#i want to draw more of them especially showing how tiny poppy is. like her head probably reaches middle of gaius's thigh in height

[five-rivers]

Cultivar

For @feministhotline

.

Consider Brassica oleracea, wild cabbage, a single species of plant. Once humans got their hands on it, they bred it into useful and radically different cultivars. Cabbage, kale, collard greens, kai-lan, brussels sprouts, broccoli, and cauliflower, to name a few. Not to mention the cousins of the species, which included turnips, bok choy, rapeseed, and mustard.

If people did this for a moderately tasty plant, it was, therefore, foolish to think that there was only one cultivar of blood blossom, a plant that could affect ghosts in such an intimate way.

The blood blossoms ghost hunters had gotten their hands on had been bred to cause ghosts paralyzing agony when in close proximity. A good idea in theory, but short sighted in the long run. Especially when the cultivar was unable to affect half-ghosts in their human forms.

There were more interesting varieties.

The one commonly known as ghost nip, with its lily-like flowers, compelled ghosts to consume their stamens, which both induced a sense of calm and euphoria in the ghost and caused the ghost to begin producing pollen for the flower, which in turn would be spread to other flowers when the ghost moved on, fertilizing them. Those were valued among some ghosts as a recreational drug and reviled among others.

The ­tattoo rose’s microscopic seeds would take root and spread delicate, glowing vines just under a ghost’s skin, feeding off their ectoplasm. When prepared to reproduce, thumbnail-sized red flowers would burst from beneath the ghost’s skin. The process tended to weaken the host, render them lethargic and hungry, but tattoo roses were also beautiful and, somewhat counterintuitively, had a notable stabilizing effect on the ghosts they inhabited. Many weak ghosts, or ghosts on the verge of dissolution, had been saved by the tattoo rose. It was lucky for everyone else, however, that the tattoo rose was not, like its namesake, permanent, but only lasted through three blooming cycles before fading.

Hanahaki was a very niche cultivar, one that subsisted exclusively on the stresses and emotions associated with unrequited or unconfessed love. It grew primarily in the mouths, throats, and lungs of ghosts unfortunate enough to have them. Although ghosts have no need to breathe, those afflicted often lost the ability to speak. It had been bred in one of the Cherry Kingdoms, as a punishment for one of the Empress’s suitors.

Meanwhile, false poppies – named for their effect more than their appearance – made ghosts drowsy. There were stories of ghost falling asleep in beds of false poppy blood blossoms and waking only when their blooming season was over, roots having grown over their still forms. Less potent false poppies could, if one were careful, be harvested for sedatives.

Witch’s clover was another one that had first been used by humans. Ghosts exposed to it became more suggestible, gullible, pliant, and vulnerable to other forms of control, such as hypnosis. A boon for a group of people who gained power from their dealings with ghosts. Of course, some ghosts had use for it as well.

The saltseed varietal had sparked the myth that ghosts were repelled by salt. In truth, the tiny, cubic white seeds of the plant simply absorbed ectoenergy so quickly and so efficiently that ghosts would recoil from it.

Then, on the opposite end of that spectrum, was the wishing rose, which would give any ghost who touched it a massive boost of ectoenergy—all while injecting them with one of its seed pods. Which would eventually explode to spread their seeds. The explosion typically wasn’t fatal to the ghost, but that didn’t mean it was pleasant.

None of this even touched on the hybrids Sam was developing. It was a tricky proposition. It was difficult to tell exactly what any given hybrid would be like, what traits they would pick up, what new traits might arise from the combination. None of the ones she had tried so far had the combination of effects she wanted.

However, she had a much greater ability to experiment than any other ghost or human. Her father’s power combined with her human immunity to most blood blossom effects guaranteed it.

The hybrid she was currently carrying showed promise in early trials. Now, she was taking it to the real test.

She emerged from the great forest that had grown in the ruins of Amity Park and smiled at the sun on her face. Her dress of petals rustled behind her as her father’s vines shifted behind her.

Ahead of her, on a small hill, stood a dome made of blood blossom vines and scavenged ironwork and glass. Concentric rings of blood blossoms, each containing a different mix of cultivars, surrounded it. She checked the health of the plants as she passed, revitalizing the ones that seemed to be wilting with a thought.

When she reached the dome, she gestured, and the vines peeled back, opening a hidden door as they went. It squealed, announcing her presence.

In another life, she might have thought about oiling the hinges. Now, it didn’t even cross her mind as she entered her greenhouse, her miniature garden, which she had constructed for one person and one person alone.

One person who was, aggravatingly, hiding from her. Again.

She rolled her eyes and surveyed her surroundings as the gate shrieked shut behind her.

It was hot and humid in the dome, the air full of luminous clouds of pollen, thick enough that even a person without allergies might have trouble breathing, might feel drowsy. More practically, it prevented the inhabitant from using a certain sound-based weapon.

The blood blossoms were healthy, for the most part. The ones whose vines comprised the main structure of the dome were thick and strong, their hanging blooms full of color. A version of false poppy, they kept the ghost contained within from destroying the dome in partnership with the saltseed planted around its base. Elsewhere in the dome, the more healing varieties were largely untouched. Although, the ghost nip had been destroyed. Again.

(How stubborn. She had planted them with the hope that he would, for once, relax.)

The fruits and vegetables, some ghostly, others largely human, which had been planted to provide more material sustenance for the garden’s inhabitant, appeared to have been cared for and harvested since Sam’s last visit. Good. She didn’t want to deal with a pointless hunger strike.

The spring at the center of the dome burbled merrily.

“Danny,” called Sam. “I have something for you. Won’t you come out? We haven’t talked for so long.”

She could, of course, give him her gift without being anywhere near him, such were the powers her father gave to her, but she really did want to talk to him.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” said Danny, who was hiding in a tree.

“There’s always something to talk about. My offer still stands. It gets boring without you, Danny.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you used everyone else for fertilizer!”

“Well, I can’t exactly take it back,” said Sam. “It was something father decided on.”

Silence.

Danny, scowling, jumped out of the apple tree. He stumbled somewhat on landing. The prolific blood blossoms combined with his sporadic eating habits and the heat had weakened his core. His skin was slick with sweat. Or, perhaps, he had taken a dip in the spring, earlier.

Sam felt a fond smile spread across her lips. It really had been too long.

“What do you want?” asked Danny, leaning against the trunk of the tree. He kept glancing at her but seemed unable to hold her gaze for any length of time.

She walked closer.

“It’s good to see you, Danny. Isn’t it enough for me to want to see a friend?”

“Yes,” said Danny, bluntly. “Why don’t you go see Tucker?”

Sam sighed. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Danny.”

He flinched. “Stop saying my name,” he muttered. “You aren’t her.”

Her smile became more forced. Well. He was back on that, now, was he? No matter.

She flicked her fingers, sending the miniscule seeds she had brought with her to Danny, and waited. Tattoo roses rooted quickly, and so did this hybrid.

She knew the process had started when Danny hissed and started clawing at his skin. She grabbed his hands, stopping him.

“W-what—” he started before Sam shushed him.

This hybrid had a number of useful features, having been developed from tattoo roses, witch’s clover, and false poppy. It was, as was the case with all tattoo roses, impossible to get away from. The mild false poppy effects lowered the ghost’s defenses and provided an analgesic effect that was necessary given the greater size of the cultivar compared to the typical tattoo rose. The contribution of the witch’s clover was pliability, rendering the affected ghost docile and obedient. Finally, as an extra treat, Sam had discovered that the hybrid could last up to ten blooming cycles. Cycles she would use her abilities to draw out for as long as possible.

Danny sunk to his knees, his breathing, already heavy, becoming ragged.

“Hurt-sss,” hissed Danny, shuddering.

Sam cradled his head, noting how feverish he felt, a welcome change from the frigid, hypothermic temperature he’d maintained for the months after Amity Park fell. “Shhh, shhh, it won’t last long.” She traced the slightly raised and vibrantly glowing skin that indicated the presence of a vine. As she did so, she started to feel the leaves unfurl and tiny buds begin to form. “There we are. How does that feel?”

Danny raised his head. His eyes were foggy, unfocused, his pupils blown wide. “Who?” he slurred.

“It’s me, Sam.”

“Hmn, Sam. Id’nfeels’g’d.” He let his head drop back to her lap as small flowers began to force themselves out of the skin of his scalp.

Sam examined the flowers closely, pinching off the ones that seemed ill-formed. She would have to monitor Danny carefully for the next little while, to see how he adapted. He took so much care to cultivate. Truly, a tender, delicate, hothouse flower. But it was worth it.

After all, out of all the plants her father had given her, all the flowers in her garden, blood blossom cultivars included, Danny was surely her most prized.

[dreamsinger-rose]

Trolls Anatomy

Having long admired all the beautiful Trolls fan art out there, I find myself wanting to try my hand at it myself. So I’ve studied their forms, and done a lot of musing over them. There are a lot of distinctive things about troll bodies that are different from us humans. For example, why do they have such short arms, legs, fingers and toes? Why such big noses? Why, since they all appear to be highly athletic, do they have what we would consider too much flesh on their bellies and butts? And what’s the deal with their hair?

For their basic body shape, I have two theories. Since it’s been established that most or all species of trolls have babies via eggs, it’s possible that they (both male and female) have a womblike space in their lower bodies to carry a baby troll before it’s developed enough to have a protective shell form around it. Also, while the glitter troll Guy Diamond birthed his egg through his hair, it’s possible that other species of trolls might lay their eggs the more conventional way, out their bottoms, which would then need to be structurally bigger simply to make the laying process easier.

My second theory is, looking at things from an evolutionary standpoint, trolls’ bodies are adapted to travel by slinging themselves through the air by their hair. We tend to assume that creatures who do this (fairies, for example) will have long, slender limbs. But if you look at most birds, those birds that other animals prey upon tend to be small and rounded. Trolls are more on the prey side than the predator side, so this fits. Trolls have big ears for listening for predators, too. Even though you could argue the case that their teeth probably indicate an omnivorous diet, of both plants and fellow animals.

Why is it advantageous for survival for a troll to be small and rounded? Lower wind resistance, for one. Also, if I’m looking at a troll’s short fingers and toes and imagining them fleeing from a predator through the treetops, I’d say longer fingers and toes would be more likely to catch on tree limbs and slow them down or even cause them to fall to the ground and get injured, making them easy prey.

Why then, if being agile is important for survival, do trolls have such bottom-heavy bodies? That’s an easy one. To counterbalance their enormous heads. They also have thick legs and feet, probably for the same reason.

In fact, I wonder, when looking at human babies, whose proportions are very similar to trolls’ (yes, the cuteness factor is another reason we find trolls adorable despite the fact that they’re so different from us) if we gave babies weighted diapers, would they find it easier to balance? Be less likely to fall down or run into things headfirst? Probably. But I’d assume that doing so would probably cause abnormalities like permanently curved legs or spines (scoliosis). Weighted shoes, perhaps?

Why do trolls have such big heads? From an artistic point of view, we tend to make the most important part of a character bigger. Ever notice when you have a smart character and a less-intelligent one together, the smart one’s head is often bigger? So having oversized heads is a good way to show off a troll’s most distinctive trait, their remarkable hair.

From a physics point of view, a troll’s hair probably needs a strong base of attachment to do all the things their hair is capable of doing. Maybe the roots of their hair are longer than a human’s and thus literally need more space within their heads? And of course, trolls need strong, thick, short, yet highly flexible necks, since their necks would be their weak point otherwise. How long would a human’s neck last if put through the stress a troll’s neck is expected to handle?

The opposite is true regarding their arms. I assume that because trolls travel either by walking or by using their hair, they have never needed to evolve overly bulky, powerful shoulders and arms, as our own ancestors did. That said, their arms are actually fairly strong, but they tend to look almost tiny compared to their oversized hands.

One thing I wonder about is their hair’s various capabilities. We know they can change the color of their hair and even use it to mimic their surrounding as camouflage. Their hair is bioluminescent – Poppy used her hair to simulate a flaming torch in the first movie. They can also use their hair to support their bodies and to grab things, but unlike in the two TV series, Trolls: The Beat Goes On and Trollstopia, where the characters use their hair like an extra hand (or many extra hands), the movie trolls’ hair seems more like an extra foot. Lots of power, not much fine control of smaller sections of hair. I’d say this is due more to the fact that it’s very complicated and time-consuming to animate moving hair realistically using CGI compared to hand-drawing, honestly, but it’s something to consider if you want to set limitations on their hair when imagining stories about them.

Speaking of limitations, I don’t consider the TV series canon, except in a very general way. As in, the culture and characters’ personalities and backstories are very similar, but the events we’ve seen are specific to this one alternate universe’s Branch and Poppy. To me, the movies are canon. But if I use the series as a general guideline, in Trollstopia in the episode “Branch out of Water” we see that there is a limit to how far a troll’s hair can extend.

Noses. Why do trolls have such large noses? Among humans, large noses often indicate someone whose ancestors evolved in a warm, humid climate. We can assume, between their nose shape and the facts that trolls shave their body hair off and don’t wear heavy clothing, that they probably live somewhere nice and warm as well.

Eyes. The other real difference between a human (or bergen) and a troll is our eyes. I’m pretty sure trolls have a clear protective barrier over their eyes to protect them from damage while flinging themselves through the air. Otherwise their eyes would constantly water and/or get damaged as the wind, leaves, dust, or other debris hit them. That would blind them, and they’d fall. Imagine not having the supersensitive eyes we humans have! No wonder trolls don’t mind having glitter thrown in their faces. It doesn’t even bother Branch. You’d think that trolls would have big eyes to look for prey, the same way their ears are oversized, but I’d guess smaller eyes are more protected by their big cheeks and nose. Eye barrier or not, larger features are more vulnerable.

I’m looking forward to reading your comments or theories of your own, especially you artists 😊

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Conner Kent Week 2021, Day Three: TTK Shenanigans

the thing is, sometimes his ttk wasn’t enough.

kon used to go on and on about his tactile telekinesis. he’ll admit it too, with less shame than a poppy seed. superman didn’t have tactile telekinesis, superman couldn’t lift and shape and break things with his mind, superman could piece together things that were irreversibly broken. kon could. 

he used it often, and couldn’t count the number of times it had come in use.

bart, thrashing his body violently, that cheerful expression even in the toughest times wiped clean and covered by sheer desperation. there was a metal collar around his neck, thicker than kon’s wrist and looping in a hopeless, unbreakable circle. it was digging into bart’s skin, thin red lines the same colour as the stripe on bart’s suit being rubbed repeatedly until they widened, until blood was dripping from bart’s throat, until muscle memory had the speedster slamming against the restraints in an attempt to vibrate through, but his powers were gone. kon barged into the holding cell, and his ttk was able to reach bart before kon could. he spread it wide and strong, concentrating on dismantling the inhibitor collar into tiny, tiny pieces in less than a second; then he used his ttk to cradle bart’s limp body gently as he flew to young justice headquarters.

cassie hunched over in pain, long since haven given up keeping her usual, gentle smile plastered on her face. she was curled up on the couch, a veritable mountain of blankets covering her. kon heard the repetitive sounds of dramatic conversation coming from the television as a failed attempt at distraction. cassie had sent tim on a grocery run using his shiny black credit card linked to wayne’s bank account for essentials, which consisted of gummy worms, overly chunky banana smoothies, and lots of chocolate. bart was busy writing up all of the reports that tim and cassie were required to do, tim for batman and cassie for the league as young justice’s leader, for the sake of easing some of the stress on cassie’s shoulders. none of that helped her now, though, as she bit back another groan at what kon could only assume was a horrible cramp. so he blanketed her in his ttk, heating up the air near her stomach, and felt a flutter of usefulness and pride when cassie sighed in relief and voiced a thousand thank-yous.

tim, falling through the air, not making a move to fight against it. watching his best friend get thrown from a helicopter had been petrifying enough, especially since tim didn’t have any backup, because kon technically wasn’t supposed to be here. his heart stopped in his chest as red robin plummeted downward, wind whipping his hair wild, cape billowing around his body in a useless parody of a parachute. it took kon entirely too long to realize that tim wasn’t going to do anything. he made no move to reach for his grapple, no secret parachutes being revealed, not even a thought to call for help. that spurred kon into action. he shot forward faster than a bullet, but his ttk was already there, stopping tim’s fall abruptly and wrapping around him in an invisible embrace while tim gasped, eyes flying open. kon’s ttk held tim until kon was able to gather up the smaller boy in his own arms, squeezing him tight to counter the trembles wracking from tim’s body.

so yes, kon was eternally grateful for this particular superpower. his control over it was more impeccable than he led people to believe, in a large part due to knockout’s training. it was a well-honed tool, the most used in his arsenal, and kon utilized it to the best of his ability.

but sometimes, it just wasn’t enough.

kon could use his ttk to create a light show of the most epic proportions, simulating firecrackers and miniature exploding stars and every other wild thing he could think of into the blank expanse of the night sky. if he was devoted enough, he could draw a giggle out of bart, a whoop and a cheer at an explosion of colour. but no amount of brief, fleeting laughter could bring back bart’s hope. his joy and happiness in the little things, his lightheartedness and jokes in the face of things that would break a grown man. now, life just wasn’t fun for bart anymore, and a light show wouldn’t change that. 

kon could use his ttk to hold cassie in as many hugs as she wanted, desperately trying to pretend that his life and his relationship hadn’t changed at all. but no amount of unseen embraces could take away from the fact that he had been gone, he had been dead. cassie shuddered, trying to keep herself from letting a tear slip loose as she told him how desperately she’d kissed and fucked tim, how furiously he responded as the two of them tried to look for kon in any places he may have lingered. kon’s heart broke for the both of them, but no matter how much his ttk could fix, it couldn’t put cassie back together again.

kon could use his ttk to be as useful as he could, trying to give tim a reason to keep him around, trying to prove to him that not everyone would abandon him, that kon would stay if tim just asked him to. he fixed broken equipment without touching it and organized haphazard notes without looking at them and made a meal without stepping foot in the kitchen of tim’s penthouse. it wasn’t enough. tim had withdrawn, pulled back into the hard shell of red robin. glimpses of emotion that tim let slip were all kon was able to catch, only because he’d known tim for so long. though, tim seemed to forget that, pushing him away with a shaking hand and a desperate voice that sounded like it was trying to convince tim instead of kon. and no amount of tactile telekinesis would pry tim open just a little, just enough for kon to slip inside. 

what was the point of having superpowers, kon thought, if he couldn’t use them to help his friends when they needed his help most. 

i know the prompt said “shenanigans.” but. i got angsty. have some sad core four.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump

[theshy1sout]

Inseparable - Chapter 12

Tags: Broppy, Not rated, Trolls Mythology Au, Slow Burn Fluff

Ao3 here

Notes: This chapter... is twice longer than usual. I just didn’t see a reason to cut it in half. That would be cruel tbh

________________________________________

Everything is fine. Isn't it?

