#flower barrel art

[ironbenjaminek]

And here rests in peace

Mary games and arts

She was cool and uhh

She was the deserved ones valentine once

She noticed us whenever alan Made a new short

And

Can somebody else say somthing sorry I just followed her blog today idk what she did

Anyway may she rest in peace

[fang-3d]

River Mountain Scene 3D model

River Mountain Scene 3D Model.

Made In Blender3D v3.3.6.

Poly Count:

Verts: 5,080,125 | Polygon: 2,815,323 | Tris: 5,468,150.

[captain-amadeus]

"Those vines are thornless, meaning it's a feeling of annoyance rather than malice. Or maybe he's restraining himself."

[dreamsofalife]

((TAG DUMP~))

[abeer-adel]

Help my family survive

Hello, I am Abeer, 33 years old, from Gaza. I hope you read this message. 🙏🚨This message is from my daughter Lian, 11 years old, and my son Wael, 6 months old, to the whole world. 💔🙏Please help Lian, Wael, and my family to get out of Gaza as soon as possible. Donate to give her a safe life. Please do not ignore the message. 🍉💔❤️

My husband's father and mother also live with us. They are 70 years old and suffer from chronic diseases. Treatment is not available for them and they cannot walk forward due to their old age.

On a dark night at the beginning of the war, our area was subjected to massive bombing. The explosions reached our home, forcing us to flee into the night, running amidst periodic explosions and searching for survival. We made our way to southern Gaza by morning, seeking refuge in Rafah

This is our home, filled with our memories and moments of joy and happiness, now reduced to rubble. Its destruction shattered our hearts.

A fragment of what it once was, and now, what it has become

Our situation is dire, and we need your support to rebuild our lives and provide a future for our children. Your kindness and generosity can make a profound difference. Your contributions will help us secure safe shelter, access to medical care, and the basic necessities of life.

Please, consider helping us during this critical time. Every donation, no matter the size, brings us one step closer to safety, stability, and a chance to rebuild our lives.

@90-ghost

@aces-and-angels

@nabulsi

@gazagfmboost

@ibtisam @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vakarians-babe @7amaspayrollmanager @fairuzfakhira @fallahsart @sayruq @humanvoreture @kaapstadgirly @sar-soor @dimonds456-art @plomegranate @commissions4aid-international @nabizboslugu @stil-macher @soon-palestine @communitythings @palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe @ghost-and-a-half @7amaspayrollmanager @kaapstadgirly @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @marnosso-blog @toughenthefcukup @flower-tea-fairies @the-stray-liger @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisectedgirl @communistchameleon @troythecatfish @the-bastards-of-the-barrel @4ft10tvlandfangirl

[eyedsiu]

<A NEW START>

[roaa-44]

🙏🍉Save my fmaily🚨🇵🇸

Hello, I am Ruwa from Gaza, I am 23 years old, married to Muhammad and I have a daughter named (Nana). We live in difficult circumstances. Our lives have changed for the worse. The occupation has destroyed everything. My husband lost his job and I lost my education at university. The war has been going on for a year. My daughter grew up in war. She grew up in fear, terrorism, bombing, destruction and food shortages. I hope that everyone will look at us with mercy and help us get out of here as soon as possible so that we can live a better life than this nightmare. I can complete my education and Nana can live a beautiful life like the rest of the children in the world.

@nabulsi

@gazagfmboost

@ibtisam1212 @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vakarian-shepard -babe @7amaspayrollmanager @fairuzfakhira @fallahsart @sayruq @humanvoreture @kaapstadgirly @sar-soor @dimonds456-art @plomegranate @commissions4aid-international @nabizboslugu @stil-macher @soon-palestine @communitythings @palestine @vakarians-babe @ghost-and-a-half @7amaspayrollmanager @kaapstadgirly @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @felicidadesefaznacozinha-blog @marnosso-blog @toughenthefcukup @flower-tea-fairies @the-streetstyle @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisectedgirl @communistchameleon @troythecatfish @the-bastards-of-the-barrel @4ft10tvlandfangirl

#90 goshtfree gazafree palestinefree

from the river to the sea palestine will be freepalestinedonald trumpewan mitchell

#free gaza #gaza genocide #gazaunderattack

#farm the rheriver to the sea palestine will be

free #palestinefree from the river to the sea

palestine will be freepalestinedonald trumpewan mitchell

#free palestine #i stand with palestine

#save palestine #palestinian genocide

[nouralkhaldi]

Urgent🚨🚨🚨...

