfect, but because it was theirs. the world had never offered him much he could hold onto for long ⸻ but grace, she's the exception to that rule. she's the miracle stitched right into the debilitating ache of his bones.

perhaps that’s why his voice is gentler when he speaks to her, rough edges dulled by utter devotion and esteem. “ been wonderin’ if maybe you and i could sneak away for a weekend. just the two of us. and let wyatt hold the fort for a night or two now that he’s proven more than capable. ” @stormlit

the mug tips in hand as eyes await for her to turn from their bedroom and down the hall, listening for the shift of wheels on hardwood floor, though he knows she now moves quieter than most. “ what do you say, darlin'? ”

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los angeles air has been a different kind of charge ⸻ salt-bitten and perfumed with jacaranda blooms wilting beneath the siren-slick skyline. at the edge of their brand new apartment rooftop, where the city spills down below like an array of shattered mirrors.

he and tk had traded austin's bourbon sunsets and the slow drawl of cicadas for the relentless staccato of dispatches and dogged glares of street cameras. though his belt is the same, the weight of it has shifted. it's grittier now, like sand caught in the lining of his spine, or like the grime that clings to the backseat of a cruiser at dawn. his fingers run idle circles over the rail’s smooth-steeled edge while an ever working mind coils tight around the week’s cases ⸻ choked alleyways, opulent scenes dressed like something of nightmares.

tk's behind him now, an ever welcomed and soft exhale in the siren-howl, and that changes everything. carlos pivots, boots scraping concrete, and the wind teases the hem of his jacket like it beckons him to stay in motion, except he doesn't desire to move. not away from tk. a step closer, a hand sliding to the nape of his husband's neck with practiced tenderness, the other anchoring gently at his hip like he's holding onto gravity itself. “ it's louder here. i don’t know if i like it yet, ” carlos admits, words pulling from the same part of him that's learned tk's silences far better than his own. he lets his thumb drift softly along tk's jaw, searching for certainty in the give of skin. @str4nds

“ but with you here... i don’t have to like it. i go where you go. ” a breath passes between them, carlos’s chest rising and falling. “ do you you regret leaving, babe? ”

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“Well, legally, I have committed many crimes, but morally, I feel good about my standing.”

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besties... so happy i'm getting a pay bump next month cause all of my additional trainings and certifications etc, this was so needed 😭

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Manish Dayal as Ash Patel THE WALKING DEAD: DARYL DIXON | 2.05 "Vouloir, C'est Pouvoir"

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she regards him with the quiet serenity of machinery left too long in disuse — not cold nor idle, but listening, some rusted cog still turning behind the gleam of her hazel eyes. the dim saloon light strikes the angles of her face and catches against the copper threadwork along her jawline, where old steel meets healed skin in a lattice of dull ridges and whispering circuitry. stranger, he’d remarked, but the greeting doesn't land quite right — she feels too old for that now, too forgotten by time to be unfamiliar. her shoulders shift like an old hinge as she leans forward, the gears beneath her ribcage clicking faintly, constant hum of artificial life never entirely silent. “ didn't figure you for the asking type, ” alma counters evenly, voice roughened at the edges, tempered by abandonment and dust. “ but a drink’s not the worst way to pass a bad minute. ” fingertips tap the worn wood once, then twice. “ i’ve got time to kill, and you look like you’ve got stories with no one left to hear ’em. ” gaze doesn't flinch, but a flicker passes behind it — not fear exactly, but recollection, tangled and pulsing just behind the curtain of her skull.

Exhaustion, like dark rings of amethyst, settles beneath his eyes. He understands, intimately and without words, the mortal fatigue that plagues his corporeal. Wasn't ever one to wish for more cybernetics but at least mechanical tendons didn't ache, @norholy.

"Now I wasn't gon' ask no adds of you.." he starts, wrangling his whiskey-tinged tongue in like a languid lasso. "But shoot, I'm down on my luck at th'minute and I need another drink like a fish needs water. What say you, stranger..?"