Every day and night is the same, as they used to be... Poppy walks on the hill, this very specific hill they used to climb on to pass the Staff along. Then she meets Branch. He asks for one more night or day to finish the thing he works on. And she agrees. He walks away, with the Staff or without it, and Poppy always watches him for so long.

Why.

Why does this feel so bad? Why does it hurt so much? Everything is fine. Poppy didn't lose anything - she still has her wonderful job, amazing friends, and basically everything the Immortal could dream of. Her teamwork with the god of the Night is just... Temporary pendant. Nothing to worry about. Branch is just making some surprise...

The goddess doesn't know how long she has to wait. Two weeks passed, but what is just two weeks for Immortals? Poppy knows it should be nothing... But it feels like forever.

Why. Why she can't just patiently wait? Why the feeling in her heart, so warm and pleasant earlier, now is so heavy and painful. She can't enjoy anything as much as she used to. Her sweet job becomes a boring routine. She realizes she smiles way rarer.

Why?

Poppy feels like a little child with those feelings. So pitiful. She sits every Night under this oak where Branch showed her a shadow. She plays with an oak leaf in her hand, watching lightning bugs flying around the meadow. Or watching the stars above her. They always make her even sadder. No matter how long she sits there, she never sees Branch. She can see him only for a minute on the hill.

And why? Why is this so sad for her? She used to live without him for so long. She doesn't need him to live or be happy, she used to be happy without him too. Didn't she? It's not the end of the world. It's not even forever. It's temporary, isn't it?

And why, why is Branch so into something? What is this? What did the rainbow inspire him to? What is he making? Maybe something with colors... Poppy remembers a spark in his eyes when he stared at the rainbow. He was so amazed by its colors. Yeah, he is making something colorful for sure. Maybe he dreams about colors visible in the Dark. Cause it is known that during the Night colors fade and almost everything is black or grey. Poppy feels her heart getting filled with new hope. Maybe if she makes something with colors that are visible in the Night, she will get a little bit more of Branch's attention? Maybe he would leave his project and come back to her? She imagines his gentle smile on his pretty blue face. His azure eyes meeting hers. She reminds herself of his touch on her cheek. Cold but so tender and affectionate... She misses him so much...

The goddess of the Day stops the thing she is doing and walks toward the Palace. A hope pushes her in this direction. She wants to believe that not in vain.

* * *

- I don't know - Smidge frowns at a flower. - I'm still not sure about the spikes.

- It needs them to protect itself from critters! - Meadow explains.

- Yes, hurting the critters - Milton adds, putting his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. - I'm also not sure about them.

- But the spikes create a good arrangement with its carmine petals - Satin points out, touching the flower carefully.

- Disagree, sister - Chenille crosses her arms on her chest. - It's too edgy for me.

- It's poetic beauty, not so obvious. I'm bored of doing boring things, let me experiment a bit, sis!

- Well, I really like how it looks now - Meadow, the goddess of plants, gets down to the flower. - If we can make spikes less sharp, can we keep them? I want it to be safe, not like other of my mites.

- Let me think a bit about it - Milton grabs his head with both of his hands. He sighs heavily. - But please, later, not now, I'm so tired of thinking about this flower.

- Oh, you - Smidge pats him in his elbow. She is too short to reach any higher. - We do take a break. Let's just change the topic a bit.

- Thank you...

- Hi, guy!

Immortals turn to the pink, bright lady waving to them on the horizon.

- Poppy! - Satin beams at the goddess walking to them. - What perfect timing!

- Why is it so perfect?

- We need to talk about anything else than that flower - Chenille points at the little plant on the ground.

- What is this?

- We want to create a flower with Rose's name - Meadow explains. - Just for sentimental reasons.

Poppy gazes at slender leaves on dark green stem with little spikes. The carmine petals draw around themselves, creating a beautiful red mosaic.

- It's wonderful - She says, but in her voice and her mild smile is hidden a note of gloom.

- Is everything okay? - Smidge asks, looking at her with worry.

The goddess of the Day forces herself to rise the corners of her lips a bit higher.

- I'm fine, everything is fine. Nothing wrong happened, I'm just... a bit tired.

Immortals look at each other. Poppy is known as a very, very, VERY energetic, vivid, and loud person. At least as a person who never gets tired, especially of her job. But no one says anything.

- So, what do you need from us? - Milton asks carefully.

- Well, I need something light and colorful - The pink face brightens a bit. - Something really visible in the darkness. Something like, I don't know, colorful safe flames? - She turns to the twins. - Can you design something like that?

- Let me guess - Chenille clicks her tongue and lifts her eyebrow. - Another 'surprise' for Branch?

- Well...

- Last time we painted with you the whole sky in blue! - Smidge chuckles. - I mean, it is so gorgeous now, white clouds look amazing on it, but damn it, that was a huge thing!

- Yeah, not mentioning the rainbow - Satin adds. - Poppy, isn't that too much?

- What are you talking about, those things are breathtaking! - Meadow protests.

- She means, giving gifts - The tiny, yellow goddess of Honesty crosses her arms, looking at Poppy. - Do you really need those things?

The pink lady stares at them blankly during their talk. She looks up joylessly at the Gold Sphere. “Do they need those ‘surprises’?’’ she asks herself in her mind.

- I don't know - She says, shyly gets her sight down. - But I like it...

- I mean, gifts aren't a bad thing - Smidge corrects herself. - But if the friendship is only giving gifts, so there's gifts, no friendship, am I right?

Poppy doesn't say anything for a long while.

- Hey - The tiny yellow goddess gets close to her. - I just see, you are sad. And I'm asking what's happening? Maybe I'm wrong...

- Actually, you're right - Poppy interrupts her firmly. Then she closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. - I'm sorry, that was too firm... But you're right - She hides her face in her hand. - You are so right...

The awkward Silence falls among them and passes a minute or two.

- So... - Milton tries to ask again. - What happened?

- Nothing - The pink goddess sighs. The wave of helplessness hits her right into her heart. - Absolutely nothing. And I don't understand... Why is it hurt so much...

- What specifically? - Meadow asks shyly.

- This... This nothing... - She gets her head up and looks at her friends with eyes full of tears. - This Silence... Between me and Branch.

- I know it's a really bad question - Chenille frowns. - But why is Branch so important?

- I have no idea! - Poppy speaks a bit too loud. Her lips vibrate, her sight is already blurry. All she knows now is a hint of sadness.

- Okay, okay, calm down - Smidge says softly. - Just tell us what you know, okay? What do you feel?

Poppy sniffs. She wipes her tears from her eyes. Her knees become weak, so she sits down, not caring what the rest thinks about it.

- What I know - She repeats blankly and takes another deep breath. - I know that nothing wrong happened. We created the waterfall to make some kind of infinity rainbow... And then Branch just walked away... He said he works on some big project... Every time I meet him, he begs for a bit more time to finish it... - She clenches her hands on the Staff so tight. - And now... I don't talk with him too much... I mean... At all...

Poppy sniffs once again and wipes another tear from her cheek. Her words are quieter and quieter the more she speaks.

- It's been two... Maybe three weeks. I know it's nothing, so short... And I know it's not forever. He'll have done what he's doing and everything will be as before...

She sighs heavily.

- But that hurts for some reason... I don't know why... I miss walking with him and... And talking and... And just him. I miss him... - She hides her face into her hand once again. - Not sure if he feels the same although...

- Well, that's a weird kind of friendship - Chenille says after a long while of Silence. - I've never heard about friendship that can hurt.

- So the lack of Branch's presence is painful? - Smidge wants to be sure.

- Yeah... - Poppy sniffs, still avoiding eye contact.

- So let me guess, you wanted to make another gift to catch his attention? - Satin asks.

- I guess so...

- So If he comes back to you, you will be happy again?

The pink goddess gets her head up at Milton's questions to look at him humbly. She takes a long, snatchy breath.

- Yes.

- Well then, what happened that he came to you in the first place? - Smidge continues analyzing. - I mean, what did make you talk or something?

Poppy glances at the Staff, reminding the last months.

- I told him what I felt - She says after a while, with a much stronger voice. - About the situation... You know, this whole "greeting" awkward situation I told you a lot.

- You have to tell him what you feel right now about THIS awkward situation! - The goddess of Honesty jumps up with a sudden hit of energy. She throws her little fists in the air. - You have to tell him! You have to fight! - She grabs Poppy's blue dress and yells right into her face. - I don't know what is between you and Branch, but I saw you happy that you were never before and I saw him smiling and laughing and taking part in Sharing like he NEVER was expected to do, and whatever it is YOU HAVE TO FIGHT FOR IT, GIRL!

- Okay! Okay! Calm down - Milton grabs Smidge with both his hands and takes her away from Poppy.

- Well, maybe that was too loud - Satin takes a look at the tiny yellow goddess.

- But It was all true - Chenille ends her sister's sentence.

- Yeah - Meadow adds. - I think... Well, I'm not the god of Friendship, but I'm sure it's not like Branch just gives up on your relationship. As Smidge said, it makes him happy too.

Poppy looks at her with hope. Her heart starts to beat warmer at those words.

- Sometimes a friend gets lost in something and needs a friend to get him out - Smidge puts her hand on Poppy's shoulder. She's much calmer now, she gives her friend a really wide smile, making the pink goddess chuckles.

Poppy takes a deep breath and her face brightens with a little, but real and genuine smile.

- Thank you. Thank you all - She looks around at her friends. - I'll do that.

- And we'll design this colorful-light-thing - Chenille announces with a smile.

- Just because we like challenges - Satin chuckles.

- I feel like we should call R and B to that project...

- But first, we have to finish a rose! - Meadow protests.

Milton chuckles at his friends and then glances at Poppy.

- It's almost twilight - He tells her. - Go talk to him

- You know where to find us! - Smidge adds, with a little hit in the pink arm.

The goddess of the Day chuckles slightly and stands up with the Staff of the Light in her hand. She looks at the horizon, fearing the first step. Her heart beats with hope and doubts, but she doesn't let her mind think of "what-if"s. She wants to try what her friends advised her. She wants to try, she wants to fight... She wants Branch back...

* * *

Poppy is standing. Oh yeah. She is standing like she never did before! Standing so hard, standing so firm, standing so desperate. The pure bold beams from her statement. She is standing with a goal, she is standing on the hill, on that specific hill, ready to fight, ready to everything. The bloody sky fades behind her back. Oh, the goddess looks like a warrior, no, like a winner already! And all her strength is almost touchable...

...until it washes over her and soaks into the ground with a very first sight of the black hair of the Night.

Weak. Weak is the word her whole shaking body is screaming at her. You are so weak, Poppy.

Branch arrives at the hill without a word. So naturally for the god of the Silence. He views her face blankly. His blue eyes are painted with tiredness. He... He looks so exhausted. So pure. There's not a slightest shadow of a bad intention in his husky voice:

- Poppy... - He clears his throat, and continues calmly. - I know it's a lot to ask... But can you give me one more night and day?

The goddess feels her heart melt. How could she be firm to him looking like that, asking like that?

But then, she knows, it looks like that every twilight, every dawn, and it will still be like that as long as she agrees. So when the blue hand reaches for the Staff, she sets it back, giving him a firm look.

- No - She announces.

- Poppy, I have to start the Night...

- I don't care - She throws and feels her lips shake already.

Branch looks at her with a real puzzlement.

- You don't care? - He frowns. His voice gets a bit husky again. - What does it even mean?

- I am not giving you the Staff - She emphasizes every word.

- But why?!

- Because - Her lips vibrate. - I don't let you hurt me like this anymore.

Her voice cracks a bit. She swallows slowly, not being able to look at his face anymore. But she started it, and she wants to finish, no matter how this conversation will end.

- Listen, Branch - She keeps her breath and voice calm, but her sight is already blurry. - It's... Almost three weeks until our last talk. I feel avoided, ignored. Forlorn. I know it's nothing for us, Immortals, but... After the whole time we spent together... After... Many things we shared... - And now her voice cracks. - I miss you so much...

She gets her head down, not knowing what she is looking at anymore. She just closes her eyes tight and feels a few tears streaming through her cheek. She hasn't known she is that weak.

- Do you even still feel... the same heart thing... Do you? - She whispers.

- No! I mean, Yes! I mean... Oh my goodness...

A gentle touch on her chin gets her head up. His cold hand gets her hair from her face behind her ear. It cups her face and starts drying her tears with a thumb. With a still blurry vision, Poppy feels her hand lift without her purpose and suddenly it touches something. A fabric. And she feels a light warm. And a heartbeat. Rushing, loud, strong heartbeat, so similar to her. Something cold is pressing her hand to that. She blinks a few times and sees... It lies on Branch's chest. Covered by his big, strong, and gentle hand.

- I do - The god speaks, kinda rushing. - I do. I feel. I still feel the same. Please, don't cry.

His hand constantly rubs her cheek. His thumb carefully wipes her eye from tears. His tired eyes are filled with genuine misery.

- Please, don't cry. Please... I am so stupid. I am such an idiot. I was so into... - He sighs heavily, closing his eyes. - ...this dumb project, I... I miss you so much too...

His despairing blue eyes dive into her. He cups her pink cheeks with both of his hands. They are cold and shaking slightly. Oh, they are so cold. Poppy can stop enjoying them, his big blue hands covering almost her whole face. She sniffs and smiles at him. Her heart is beating fast and warm, and she feels Branch's under her hand too. She gets much more than she was wishing for, and she can't help, can't help but smile widely and warm at his beautiful blue eyes.

- You were an idiot - She announces like the happiest news of the year.

- I know - He starts shaking his head with disappointment for himself. - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you...

- It's ok - She sighs deeply, still smiling. - I mean, It wasn't ok, but now, now it's ok... Just... - She closes her eyes. - Can we stay like that for a minute? I really need this now... - She says, snuggling her face into one of his hands.

Branch doesn't answer, but she doesn't mind it. As long as she feels his beating heart in his chest and his hands embracing her face. The beatific smile doesn't leave her lips. All the worries wash over her. A great pleasant sigh of relief is everything she can say right now.

- Grab the Staff or I never let you go off my face - Poppy threatens, which doesn't sound grimly with her serene voice. She hears a slight chuckle of Branch, and the sweet cover, almost warm now, leaves her face. He takes the Staff from her hand and she lets go of his shirt.

The goddess gazes at him to meet his eyes, to give him a warm smile. But he doesn't glance at her. His head is down, his face is still full of tiredness and misery.

- Branch?

He closes his eyes tight and twists his face. He hesitates a bit after he heaves a sigh.

- I can't hold the fact that I hurt you... - He rubs his eyebrow slowly and leaves his hand like that, covering his eyes. - That was so dumb... So absurdly idiotic... I was too much into this thing, you know, I felt so... Inspired. And...

Poppy steps close to him. Her little pink hand turns his head to face her. He drops his hand and shows her his weary eyes full of tears.

- I just wanted to deserve such a person like you - Words sneak quietly from his lips. He is gazing at her so miserably, deeply disappointed.

But the goddess smiles at him even wider, her eyes are sparkling with sheer enjoyment.

- I don't need gifts - She puts her other hand on his cheek to cup his whole face. - I already have all I need. Right in my hands.

The god blinks. He laughs aloud and genuinely. A single tear drops from his eyes and streams down his blue cheek until little pink fingers wipe it away. He sniffs.

- I miss you so much - He whispers warmly and gruff, smiling, smiling endlessly, smiling so hard and so dumb at happy, sunny Poppy's face, beaming with honest happiness.

She let go of his face, but not of his eyes. The bags under them make him look a little bit different. She wants to let him rest as quickly as possible after she'll fully enjoy his company.

- Can you show me that thing you were working on? I want to curse it for keeping you away from me.

The god chuckles.

- Whatever you want.

They don't walk so far. The cave, where they arrived, is big and dark, only thanks to the Gold Sphere Poppy can see anything. And there are many, many bags filled with weird, magically sparkling substances.

- Go ahead - Branch encourages, seeing curious in her eyes. - Touch it.

The goddess goes to the nearest bag and sinks her hands into its silver content.

- Silver sand!

- Yep, I call it 'glitter'. Cause it's little and it glows.

Poppy chuckles.

- What is this for?

- You take a bit of it - Branch presents. - And powder somebody's eyelids during sleep. It creates dreams.

- Dreams?

- I mean... You can see your dreams during sleep. You can even feel them as if they are real life.

Poppy looks at the glitter flabbergasted.

- And the sleep will never be boring again...

- Exactly.

- That's so amazing! - She cheers.

- Yeah, but it has two faults - He heaves a sigh. - First, it's disposable. After one use it does nothing. Just glow silverly.

- Does it stay on eyelids?

- No, it falls on the ground. It smooths into the soil actually and masses deep under the ground.

- Is it dangerous or damaging?

- No.

- So why is this a fault?

Branch wrinkles his nose.

- I mean, if trolls find it, they would just play with it! - Poppy suggests.

- Play with it?

- Yeah, look - And with that word she throws a bit of glitter in the air. It sparkles so magically, slowly falling on them. She grins at the god's displeased face, making him chuckle.

- Okay, maybe you're right - He dusts the glitter off his capote. - But disposable still means I would have to make it more and more of it... - He looks away, twisting his mouth. - And that's... That's also the part of its second fault... If I want to use the glitter on trolls, I will have to spend all the Night running through the Land and powdering their eyelids...

Poppy blinks at him and then looks down at the glitter on her hands.

- That's why I was kinda desperate about it - He murmurs tiredly. - I wanted to be able to use it every Night... And still, have time for my main responsibilities... - He swallows and looks into the goddess's eyes. - But the most important was for me... To still have enough time for you.

She melts, smiling warmly at him.

- Oh, Branch...

- I know... It came ironically stupid...

She chuckles gently.

- You could tell me.

- I will do it next time - He carefully dusts the glitter off her nose with his finger. - I promise.

- What if we powder it together? - She asks after a while of thinking.

He frowns and hesitates.

- Then I guess, I will have time for my main responsibilities - He gazes at her. - But still not for you...

- I mean, we'll be spending the whole night actually.

- But rushing with my duties, that's ridiculous...

- Well... - She starts slowly and calmly. - The glitter is a genius invention, and if you want to use it and this is the only way, then that will be enough for me.