My name is Nour El-Din. I am 22 years old. I am studying software engineering in the fourth year at Al-Azhar University. I was displaced from northern Gaza to the south 10 months ago, and now I live with my family of 8 people in a small tent in very difficult conditions, We hope to press all the buttons on the screen and share my story and his. My family to reach as many people as possible, donate if you can...🥹😭🙏

..........please donate if you can even 5$ can be difference........1$$$$2$$$4$$$$100$$$$$can be save my family .....

@90-ghost @communistchilchuck @northgazaupdates @el-shab-hussein @fairuzfan @vakarians-babe @nabulsi @sarazucker @fairuzfan @a-nautilus -as-pixel-art as-pixel-art @13eyond13 @stil-lindigo @baby-indie-blog blog @just-browsing1222 @sar-soor soor @sayruq @appsa @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @marnota @el-shab-hussein @sayruq @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisection-gf @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @animentality @kordeliiius @commissions4aid-international international @brutaliakhoa @raelyn -dreams @troythecatfish @the-bastards -of-the-barrel -king @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging@briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring@shesnake @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @feluka @terroristiraqiss @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria @deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @junglejim4322 @kibumkim @neechees @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @marnota @7bitter @tortiefrancis @toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @evillesbianvillain @aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat @watermotif @stuckinapril @violentrevolution @mavigator @lacecap @socalgal@chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli@sayruq @northgazaupdates2 @papenathys @slicedblackolives @heliopixels @nimbooz @hiveswap @irhabiya @feluka @anneemay@tumkaafiho @fleshdyk3 @balaclava-trismegistus @heritageposts @ripley-stark @paandaan

@90-ghost @northgazaupdates2 @thedigitalbard @retvolution @pierppasolini @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @xinakwans @ot3 @mushroomjar @marnota @weirdmarioenemies @ororomunroedontpullout

[crystallizedtwilight]

Do the names LSBs parents gave them have any significance or meaning/reason they chosen those in particular?

ohhh !! One of my friends just asked me this !! (copies and pastes)

Lock -  Eli (ee · lai)

Lock’s parents named him Eli because they were stealth hunters in the deep forests that stalked wild game, often by using trees to climb or hide. They valued things like swiftness, accuracy, and skill. Eli (meaning “elevated” or “high”) was a favorable name because, if one has the higher ground during a fight or hunt, they are at a favorable advantage. Fittingly, Lock has a natural tendency to climb to high perches—trees, roofs, anything elevated that helps him feel safe, hidden, and like he has the upper hand. He lives up to his name.

Shock - Amaranth; also called Amara or Amy by coven (a · mur · anth)

Shock’s coven bestowed her the most prosperous name they could think of. As witches, her coven saw the immense value in herbs and flowers as they were able to make powerful potions from them. They named her Amaranth (meaning “the unfading flower”). They hoped, with such a powerful name, she would grow up strong and resilient. Additionally, the nicknames they occasionally shortened Amaranth to— Amara (“everlasting”) and Amy (“beloved”)—also expressed their hope that Shock would live a full life always knowing she was loved.

Barrel - Brayden (bray · den)

Barrel was named Brayden (meaning “broad" or "broad valley”) because it is a name that references the Earth. Since ghouls make their life by digging into the earth, burrowing into grave soil, descending into tombs and re-making small "valleys" of their own, they thought it was fitting for Barrel to have a sturdy name that connected him to the earth somehow. To dig a "broad valley" meant he would would prosper as a hearty, nourished ghoul.

[snapghoul]

Head-canons 3

Growing up + Mr. & Mrs. Seresin and Sophia

Note: I’ve hit a block with mini fics and I need requests to help the brain rot flow because I’ve been staring at a blank doc for a while.

Warning: mention of child loss.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

JAKE

★ Jake was the kid who had to get a matchbox car or tiny plane from the store every time they went.

★ He helped his dad cut the lawn as a kid. By help meaning he sat on his dad’s knee and “drove” the mower.

★ Can draw fairly well, won his second grade class art contest by of drawing the Blue Angels squad. His mother had it framed in her office.

★ Used most of his allowance on Galicia at the arcade in town. Held the highest score for a year.

★ Did the water bottle muffler on his bike.