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phira's words strike like a bell in a drowned chapel — all shimmer and accusation, unflinching and brutal in their truth. the reluctant prince remains unmoving as her hand lands flat against his chest, not hard, not soft, but final, and the echo of it rings through his bones with the low, oceanic hum of distant wreckage. it is not pain she gives him, but awakening. the flush still lingering on her cheek where he had touched her appears brighter than the light sputtering through slits in the alcove. and as she leans closer, so does memory — the one's that slash deeper than blade or betrayal. her scorn holds the taste of salt and blood and morning light on water, and he drinks it like a man long parched.

a bitter, amused sound slips past his lips, a laugh that rusts inside his chest. “ you believe i've not tried? that i haven’t used every weapon i've ever possessed, and then lost them in the same breath? ” voice quiets, cracks at the edges, but it carries. “ some mornings i wake with salt on my tongue, phira, and no sea nearby — only the taste of all that is forgotten. ” he shifts closer, one step forward, quiet as falling ash in the wreckage of war, until the space between them narrows to a thread. and though he does not reach to touch again, his presence looms — a man excavated by one too many memories misplaced, too many losses, and yet still reaching for light like ivy through stone walls. “ the one weapon i haven't used is the one i fear to lose, little siren. you will sing and somehow i will lose you. ”

gaze drifts down her arm, to the place where she'd pressed her palm atop his heart. “ if i'm to keep you close, ” he murmurs, softer now, more dangerous for it, “ tell me, when said cliffs come…. will you sing for me? or will you sing against me? ” his eyes search hers, and it was not suspicion that resides there, but a hunger for a truth untainted by spells or shadows. he's already moving then — toward a cracked way out in the alcove now that irate shadows have wandered, where the lamplight bleeds gold onto stone — but his hand lingers behind him, waiting.

like uncertain weather, he shifted between warmth and coldness forced on him by the unseen faces. she watched with a pang in her chest as it changed him, harmed him, and ultimately he became something he did not wish to and something she wanted to tear away from him. only she couldn’t, and the dread of that hopelessness seemed to pry its claws into the safe haven they had once made together — secreted away where these same poisonous talons could not ruin it. how short lived was that joy, as she waited with stiff breath to see how it would wound her next. he speaks now, and she finds it difficult to look at him as the truth is laid bare.

with bitterness she thinks, even the choices to break her heart was not his own. the temper in her bristles, and she meets his sullen smile with a harsh frown of her own. her arms cross against her chest like a stubborn wife would, and his hand finds her jaw to thaw that edge from her. he calls her a siren, and so she speaks like one.

❛  you men — you can’t think without wallowing. you have this in your hands,  ❜  and she shoves her own palm forward, flat against his chest and an echo of something heavy dropping into the depths of the ocean waters would hum through his chest. though it is her lips she knows are the true weapon. ❛  and yet you have not used it. you called me a siren — do you think i am only such a thing at dawn?  ❜  she crowds closer, her cheek flushed where he had touched her, and tilts her face towards him with a twist of her lips that was closer to a frown once her ire had resided. ❛  if i were you, i’d keep me so close, because i have a voice that can walk your enemies off a cliff.  ❜

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kate and flowers. kate surrounded by the ton, kate surrounded by young amenable women who all resemble flowers with their grace, gentleness, and amiability. but isn’t it she who’s most like a flower? not in her delicacy, but in the way that she stands tall, in the way that she conceals her emotions, a big one being pain and hurt, to better protect herself. flowers are held up by these delicate stems but they stand tall when seeking sunlight. when anthony says, "every rose has it’s thorn" about kate being edwina's thorn. but she’s her own thorn, and by that i mean, she has shortcomings. she has flaws. she puts everyone’s needs and wants above her own because she feels she must be responsible for those things.  but that doesn’t mean those flaws aren’t without beauty.

and she isn’t thorny like a rose, she's like a tulip. there’s softness once you pass precise edges. kate’s soft in the way that she tries so hard to protect those she loves, ensure their happiness and that their wishes are met, that she so often dismisses her own. kate is kind. she can be kind with armor, she can be kind and horribly stubborn, she is kind and competitive. and anthony’s the first person to give her flowers 

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in my head i have private and secondary muses but please know they can all be written with at all times i really don't care. i love them

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tags, 03.

[rustwoods]

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 and other stories . . . 〗 a collection of dialogue + action prompts inspired by angela carter's the bloody chamber and other stories. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. adjust details as necessary.

dialogue :

are you sure you want to marry him?

oh! how you must want me!

soon.

i had never been vain until i met you.

anticipation is the greater part of pleasure.

all the better to see you.

what is that key? the key to your heart?

every man must have one secret, even if only one, from his wife.

all is yours, everywhere is open to you.

but now... what shall i do now?

my darling, i cannot wait for the moment when you make me yours completely.

there is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

you are in some great distress.

any bride brought to a castle should come ready dressed in mourning.

oh god. i can smell the blood.

i thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behavior!

can't it wait until morning, my darling?

who can say what i deserve or no?

i've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.

i have a place prepared for your exquisite corpse upon my display of flesh.

good fellow? i am no good fellow.

forgive me for robbing your garden!

all she wanted, in the whole world, was one white, perfect rose.

and what else was there to be done?