Branch blinks tiredly before he turns his sight at the bags full of glitter. He is staring at them for so long, thinking in Silence. Then he starts slowly shaking his head.

- No - He decides firmly. - I'm not choosing anything over you.

Poppy smiles widely, even giggle a bit with joy, feeling her cheeks turn red and her heart gets warm.

Suddenly something flares on the night horizon and both of them turn to see what it is. It walks to them unhurriedly, and soon they recognize Immortal's silhouette. His silver, sparkling skin shines like a diamond in the darkness. He stands in front of them with his hand on his hips and grins at them.

- Hi! - His voice echoes in the cave in a weird, extraterrestrial way. - Who are you, guys?

- Who are you? - Branch asks with clear confusion on his face. He turns to Poppy. - You know him?

- No, but... It's nice to meet you! - The goddess tries to be polite and welcoming to the stranger. - My name is Poppy, I'm the goddess of the Day and Light. The guardian of the Staff of the Light and the Gold Sphere on it. And this is Branch! - She points at the god.

- Yeah, I'm also the guardian of those - He shows the Staff in his hand. - As you can see. I'm the god of the Night, Darkness, and Silence.

- Sounds cool - The silver stranger cheers. - And who am I?

Poppy and Branch look at each other confused.

- You don't know? - The god asks.

- I've just come from this weird black hole at the end of the world.

- Oh, the Chaos - Poppy recognizes.

- Ha! So that hole has a name? - The stranger chuckles, and then frowns. - So you don't know who I am?

- We can give you a name! - She beams. - What about Diamonddd....

- ....Guy? - Branch ends. - Guy Diamond?

- Oh, this is a really good name! - The silver god bucks and poses like a model. - It fits me perfectly.

- Okay, let me guess - The blue god interrupts his rhapsodizing. - You're the god of the Glitter?

Guy freezes at those words.

- I have weird deja vu - He points at the bags. - This is the glitter, am I right?

- Yep - Poppy nods. - You know what is it?

- I feel like I know it more than myself - He sinks his hand into silver sand with amazement. Then after a moment, he grabs one bag and shoulders it. - And I know exactly what to do with it!

- Should I warn you that you will have to create more...

- I can produce glitter much faster than you think! - Guy interrupts Branch. - You can leave me all of this, I take care of it. - He points at the cave filled with bags. - And now, excuse me, I have so many trolls' eyelids to powder! - He yells enthusiastically and walks away with a bag full of glitter. They watch his wandering silver silhouette until he disappears on the horizon. Branch turns to Poppy with his tired eyes and shows her a smile full of relief.

- I kinda start liking Chaos - He jokes, making her chuckle. - So... Now when I'm truly free... What do you want to do?

Poppy looks at his weary face, his weak smile, his half-opened eyelids, and grey bag under his faded blue eyes...

- Come with me. I know exactly what to do - She smiles encouragingly.

The goddess brings him to the meadow where she was spending the last few weeks.

- The oak - He murmurs, looking at the huge tree. He recognizes the place where he showed her a shadow and for the first time he took off his capote in front of someone. It is a place with a beautiful view of the stars and the whole Land around. Many little lightning bugs are flying casually above the grass. He yawns loudly when the wave of tiredness hits him without a warning. - What do you want to do with this oak?

Poppy grabs his arm without a word and pulls him down to sit. He doesn't protest. He needs to sit right now. He slumps against the wide oak's trunk and leans the Staff against his shoulder. Then he notices that little warm hands are still holding his arm, so he turns to her with an asking sight.

- You need to rest - The goddess says calmly and warmly, and her sound voice makes his eyelids heavier somehow. - Take a nap.

- But what about the Night? You can't touch the Staff now...

- I won't - He feels his breath get calmer when she speaks like that. Quietly, warmly, softly. - I'll stay awake. You need sleep, even an hour or two. I'll wake you up, so you’ll be able to do your duties later.

He blinks slowly, staring at her little glowing freckles.

- You have a heart of gold...

- Stop talking, you dork, just sleep!

The god smiles amused. He closes his eyes and slumps his head against the tree. He breathes a deep, glad sigh. But before he falls asleep, he feels a warm touch on his cheek pulling his head down, and soon his chin lands on Poppy's shoulder.

- Are you sure I'm not too heavy for you? - Branch murmurs quietly.

The goddess smiles gazing at his blessed face.

- Your head will fall anyway - She whispers, feeling him briefly purring with a sleepy pleasure on her shoulder, like a big tired cat. - Good night, Branch.

She sees him sighing blissfully. Yes, his head is huge and heavy, but Poppy doesn't care. His arm is cold, as much as his cheek, but it gets warmer under the goddess's touch, which is weirdly satisfying for her. It is so pleasant, although she doesn't dare to touch him more, even if it lures her. She respects him so much, she would never do anything without his awareness and agreement.

But to be honest, now, now is a really huge dose of happiness, of adoring and enjoying their company, their talks, and touch. Her heart is filled with peace, with peaceful happiness.

Oh, she missed him. She missed him so much. It is so, so good to have him back.

____________________________________________

Index

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 8

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 8: Maxwell Thomas Shelby, the newest member of the Shelby family. 

            It happened one unseasonably warm fall day. September 16th, to be exact. Amelia was getting a glass of water from the kitchen, just minding her own business. It wasn’t until she stepped to the side when she noticed a bit of liquid trickling down her leg. At first, she was embarrassed, not sure what was happening. Then it dawned on her that it was most likely the start of what she’d been afraid of for almost nine months.

             “Uh…Pol?”

            Polly was writing carefully in a ledger in her office in the betting shop. “Have a question, love?” She asked, a bit distracted by numbers. It was early in the afternoon and the shop was abuzz with activity. Odds being shouted back and forth, money passing hands, and the sound of chalk on the blackboard. But Amelia had quietly flitted her way to Polly so she wouldn’t call attention to herself.

            “How would I know if my water’s broke?”

            That immediately grabbed Polly’s attention. The woman’s head shot up and she dropped her pen. “Your water broke?”

            “I er, I think so. I don’t know for sure though.” Amelia pulled up the hem of her skirt a bit.

            “Alright, let’s get you upstairs then, just in case.” Polly jumped up and rushed over to the young woman.

            “I-fuck!” Amelia suddenly shouted and doubled over when she felt her first contraction.

            The men in the shop all turned to look at her in confusion.

            Polly knew if anyone had the most sense in the home, it was her. “All of you clear out.” She ordered. “Now.”

            “Pol…” Danny looked a little lost. There was no way Tommy and Arthur would appreciate all of them leaving in the middle of taking bets.

            “I said get the fuck out!” Polly snapped; a bit louder. That was enough to convince them, as they all scattered. But she stopped Danny at the door. “Get Tommy, bring him back here, tell him she’s gone into labor and he needs to get here now.”

            “Yes, ma’am!”

            Polly got Amelia to sit down. “Take some deep breaths.” She soothed in a calmer voice.

            “Pol, I don’t think I’m ready.” Amelia was suddenly terrified. It was easy enough to say she wasn’t scared when she was just pregnant. But as she was getting ready to give birth, the reality was hard to ignore.

            “Well, that little boy is ready, so you’ll need to be too.”

~~~~~~~~            

            For a moment, Tommy thought Danny was playing a joke on him. But it became clear that Amelia was going into labor. So he ran the entire way back home.

            “Pol? Mel?” He called.

            “In the shop!” Polly yelled back. She was kneeling down next to Amelia, holding her hand and coaching her through her breathing. “Help me bring her upstairs.”

            Tommy froze a bit. Amelia looked panicked as she clutched Polly’s hand and gave little, shallow breaths.

            “Thomas, get your head outta your arse and help me!” His aunt stood up.

            Running on nothing but instinct, he scooped Amelia up into his arms and did his best to carefully bring her upstairs. Mid-way, Amelia let out a groan of pain.

            Tommy didn’t even have the words to comfort her. He had no clue what to say, all he could do was listen to Polly.

            “Go downstairs and get a heap of towels,” Polly instructed as he lay Amelia down on the bed. As Tommy dashed back downstairs, she helped Amelia sit up against the pillows. “As long as you keep breathing, you’ll be okay.” She promised as she helped the expectant mother strip down to her slip to make the delivery easier.

            Amelia had no time to be embarrassed, and she didn’t have a reason to either. Polly was like a mother to her and there wasn’t anyone else she trusted to deliver her child.

            Tommy came back upstairs in the blink of an eye, running purely off of adrenaline.

            “Set them down here.” His aunt instructed. She sat down by Amelia’s feel so she could check the progress of the labor.

            Tommy set the towels on the bed and stood frozen. He could remember the awful screams from the room when his mother was giving birth to Ada and Finn. It was terrifying and even though he was an adult when Finn was born, he was afraid his mother was going to die. It wasn’t the most outlandish thing. He’d heard of mothers who died during childbirth. What would that do to him if Amelia met with the same fate? He felt like his heart was in his throat and he had to push the thought away.

            “Tom…” Amelia reached out to him. Her hand was trembling slightly.

            “You want me to stay?” He asked, moving to take her hand.

            She didn’t even have to answer. Aside from Polly, there wasn’t anyone else there for her. Her parents didn’t care where she was or even if she was okay. The biological father was just as careless.

            “I’ll stay.”

     ~~~~~~~~~~      

            And he did. He didn’t move from his spot the entire time. Even when Polly when to wash a couple of towels or get a drink, he stayed.

            “Remember when Maisie was in foal?” Amelia asked, bringing up the conversation to take her mind off the contractions.

            It had been some time since Tommy had thought about the mare that they both loved so much. She was a paint pony, barely over fourteen hands with a long shaggy mane and a mark on her face that was the shape of a crescent moon. She was the first pony almost all of the Shelbys rode. When Amelia and he were about ten, Maisie gave birth to a beautiful filly they named Maybel.

            It was almost midnight as they crouched in the hay with a lantern in hand. They watched from afar, too curious to look away from the active birth. Charlie stood near, ready to intervene if needed. Amelia would always remember how Maisie tenderly cared for Maybel. Keeping her tiny foal close, and licking her damp coat. She and Tommy nearly stayed up all night so they could see Maybel stand on her wobbly legs for the first time. It seemed so effortless and beautiful. Now that Amelia was in the midst of it, she didn’t think it was as easy as Maisie made it look.

            “Yeah, she was a good horse. We gave her to a farmer out in the country when she got older. He needed a pony to keep his mule company.

            Amelia smiled. “That’s sweet. What about Maybel?”

            “Think we sold her to one of Charlie’s kin. One of their little girls took a liking to her if I can recall correctly.”

            That please Amelia. “Good, they deserved good lives. They were so kind.”

            “All horses do.” Tommy agreed.

            “Even that mean gelding who bit you and threw you off constantly?”

            “Major?” He chuckled. “That bastard made me a better rider.” He recalled when they were a bit older, maybe twelve, around the time he started to fancy his best friend. He took Amelia to the Yard to show off the new horse his uncle got. Tommy was allowed to ride him mainly because Charlie believed that a green horse was a good test for any Traveller boy.

            Major was the tallest horse he’d ridden at that time. He was a stunning creature, muscular and strong with a shiny, chestnut coat. But he was as mean as could be. Charlie said horses weren’t born mean, they were taught. No one knew exactly where Major had learned how to be so mean. They just knew that Charlie had rescued him from slaughter.

            And when Tommy took Amelia to see the gelding for the first time, he made the rookie mistake of turning his back to the beast.

            Amelia didn’t have enough time to warn him. Major stretched out his neck over the stall door and bit Tommy’s arm.

            It was humiliating to be bitten in front of the girl he had a crush on. But he loved the horse no matter how many times Major dumped him, bucked him off, tried to bite him, or pinned his ears back at him. Tommy knew he never would’ve become the rider he was without him.

            “I was scared of him,” Amelia remembered. “Everyone was except for you.”

            “He was just misunderstood.” Tommy shrugged. “He rode beautifully when he behaved.”

            Amelia watched him, her mind drifting away from the contractions she was trying to count. “You should see your eyes when you talk about horses.” She murmured. “You just light up, Tom.”

            His face burned up a little bit. “Well, I dunno.”

            “Maybe you take what you earned from the betting shop and put it into working with horses.” She suggested hopefully. Amelia figured that if she could draw Tommy away from the life of a bookie to someone who worked with horses, she would be doing him a favor. He’d be so much safer.

            “I plan to have horses.” He said. “Once we have it in the budget. We’ll have stables at our house in the countryside. That’s where Max can learn to ride.”

            It sounded so promising, even if it was a stretch to imagine it ever coming true. But Amelia knew that he was deflecting. Getting that house in the countryside would only be the result of getting money from God knows what. She didn’t completely know or understand Tommy’s plan of action, how he anticipated earning so much money. But she knew that no one earned the amount of money he was looking towards through honest means.

            But Amelia couldn’t give it any more thought. Another contraction hit her and she squeezed onto Tommy’s hand. “Getting closer.” She wheezed. “I’m so tired already.”

            “Try to relax best you can, like Pol said.” He soothed gently. “I’m right here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~           

            All in all, it only took about five hours from the time Amelia’s water broke in the betting shop. The sun was just starting to set as Polly helped guide the baby boy into the world.

            The first Tommy heard his son cry was heartbreaking. As the second oldest, he’d almost become deaf to babies crying. It was just a part of life. But when Max cried, it struck him right in the heart. This little bundle was now his responsibility until the day he died. It was something he didn’t take lightly.

            Amelia was exhausted but she let go of Tommy’s hand so she could reach for her baby.

            Polly wrapped up the wailing newborn in a blanket and placed him on Amelia’s breast. “He sounds healthy.”

            “I told you, she’s always right.” Tommy couldn’t help the smile on his face.

            Amelia was in too much awe to acknowledge Polly’s premonition. “Look at him, Tom.”

            Max’s face was all scrunched up as he cried, his little fist pressed up against his mother’s collarbone. He only had wisps of light brown hair but it was too early to tell his eye color.

            “Wow…” Tommy was stunned. He didn’t know what he’d feel when he first saw the child he promised to help raise. He figured it would be some sort of affection, who could look at a baby with malice? But he was taken aback by the devotion he felt immediately upon seeing Max.

            Amelia was completely overwhelmed as she cradled her son close to her chest. When she discovered she was pregnant, she was terrified. Everything about it scared her, her parents’ reactions, the father’s reaction, the reaction of friends. She was worried about how people would perceive her having a child out of wedlock. When she was disowned, she was angry at herself, angry at the man who assaulted her, angry at her parents for taking his side. She didn’t want to be pregnant. She didn’t want to be a mother. There was no way she would be able to care for a newborn. She felt lost and hopeless.

            But there, in Birmingham, holding her son, all of those fears and worries felt foolish. All of a sudden, she was willing to jump through hoops for her son, fight an army single-handedly to keep him safe. She would starve, be penniless, even die if it meant keeping him safe. This tiny little being was suddenly all that mattered to her in the world. And it brought tears to her eyes knowing that he depended on her. That he would look up to her and expect her to be her best. She needed to be her best for him.

            For nearly ten minutes, Amelia silently sobbed as she held Max. She softly whispered her promises to him. Whispered how much she loved him. Whispered how he would never know the struggles she had known.

 ~~~~~~~~~

            A couple of hours after Max was delivered, Amelia was wiped out. She fell asleep as Tommy went downstairs to introduce his son to the rest of the family.

            “Everyone, I’d like to introduce Maxwell Thomas Shelby, the newest addition to the family.” Tommy propped Max up a bit in his arms so everyone could see him.

            His siblings drew close to see their nephew.

            “Healthy looking lad, aye?” Arthur smiled, proud of his brother for stepping up for Amelia’s sake.

            “Now we’ve got two babies in the house?” John grimaced. “We’ll never get any sleep.” The teenager protested. 

            “I think he’s cute,” Ada said. “Is he and Mel gonna stay with us forever?” She asked hopefully.