★ Knows how to sew his own clothes, his mother taught him how after she got tired to mending the tears in his pants.

★ As a baby when he was done napping he would shake the crib bars until someone came to get him.

★ All his favorite matchbox cars are still lined up on a windowsill at his parents house.

★ Had the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.

★ Had a favorite chicken, her name was Candy.

★ Had beef with a lot of teachers in school, he wasn’t a quiet kid.

★ Competed in the rodeo with Tyler, he did barrel racing and roping with their mom’s horse Storm Warning. He won a few times.

★ Touched the electric cattle fence because older sis Sophia told him it was off. It wasn’t.

★ Sucked at hangman in school (still does)

TYLER

ᯤ Excellent at math, was in honors and AP all though high school.

ᯤ Flipped his first truck doing donuts in a field, it was fine aside from a few dents.

ᯤ Liked to garden with his mom, he had a ljttle kiddy gardening set. He liked to dig the holes for the seeds and flowers.

ᯤ Had multiple concussions from the rodeo. Only had one 3d grade concussion and it was his last.

ᯤ Almost got struck by lighting when he was ten trying to get a look at the storm.

ᯤ Got stood up on prom night and ended up not going. Jake bailed on his date so Ty wasn’t alone.

ᯤ Released crickets into the school hallway.

ᯤ Climbed out of his crib when he was done with nap time.

ᯤ Spray painted his bike red (it got everywhere)

ᯤ Was the bottom bunk when he shared a room with Jake.

ᯤ Was a stuffed animal kid, his parents have totes of them still.

ᯤ Liked to set his marshmallows on fire.

ᯤ Sophia locked him in the chicken coop more than once.

ᯤ Won the science fair two years in a row, he build a mini version of Dorothy and a tornado.

THE SERESIN FAM

✿ Brisket.

✿ Sophia is four years older than the twins. She is a veterinarian in Austin, she’s been married for two years.

✿ She originally did not like her brothers, she didn’t want anything to do with them when they were infants.

✿ There was supposed to be a another sibling, a girl, before the twins were born. Her name was Dana.

✿ Mrs. Seresin’s name is Rosalie. Her maiden name was Hayes.

✿ Mr. Seresin’s name is Cole.

✿ Mrs. Seresin has a small business, she crochets many different things. She sells a lot at craft fairs.

✿ Mr. Seresin regularly mixed up the twins as babies, hence the color coding.

✿ They have one goat named Guy. Guy will stand on the porch and bleat until he gets his daily apple slice.

✿ All three siblings have a strong and loving relationship with their parents. Both mom and dad support them in everything.

(Please tell me yall get the crickets in the hallway reference)

[burningvelvet]

a post in honor of lord byron's 200th death anniversary —

the greeks were very fond of byron, who when he died in 1824 was a military commander and notable influence in their war of independence. as one of the most (if not the most) famous members of the philhellenist movement, byron used his poetic platform to try to remind people of greece's reputation as the source of western traditions in art and culture. the greeks then honored byron by decorating his coffin with a laurel wreath (below). they also erected statues for him, like this one below in athens depicting him being crowned with a laurel wreath (a symbol of greatness, especially in poetry/music [which historically overlapped]) by a female personification of greece. to this day, some statues of byron are annually wreathed in tradition, and the names byron/vyron/vyronas are still used in greece for roads, towns, and people in his honor.

"’Tis sweet to win, no matter how, one’s laurels,

By blood or ink; ’tis sweet to put an end

To strife; ’tis sometimes sweet to have our quarrels,

Particularly with a tiresome friend:

Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels;

Dear is the helpless creature we defend

Against the world; and dear the schoolboy spot

We ne’er forget, though there we are forgot.

But sweeter still than this, than these, than all,

Is first and passionate love — it stands alone,

Like Adam’s recollection of his fall;

The tree of knowledge has been pluck’d — all ’s known —

And life yields nothing further to recall

Worthy of this ambrosial sin, so shown,

No doubt in fable, as the unforgiven

Fire which Prometheus filch’d for us from heaven."

— excerpt from Lord Byron's Don Juan, Canto the First (writ 1818, pub. 1819).

"The mountains look on Marathon –

And Marathon looks on the sea;

And musing there an hour alone,

I dreamed that Greece might still be free;

For standing on the Persians' grave,

I could not deem myself a slave."