they are the death of any tender herbivore.

so late! you will want sleep.

you will come back to me? it will be lonely here, without you.

i will come back. soon, before the winter is over.

i am sick and i must die.

if you'll have me, i'll never leave you.

i think i might be able to manage a little breakfast today.

i have lost my pearl, my pearl beyond price.

if you are so careless of your treasure, you should expect them to be taken from you.

for all my pride, my heart is heavy.

if you wish to give me money, then i should be pleased to receive it.

i shall twist a noose out of my bed linen and hang myself with it.

you are a woman of honor.

nothing human lives here.

we have dispensed with servants.

take off my clothes for you, like a ballet girl? is that all you want of me?

all cats are cynics.

you read my thoughts, my love.

the woods enclose. the wood swallows you up.

all will fall still, all lapse.

it is easy to lose yourself in these woods.

i thought that nobody was in the wood but me.

there are some eyes can eat you.

sometimes the birds, at random, all singing, strike a chord.

eat me, drink me.

dive in and fetch it for me.

now you are at the place of annihilation.

and she is herself a cave full of echoes, she is a system of repetitions, she is a closed circuit.

can a bird sing only the song it knows or can it learn a new song?

beauty is a symptom of disorder, of soullessness.

a single kiss woke up the sleeping beauty in the wood.

be he alive or be he dead.

coffee. you must have coffee.

welcome. welcome to my chateau.

i rarely receive visitors and that's a misfortune since nothing animates me half as much as the presence of a stranger.

this place is so lonely.

now the village is deserted.

often i am so silent that i think i, too, will soon forget how to do so and nobody will ever talk any more.

i must apologize for the lack of light.

you have such a fine throat, like a column of marble.

i am condemned to solitude and dark.

i do not mean to hurt you.

i will be very gentle.

and could love free me from the shadows?

i've been waiting for you in my wedding dress, why have you delayed for so long.

you will feel no pain, my darling.

so delicate and damned, poor thing. quite damned.

the end of exile is the end of being.

it is a northern country; they have cold weather, they have cold hearts.

the devil is as real as you or i.

do not leave the path.

you are always in danger in the forest.

they are as unkind as plague.

fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems.

besides, aren't you afraid of the wolves?

actions :

clasp. from behind, the sender places their hands over the receiver's eyes.

opera. through opera glasses, the sender watches the receiver.

choker. the sender fastens a gemstone necklace around the receiver's neck.

carriage. the sender locks the receiver in with them in their train compartment.

spine. the sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's bare neck.

cigar. the sender leans in and blows smoke in the receiver's face.

ermine. the sender wraps the furs around the receiver tighter as the snow falls.

keys. the sender silently enters the room and listens to the receiver play piano.

harem. the sender undresses the receiver before a collection of mirrors.

lazy. the sender brings the receiver breakfast in bed.

call. the sender calls the receiver and bursts into tears upon hearing their voice.

note. the sender discovers a love letter sent to the receiver from a previous lover.

death. the sender finds the receiver with the body of their latest victim.

hospitality. the sender watches from the shadows as the receiver take refuge from a storm in the sender's seemingly abandoned home.

servant. invisible, the sender feeds/washes/cares for the receiver.

hearth. the sender and the receiver talk past midnight by the fire's light.

hands. the sender falls to their knees before the receiver and kisses their hands.

bouquet. the sender has a hundred white roses sent to the receiver.

reunion. the sender lays eyes upon the receiver for the first time in an age.

bad luck. the sender hangs their head having lost a bet to the receiver.

voice. the sender sends their valet to speak their desires to the receiver.

powder. the sender dresses/makes up the receiver before an important night.

stallion. the sender grabs the reins of the receiver's horse and leads them away.

weep. the sender cries at the sight of the receiver in such a state.

dry. the sender brushes a tear from the receiver's cheek.

flush. the sender pinches the receiver's skin, watching it redden with blood.

prey. the sender guides the receiver's hands as together they skin a rabbit.

song. the sender sings and the receiver is spellbound, their feet following their song's command.

caught. the sender locks the receiver into a cage.

green. by the sender's command, the growth begins to take over the receiver.

tarot. the sender tells the receiver they are doomed to a sad fate.

stain. the sender touches the bloodstain on the receiver's white negligée.

wild. the sender rides hard through the night, chasing the receiver.

thirst. the sender sinks their teeth into the neck of the receiver.

china. the sender pours tea for the receiver and offers them biscuits.

blemish. the sender explores the receiver's skin and finds the mark of a witch.

wolf. the wolf reveals themself to be the sender before the receiver.

muzzle. the sender kisses the monstrous mouth of the receiver.