            “Yeah, Ada, I think they are.” Tommy looked down at Max fondly.

 ~~~~~~~~~          

            Tommy couldn’t sleep and it wasn’t because Max was keeping him up. In fact, the baby was sleeping quite soundly in his cot. He’d cried about an hour earlier and Amelia had nursed him back to sleep. Now both mother and child were fast asleep in the same room. Tommy was sitting next to the cot, his back to the wall. He watched Max through the bars of the crib, watching every breath he took. Tommy wasn’t sure if he was scared by how fragile the newborn seemed to be, or if he was still in a bit of shock. He wondered what this little boy would grow up to be. Would he like horses as much as Tommy did? Would he look up to him?

            It was a bit frightening to look so far into the future and realize all that could potentially happen to any of them. The uncertainty drove Tommy mad. He wanted to give Amelia and Max everything they deserved, he just wished he knew the future so he could know he was going down the right path. He wanted to know that he would uphold his promise.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

Masterpost

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[theprincesslibrary]

#4: Baleful - Close your eyes

Warning: violence, past trauma, mention of abuse, mention of rape, domestic abuse, blood, torture 

He’s waking up. 

He doesn’t remember much. He was coming home after a night out, drunk and alone, the girls weren’t receptive to his charms. And then nothing. Just darkness and a violent pain at the back of his skull. He’s fully awake now, though his reality looks like a nightmare. His reflection is staring at him from the ceiling, eyes wide from fear. He is strapped to an operating table, naked, unable to move. He doesn't understand why he's here. 

I’d feel bad for him if I didn’t know any better. But I do.

I know what he did to his wife, to his previous girlfriends. I know what type of monster he is. But I’m worse. The saw in my hand is itching to cut, but I can’t start yet. Everything must be done to perfection. So I step out of the shadows and move closer, tape his eyelids open, so he can't close his eyes. Putting that mirror on the ceiling was a real pain in the ass, it’d be a shame if all that work went to waste. I wouldn’t want him to miss the show.

*****

When Thancred reaches the scene everything looks like it did for the previous murders: they still don't have the crime scene, just the dumping area. A godforsaken place where nobody cares what you do or say: welcome to Ul'dah's low town, where the jewel city doesn't shine so brightly. Here only the rule of the three wise monkeys applies: see nothing, hear nothing, and above all shut the fuck up. The perfect place to get rid of a body.

These corpses are not your typical murder victim though: no crime of passion, no hit-and-run. Everything is clean. It’s the third case of the type to end up on his desk, and it's a fucking nightmare. Let’s be clear, the modus operandi is dirty as fuck: shallow cuts all over the body, severed limbs, head cut off… all of that ante mortem, a fucking slaughter. But the scene is fucking spotless, perfectly ordered like a freaking Mog Station warehouse. They don't really have a corpse, more of a human puzzle: the organs and the head sit in separate jars, the limbs are all wrapped up mummy style, personal belongings in a cardboard box... And the cherry on top: not a single witness.  

That’s when Thacred's expertise comes to play. See, a regular cop would harass the lab, call them every 5 minutes, pressure them day and night… be a pain in the as. But not detective Thancred Waters. Nah. He has his way of doing things. He lets the lab rats alone, especially with a scene like that which is as much of a nightmare for them as it is for him. If puzzle number 3 is like its friends, CSI can’t do much for him right now, they need to unpack all that shit, literally. So he leaves them the fuck alone, they’re happy, and when they have something conclusive they call their favorite detective: how far one can go by not being an asshole is astonishing.  

Instead, Thancred likes to interrogate people. Relatives, of course, that’s police work 101, but he pays extra attention to the little monkeys on the streets: the guy no one notices sitting in the corner, the drug dealer in his vintage car, the homeless lady who sleeps here at night. He just knows how to make them talk. It must be his lucky day because he saw his favorite monkey when he arrived at the scene. It would be rude not to check on his old friend, although “friend” might be a bit of a stretch. He met Theodric in Limsa Lominsa, back when he was still a street urchin, stealing purses from unsuspecting passersby. They were in the same band of petty thieves, followed the same path, except one day Thancred targeted Louisoix Leveilleur. Instead of turning him in, the man saw his potential, and took him under his wing. His life changed that day. Theodric wasn’t so lucky. He got involved with the wrong crowd, took the wrong drug, and ended up here, in one of Ul’dah’s worst neighborhoods where not even the refugees dare to come. 

Yeah, not really friends, and considering what he's about to do to him, it's better that way.

 *****

Thancred’s fists hurt from punching Theodric’s ugly face, he needs a break from all that “friendly catching up”. He reaches for a cig and lights it up. Gods, how he loves the taste of tar… finally some stale air to help him breathe. He spares a look to the little monkey slouched against the tainted wall of a shabby restaurant. His face is covered in blood, but he’s not talking. He hates when they stay quiet, he’ll just have to be more explicit. 

“You know Theo, I can call you Theo, right? You know… it’s the weekend for me too. As you can imagine that I have other things to do besides fucking up your hideous face. I'm not asking you to share every tiny detail of your sad existence, I’m not your therapist. I’m not even asking for the name of your dealer. Just tell me who the fuck threw away the mummy. That would make me incredibly happy, I’d be able to go home, have a nice bath, you know, normal people shit.”

Thancred takes another puff from his cigarette and looks down at the man who was once his partner in crime. It’s almost like staring at a twisted version of himself, at the man he would have become without Louisoix. Six months ago, he might have gone easy on Theodric, might have tried to help him out. Six months ago, he would have been the man Louisoix wanted him to be, but that guy died in Lahabrea’s basement. All those months of sequestration and torture did a number on him, fucked him up so bad, his soul died back there. Now he's just this empty shell, pretending to be alive out of spite. Just to say “look at me now, I’m still there”. But he's not, not really.

He draws the last puff from his cigarette and crouches next to Theodric, his face on the same level as the junkie's. The little monkey has one open eye, just one, the other is too fucked up. There’s fear in that one eye, but he’s still not talking. Thancred gets his cig close to Theodric’s good eye, so he can understand what’s going to happen next. He likes to let people understand the rest on their own, it stimulates communication. 

“You might think I hate you Theo, but I don’t. I don’t give two flying fucks about you. But you see, my shrink told me I had to externalize my rage. When you don't talk to me, it pisses me off, so I have to externalize. On your face. You’re not a bad guy, a little drug here, a little dealing there, it’s not that bad. I’m a whiskey guy myself so really who am I to judge? Just tell me who threw this corpse, so I can calm the fuck down. I don’t need to externalize as much and we both go on our merry ways.” 

Thancred punctuates his question by crushing his cigarette's butt on Theo’s arm. His screams echo in the empty street so loudly dogs start to howl, not that anyone cares. Noone would come to his aid, not in this part of town, not when a cop is the one making him scream like a pig. The wise monkey rule reigns supreme. But now he’s in enough pain for Thancred to believe whatever he’s gonna say next. 

“Fuck Waters, I swear I don't know anything. You know me, I'm not that brave, if I knew anything I’d be singing like a fucking canary right now. Please let me go, I promise if I hear something I'll tell you. I swear Waters.”

*****

Theodric looks sincere.

It pisses him off, cause now he’s gonna have to resort to a more classic approach and act like a regular cop: talk to the wife and relatives. He hates to act like a regular cop, hates to talk to the wives. He doesn’t know how to deal with crying people. He used to be good at people skills, he’s not anymore.

He needs a drink. 

He ends up at the Quicksand like always. It’s a second house for all sorts of human trash: bikers, dealers, pimps, him...  

Thancred likes the atmosphere, and the barmaid, Lya. Lya is good. It sounds dumb, but she is. She smiles all the time and listens to everyone’s bullshit without judging. She’s pretty too, beautiful even. When she smiles it's a bit like a breeze blowing over a field of poppy, it shakes him to the core. It shakes up any guy. They all want to throw themselves in her arms and let her lull them to sleep as a mother would. She could turn the most vicious wolf into an obedient little lamb with just one smile. All the guys here come for her: the alcohol tastes like piss, the food is barely decent when it’s not expired, and the walls grow mold. But she's here. They all want her, but no one touches her. She’s broken, they all know that. They might be a bunch of heartless assholes, but they have principles. And Lya is off-limits. Her last boyfriend used to beat her up to a pulp, she still has a scar running down the side of her face. It doesn't take away from her beauty, but it drives him mad with rage.  

One night he was taking a piss behind the bar – mind you the alley’s hygiene is better than the loo inside – he saw the guy slap her, and felt the irrepressible urge to externalize his rage on the asshole’s face, so he did. Repeatedly, until he was the one lying on the ground, pissing himself. They’ve been friends ever since. She listens to his stupid jokes, gives him the best food, stops pouring drinks when she thinks he’s too drunk and smiles at him. She smiles so brightly he feels like a little boy in a candy store, hopeful and fearless.  

She looks out of place in this dirty joint full of heartless assholes, like a porcelain doll forgotten in a construction site, but she’s one of them: damaged. They don’t want to break her, they can all see the cracks in her porcelain skin, so no one touches her. They just pretend, pretend they have a chance, pretend they’re good enough for her. They even play this game where the last guy standing can ask her out. They drink until they either pass out or leave, and only one guy is left. The winner never asks her out, but still, they come every night to drink and dream. 

***** 

I always start with small incisions, quick and superficial. It stings just a little, but not too much. The most important thing is not the pain or the screaming, it’s the fear, the anticipation. It’s a wholesome experience: he gets to feel, see, and smell all of it. People often forget to mention the smell, iron and urea, blood and piss. The mix elicits a primal reaction: run, it says, run. But he can’t. 

*****

It’s Monday and Thancred has an appointment with the third victim’s wife. She looks vaguely familiar, must be from the file or the guy’s belongings. The murderer never bothered to hide his victim's identity. Hell, they even leave a special box for passports and other personal stuff. So yeah, she looks familiar, but he’s been in Ul’dah for a while, so it’s not a surprise. What he can’t stand is the way she's fidgeting on her chair. 

Thancred doesn’t like when the witness fidgets because a regular cop would think ‘hum, that’s suspicious'. Thancred tried being a regular cop once, wasn’t for him, so he stopped, started being an asshole instead with some instinct sprinkled on top, it was a wholesale price. Still, the fidgeting is annoying. And she still looks familiar, more than she should from just a file picture. Thancred can’t put his finger on it. Maybe he fucked her once. He was kind of a womanizer before his life went to shit, before Lahabrea. It doesn’t explain why she’s so nervous, or why she keeps nervously rubbing her arms. Nor does it explain the five layers of clothes. It’s at least 35° out, and she’s out in the sun with a freaking turtleneck. The outrageous makeup has to be the icing on the cake. 

And that’s when it hits him. He knows her, but not from the file, or a one-night stand. She’s from Lya’s support group for battered women. That’s why she’s nervous. Not because he’s her former lover, not even because he’s a cop, but because he’s a man. That’s why number 3’s dead: he was trash like the rest.

"Excuse me for a few minutes."

Thancred gets up and exits the room, leaving the widow alone. He spots Minfilia across the room and strides towards her.

"Hey Min, I'm gonna need you to take this one."

"Why?", she teases, "finally found a widow impervious to your charms?"

"Pretty sure our so-called victim wasn't the loving husband he owed to be."

Understanding flashes on her face, she drops the file she was reading on her desk and follows him to the interrogation room. Relief washes over the widow’s face when she sees Minfilia.

“This is my colleague, Detective Warde. She’s going to take it from here.”

Then he’s out again, leaving the two women alone. He goes to his desk while Min does her thing, and looks for the victim’s name in the database. He doesn’t need to watch Min do her work, he trusts her to get the answers they need. The petite blonde has great people skills, and she’s one of the good ones. She's so good, it's hard not to hate her. He doesn't though, never did, never will. 

She’s one of the few friends he has left, one of the few people to put up with his bullshit after Lahabrea's "incident". He loves her like the little sister he never had, and more than anything he respects her. She's a good friend and a good cop, something this city sorely lacks. Rhabdan runs a tight ship as chief of police, but there's always a few bad apples in the bunch, not Min though. She's one of the good ones, not some disillusioned asshole like him. It's hard to be hopeful in a city like Ul'dah where being rich means one can escape any form of responsibility. Like number 3 here. His wife's medical record is a testament to his behavior: bruised face, broken ribs, even lacerations. It's a miracle the woman is still alive. But her in-laws are rich, and influential: Lolorito's people. That's why Thancred is not so sure he wants to catch the killer, not when they're doing what he's not free to do himself.

When Minfilia is done with the interrogation, she motions for him to join her in the break room. She confirms what Thancred already knows: the guy was an asshole.

He needs a fucking drink. 

*****

First I remove his dick, not like he’s gonna need it anymore. I do this slowly, very slowly. I want him to suffer. This is also what the mirror on the ceiling is for, and the tape on the eyelids, no escape. He must see everything and especially hear everything, the slightest tear of his flesh, the sound of his blood dripping on the sanitized tiles, the scalpel cutting his flesh, my slow breathing. The shock of emasculation makes him pass out. It’s okay, we have all the time. I cauterize his wound, I don't want him to bleed out and die. Not yet.  

*****

Another corpse: emasculated, dismembered, and wrapped up like his buddies. 

Thancred lights another cigarette and crouches down in front of the jar containing the head. He knows this face, he broke that nose: Lya's ex. Suddenly the crime scene doesn't seem ugly anymore, it shines with glitter and shit. It makes him happy to see that stupid face in a jar, means he won't be a problem for Lya anymore. He's also the second "victim" who likes to take out his anger on women, there has to be something there. Thancred needs to take another look at the first three victims, they can't be all that clean.  

He ponders whether he should tell Lya about this. Would that make her happy? It might make her feel better, safer. "By the way, the asshole who used to beat you up is dead, a serial killer took care of it." 

Yeah. Maybe he needed to work on his speech. 

It’s just him and the old Bernie now, playing that secret game of theirs. The old man sends him a dirty look before finally getting up. Thancred wins tonight, and he plans on taking her out for real, not just in his head. It's a lucky day after all, maybe she'll say yes.   

The bar is empty that time around. ‘Good’ he thinks, 'Her smiles will all be mine.'

She’s smiling more than usual, she looks happy even, so he decides not to say anything. She smiles, but she’s seldom happy, no point in ruining the mood. The asshole will be just as dead tomorrow. So he sits at the bar to be closer to her, and drinks while he tells her stupid nonsense. One drink, then a second, and finally a whole bottle.

*****

He waking up again, and we’re back in business. Killing a man isn’t easy work, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. My mom used to tell me: “When things get hard, just put them in different boxes and deal with them one at a time.” So I do just that: I cut him into small pieces, wrap them up, put them in nice little jars.

First his right arm, the one he used to slap his women. I cut just below the elbow, he screams like a piglet being bled out. Then his left arm, all the way up to the shoulder, his legs, and finally his head. 

*****

He wakes up to an empty room. Of course, she’s not here, why would she? She’s in his fantasy, not in his reality. It was such a vivid dream, it left him hard and wanting. He buries his face in the sheets, and he can almost smell her. As if dreams could leave a scent behind. Fucking morning wood. He needs release and a shower, but first, he wants a smoke.

He dreams of Lya that night.

She's riding him like a fierce amazon, her breasts moving to the rhythm of their bodies. Everything about her is erotic, her hungry gaze, her mischievous smile. That smile excites him as much as it soothes him. Fuck, he doesn't want to get out of this dream, but his alarm rings, and the dream is gone.

He walks to the kitchen naked, he lives alone and doesn’t give a fuck about flashing his neighbors. She’s standing in his kitchen, a coffee mug in hand. She’s wearing one of his shirts; it’s a bit too big for her, but too short to be decent. She’s so fucking beautiful wearing his clothes, if he wasn’t hard before, he certainly is now. And then he remembers everything.

She kissed him outside the restaurant, he wouldn’t have dared, but she kissed him. They ended up at his place. They made love on his couch, in the shower, in his bed. He didn’t fuck her, no, he worshiped her: kissed every inch of her skin, licked every freckle. He prayed to her body like a mad man, as much as he could, as much as she let him.

She said yes.

All the alcohol made his brain soft and mushy, but he remembers now. He helped her close the bar, and they went to that new place near his precinct. The one that stays open until 3 am. They talked, he told her he was a cop, she said she knew. It was written in the way he moved, in the way others moved around him. They talked all night long, and she smiled. Gods, that freaking smile got him good. They talked so much, they got kicked out. 

He must look like a fucking idiot now, with that surprised look on his face and his hard cock because she bursts out laughing. A laugh that explodes like fireworks and ricochets against the walls of his apartment, leaving notes of bright colors everywhere. It's crazy how beautiful she is when she laughs. He wants her, needs her.

He strides towards her, lifts her off the floor, and drops her off her gently on the kitchen table. He doesn’t want to break her, doesn’t want to worsen the cracks in her porcelain skin. Then he makes love to her, in the middle of his kitchen, with the blinds open for the world to see. Because he can, because she wants him as much as he wants her. 

***** 

His instinct about the victims being trash was right. 

After some heavy digging in the first two victims’ past, he finds what he needs. Victim number one’s a serial rapist: used to slip roofies in women’s drink, raped them, and filmed the whole thing, threatening to release the tapes if they tried to report him. Not that they would, the guy was filthy rich, another one of Ul’dah’s “cream of the crop”, these women knew they didn’t have a chance to see justice. If it wasn’t for his “barely legal” deep dive in the guy’s personal belongings - he might have stolen his computer after breaking into his parents’ house - Thancred wouldn’t even know about it.

Victim number 2 was no better, he had a long history of domestic violence and child abuse, but no open case, not even a complaint. Now adding number 3 and Lya’s ex to the list… these guys all deserved to die like pigs. He should say it, should even think like that, but he does. He doesn’t even want to catch the culprit, for all he cares they should be free to rid the city of these predators. Should even get paid for doing public service.

Looking at the so-called victim’s file drives him mad with rage. He wants to drink, but more than anything he needs to see Lya; He can even pretend to do police work while he’s at it. She knows at least one of the women, she’s a victim herself, maybe she knows more. 

The Quicksand is packed. He has to share her smile and his time, it annoys him, but it's okay. Tonight she will be his, and his alone. He sits at the bar, she smiles at him, and he’s not mad anymore. He orders whiskey, then another, and another. After the third glass, the rush finally dies down, and they can talk. He tells her about his investigation, and tells her about her ex. She's a little shaken up, but it's okay, she is strong. 

He shows her pictures of the victims, not the one from the autopsy, he’s not that stupid, pretty pictures with happy smiles and perfect lives. Moments of happiness he knows to be fake. He asks her if she knows the victims or their wives, through her support group, or by word of mouth. She nods. She knows the wives of 2 and 3, she talks to them often. She recognizes the last victim, of course, he was her monster. 

Thancred’s curious to know what she thinks about all this, that’s the cop in him, but he’s also worried about how it’ll affect her.