— excerpt from Lord Byron's Don Juan, Canto the Third (writ 1819, pub 1821) — this stanza is part of a section often published on its own under the title "The Isles of Greece."

"Byron was at once a romantic dreamer, who wanted life to square up to his illusions, and a satirical realist, who saw what was before him with unusual clarity and found its contradictoriness amusing. The clash between the two Byrons is nowhere more noticeable than in his last writings, done on Cephalonia and at Missolonghi during the months before his death. There we see the Greece he dreams of, and the Greece which, in different ways, destroys him."

— excerpt from Peter Cochran's "Byron's Writings in Greece, 1823-4."

"Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story;

The days of our youth are the days of our glory;

And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two and twenty

Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.

What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled?

'Tis but as a dead-flower with May-dew besprinkled.

Then away with all such from the head that is hoary!

What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory!

Oh FAME! - if I e'er took delight in thy praises,

'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases,

Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover,

She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.

There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee;

Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee;

When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story,

I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory."

— Lord Byron's "Stanzas Written on the Road Between Florence and Pisa" (November, 1821). What is illustrated here, and what I try to illustrate all throughout this assortment, is Byron's conflation of love and glory, and the idea that poetry and politics are both ways to deserve and achieve — not fame, but what fame seems to promise — love.

"But 'tis not thus—and 'tis not here

Such thoughts should shake my Soul, nor now,

Where Glory decks the hero's bier,

Or binds his brow.

The Sword, the Banner, and the Field,

Glory and Greece around us see!

The Spartan borne upon his shield

Was not more free.

Awake (not Greece—she is awake!)

Awake, my Spirit! Think through whom

Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake

And then strike home!"

— excerpt from Lord Byron's "On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sxith Year" (1824).

"What are to me those honours and renown

Past or to come, a new-born people's cry

Albeit for such I could despise a crown

Of aught save Laurel, or for such could die;

I am the fool of passion, and a frown

Of thine to me is as an Adder's eye

To the poor bird whose pinion fluttering down

Wafts unto death the breast it bore so high –

Such is this maddening fascination grown –

So strong thy Magic - or so weak am I."

— although the much more popular and published "On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sxith Year" is often believed to be Byron's last poem, the above is likely Byron's actual last poem. Like the former, it wasn't solely written for Greece, but for his page Lukas Chalandritsanos who he was in unrequited love (or lust) with. It is sometimes titled "Last Words on Greece" (named so by his friend and sometimes-editor Hobhouse).

[ironbenjaminek]

Yep

[smolestboop]

Thank you for joining Bagginshield-tober!

I cannot express how much I loved October and being able to see everyone's art and fics for Bagginshield-tober! I'm so glad this prompt list has gotten everyone's creative juices flowing and sharing love for our favourite hobbit and dwarf! Here are some mentions (with links) of the lovely works we got from the prompt list! (Please go check them out, they are cool people who deserve more eyes!) Bagginshield-tober fics! 🌻 Stealing Moments, Moments Away by @conkers-theficwriter 🌻 Bagginshield-tober Series by @lucigoo 🌻 Barrels Ficlet (slightly steamy) by @sinisterbug 🌻 Bagginshield-tober Series by @wolfsbane-and-nettles 🌻 Company Ficlet (and others!) by @lingeringmirth Bagginshield-tober art! (check out their blogs to see their other art!) 🍞 Breakfast and others! by @bubblus 🍞 Breakfast by @fey-woodlands 🍞 Braids and others! by @morningnoodles 🍞 Gemstones by @the-eggplant 🍞 Tail by @twixycookie15 🍞 Retire + Flowers (and others!) by @lonicera-edulis

If there is anyone I missed, feel free to reach out to me and I'll include you in the list. Again, thank you so much for joining and I hope October was a fun month for you as much as it was for me! But wait! October may be over but there's no rules to any of this so use the prompt list whenever! Farewell and tea is at four!

[johnwickb1tsch]

Vino Veritas - Epilogue

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. NSFW. Angst. Grump/sunshine trope. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. 😆 chapter map.

Epilogue: That Most Presumptuous Of All Things

“You look so handsome,” you tell Frank, smoothing his suit jacket, straightening the little cluster of white flowers in his lapel. He smiles down at you, that warmth shining in his dark eyes that you know is just for you. Even after all these years, it still gives you butterflies. 

His boutonniere matches the baby’s breath braided into your hair. 

All these years later, the two of you are finding yourselves at yet another destination wedding in wine country. 

This time, you’re not half so annoyed about the presumptuous inconvenience. 

This time, the guest list numbers two: him, and you. 

No one was more surprised than you, a few months ago, when in the middle of dinner on a normal weeknight he set a river rock down in front of your plate of chicken carbonara that simply read, “Marry me?” 

You’d never meant anything more, when immediately you’d answered through your laughter, “Yes.” 

The two of you decided very quickly to forgo the meaningless trappings and pageantry of the conventional wedding. Who did it concern, anyway, but just the two of you? 

In half an hour, you will go to the courthouse where a Justice of the Peace will say a few words over your union, and you’ll sign a piece of paper together declaring you man and wife. This last big gesture will be undeniably sweet, but you can’t help but think it won’t really change anything between the two of you. The cement of your bond set long ago, mixed with dedication, sweat, and tears poured into this precious thing between you. 

It hasn’t been all roses. No real relationship ever is. 

Your fights are probably the stuff of legend in his condo building. Your first big go round, after the inevitable shouting match, you’d left his apartment in a huff, needing to regroup (so as not to commit murder). When you came back you found him sitting in the dark with his head in his hands. He’d thought you’d left for good, and you promised him that night that you would always come back for him. 

It’s a promise you’ve kept. 

A bit more embarrassing, your make up sex is probably legend too. Mrs. Fontaine next door always gives you a certain sly little look with a twinkle in her eye, the night after.

For such an expensive building, they’d sure skimped on the thickness of the walls.

He’s tried to break up with you, twice. Once, after seeing you holding a friend’s baby, (and maybe because you somehow managed not to drop it?) he convinced himself (without asking you) that you really did want kids and were wasting your youth on him. The second time, because he insulted you. Or rather, your art. His usually impish teasing just went a bit too far, and it had been a doozy, you had to admit. No one can deliver a cuttingly true remark like Frank, and he did make you cry,  though he apologized almost immediately. Ironically, in the end, the whole thing upset him more than you, the you deserve better song and dance surfacing again that you’ve fought tooth and nail.

You did not respect his wishes either instance, refusing to take no for an answer, going after him with both barrels and a vengeance. You sent flowers to his work, bribed his dry cleaner to put love notes in his jacket pockets, and left sappy balloons tied to his car. You even threatened to finally ambush him with the boombox (you didn’t even own one, truth be told) which finally led to a sit down at your favorite sushi joint, and your inevitable victory. As it turned out–it was exactly the assurance he’d needed all along. 

Both times your love just came out the other side of the fire even stronger. 

Your joy is legend too, even if only in your own mind. Frank makes you laugh every day. He makes you feel desired, and loved, and mostly saves his razor-edged observations for the rest of the world outside, which the two of you watch go by with spectators’ amusement and dismay. Talking shit remains your number one pastime together. At some point, the little things each of you does that inevitably annoys the other becomes more of a running joke. Your love language includes flipping each other off regularly and playfully trading barbs. It’s hard for others to believe, but his devotion to you is thoughtful and complete. You do your best every day to return it in kind. Some days you fall short, and sometimes he does too, but on the whole you make eachother happy, and somehow five years have flown by. 

��“You look beautiful.” His approval fills your heart like a sunrise. You’re wearing a simple white lace dress that hits just above your knee. If you have to run from a mountain lion, you’re not going to trip over your skirts. Your shoes? Might be another matter. 

“Thanks.”

“I like the heels,” he says with a smirk, as though his thoughts are aligned with yours. They often are as of late, you’ve found. Your shoes are actually the same wedge platforms you wore to a different wedding you attended together, what feels like a lifetime ago. 

“I thought you hated these shoes?” you tease. 

“Oh no. It will be impossible for you to run from me, when you finally come to your senses,” he says with a little smile, touching a strand of hair by your ear lightly.  You shudder as it sends a thrill across your skin, and if you’re being honest, straight to your loins. Whose ridiculous suggestion was it, anyway, to forego intimacy before the wedding? 

Ok, so it was yours–and Frank has been delighting in torturing you over the past month. You just might expire over the time it will take to get to the courthouse, go for a leisurely drive through the vineyards, and sit through a nice dinner at one of the wineries overlooking the fields at sunset. Sex is yet another thing between you that has somehow only gotten better with time, and to say you are looking forward to your wedding night would be an understatement.