“I don't know… well I do. I know I shouldn't be happy, but I am,” she admits. “I'm a little less afraid.”

He hates that she feels guilty.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” he states, hoping she’ll feel relieved that those words are coming from him. “Now, I know he won’t  prowl you around anymore.”

She smiles softly, and he has the urge to make love to her on the bar, in front of everyone. But he won’t, Lya is a goddess, not a girl who gets fucked in a bar. He’s going to buy her flowers, and maybe a nice bottle of wine. He might even light some candles to set the mood, then he’s gonna make love to her, again and again until they both pass out in blissful exhaustion.

*****

I dispose of his body in one of the city’s garbage dumps. It’s the perfect place to get rid of a body. And this open sky trash dump is perfect for me: exactly what this trash deserves. The people who live here all look dead, the only thing that sets them apart from my guy is the steady movement of their hearts. That, and the fact that they’re all in one piece, for the most part.

*****

Reports come back on Lya’s ex.

Toxicology’s clean, no head trauma either, he wasn’t drugged or incapacitated like the others. He might have known his assailant. The rest of the report looks similar at first glance, cuts all over the body, severed limbs, emasculation, beheading. It’s the same MO but somehow it feels messier: the body shows hesitation marks, the cuts are deeper, meant to hurt... it feels more personal, like an act of revenge. 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

*****

He opens up his flat’s door and practically runs towards the kitchen. He needs a drink before seeing Lya. It can’t be her, when she smiles the ground shakes, she turns wolves into lambs. She’s so small, with soft porcelain skin, tiny hands… It can’t be her, yet his guts tell him otherwise.

He’s halfway in the kitchen when he spots her. She’s waiting for him, his backup gun in those tiny hands of hers. When he dreamt of coming home to her that’s not what he had in mind.

 She’s smiling at him, a sad little smile because she doesn’t want to kill him, not really. He might be an asshole but he doesn’t hurt women. Maybe she likes him too. She’s crying now, tears rolling down her beautiful face. It’s stupid but he still wants to throw himself in her arms. It’s stupid because she’s going to kill him. 

She’s gonna try anyway. 

*****

Gunshots echo in the room, followed by the loud thud of a lifeless body hitting the ground.

[full-coverage]

(super)natural Bottle Blonde

The weirder the natural remedy, the more mess it creates in your shared bathroom with your roommate, the better it works, right? Historically speaking, Cleopatra submerged her legendary bosoms in sour donkey milk before driving Julius Caesar, a man normally guided by flawless strategic instincts, crazy. Sylvester Stallone and my grandmother are both unafraid of cracking a raw egg over something that’s not a hot skillet, albeit for different reasons; my grandmother uses it as a hair mask. I won’t ask what the strangest “organic” topical fix you’ve ever used is, because I think I would rather not know. Instead, I would like to travel from the land of failed home experiments into the world of science, where researchers draw inspiration from nature in a methodical, reasoned way. 

Dr. Claudia Battistella and Prof. Nathan Gianneschi are two chemists who don’t reach for the vegetable crisper and a blender when they want to see what kind of tricks Mother Nature has in store for us. Actually, they’re more used to working with tidy synthetic molecules. Claudia joined Nathan’s lab at Northwestern University to study how polymers, or chains of molecules, can be used to deliver drugs in the body for cancer treatment applications. Only recently did she start working with a polymer naturally occurring in our body, which she describes as a “disaster” — elsewhere it is characterized as being “enigmatic” and “mysterious” by science journalists who evidently have a much more leisurely relationship with it. I myself am fascinated by the idea that molecules can have some kind of personality. Imagine, your second-grade best friend Jimmy’s rabbit didn’t have much in the way of vibes, and here is something which can be represented by several sticks and letters on paper, frustrating and fascinating people at the same time.

So can you guess which molecule I’m talking about? Fine, the dead giveaway would be that it is the pigment in our skin and eyes. But melanin doesn’t just sit on top of us like icing on a cookie: it’s swimming around inside us, where it has all kinds of important functions. Moreover, we aren’t the only organism that produces melanin — far from it. 

But before we get to the full spectrum of what melanin can do, let’s find out what use for it Claudia came up with. “What can I do to get closer to this material?” she pondered in Nathan’s lab after seeing her colleagues experiment with its myriad of applications. The answer came when she was discussing the problem of hair graying and losing melanin with age and sun exposure with a friend. In a stroke of optimism characteristic of only advanced scientists and toddlers who have just dislodged an expensive ceramic from a high place, she thought, “well, can we just put it back?”

It turns out that indeed we can. Pigments and dyes in nature “stick like crazy,” says Nathan. “That’s why your hair color is permanent.” The Gianneschi lab developed a series of hair dyes based on Claudia’s idea to use synthetic melanin, from blonde to black to red. In addition to being nifty, by being based on a building block already present in our body, the formula avoids use of a molecule called PPD widely present in permanent hair dyes which causes allergies in some people and is a known carcinogen. 

But having grown up spending more time in the manga section of my local bookstore than with YA books, I’m more interested in crazy hair colors than those with names like “Spiced Amber” and “Chestnut Brown.” If scientists are spending time in a lab formulating hair dye, the result better be something that only a Final Fantasy character designer could come up with. Luckily, the Gianneschi lab researchers had kind of the same idea. 

“Some of the most beautiful things, like throat feathers especially in certain types of hummingbirds, are super reflective. Materials that are that reflective are driven by melanin, which is a black particle… it doesn’t have any color like that, it’s a huge light sink,” Nathan explains. In other words, dark melanin granules, which look like poppy seeds under a microscope, also make some of the most fantastical colors in nature. How is this possible? To find out, physicists were put to the task, which spells trouble for everyone in terms of finding an easy answer to the question. They studied peacock feathers, which are made of basically the same materials that our hair is, and discovered that they were arranged in such precise and regular structures that they bend light to create basically a rave on a subatomic level that we see as the peacock’s pimped-out pattern. This phenomenon is known as structural coloration.

When I asked Nathan if this would be possible on human hair, he admitted that he thinks it would be theoretically possible, but difficult: “We don’t know enough about how to organize the particles in hair. I’m a bit concerned over whether or not we’d ever pull it off.” To set up the molecular light maze that results in a rainbow of shifting colors, they would need very stringent control over the underlying substrate. On top of that, melanin isn’t soluble in water, which means for chemists that studying it in the first place is like trying to recognize a friend without prescription glasses, making everything that much more difficult. “But that would be awesome, right? If you have a permanent hair color that could be iridescent. People would buy that, for sure. But I don’t know how to do that.”

Still, there’s hope for those of us who want to rock a look “inspired by nature” in the most outlandish way possible: Nathan said that he’s working on incorporating his and Claudia’s work with melanin into cosmetic production. Smooth surfaces like eyelids make for a much better canvas for playing with light than hair. During our conversation, he shows me a favorite Instagram account of his, the Gourmet Biologist, who gently pinches tiny tropical hummingbirds and holds them up to the camera to demonstrate how they make peacocks look “like some pedestrian thing.” So while geniuses like Prof. Gianneschi and Dr. Battistella do the hard work, I’m going to scroll through these amazing feats of coloration in nature and put together my next concert look in my head. 🦚

[poppibranchlover]

Nine Lives, One Fight - Part 1

The story: Deep in the forest of Troll Town, there lies a mysterious tiny purple mushroom that has a secret magical ability. King Peppy calls this mushroom forbidden for all Trolls to go near it. One day, while Branch is out in the woods doing his survival research studying, he encounters it and, not knowing it is a regular mushroom, decides to harvest it and bring it home. But in the next morning, its magic effects transform him into a small blue cat! After being sent to the animal pound, his girlfriend, Poppy, finds him and decides to adopt him, although not recognizing it is Branch. Desperate to finish his research project due for a special event invented by Poppy, Branch is forced to learn how to behave like a pet cat and must figure out what caused him to become one.

Now without further ado, here’s the story:

One peaceful day in Troll Village, Queen Poppy and her boyfriend, Branch, were resting happily in the meadows. They have set up a little picnic for themselves to enjoy their activity together, eating their scrumptious picnic snacks and watching the strolling white clouds in the sky above.

The two of them were laying side by side, each in an opposite direction that makes them comfortable, gazing at the beautiful blue sky, as Poppy took a deep breath and told Branch “What a nice day to bring me here for a picnic, Branch! The air is so refreshing in the meadows!”

“Yeah, it really is,” Branch answered, nodding as he placed his hands behind his head as if to relax. “I like the beautiful scent of flower pollen flowing in the breeze. I can hardly remember the time I took you to the same place where I kissed you!”

This immediately stung Poppy’s mind. She perked up and asked him excitedly “Oh my god! REALLY?!”

Branch’s face turned purple with embarrassment and shook his head nervously. “Uh....that was a long time ago, unless I wanted to confess how close I am to you since our journey to Bergen Town.”

“Oh, Branch! How can you say a thing like that?” Poppy said cheerfully. “You are the most responsible Troll everyone can look up to!”

“I am?” Branch said in midst of confusion in his head. “Oh yeah. I knew where all this came from. But thanks for your encouragement, Poppy.”

Then he heard his stomach rumble and said “Man, all this made me hungry. Oh, well. It’s the perfect time to eat my favorite tuna sandwich!”

Branch opened the picnic basket and pulled out a sandwich adorned with slices of lettuce, onions, tomatoes and mostly...tuna!

Of course, Branch liked to eat tuna, especially sandwiches made out of them, but he is rarely seen eating them because he liked how tasty the fishy meat was. He was about to take a bite on the sandwich when he noticed Poppy holding a small scrapbook with pages depicting theories of ancient Troll history.

He turned to her and asked “Hey, what are you reading?”

“I’m reading my very own nature journal!” Poppy explained. “This scrapbook I made explains an entire history of Troll Village’s mysterious nature theories and artifacts!”

Branch was awestruck. Who loved nothing more than mystery and theory than one average survivalist? He was deeply amazed how this book was well-written like that! He reached out for it and said “That’s such a really cool book! Can I take a peek at it?”

But Poppy closed her book and told him sternly “Hey! This journal was given to me by my dad since my sixteenth birthday.”

“But Poppy...” Branch pleaded.

“I’m sorry but I wanted this scrapbook safe and secured by Troll royalty,” said Poppy. “I don’t want it ripped or discarded by someone!”

“Well, if I would be a king, like when you were now a queen, should I get my hands on this journal?” asked Branch, without even thinking.

“Branch, let’s just say you’re not ready for royalty just yet, unless you show how respectful and responsible a Troll can always be.” Poppy hid the nature journal in her hair and added “I am going to show this to the rest of the village at my Show-and-Tell Festival this coming Thursday!”

“Show-and-Tell Festival?” Branch asked in disbelief. “What is this all about?”

“Glad you asked,” Poppy explained. “This festival is about Trolls who would go up the mushroom stage and show their remarkable creativity to the rest of the village. I will be hosting this event and I’ll be the one to volunteer the Trolls to come up on stage and qualify their projects as top prize in order for them to become Troll Village’s hero! Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah, but did I just notice you are scrapbooking how the entire event was going?” Branch asked, pointing at Poppy’s beloved yellow scrapbook, whom she was holding out in front of him and showing the pages of cute mini versions of Trolls celebrating the event while talking out her plan.

“Hah! Thanks for noticing!” Poppy laughed, putting her scrapbook in her hair.

“That festival sounds like a fun event,” said Branch, rubbing his chin with his finger. “May I try to participate?”

“Sure you can!” Poppy said to him, patting his shoulder. “But in order to join, you must create and bring something special to show to the town so you will be qualified!”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Branch replied, smirking and folding his arms. “I can make the best gadgets for the entire town to admire! You’ll see!”

A few minutes later, Branch was now in his home; his highly-camouflaged, heavily-fortified survival bunker. He sat at his table, studying through books and papers. He was drawing on a piece of paper, trying to figure out what would be perfect to show to the Trolls.

Branch racked his brain, thinking out loud “Participating her next party should be a piece of cake! What should I make for Poppy’s Show-and-Tell? Any ideas, Gary?” He stared at his beloved remote control, who was sitting in front of the stack of books nearby.

After a moment of silence, Branch groaned, clenching his fists. How was he able to show how special he is? He couldn’t think of anything to make for the festival, and all he could think was constructing a destructive snare trap. That initial plan Branch would make could just cause destruction to the town and disqualify him for no good. Furious, he scrunched up his drawing of a snare trap into a ball and threw it into a pile of scrunched up paper balls in a corner. Finally, he laid his face down on the table, grunting with frustration and becoming lost in thought.

When all of the sudden, he sat up, lighting up like a bulb!

“I have an idea!” Branch said to himself. “I’ll make a really great surprise everytroll has ever known! I’m sure they’ll definitely love what I’ve made, and then Poppy will qualify me as the town’s hero!” Through his excitement, he looked at Gary for a response, but his remote didn’t even flinch.

Determined, Branch grabbed a basket from a shelf and headed for the bunker elevator, saying “First, I need to hunt for materials down the woods!”

                                              To Be Continued…

                                            Stay tuned for Part 2!

Note: It’s been a while so I decided I wanted to reveal this fanfic to y’all. I hope you’ll like this! 😊

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 140

Episode: Futari wa Precure Splash Star 42 - “Welcome Back! Michiru and Kaoru!” Date watched: 3 July 2019 Original air date: 3 December 2006 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/xgCNJSJ Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

The title kinda spoiled it

Another excellent episode! We left off with Saki and Mai in a bind because the Fairy Carafe was stolen and Dark Fall’s agents were revived and now more resistant to Precure’s attacks. Dark Fall holds all the cards and Saki and Mai are stranded in the Land of Fountains. It’s a good setup! Where do we go from here?

The Plot

Princess Filia reveals to the girls that the Fountain of the Sun is in the Land of Greenery and uses her own power to transport the girls, their fairies, and herself there... but she loses her corporeal form and ends up as a sphere of light that possesses Korone, Saki’s cat. Meanwhile in Dark Fall, Gohyaan has revived the rest of the generals, but Akudaikaan chews him out for not kidnapping the Princess when he had the chance, as she knows the location of the Fountain of the Sun, so Gohyaan dispatches Karehaan and Dorodoron to track her down.

This is the only time all 6 of these characters are together

Back at the Sky Tree, Filia explains that she needs the Fairy Carafe to return her body, but the villains appear before she can tell the girls more. Saki and Mai transform into Bloom and Egret but their power isn’t enough to defeat the enhanced warriors. Filia pointedly comments that the two spirits (Flappi and Choppi) alone aren’t enough, so she, Korone, Moop, and Foop gather their power and wish for a miracle. In a very emotional sequence, they connect with the slumbering Michiru and Kaoru, who receive the last remaining energy from the Fairy Carafe, and then revive and rush to the Sky Tree to save their friends. It’s a touching reunion, and some words are exchanged between both the sisters and their friends, as well as the villains who were eliminated before they changed sides. Ultimately, words aren’t enough, and Michiru and Kaoru fight Dorodorn and Karehaan.... and they’re winning! The power that Moop and Foop especially lent them, combined with their powers of darkness, are the perfect counter to the blend of dark and light that the villains possess, and the sisters are able to negate Gohyaan’s powerup (Dorodoron flees instead). This allows the Precures to perform Spiral Heart Splash and destroy Karehaan, who dissolves into a bunch of mini-Gohyaan heads that bounce off.

The four girls finally have a moment to take in their reunion, and Saki and Mai cry tears of happiness as the camera zooms out and the credits roll.

(speaking of the credits, stick around at the end for my take on Ganbalance de Dance finally)

The Analysis

What a great episode. I could probably write pages about Michiru and Kaoru’s revival scene, the dialog and music and visuals all come together to make an emotionally powerful sequence. Bloom and Egret are overpowered, Michi and Kao feel so helpless and they can’t move, but they can tell their friends are in danger and they struggle their hardest, so their feelings connect with the energy Filia is trying to send and create a miracle. I love it. Also, you can really tell that Nishio Daisuke worked on Dragon Ball prior to this series because the sequence of the two powering up and emerging from the water is EXTREMELY evocative of something DBZ would do. Joke’s on me, he only worked on FW and MH and had no hand in this series, he was tapped for Powerpuff Girls Z instead. Still very Dragon Ball, I wouldn’t be surprised of some of the other staff had their hands in that before working on this.

Karehaan proves to be his own worst enemy. He doesn’t like working together, believing he’s strong enough on his own to dispatch the girls. He does make a better team with Dorodoron than with Moerumba though, as they don’t butt heads so much as Doro just kind of goes along with that Karecchi says, until it’s in his best interests to run. However, Karehaan’s arrogance and ignorance about Michiru and Kaoru’s betrayal allow him to overestimate himself and the threat the sisters pose. Together with Dorodoron, they actually do have the Precures on the ropes at one point, they could have defeated them there, but they hesitated too long and allowed the Kiryuus to save them. Ah well.

Princess Filia posessing Korone is..... weird, to say the least. For some unexplained reason, beyond simply habitating in his body, her power allows him to speak as well, independently of her, so you have this tiny cat talking in a pretty deep voice. Not the first time an animated cat has talked, of course, but since it’s not Filia speaking through Korone, it’s odd. I don’t remember how long this lasts, presumably up until the finale of the show... in fact I must have blocked it out of my memory completely because I forgot about it happening at all. Korone was portrayed as an intelligent cat up to this point, of course, but now he’s standing on his hind legs and talking like a middle-aged guy and it’s all so strange.

Last thing I want to touch on: animation. It’s uh.... not great here. Close-ups are passable, although the shading is often minimal. The faces may be a little off-model but it’s nothing extreme. Anything further out than a close-up is pretty bad though, especially for human faces.

I guess it’s the usual conserving budget for the finale syndrome but it’s still pretty laughable.

The Opening and Ending

Okay it’s time I finally talked about these.

The opening theme is called “Makasete★Splash☆Star★” or “Leave it to Us★Splash☆Star★”. While the FW/MH opening was a drama, the SS opening is more of a poppy, light rock number. The composition features lots of strings, bowed and plucked at key moments providing both the melody and the bass line. Some high brass comes in here and there and I think there’s some kind of synthesized percussion providing the rhythm. It could be an electric guitar, though, I’m having trouble picking it out. There’s definitely some guitar towards the climax of the song. Mayumi Gojo has been swapped out for Uchiaye Yuka on vocals, and she sings about how there’s strength in life and to use that as inspiration. All together, it’s a nice uplifting tune, and the visuals give us a good idea about what Saki and Mai are interested in, the fairies, and some action sequences. There’s even a scene of the Tree of Life glowing with energy that might be foreshadowing the end of the series? For the revamped intro starting with episode 31, they add a few scenes of Bright and Windy, as well as Moop and Foop, and impressively they edited all shots of Boom and Egret to replace the Mix Communes with the Crystal Communes.

Now, the ending!

“Ganbalance de Dance” is a little bit notorious for being used, and reused, and re-reused. Yes 5 and GoGo both used reversions of it for their second ending themes, and I kind of get it, because it’s a cute tune, but there’s another more important aspect: this is the first dance ending in all of Precure. Why a dance ending? Well, there was a rather popular anime that aired in Spring of 2006 that featured a dance ending, and the world would never be the same. That show was “The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi” and the dance, the “Hare Hare Yukai” took the world by storm. It’s speculated that Precure adopting dance endings was a copycat move. The timing lines up, Haruhi started in April and ended in early July of that year so Toei had time to say “Hey this is really popular, let’s do that in our show.” Dance endings were already commonplace in the contemporary Super Sentai shows as well, so there was precedent. (although somewhat ironically, the Sentai of that year didn’t have a dance) Whatever the reason, they did it again and again but the cell animation was not always the best, so they switched to CG with Fresh and never looked back. However, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

The lyrics to “Ganbalance de Dance” are half instructions for doing the dance, and half general uplifting messages about positivity and believing in yourself. The dance itself is fairly simple, due to limited animation most of the movement is in the upper body, so the girls twist their torsos and extend their arms while keeping their legs mostly still. when they move their legs, it’s only to stick them out and then back in, or to do some small marching. None of the more energetic moving around that later shows will use, again, probably a byproduct of the animation. Notably, since it’s cell animation rather than more expensive CG, they draw the girls in all three of their outfits: school uniform, Bloom/Egret, and Bright/Windy. The villains also dance a little, and I should point out that the text behind them reads “Uzaina” with only one “a” at the end. Suffice to say, I understand but I’m sticking with two. Also look at these guys.

Kintolesky is not present because he hadn’t been introduced in the show yet, and sadly they never update it to include him. This also marked the first reappearance of Michiru and Kaoru, only to segue into a shot of Bright and Windy and then they’re never seen again, but hey, it’s something.

Anyway, it all comes together to make a fun ending song. I’m sorry it took me so long to write about it.

I may revisit this if I think of more things to say about the episode, but for now I think that concludes it. Next time, everybody celebrates Michiru and Kaoru’s return....... but first it’s time for We Are Splash Gays: The Movie. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 0 Zekkouchou Nari!

No more miracle drop count

[tipsycad147]

Magickal Herbs 11

Plants that attract butterflies and faeries Bluebells  Boxwood  Buttercup  Carnation  Coreopsis  Cosmos  Cowslips  Crocus  Daffodil  Daisy  Dandelion  Forget-Me-Not  Fountain Butterfly Bush  Foxglove  Gardenia  Heliotrope  Harebell  Hollyhock  Honeysuckle  Hyacinth  Iris  Jasmine  Lamb's Ear  Lavender  Lilac  Lily  Lobelia  Marigold  Morning Glory  Mums  New York Aster  Orange-eye Butterfly Bush Orchid  Pansy  Periwinkle  Peony Poppies  Petunia  Phlox  Pincushion Flower  Poinsetta  Primrose  Pussywillow Ragwort  Roses  Shrubby Cinquefoil  Snapdragon  Summer Lilac  Thistles Tulip  Violet  White Lotus  Zinnia

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxslips and the nodding violet grows Quite over canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and the eglantine. There sleeps Titania sometimes of the night, Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight..." Shakespeare Bluebells - Fairies are called to their midnight dances by ringing these little bells. They represent kindness and are the most potent of all Faery flowers. They are also called "warning bells" because it is said that one who hears a bluebell ring will soon die. They also serve to warn those who are about to travel into a bluebell glade, for these are places of consecrated Faery magick and enchantment. On Beltane Eve, make an ankle bracelet of bluebells and jingle bells to attract the helpful fae folk to you. Boxwood - It can be clipped into a topiary tree and decorated for a special Faerie events, such as a wedding. Buttercup - This flowers' faeries help to bring compassion to humans. They bring healing energy and understanding. Use this flower to rediscover yourself or to boost your self-esteem. Carnation - These faeries bring deep love. They help to strengthen one's aura, and renew one's love of life. The red ones attract faeries who heal animals. Coreopsis Cosmos

Cowslips - These are loved and protected by the faeries and they help one to find hidden faerie gold. The fae use the blossoms for umbrellas. “And I serve the Faery Queen, To draw her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be, In their gold coats spots you see: Those be rubies, faery favours: In those freckles live their savours. I must go to seek dome dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslips’ ear.” - Shakespeare Edmund Canterbell wrote: “That they do dwell within the cowslips hollow is truth, for I have seen them fly out in intoxicated abandon.” Crocus - These faeries have the power to inspire love but may drain your strength while collecting them. Daffodil - This flower faerie is good for inner beauty. Let it help you with meditation and clarity of thought. Daffodils are also useful for evoking faeries and elves. Daisy - This is the best flower to use to connect to the Faeries and relaxing in a daisy bed will help one to contact faeries, especially Dryads. Putting a daisy chain on a child is said to prevent faeries from beguiling the child and carrying her or him away. The daisy will also help you to awaken and use your creativity and your inner strength. Dandelion – This flower is said to be used by the faeries for making beverages. Forget-Me-Not - A symbol of love and devotion. The flowers also provide protection from faeries and are said to help to unlock the secrets of the fae. If you place forget-me-nots on the side of a mountain where fairy treasure is hidden, secret cavern walls will open up for you. Fountain butterfly bush

Foxglove - (Poisonous) Folk names for foxglove include Faery Thimbles, Faery Glove, Little Folks’ Glove, Faery Fingers, Faery Petticoats, Faery’s Cap, and Faery Weed. The name is derived from "Little Folks' Glove" because the flowers are worn by fairies as gloves and hats and the little flecks found on the flowers are definitely faery fingerprints. It is a favourite of Earth Elementals. Bad luck will follow those who pick these flowers and bring them in their home. The leaves and the plant's juice are said to grant release from faery enchantments. Planting foxglove is an invitation to faeries to enter you garden. Plant it near your front door to invite the fae in to your home. Wearing foxglove is a charm to attract faery energy, put a dried sprig in a talisman to keep you surrounded by faery light. Gardenia - These bring feelings of peace and protection. These flower faeries are very protective of children, so plant Gardenias in places where children play, so the fae will watch over them. These faeries will also help to increase your telepathic abilities with all nature spirits. Heliotrope – Beloved of Fire Elementals. Harebell - These faeries inspire honesty - the person wearing them is incapable of lying. Hollyhock – Beloved of the fae, especially the pink ones. 

Honeysuckle - Will help to stimulate dreams and your psychic energy. These Fae will teach you how to develop your "charms" to draw others to you. Hyacinth - These help to restore belief. They will give you energy to overcome grief and awaken greater gentleness. Iris – Iris was the Greek Goddess of the rainbow, and the faeries of this flower manifest in all of the rainbow’s colours. Jasmine - These faeries will help to bring on peaceful dreams and clarity of the mind. Lamb's Ear - This woolly perennial is a pet for the Faeries - normal animals are just too big! Lavender - Where there is lavender there is great faerie activity. Faery clans like to have many parties and lavender infused wine is one of their favourites because it promotes pure knowledge. Lavender plants are also where the Faeries drape their clothes to dry. These faeries bring healing, protection and help to overcome emotional blocks and the scent of lavender in the air relieves stress. Elf leaf is another name for lavender, which is used in elfin magic. Lilac – The scent attracts musical faeries. Lily - These fae help one to nurture purity and humility within one's self. Lobelia – attracts winged faeries.   

Marigold - These flower faeries know the magic of thunderstorms. They will teach you the power of words and the mysteries of love. A jam made of marigolds that is eaten in the morning will help you to see faeries very soon after ingesting it. The Druids believe that Marigold water, made from the blossoms, then rubbed on the eyelids, helps one to see faeries. Morning Glory – Repels unwanted night faeries. Mums - They help to strengthen the life force. They will help you to express yourself more lovingly. New York Aster Orange-eye butterfly bush/summer lilac Orchid - Hammarbya paludosa is known as Green Faery Orchid. 

Pansy - Attracts parades of trooping faeries and they use these flowers for making love potions. Oberon, the faery king, used pansies in his love potion in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”: “Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell. It fell upon a little western flower; Before marked white; now with purple love’s wound – And maidens call it Love-in-idleness. Fetch me that flower, the herb I showed thee once. The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid, Will make a man or woman madly dote Upon the next living creature that it sees.”   Periwinkle - Has the ability to inspire love. One can rekindle their love by eating the leaves. Peony – Peonies are used as a charm to bring one dreams of faeries. Peony seeds were once used to protect children from faeries. A garland of the seeds were placed around the child’s neck to keep them safe from kidnappings.

Poppies – Poppies are said to make you able to visit with the fae in your dreams. Petunia Phlox – This flower attracts elves who oversee and guard the plants growth. Pincushion Flower Poinsetta Primrose (especially the blue and red ones) - Has the power to reveal the invisible. Eating them will help you to see fairies. Hanging a spray of primroses on your door is said to be an invitation to the fae to enter your home, and to draw fairy blessings; but scattering primroses outside your door is said to keep faeries away by making a barrier that they can’t cross.Touching a Faery rock with the right number of primroses (5) can open the pathway to the Faery realm. Beware, however, the wrong number may open the door to a place you don't want to be. Also, if you have them growing under your care, do not let them die! The faeries will take your carelessness as a serious offence. Primroses make great container gardens and can be used in Faery Magick. Tie a pink ribbon around your container while chanting: 

"Sacred roses, hear my cry, For your protection, this I tie."

Pussywillow Ragwort - Used as makeshift horses by the faerie. The magick words used to make the stems fly are, “Horse and Hattock.” 

Roses (they grow best when stolen) - Roses are very special to the Fae's sisters, the Angels. They give you a greater sense of love and they hold the secrets of time and its exploration. The petals can be used in Faery Magick, especially love spells. When performing the spell, sprinkle rose petals under your feet, and dance softly upon them, while asking the faeries for their blessing on your magick. White roses - help to develop spiritual purity. Red roses - Are good for love and fertility. Pink Roses - are for new life and a symbol of a new beginning. Yellow roses - these Fae help you to express the truth. When planting a baby rose bush chant: "I ask a faery from the wild to come and tend this wee rose child. A babe of air she thrives today, root her soul in the Goddess' good clay. Faeries make this twig your bower, by your magic shall time see her flower."  

Shrubby cinquefoil Snapdragon - Hold these flowers secretly in your hand and others will see you as gracious and fascinating. This plant and where it grows are watched over by tiny dragons. The faeries and spirits of this flower have connections to the energies of all dragons and, therefore, bring great protection for all from deceit and curses. Thistles – Thistles are also called Pixies’ Gloves, because the fae use their tiny flowers as such. Tulip – These faeries hold the knowledge of the hidden significance of events, people and things. Violet - The violet is the home of the Faery Queen and, therefore, sacred to all faeries. Picking the first violets of spring will bring one good luck, and a chance to ask the Fae to grant them a wish to be fulfilled within the year. White Lotus - Some believe that the white lotus flowers are nymphs in disguise. A woman can carry this flower to counter the effect of unwanted love spells. Zinnia   

Plants for a Night Garden The goal here is to plant a garden that will attract bats, owls and crickets. Use alba or white flowers because their iridescent colour will stand out in the darkness. Also be sure to include some noctiflora (flowers that bloom at night), especially those that have a strong sweet smell such as night blooming jasmine, tobacco plant, four o'clock flowers, dame's violet, sweet rocket, and sweet woodruff. Building a belfry will attract bats and having a compost heap will attract mice and, therefore, owls to feed on them. So far as I know crickets aren't really something one needs to try to attract, they're just pretty much everywhere... 

http://www.hafapea.com/thelandoffaepages/faerygarden.html#night 

[winter-gale]

Plants to attract the Fae

Plants to attract the Fae - http://www.hafapea.com/thelandoffaepages/faerygarden.html Bluebells - Fairies are called to their midnight dances by ringing these little bells. They represent kindness and are the most potent of all Faery flowers. They are also called "warning bells" because it is said that one who hears a bluebell ring will soon die. They also serve to warn those who are about to travel into a bluebell glade, for these are places of consecrated Faery magick and enchantment. On Beltane Eve, make an ankle bracelet of bluebells and jingle bells to attract the helpful fae folk to you. Boxwood - It can be clipped into a topiary tree and decorated for a special Faerie events, such as a wedding. Buttercup - This flowers' faeries help to bring compassion to humans. They bring healing energy and understanding. Use this flower to rediscover yourself or to boost your self-esteem. Carnation - These faeries bring deep love. They help to strengthen one's aura, and renew one's love of life. The red ones attract faeries who heal animals. Coreopsis Cosmos Cowslips - These are loved and protected by the faeries and they help one to find hidden faerie gold. The fae use the blossoms for umbrellas. “And I serve the Faery Queen, To draw her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be, In their gold coats spots you see: Those be rubies, faery favors: In those freckles live their savors. I must go to seek dome dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslips’ ear.” - Shakespeare Edmund Canterbell wrote: “That they do dwell within the cowslips hollow is truth, for I have seen them fly out in intoxicated abandon.” Crocus - These faeries have the power to inspire love but may drain your strength while collecting them. Daffodil - This flower faerie is good for inner beauty. Let it help you with meditation and clarity of thought. Daffodils are also useful for evoking faeries and elves. Daisy - This is the best flower to use to connect to the Faeries and relaxing in a daisy bed will help one to contact faeries, especially Dryads. Putting a daisy chain on a child is said to prevent faeries from beguiling the child and carrying her or him away. The daisy will also help you to awaken and use your creativity and your inner strength. Dandelion – This flower is said to be used by the faeries for making beverages. Forget-Me-Not - A symbol of love and devotion. The flowers also provide protection from faeries and are said to help to unlock the secrets of the fae. If you place forget-me-nots on the side of a mountain where fairy treasure is hidden, secret cavern walls will open up for you. Fountain butterfly bush Foxglove - (Poisonous) Folk names for foxglove include Faery Thimbles, Faery Glove, Little Folks’ Glove, Faery Fingers, Faery Petticoats, Faery’s Cap, and Faery Weed. The name is derived from "Little Folks' Glove" because the flowers are worn by fairies as gloves and hats and the little flecks found on the flowers are definitely faery fingerprints. It is a favorite of Earth Elementals. Bad luck will follow those who pick these flowers and bring them in their home. The leaves and the plant's juice are said to grant release from faery enchantments. Planting foxglove is an invitation to faeries to enter you garden. Plant it near your front door to invite the fae in to your home. Wearing foxglove is a charm to attract faery energy, put a dried sprig in a talisman to keep you surrounded by faery light. Gardenia - These bring feelings of peace and protection. These flower faeries are very protective of children, so plant Gardenias in places where children play, so the fae will watch over them. These faeries will also help to increase your telepathic abilities with all nature spirits. Heliotrope – Beloved of Fire Elementals. Harebell - These faeries inspire honesty - the person wearing them is incapable of lying. Hollyhock – Beloved of the fae, especially the pink ones. Honeysuckle - Will help to stimulate dreams and your psychic energy. These Fae will teach you how to develop your "charms" to draw others to you. Hyacinth - These help to restore belief. They will give you energy to overcome grief and awaken greater gentleness. Iris – Iris was the Greek Goddess of the rainbow, and the faeries of this flower manifest in all of the rainbow’s colors. Jasmine - These faeries will help to bring on peaceful dreams and clarity of the mind. Lamb's Ear - This wooly perennial is a pet for the Faeries - normal animals are just too big! Lavender - Where there is lavender there is great faerie activity. Faery clans like to have many parties and lavender infused wine is one of their favorites because it promotes pure knowledge. Lavender plants are also where the Faeries drape their clothes to dry. These faeries bring healing, protection and help to overcome emotional blocks and the scent of lavender in the air relieves stress. Elf leaf is another name for lavender, which is used in elfin magic. Lilac – The scent attracts musical faeries. Lily - These fae help one to nurture purity and humility within one's self. Lobelia – attracts winged faeries. Marigold - These flower faeries know the magic of thunderstorms. They will teach you the power of words and the mysteries of love. A jam made of marigolds that is eaten in the morning will help you to see faeries very soon after ingesting it. The Druids believe that Marigold water, made from the blossoms, then rubbed on the eyelids, helps one to see faeries. Morning Glory – Repels unwanted night faeries. Mums - They help to strengthen the life force. They will help you to express yourself more lovingly. New York Aster Orange-eye butterfly bush/summer lilac Orchid - Hammarbya paludosa is known as Green Faery Orchid. Pansy - Attracts parades of trooping faeries and they use these flowers for making love potions. Oberon, the faery king, used pansies in his love potion in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”: “Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell. It fell upon a little western flower; Before marked white; now with purple love’s wound – And maidens call it Love-in-idleness. Fetch me that flower, the herb I showed thee once. The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid, Will make a man or woman madly dote Upon the next living creature that it sees.” Periwinkle - Has the ability to inspire love. One can rekindle their love by eating the leaves. Peony – Peonies are used as a charm to bring one dreams of faeries. Peony seeds were once used to protect children from faeries. A garland of the seeds were placed around the child’s neck to keep them safe from kidnappings. Poppies – Poppies are said to make you able to visit with the fae in your dreams. Petunia Phlox – This flower attracts elves who oversee and guard the plants growth. Pincushion Flower Poinsetta Primrose (especially the blue and red ones) - Has the power to reveal the invisible. Eating them will help you to see fairies. Hanging a spray of primroses on your door is said to be an invitation to the fae to enter your home, and to draw fairy blessings; but scattering primroses outside your door is said to keep faeries away by making a barrier that they can’t cross.Touching a Faery rock with the right number of primroses (5) can open the pathway to the Faery realm. Beware, however, the wrong number may open the door to a place you don't want to be. Also, if you have them growing under your care, do not let them die! The faeries will take your carelessness as a serious offense. Primroses make great container gardens and can be used in Faery Magick. Tie a pink ribbon around your container while chanting: "Sacred roses, hear my cry, For your protection, this I tie." Pussywillow Ragwort - Used as makeshift horses by the faerie. The magick words used to make the stems fly are, “Horse and Hattock.” Roses (they grow best when stolen) - Roses are very special to the Fae's sisters, the Angels. They give you a greater sense of love and they hold the secrets of time and its exploration. The petals can be used in Faery Magick, especially love spells. When performing the spell, sprinkle rose petals under your feet, and dance softly upon them, while asking the faeries for their blessing on your magick. White roses - help to develop spiritual purity. Red roses - Are good for love and fertility. Pink Roses - are for new life and a symbol of a new beginning. Yellow roses - these Fae help you to express the truth. When planting a baby rose bush chant: "I ask a faery from the wild to come and tend this wee rose child. A babe of air she thrives today, root her soul in the Goddess' good clay. Faeries make this twig your bower, by your magic shall time see her flower." Shrubby cinquefoil Snapdragon - Hold these flowers secretly in your hand and others will see you as gracious and fascinating. This plant and where it grows are watched over by tiny dragons. The faeries and spirits of this flower have connections to the energies of all dragons and, therefore, bring great protection for all from deceit and curses. Thistles – Thistles are also called Pixies’ Gloves, because the fae use their tiny flowers as such. Tulip – These faeries hold the knowledge of the hidden significance of events, people and things. Violet - The violet is the home of the Faery Queen and, therefore, sacred to all faeries. Picking the first violets of spring will bring one good luck, and a chance to ask the Fae to grant them a wish to be fulfilled within the year. White Lotus - Some believe that the white lotus flowers are nymphs in disguise. A woman can carry this flower to counter the effect of unwanted love spells. Zinnia Plants for a Night Garden The goal here is to plant a garden that will attract bats, owls and crickets. Use alba or white flowers because their iridescent colour will stand out in the darkness. Also be sure to include some noctiflora (flowers that bloom at night), especially those that have a strong sweet smell such as night blooming jasmine, tobacco plant, four o'clock flowers, dame's violet, sweet rocket, and sweet woodruff. Building a belfry will attract bats and having a compost heap will attract mice and, therefore, owls to feed on them. So far as I know crickets aren't really something one needs to try to attract, they're just pretty much everywhere...