“This was all your idea,” you remind him. “Are you…rethinking it? If you are–” 

He snorts and pulls you against him, lifting you on tiptoe with an arm around your waist and kissing you so deeply you know you’ll have to re-apply your lipstick. 

Ah well. 

“Woman…” He rests his forehead against yours, and you smile, ridiculously content in this moment with him.

“Why do you want to get married, Frank?” You realize, perhaps hilariously, you never actually asked him, so delighted that you just rolled with it. You already practically live together, at his place and yours. You’re both financially independent. You’re not planning on starting a family. Your commitment to each other was already set in stone.  

“I felt like we needed a challenge. We’ve been entirely too happy,” he says with that smirk that makes you roll your eyes. 

“Come on.”

“And if something happens to me, I don’t want my mother or Keith to be able to pull my plug.”

You poke him in the ribs for this. For some reason, he’s convinced himself this morbid scenario is inevitable. “I already have your medical POA.”

He squirms away with a grunt of amusement before grabbing you up again, his gaze softening for you once more. “Because, I love you, more than anything or anyone.” 

You believe him too. The thing about Frank, is that he does not make this shit up. He says what he’s thinking, at the moment he thinks it–and you think your heart really might explode. “Likewise,” you assure him with a smile, tilting your head to receive another gentle kiss that curls your painted toes. “Are you ready to go?”

He nods, and maybe you are feeling some pre-wedding jitters now. Because you still think this man is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on, and sometimes it is still a little hard to believe that he’s all yours. 

You grab your purse, he grabs the keys, and together you walk out the door towards the next big step of your life, together. 

The End, which is really just to say, another beginning…  

Thank you everyone who’s come on this wacky journey with me and supported this fic! @treedaddymcpuffpuff @scarlettspectra @sweetwolfcupcake @lilspookymeh @kurai-hono-blog @nightmare-bean  @discoscoob @thewhumpcaretaker and SO many others, (I didn’t want to make you feel weird by tagging you if we’ve never actually talked but I SEE YOU! 😘) your comments and likes and reblogs gave me life and helped me actually finish! FULL credit to @nightmare-bean for the rock proposal idea, I love it so much! 🤣

[stvharrngton]

a lesson in romantics; lesson nine

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, robin buckley

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none really

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nixrose

series taglist: @pbs-theundeadmaggot @alana4610 @onceuponaoneshot

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS HIGH, VALENTINE’S DAY 1993

Valentine’s Day soon rolled around. The communal spaces of the high school are decorated with red paper chains, shiny red and silver streamers and hearts and cupid cutouts everywhere.

The post box for the students was situated at the entrance of the school, allowing the kids to give their valentine a card anonymously or not. The teachers had their own, or course, a much smaller box that was tucked away in the corner of the teachers lounge.

It was only for a bit of fun, something to make the day a little brighter for the teachers. Steve would usually buy one for Robin and vice versa, a funny little card with a joke inside that was bad, even by Steve’s standards. But this year was different. This year Steve purchased two cards from the store.

Cards for the students were delivered to their classes throughout the day, the classrooms filled with giggles or hushed whispers, pairs of flushed cheeks dotted around the room. 

It was your last class of the day, around fifteen minutes left until the last bell would ring signalling the end of the day. There was a quiet knock on the door before one of the ladies who worked behind the scenes at the school, who took care of all the admin things, popped her head around the door. You urged her to come inside, ready to help with whatever she needed.

What you didn’t expect was the giant bouquet of flowers she was carrying in her arms. Red roses mixed in with pink chrysanthemums and purple freesias, wrapped in pink paper and tied with a white ribbon. You could see there was a small card attached and all you could wonder is why on earth she was bringing them to you.

“These arrived for you,” she said quietly even though all the students were turned in their seats to gawp at the flowers, “you’re certainly a lucky lady.”

And with that she left, leaving the huge bouquet on your desk. Your eyes narrowed at the small card that was in a pink envelope, removing it carefully from the little stick that was keeping it in place. Your jaw was on the floor, so much so you would have to use your hands to pick it up from the ground. The flowers were showstopping, petals soft and bright.

The greeting card was simple with a graphic of hearts on the front. It was what was on the inside that interested you more. 

‘Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl. Happy Valentines, from your Secret Admirer. S.’

“Who’re they from, Miss?” Olivia piped up from the corner, a smirk on her face as she hoped for a definitive answer.

Truly you had no idea. Well, you had one idea but you’re not sure if you wanted to buy into that. Thankfully, the bell rang and saved you from having to even delve into that conversation with Olivia and your students, doing your best to hide the heat that flushed your cheeks as you read the words over and over again. You sighed with relief as you watched them all pack up and rush out the door and towards the parking lot.

Your gaze was fixated on the flowers, the words contained in the card swum round and round in your head. You were too engrossed in the whole ordeal to notice Robin had let herself inside your classroom and was making a beeline for your desk. You offered to lend her some art supplies so she could make a new display in her classroom, you just didn’t expect her to barrel through your door at 3:05pm.

“Woah,” Robin gasped, her eyes bugging wide at the bouquet that sat on your desk, “someone’s a lucky lady. Who are those from?”

“No clue, but they really are beautiful,” you shrugged, “this is all the card said.” You handed the small pink envelope over to her, busying yourself across the classroom as you searched for the supplies you promised to Robin.

Robin narrowed her eyes as she read what was scrawled in the card, her eyes widening once she realised she recognised the handwriting, the ‘S’ it was signed with piecing everything together. She couldn’t help it, the noise bubbled up from her throat that came out like an excited, shrill, squeal. 

“You alright over there, Robin?” you asked, a concerned tone lacing your voice as you spun around on your heel, markers and pens spilling out of your arms.

“Who, me? Yeah, I’m good, I’m great even,” she stammered out, trying her hardest to contain her excitement, “but I gotta go, thank you for the supplies!” 

And with that, Robin bolted back through your door, art supplies in hand as she immediately made her way to Steve’s classroom.

Steve groaned once he heard the incessant banging on his door, fingers carding through his unruly hair as he went to the door, expecting to see a kid who’d left something behind, not his giddy best friend holding a bunch of markers and construction paper.

“Robin?”

“How much did those flowers cost, Steve? Holy shit–,” she whispered, as if you or some unfortunate student would be eavesdropping around the corner.

“Oh, sure, Robin, come right in!” Steve rolled his eyes now, swinging the door shut behind her, “What flowers, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Harrington. I saw the card, I know your handwriting anywhere.” Her arms were crossed across her chest now, eyebrows raised suspectly. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Robin exclaimed now, her hand swatting at Steve’s bicep.

All of Steve’s resolve faltered, he knew he had been found out, he knew there was no point in trying to hide it now. He sighed, slumping back in the chair behind his desk, his wire frame glasses long abandoned to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“Fine! Fine, you got me, Robin,” Steve chuckled, holding his hands up in defeat, “and firstly, I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist telling her everything and secondly, did she like them?”

It was true, Robin was terrible at keeping secrets but she couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in her heart at how head over heels Steve truly was for you. She couldn’t help the smile that was creeping on her face, tugging at her lips and pinching at her freckled cheeks as she couldn’t wait to spill every little bit of information that she had.

“Yeah, she did,” Robin spoke clearly, “she said they were beautiful, you did good, Steve.” A look of relief graced Steve’s features, his shoulders relaxing, a small smile creeping up on his face, “But,” Robin continued and the look on Steve’s face fell almost immediately, “she had no idea who they were from, well, that’s what she said, at least.”

It was funny really, how oblivious you both were to the situation. You, oblivious to how Steve really felt about you, to how deep his feelings ran. Any time you caught wind of the possibility, you would shut it down instantly because Steve Harrington, handsome, kind and sweet history teacher Steve Harrington could not have feelings for you, you wouldn’t allow yourself to believe it. 

And Steve? Oh, Steve was down bad. He thought about you all the time, even when the atmosphere was awkward and tense between you, he still thought about you. Thought about your smile, your laugh, the one that could light up the entire room. Thought about how your eyes would flutter closed at the first sip of hot coffee in the morning, how your nose would wrinkle so cutely in the cold weather.  Steve was hopeful that you felt the same, hopeful that one day he’d get the chance to ask you to be his girl. But Steve was done with subtlety. Done with the small gestures like bringing you coffee, remembering what your favourite pastry was so he could bring it to you the next morning. Sure, he loved doing those things for you but it was time for something bigger, something bolder.