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Hogwarts AU where Tony is the first ever 10 year old to get accepted and he gets sorted into Slytherin. Imagine 2 years later when The other Avengers arrives and finds out Tony is the number one student, That he have skipped a few years and is now a 4th year instead of a 2nd year student and the most mysterious of all the people there. Bucky of course sets out to unravel this mysteriousness surrounding the young genius. Bonus if Tony revolutionise magic my amplifying his with the arc reactor.

Author Note - not exactly what the prompter wanted, but I hope it satisfies...

Tony Stark and the Boy With the Artificial Arm

“But Mama,” Tony complained, staring at the redtrain with the gold lettering, marked Hogwarts Express. “I don’t want to go to anotherboarding school. Can’t you just teach me at home?” Bad enough that this… curse…whatever it was… had driven his mother all the way back to Europe and to takeTony with her, but he didn’t want to be left at this… English boarding school.He’d heard too many stories as it was. None of them worked out well forAmericans.

“Antonio Edaordo,” Maria Stark said, tugging ather collar. Tony knew he was in trouble when his mama switched all the way backto her native Italian. “”

Tony tapped his vest pocket. “I have it,” hesaid, stubbornly sticking to English, his American accent drawing attention. Hecould speak many languages, and his Italian-accented English was spot on, butsomething about the New York drawl annoyed his mother, so he kept to it. Hewasn’t going to get what he wanted, so he may as well score some points. Later,she’d feel guilty about fighting and she’d send him a really good care package.

Someone brushed by him, hard, and muttered“filthy muggle,” whatever that meant.

“”Maria said, presenting her lightly powdered and perfumed cheek for Tony’s kiss.“” Tony dutifully kissed his mom, huggedher, and tried not to cry.

Tony pressed a hand to his chest, feeling thefaint vibrations of his arc-reactor under his thick shirt -- he was relieved atone thing, and that was that the class robes he was required to wear (whichlooked extremely stupid, especially with the pointy-hat, like they were playingHalloween every day) at least would cover up the blue glow of the device thatkept him alive. Other kids hadn’t reacted favorably to the device in the No-Magworld, much less in a world where technology was apparently foreign.

The train was crowded, full of kids and theirhoity toity British accents. Tony wondered if he should pull his Liverpool outof the closet and brush it off, so to speak. He had a knack for languages andaccents; he could probably pretend for most of the year, but decided not to. Hewas one-hundred percent New York, they could deal.

He found a car with three other boys in it, twoolder kids and another freshman (first year, whatever.). The older boys werestrangely alike, for all their differences. One wore a green cloak over hisshoulders and had long hair and a particularly devilish smile. The other wasblonde, enormous, and his cloak was red. His grin was so wide that Tony felt hewas looking at a reincarnated golden retriever, rather than a thirteen-year-oldboy.

“WELL MET!” The blonde boomed, then grinned aseveryone swiveled to look at him. “I am Thor Odinson, and this is my brother,Loki. Join us, friend!”

“Tony,” Tony offered. He glanced at the otherboy, with dark skin and a particularly long nose. “And you are?”

“James Rhodes,” the boy said. He looked out thewindow again.

“Wait, Tony?” Loki said, looking up from thebook he’d been carrying in his lap. “Tony Stark? From America? I’ve heard aboutyou, special program and everything. Got in two years early. You’re nine?You’re sure to be in my house. It’s a place for men with more brains thanbrawn. And a healthy dose of ambition, to be sure. Let me see your wand.”

Tony blinked. Oh, right. This was not aninvitation to play doctor, as he’d done with Sunset Bain back at home. Wand.Yes. He had one of those. He reached into the black robe’s pockets and pulledit out.

“Oh, that’s… beautiful,” Loki said, leaningforward with interest. “What’s it made from? I’ve never seen one like it. Areall American wands metal?”

Tony looked at his wand; he hadn’t seen anyothers aside from his mother’s the day after he’d first exhibited magicaltalent. He hadn’t known anything about it up until that point. His mother’s wasdelicate, silver and slender. “It might be a Carbonell thing. My mother’sItalian.” His wand was a titanium alloy, the core was a very rare elementcalled vibranium. It had glowed blue the instant Tony’d put his hand on it.

Loki took his own wand from beneath his robes;an elaborate, and perhaps overly long carved stick of curled and carvedashwood. “Ash and frost giant hair,” he said, proudly. “Fifteen inches.Extremely whippy.”

[more under the break, may not show up on mobile]

Thor pulled his out, as well, a very thick rod,wrapped in leather, with gold filigree up the side. “Ironwood and sea serpentspine. I call it Mjolnir.”

“Wands don’t have names, stupid,” another boysaid, leaning in the door. “Come on, Loki, let’s ditch this loser and get outof here.”

Thor scowled. “No one here cares for youropinion, Obadiah Stane,” he said in such a tone that it seemed that itabsolutely must be the truth.

“Go on, Obie,” Loki said, waving one of hisslender hands dismissively. “I’ll see you at the Feast.” Loki waited until thestock boy wandered off again. “Don’t mind Obie, he’s in my House, but we’re notfriends. Unlike certain members of the wizarding community, I actuallythink that cross-house friendships are worth nurturing. You never know whenyou’re going to need a brave ally to stand between you and oncoming dragons,right brother?”

Thor beamed like he was Scooby-Doo and had justbeen given a snack.

The Sorting Hat debated; really, for much longerthan Tony thought was strictly necessary, as he sat on a stool in front of thewhole school and listened to the hat debate his entire personality.

“Brave,” the hat said in a tiny voice thatwhispered in his head. “So brave, to cross the ocean, on the run from yourNo-Mag father, and --”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Tony thoughtback, furiously. His mother, crying into her handkerchief while they were onthe boat, carefully using her compact to cover up her black eye and wearinglong sleeves to hide the marks of Howard’s belt across her shoulders.

“And so very smart, too,” the hat went rightalong. “And a master, so young, at magical devices. Only the greatest wizardscan --”

“Necessary to live,” Tony thought, sighing. Thearc-reactor had won him no friends whatsoever, and if it wasn’t utterly crucialto his survival, he would have ripped it out already. It hurt in his chest, allthe time, made breathing difficult.

“And so helpful,” the hat continued. “There’s areal thirst for friends, for acceptance --”

Tony was tapping his fingers absently over thewall of the arc-reactor, feeling the thrumming vibrations under his sternum.“Can we just move on with this? I have a world to rule,” Tony thought, quotingone of his father’s favorite sarcastic phrases.

“Slytherin!” the hat bellowed.

Which was how he found himself sitting next toLoki at dinner and being glowered at by Obadiah Stane, who seemed to want thatcoveted position for himself. Great. First day of school and he already had anarch enemy.

The note sent him off to the hospital wing wherehe met and was fussed over by a grey-haired witch named Madam Pomfrey. She madehim take off his shirt and examined the artifact in his chest -- thearc-reactor -- closely. She made notes on a pad that floated around behind her,the quill doing all the writing on its own. Tony wondered where he could getone of those, he was tired of ink on his fingers already. What was it with thisplace that no one knew how to use a ball-point?

“This is advanced spellwork, young man,” shesaid, poking at the surface with her wand.

Tony jerked back from her, blocking her wandwith his arm. He didn’t like people to touch it. “Thank you,” he said. “It’squite functional. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“You’ll want to speak with Professor Slughorn,”she said, “about the potion you need. Professor Sprout has gotten in a specialorder of bloodpods and everblooming dandelions to make sure your medical needsare met during your time at Hogwarts.”

Yay. Tony still had half a vial of the revoltingchlorophyll concoction he had to drink regularly; his mother had made it; itkept the arc-reactor that powered his heart from killing him due to heavy metalpoisoning. Tony continued to work the idea in his head, how to improve thereactor so it wouldn’t kill him in the process of keeping himself alive.

“Poppy!” a sharp woman’s voice called out. Tonypeeked around the curtains to see a very stern woman in a tartan robe leading aboy into the room. The boy had ragged cut brown hair and brilliant blue eyes.The boy was gripping at his shoulder as if it hurt.

“Yes, Headmistress?” Madam Pomfrey asked, “What…oh. Did you have a good summer, Mister Barnes? Perhaps it was too much toexpect you to stay out of trouble for the whole first day. What now?”

The boy, Barnes, pushed his black robes down hisarm and Tony wasn’t able to conceal his gasp. The boy had a metal arm, gleamingsilver. “Picked up a curse meant for someone else,” the boy said. “New kid, Steve Rogers. Someone tried to hit him with a Knockback Jinx.”

“Don’t those children learn?” Madam Pomfreyasked, obviously not expecting anyone to answer.

“Don’t know,” the boy said. “But I wasn’t gonnalet the new boy eat that. He’s so skinny a good jinx’ll knock a year’s growth off him.”

Madam Pomfrey tapped the boy’s arm with her wanda few times, which made the boy wince and grind his teeth together, before adark swirl of smoke came out from under the plates that shifted and clickedevery time he moved. The smoke grew a pair of eyes, glaring, and Tony shrankback against the bed.

The headmistress waved her wand and the smokedissipated. “Both Misters Stane and Killian have detention, Poppy,” she said.“I will send you to them tomorrow. Have them do something… very smelly, Ithink.”

“You should have some chocolate, before you go,Mister Barnes,” Madam Pomfrey said. ‘Go sit there with Mister Stark while I getyou some.”

Barnes grinned and hopped up onto the cot nextto Tony. “Hey, first year,” he said. “That’s a cool thing you got there.” Hejerked his chin at Tony’s chest, and Tony blushed, mortified and frightened,grabbing for his robes.

“Naw, don’t worry,” the boy said. “I know whatit’s like. M’ dad made this for me, after my real arm got bit off by a hydra.It holds bad magic, so I’m in here all th’ time. Pommy old Pomfrey thinks ofme as a troublemaker, but really, the hexes and jinxes don’t hurt me, I may aswell take ‘em instead of the others, right?”

Tony let the robe fall down; Barnes had seen italready. “Your dad does good work,” he said, clinically. “It’s fullyarticulated? And has wards on it against jinxes? That’s a good spell, I’d liketo learn that.”

“I’m Bucky, by the way,” Barnes said.“Gryffindor.”

“Tony Stark,” Tony said. “Um… the house with thesnake, I forget what it’s called.”

“Oh, Slytherin,” Bucky said. “Cool. So, what isthat thing?”

“Arc-reactor,” Tony said. “It protects my heart.I made it.”

“Protects your heart from what?”

Tony shivered. “Avada Kadavra. It’s keeping thecurse from killing me.”

“Savage!” Bucky said. “You made a magicalartifact that deflects a killing curse? That’s totally rad. Why aren’t you inRavenclaw?”

Tony shrugged. The houses didn’t matter to himat all, except that he’d be wearing a green and silver scarf instead of themuch more attractive red and gold.

“Well, I’m in Gryffindor, but after You-Know-Whosnuffed it, we’re supposed to be trying this whole inter-house-getting-alongthing. If you don’t… we could be friends?”

Tony nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Let’s do that.”

as always, @tisfan

[networkingdefinition]

Orchid Quotes

Official Website: Orchid Quotes

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• A flower is a daisy chain, a graduation, a valentine; a flower is New Year’s Eve and an orchid in your hair; a flower is a single geranium blooming in a tin can on a murky city fire-escape; an acre of roses at the Botanical Gardens; and the first gold crocus of spring! … a flower is a birth, a wedding, a leaving of this life. – Jean Hersey • (After meeting her birth mother after more than 40 years). We exchange bunches of orchids, laughing at the coincidence of the flowers. A little unnerving: I wonder if that choice has anything to do with genetics. … I want to take mine home and look after them so that they live for days. I might spray the leaves, and make sure they sit in an easterly window, and keep them out of the direct sun. – Jackie Kay • An enchanting harmony of fuchsia, purple and pink undertones, Radiant Orchid inspires confidence and emanates great joy, love and health. It is a captivating purple, one that draws you in with its beguiling charm. – Leatrice Eiseman • An invitation to innovation, Radiant Orchid encourages expanded creativity and originality, which is increasingly valued in today’s society. – Leatrice Eiseman • An orchid in a deep forest sends out its fragrance even if no one is around to appreciate it. – Confucius • As the seed buried in the earth cannot imagine itself as an orchid or hyacinth, neither can a heart packed with hurt imagine itself loved or at peace. The courage of the seed is that once cracking, it cracks all the way.- Mark Nepo

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Orchid', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_orchid').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_orchid img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids. – Gillian Flynn • Einstein is notmerely an artist in his moments of leisure and play, as a great statesman may play golf or a great soldier grow orchids. He retains the same attitude in the whole of his work. He traces science to its roots in emotion, which is exactly where art is also rooted. – Havelock Ellis • Ella’s supersonic voice followed her all the way to Bleecker Street and then dissolved amid the noisy profusion of shops, cafes, and restaurants and the crush of people that made the West Village of Manhattan unique in the world. In a single block you could buy fertility statues from Tanzania, rare Amazonian orchids, a pawned brass tuba, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, or the best, most expensive cup of coffee you ever tasted. It was the doughnuts, incidentally, that attracted Gaia. – Francine Pascal • English Bohemianism is a curiously unluscious fruit. … Inside this hothouse, huge lascivious orchids slide sensuously up the sweating windows, passion-flowers cross-pollinate in wild heliotrope abandon, lotuses writhe with poppies in the sweet warm beds, kumquats ripen, open and plop flatly to the floor-and outside, in a neat, trimly-hoed kitchen-garden, English bohemians sit in cold orderly rows, like carrots. – Alan Coren • Every orchid or rose or lizard or snake is the work of a dedicated and skilled breeder. There are thousands of people, amateurs and professionals, who devote their lives to this business. Now imagine what will happen when the tools of genetic engineering become accessible to these people. – Freeman Dyson • For other people, love is like some rare orchid that can only grow in one place under a certain set of conditions. For me it’s like bindweed. It grows with no encouragement at all, under any conditions, and just strangles everything else. – Scarlett Thomas • Have you ever noticed how much they look like orchids? lovely! – Robert A. Heinlein • He bought me so many orchids that I looked like a well-kept grave. – Texas Guinan • Hope is like one of those orchids that grows around toxic waste: lovely in itself – and an assertion, if you like, of indefatigable good – but a sure sign that something nasty lies underneath. – Rachel Cusk • Human beings aren’t orchids; we must draw something from the soil we grow in. – Sara Jeannette Duncan • I also like to garden. I grow things, vegetables, flowers… I particularly like orchids. I raise orchids. – Beau Bridges • I hated roses. I hated them for being so trite, so clichéd, a default, all-purpose flower that said I love you, I’m sorry, and get well soon. Give me peonies and tulips, orchids or gardenia. Those were flowers with character.- Justina Chen • I have become an orchid washed in on the salt white beach. Memory, what can I make of it now that might please you-this life, already wasted and still strewn with miracles? – Mary Ruefle • I try to always have flowers in the house. I have a florist in Chinatown, and they deliver orchids every two weeks. I like living with living things. – Phillip Lim • I was fat! I was pustule-rich! I looked like a pink human grenade! When did I blossom into the irresistible little orchid that I am now? I don’t know. Getting taller helps. It spreads out a bit. – Dylan Moran • I was left alone there in the company of the orchids, roses and violets, which, like people waiting beside you who do not know you, preserved a silence which their individuality as living things made all the more striking, and warmed themselves in the heat of a glowing coal fire. – Marcel Proust • If he’d been any other man and i’d been any other girl, I’d have called the narrowing of his heavy-lidded dark eyes lust. But he was Barrons and I was Mac, and a blossoming of lust was about as likely as orchids blooming in Antarctica – Karen Marie Moning • If I see an orchid that’s fantastically expensive, I’ll buy it. It’s worth it, for no other reason than it gives me pleasure. – Lee Radziwill • If Lady Gaga and Dorothy Parker had a secret love child, it would’ve been Gypsy Rose Lee. Gypsy arrived for opening nights at the Met wearing a full-length cape made entirely of orchids, while Lady Gaga shows up wearing a full-length cloak made of meat. – Karen Abbott • In mauve sea-orchids as in her striking earlier book Guardians of the Secret, Lila Zemborain brings into relationship the viscera of the body and the spill of the universe in tense compositions that blur distinctions between lyric and prose poetry, between science and eros. – Forrest Gander • In the winter, I enjoy cross-country skiing and raising orchids and amaryllises. If I could grow tropical flowers as perennials, I would, especially hibiscus and mandavilla. – Diane Ackerman • Inspired teachers … cannot be ordered by the gross from the factory. They must be discovered one by one, and brought home from the woods and swamps like orchids. They must be placed in a conservatory, not in a carpenter shop; and they must be honored and trusted. – John Jay Chapman • Just as I wonder whether it’s going to die,the orchid blossoms and I can’t explain why it moves my heart, why such pleasure comes from one small bud on a long spindly stem, one blood red gold flower opening at mid-summer, tiny, perfect in its hour. – Sam Hamill • Lord Illingworth told me this morning that there was an orchid there as beautiful as the seven deadly sins. – Oscar Wilde • Love is an orchid which thrives principally on hot air. – Myrtle Reed • Malaysia-Singapore bilateral relations can blossom beautifully if cultivated and nurtured like an orchid plant. – Najib Razak • My hobbies are cooking and gardening, especially growing orchids. I love soccer, my husband and I support a British team called Chelsea, and I also enjoy tennis. We have 3 cats. – Juliet Mills • Nothing could be taken for granted. Women who loved you tried to cut your throat, while women who didn’t even know your name scrubbed your back. Witches could sound like Katharine Hepburn and your best friend could try to strangle you. Smack in the middle of an orchid there might be a blob of jello and inside a Mickey Mouse doll, a fixed and radiant star. – Toni Morrison • Once you start carrying your own suitcase, paying your own bills, running your own show, you’ve done something to yourself that makes you one of those women men like to call ‘a pal’ and ‘a good sport,’ the kind of woman they tell their troubles to. But you’ve cut yourself off from the orchids and the diamond bracelets, except those you buy yourself. – Sophie Tucker • One of my favorite stories was Black Orchid, because it was so different from all the others. I especially enjoyed dancing the Charleston. I have always been keen on dancing. – Sarah Sutton • One wants to move through life with elegance and grace, blossoming infrequently but with exquisite taste, and perfect timing, like a rare bloom, a zebra orchid… One wants… But one so seldom gets what one wants, does one? – Tony Kushner • Orchid hunting is a mortal occupation. – Susan Orlean • Orchids manufacture their intricate devices from the common components of ordinary flowers, parts