[trulybetty]

17 x roses | joel x reader

prompt: roses pairing: joel miller x f!reader word count: 888 notes: fluff, no outbreak, no y/n, no reader description, reader has a kid summary: I don't know? You help Joel choose flowers not expecting to run into him again.

x. masterlist

Joel looked around at the vast selection of flowers and it wasn't difficult for him to get overwhelmed with the choice in front of him. He was grateful he’d skipped on the florist down the street because if the grocery store was giving him this much of an issue, he couldn’t imagine what that experience would be like.

Before he could debate on the merits of calling Tommy for advice he heard someone clear their throat behind him, “Excuse me, if I could.”

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” he apologized profusely stepping out of your way.

You were there, trying to reach for a bouquet of tulips that were just a bit too high for comfort. Noticing your struggle, Joel's initial embarrassment from blocking the aisle quickly transformed into a helpful gesture. “Let me get that for you,” he offered, retrieving the bouquet with ease.

“Thanks,” you replied once the bouquet was stashed safely in your cart.

You were about to turn away and carry on with your grocery shop when you noticed the look of confusion on his face as he turned back to surveying the buckets of flowers.

“Can I offer some help in return?” you smiled as Joel’s head whipped to look at you, the look of desperation on his face wasn’t missed.

“Could you?” he laughed, relief on his face, “I have no clue.”

“Well,” you started, taking a step closer to the sea of flowers, “you really can't go wrong with roses. They're classic for a reason.”

Joel looked at the roses, then at you, a spark of interest lighting up his eyes. “I guess you can't argue with classics,” he conceded, “thank you.” the half smile he gave you made you weak at the knees but before anything could happen your phone rang and you groaned when you saw who it was calling.

“Best of luck,” you wished him as you held your phone up in show of your reason for leaving as you hurriedly walked away with your cart.

“Momma!” came a cry from the crowd of kindergartners and it didn’t take long to spot your daughter furiously pushing her hair out of her face, out of the neat braid you’d put it in that morning.

“Ellie!” you called out as she barrelled into your legs, “slow down love.” 

“You’re here!”

You nodded, with work it was hard to do the school runs, you were thankful for those in your life who could help you juggle work life and parenthood.

“I am,” you reassured her, smoothing back a few stray hairs from her forehead. “Did you have a good day?”

Ellie's face lit up, and she tugged at your hand, eager to show you something. “I made something for you!”

“There!” Ellie pointed to a valentine made with an assortment of flowers. The same ones parents had been asked to bring in the day before. 

You remembered the phone call you'd received while in the grocery store, initially thinking it was a reminder about the flowers, only to find out about Ellie's getting into a fight with another child. In defence of another kid, but a fight nonetheless and you’d thought she’d miss out on the holiday festivities. Luckily you’d been able to smooth things over with the principal.

You were about to compliment Ellie on her art when you heard her name being shouted from the other side of the room.

Turning around you saw a bright-eyed kindergartener dragging her parent by the arm towards you and Ellie and looking up you were met with the same eyes from the grocery store the other day.

“Hello again,” you said with a smile meeting Joel’s eyes.

“Hi, I’m Sarah!” she introduced herself breathlessly, barely pausing for a breath before Joel could open his mouth in response, “Dad, this is Ellie, she's the one who told Jackson to leave me alone.”

Ellie, with her characteristic indifference, shrugged nonchalantly. “No big deal, he wasn’t being nice.”

You were about to chime in with caution on getting into playground fights again when Sarah’s father extended his hand to you.

“I don’t think we’ve seen you around here before. I’m Sarah’s dad, Joel Miller,” he said, his voice warm. The half-smile that accompanied his introduction was disarmingly charming, and you found yourself momentarily lost for words.

“I er, um.. I work downtown and usually my parents or my sister-in-law help with drop off and pick up.”

Before the conversation could meander further, Joel glanced at his watch, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Shoot, we've got to get moving. Dinner with Sarah's grandma tonight,” he explained, his tone apologetic.

The mention of leaving seemed to remind Joel of something, and he swiftly fished out a business card from his wallet, handing it to you. ‘Miller Contracting,’ it read. “If you ever need anything, or, uh, maybe we could set up a playdate for the kids? Grab a coffee while they play?” His suggestion was casual, but the hopeful undertone was unmistakable.

You nodded, “I think they’d like that,” but your smile told him that you would very much enjoy it also.

As they prepared to leave, Joel's voice carried back to you, “Oh, by the way, Happy Valentine's!” he called over his shoulder, his smile broadening into a wide grin that had your heart skipping a beat.