usually fitted for very different functions. If God had designed a beautiful machine to reflect his wisdom and power, surely he would not have used a collection of parts generally fashioned for other purposes. Orchids were not made by an ideal engineer; they are jury-rigged from a limited set of available components. Thus, they must have evolved from ordinary flowers. – Stephen Jay Gould • Orchids were not made by an ideal engineer; they are jury-rigged from a limited set of available components. – Stephen Jay Gould • Ribbons a-flutter and orchids a-tremble, Yearly the vigilant Daughters assemble, Affirming in fervid and firm resolutions Their permanent veto on all revolutions. – Marya Mannes • She thought of the orchids spreading across the plains below, choking the life out of other plants, out of the soil itself, selfish and unstoppable. Tally Youngblood was a weed. And, unlike the orchids, she wasn’t even a pretty one. – Scott Westerfeld • She’s alone, they kept telling themselves, and surely she danced in no one’s arms, yet somehow that seemed to matter less and less. As the night went on, and clarinet and coyote call mingled beyond the lantern light, the magic of their own powder-blue jackets and orchids seemed to fade, and it came to them in small sensations that they were more alone than she was. – Jerry Spinelli • Somewhere close I knew spear-nosed bats flew through the tree crowns in search of fruit, palm vipers coiled in ambush in the roots of orchids, jaguars walked the river’s edge; around them eight hundred species of trees stood, more than are native to all of North America; and a thousand species of butterflies, 6 percent of the entire world fauna, waited for the dawn. – E. O. Wilson • The American way of stress is comparable to Freud’s ‘beloved symptom’, his name for the cherished neurosis that a patient cultivates like the rarest of orchids and does not want to be cured of. Stress makes Americans feel busy, important, and in demand, and simultaneously deprived, ignored, and victimized. Stress makes them feel interesting and complex instead of boring and simple, and carries an assumption of sensitivity not unlike the Old World assumption that aristocrats were high-strung. In short, stress has become a status symbol. – Florence King • The old orchid hunter lay back on his pillow, his body limp… ‘You’ll curse the insects,’ he said at least, ‘and you’ll curse the natives… The sun will burn you by day and the cold will shrivel you by night. You’ll be racked by fever and tormented by a hundred discomforts, but you’ll go on. For when a man falls in love with orchids, he’ll do anything to possess the one he wants. It’s like chasing a green-eyed woman or taking cocaine… it’s a sort of madness. – Susan Orlean • The orchid is Mother Nature’s masterpiece. – Robyn • The splendor of a human heart that trusts it is loved unconditionally gives God more pleasure than Westminster Cathedral, the Sistine Chapel, Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony”, Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers”, the sight of 10,000 butterflies in flight, or the scent of a million orchids in bloom. Trust is our gift back to God, and he finds it so enchanting that Jesus died for love of it. – Brennan Manning • There are literally billions of people on the planet who live in an unimaginable poverty that’s not in any way different from the plight of the people in Orchid. And you can’t have the splendor of Rodeo Drive without the sweatshops of Indonesia; those two things go hand in hand. – Tom Morello • There have been 50 or 60 books written about Empress Orchid, but none of them bothered to really examine the period in China when she lived. I was taught that she was evil; it’s in all the textbooks. – Anchee Min • Tightly-plotted, well-researched and beautifully drawn, this book is a real delight. Garen Ewing’s mix of engaging characters, exciting old-school adventure, attractive ligne claire artwork and fluid storytelling makes The Rainbow Orchid easily one of the best graphic novels of the year. – Bryan Talbot • To rise above treeline is to go above thought, and after, the descent back into bird song, bog orchids, willows, and firs is to sink into the preliterate parts of ourselves. – Gretel Ehrlich • We humans think we are smart, but an orchid, for example, knows how to produce noble, symmetrical flowers, and a snail knows how to make a beautiful, well-proportioned shell. Compared with their knowledge, ours is not worth much at all. We should bow deeply before the orchid and the snail and join our palms reverently before the monarch butterfly and the magnolia tree. The feeling of respect for all species will help us recognize the noblest nature in ourselves. – Nhat Hanh • What is the pattern that connects the crab to the lobster and the primrose to the orchid, and all of them to me, and me to you? – Gregory Bateson • When I was fourteen, my father decided to initiate me into the ways of manhood, and took me to the local whorehouse. The woman spread her legs, and made me look between them. All I could see was something that looked like a dyin’ orchid; consequently, I have never been comfortable around women or orchids. – Tennessee Williams • When speech comes from a quiet heart, it has the strength of the orchid, and the fragrance of rock. – Stephen Mitchell • When two friends understand each other totally, the words are soft and strong like an orchid’s perfume. – Sara Jeannette Duncan • When we stopped to rest and Tony tried to figure out what was wrong with his compass, I asked him what he thought it was about orchids that seduced humans so completely that they were compelled to steal them and worship them and try to breed new and specific kinds of them and then be willing to wait for nearly a decade for one of them to flower. – Susan Orlean • While PANTONE 18-3224 Radiant Orchid, the captivating 2014 color of the year, encouraged creativity and innovation, Marsala enriches our mind, body and soul, exuding confidence and stability. – Leatrice Eiseman • While the 2013 color of the year, PANTONE 17-5641 Emerald, served as a symbol of growth, renewal and prosperity, Radiant Orchid reaches across the color wheel to intrigue the eye and spark the imagination. – Leatrice Eiseman • You like orchids?… Nasty things. Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men, their perfume has the rotten sweetness of corruption. – William Faulkner • You send me all these roses. Every time I think the last bouquet has arrived, finally, another turns up. I’m running out of vases. I didn’t know roses came in so many colors. You say they’re the perfect symbols of love because they have thorns and love is pain. I say life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something. And you don’t get it. You say you love me, but you don’t speak my language. You don’t even realize I’m an orchid girl. – Erin Morgenstern • You’re a quiet, beautiful woman in a loud, ugly place. An orchid among weeds. You define obvious. – Lynn Viehl

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[equitiesstocks]

Orchid Quotes

Official Website: Orchid Quotes

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• A flower is a daisy chain, a graduation, a valentine; a flower is New Year’s Eve and an orchid in your hair; a flower is a single geranium blooming in a tin can on a murky city fire-escape; an acre of roses at the Botanical Gardens; and the first gold crocus of spring! … a flower is a birth, a wedding, a leaving of this life. – Jean Hersey • (After meeting her birth mother after more than 40 years). We exchange bunches of orchids, laughing at the coincidence of the flowers. A little unnerving: I wonder if that choice has anything to do with genetics. … I want to take mine home and look after them so that they live for days. I might spray the leaves, and make sure they sit in an easterly window, and keep them out of the direct sun. – Jackie Kay • An enchanting harmony of fuchsia, purple and pink undertones, Radiant Orchid inspires confidence and emanates great joy, love and health. It is a captivating purple, one that draws you in with its beguiling charm. – Leatrice Eiseman • An invitation to innovation, Radiant Orchid encourages expanded creativity and originality, which is increasingly valued in today’s society. – Leatrice Eiseman • An orchid in a deep forest sends out its fragrance even if no one is around to appreciate it. – Confucius • As the seed buried in the earth cannot imagine itself as an orchid or hyacinth, neither can a heart packed with hurt imagine itself loved or at peace. The courage of the seed is that once cracking, it cracks all the way.- Mark Nepo

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Orchid', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_orchid').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_orchid img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids. – Gillian Flynn • Einstein is notmerely an artist in his moments of leisure and play, as a great statesman may play golf or a great soldier grow orchids. He retains the same attitude in the whole of his work. He traces science to its roots in emotion, which is exactly where art is also rooted. – Havelock Ellis • Ella’s supersonic voice followed her all the way to Bleecker Street and then dissolved amid the noisy profusion of shops, cafes, and restaurants and the crush of people that made the West Village of Manhattan unique in the world. In a single block you could buy fertility statues from Tanzania, rare Amazonian orchids, a pawned brass tuba, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, or the best, most expensive cup of coffee you ever tasted. It was the doughnuts, incidentally, that attracted Gaia. – Francine Pascal • English Bohemianism is a curiously unluscious fruit. … Inside this hothouse, huge lascivious orchids slide sensuously up the sweating windows, passion-flowers cross-pollinate in wild heliotrope abandon, lotuses writhe with poppies in the sweet warm beds, kumquats ripen, open and plop flatly to the floor-and outside, in a neat, trimly-hoed kitchen-garden, English bohemians sit in cold orderly rows, like carrots. – Alan Coren • Every orchid or rose or lizard or snake is the work of a dedicated and skilled breeder. There are thousands of people, amateurs and professionals, who devote their lives to this business. Now imagine what will happen when the tools of genetic engineering become accessible to these people. – Freeman Dyson • For other people, love is like some rare orchid that can only grow in one place under a certain set of conditions. For me it’s like bindweed. It grows with no encouragement at all, under any conditions, and just strangles everything else. – Scarlett Thomas • Have you ever noticed how much they look like orchids? lovely! – Robert A. Heinlein • He bought me so many orchids that I looked like a well-kept grave. – Texas Guinan • Hope is like one of those orchids that grows around toxic waste: lovely in itself – and an assertion, if you like, of indefatigable good – but a sure sign that something nasty lies underneath. – Rachel Cusk • Human beings aren’t orchids; we must draw something from the soil we grow in. – Sara Jeannette Duncan • I also like to garden. I grow things, vegetables, flowers… I particularly like orchids. I raise orchids. – Beau Bridges • I hated roses. I hated them for being so trite, so clichéd, a default, all-purpose flower that said I love you, I’m sorry, and get well soon. Give me peonies and tulips, orchids or gardenia. Those were flowers with character.- Justina Chen • I have become an orchid washed in on the salt white beach. Memory, what can I make of it now that might please you-this life, already wasted and still strewn with miracles? – Mary Ruefle • I try to always have flowers in the house. I have a florist in Chinatown, and they deliver orchids every two weeks. I like living with living things. – Phillip Lim • I was fat! I was pustule-rich! I looked like a pink human grenade! When did I blossom into the irresistible little orchid that I am now? I don’t know. Getting taller helps. It spreads out a bit. – Dylan Moran • I was left alone there in the company of the orchids, roses and violets, which, like people waiting beside you who do not know you, preserved a silence which their individuality as living things made all the more striking, and warmed themselves in the heat of a glowing coal fire. – Marcel Proust • If he’d been any other man and i’d been any other girl, I’d have called the narrowing of his heavy-lidded dark eyes lust. But he was Barrons and I was Mac, and a blossoming of lust was about as likely as orchids blooming in Antarctica – Karen Marie Moning • If I see an orchid that’s fantastically expensive, I’ll buy it. It’s worth it, for no other reason than it gives me pleasure. – Lee Radziwill • If Lady Gaga and Dorothy Parker had a secret love child, it would’ve been Gypsy Rose Lee. Gypsy arrived for opening nights at the Met wearing a full-length cape made entirely of orchids, while Lady Gaga shows up wearing a full-length cloak made of meat. – Karen Abbott • In mauve sea-orchids as in her striking earlier book Guardians of the Secret, Lila Zemborain brings into relationship the viscera of the body and the spill of the universe in tense compositions that blur distinctions between lyric and prose poetry, between science and eros. – Forrest Gander • In the winter, I enjoy cross-country skiing and raising orchids and amaryllises. If I could grow tropical flowers as perennials, I would, especially hibiscus and mandavilla. – Diane Ackerman • Inspired teachers … cannot be ordered by the gross from the factory. They must be discovered one by one, and brought home from the woods and swamps like orchids. They must be placed in a conservatory, not in a carpenter shop; and they must be honored and trusted. – John Jay Chapman • Just as I wonder whether it’s going to die,the orchid blossoms and I can’t explain why it moves my heart, why such pleasure comes from one small bud on a long spindly stem, one blood red gold flower opening at mid-summer, tiny, perfect in its hour. – Sam Hamill • Lord Illingworth told me this morning that there was an orchid there as beautiful as the seven deadly sins. – Oscar Wilde • Love is an orchid which thrives principally on hot air. – Myrtle Reed • Malaysia-Singapore bilateral relations can blossom beautifully if cultivated and nurtured like an orchid plant. – Najib Razak • My hobbies are cooking and gardening, especially growing orchids. I love soccer, my husband and I support a British team called Chelsea, and I also enjoy tennis. We have 3 cats. – Juliet Mills • Nothing could be taken for granted. Women who loved you tried to cut your throat, while women who didn’t even know your name scrubbed your back. Witches could sound like Katharine Hepburn and your best friend could try to strangle you. Smack in the middle of an orchid there might be a blob of jello and inside a Mickey Mouse doll, a fixed and radiant star. – Toni Morrison • Once you start carrying your own suitcase, paying your own bills, running your own show, you’ve done something to yourself that makes you one of those women men like to call ‘a pal’ and ‘a good sport,’ the kind of woman they tell their troubles to. But you’ve cut yourself off from the orchids and the diamond bracelets, except those you buy yourself. – Sophie Tucker • One of my favorite stories was Black Orchid, because it was so different from all the others. I especially enjoyed dancing the Charleston. I have always been keen on dancing. – Sarah Sutton • One wants to move through life with elegance and grace, blossoming infrequently but with exquisite taste, and perfect timing, like a rare bloom, a zebra orchid… One wants… But one so seldom gets what one wants, does one? – Tony Kushner • Orchid hunting is a mortal occupation. – Susan Orlean • Orchids manufacture their intricate devices from the common components of ordinary flowers, parts usually fitted for very different functions. If God had designed a beautiful machine to reflect his wisdom and power, surely he would not have used a collection of parts generally fashioned for other purposes. Orchids were not made by an ideal engineer; they are jury-rigged from a limited set of available components. Thus, they must have evolved from ordinary flowers. – Stephen Jay Gould • Orchids were not made by an ideal engineer; they are jury-rigged from a limited set of available components. – Stephen Jay Gould • Ribbons a-flutter and orchids a-tremble, Yearly the vigilant Daughters assemble, Affirming in fervid and firm resolutions Their permanent veto on all revolutions. – Marya Mannes • She thought of the orchids spreading across the plains below, choking the life out of other plants, out of the soil itself, selfish and unstoppable. Tally Youngblood was a weed. And, unlike the orchids, she wasn’t even a pretty one. – Scott Westerfeld • She’s alone, they kept telling themselves, and surely she danced in no one’s arms, yet somehow that seemed to matter less and less. As the night went on, and clarinet and coyote call mingled beyond the lantern light, the magic of their own powder-blue jackets and orchids seemed to fade, and it came to them in small sensations that they were more alone than she was. – Jerry Spinelli • Somewhere close I knew spear-nosed bats flew through the tree crowns in search of fruit, palm vipers coiled in ambush in the roots of orchids, jaguars walked the river’s edge; around them eight hundred species of trees stood, more than are native to all of North America; and a thousand species of butterflies, 6 percent of the entire world fauna, waited for the dawn. – E. O. Wilson • The American way of stress is comparable to Freud’s ‘beloved symptom’, his name for the cherished neurosis that a patient cultivates like the rarest of orchids and does not want to be cured of. Stress makes Americans feel busy, important, and in demand, and simultaneously deprived, ignored, and victimized. Stress makes them feel interesting and complex instead of boring and simple, and carries an assumption of sensitivity not unlike the Old World assumption that aristocrats were high-strung. In short, stress has become a status symbol. – Florence King • The old orchid hunter lay back on his pillow, his body limp… ‘You’ll curse the insects,’ he said at least, ‘and you’ll curse the natives… The sun will burn you by day and the cold will shrivel you by night. You’ll be racked by fever and tormented by a hundred discomforts, but you’ll go on. For when a man falls in love with orchids, he’ll do anything to possess the one he wants. It’s like chasing a green-eyed woman or taking cocaine… it’s a sort of madness. – Susan Orlean • The orchid is Mother Nature’s masterpiece. – Robyn • The splendor of a human heart that trusts it is loved unconditionally gives God more pleasure than Westminster Cathedral, the Sistine Chapel, Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony”, Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers”, the sight of 10,000 butterflies in flight, or the scent of a million orchids in bloom. Trust is our gift back to God, and he finds it so enchanting that Jesus died for love of it. – Brennan Manning • There are literally billions of people on the planet who live in an unimaginable poverty that’s not in any way different from the plight of the people in Orchid. And you can’t have the splendor of Rodeo Drive without the sweatshops of Indonesia; those two things go hand in hand. – Tom Morello • There have been 50 or 60 books written about Empress Orchid, but none of them bothered to really examine the period in China when she lived. I was taught that she was evil; it’s in all the textbooks. – Anchee Min • Tightly-plotted, well-researched and beautifully drawn, this book is a real delight. Garen Ewing’s mix of engaging characters, exciting old-school adventure, attractive ligne claire artwork and fluid storytelling makes The Rainbow Orchid easily one of the best graphic novels of the year. – Bryan Talbot • To rise above treeline is to go above thought, and after, the descent back into bird song, bog orchids, willows, and firs is to sink into the preliterate parts of ourselves. – Gretel Ehrlich • We humans think we are smart, but an orchid, for example, knows how to produce noble, symmetrical flowers, and a snail knows how to make a beautiful, well-proportioned shell. Compared with their knowledge, ours is not worth much at all. We should bow deeply before the orchid and the snail and join our palms reverently before the monarch butterfly and the magnolia tree. The feeling of respect for all species will help us recognize the noblest nature in ourselves. – Nhat Hanh • What is the pattern that connects the crab to the lobster and the primrose to the orchid, and all of them to me, and me to you? – Gregory Bateson • When I was fourteen, my father decided to initiate me into the ways of manhood, and took me to the local whorehouse. The woman spread her legs, and made me look between them. All I could see was something that looked like a dyin’ orchid; consequently, I have never been comfortable around women or orchids. – Tennessee Williams • When speech comes from a quiet heart, it has the strength of the orchid, and the fragrance of rock. – Stephen Mitchell • When two friends understand each other totally, the words are soft and strong like an orchid’s perfume. – Sara Jeannette Duncan • When we stopped to rest and Tony tried to figure out what was wrong with his compass, I asked him what he thought it was about orchids that seduced humans so completely that they were compelled to steal them and worship them and try to breed new and specific kinds of them and then be willing to wait for nearly a decade for one of them to flower. – Susan Orlean • While PANTONE 18-3224 Radiant Orchid, the captivating 2014 color of the year, encouraged creativity and innovation, Marsala enriches our mind, body and soul, exuding confidence and stability. – Leatrice Eiseman • While the 2013 color of the year, PANTONE 17-5641 Emerald, served as a symbol of growth, renewal and prosperity, Radiant Orchid reaches across the color wheel to intrigue the eye and spark the imagination. – Leatrice Eiseman • You like orchids?… Nasty things. Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men, their perfume has the rotten sweetness of corruption. – William Faulkner • You send me all these roses. Every time I think the last bouquet has arrived, finally, another turns up. I’m running out of vases. I didn’t know roses came in so many colors. You say they’re the perfect symbols of love because they have thorns and love is pain. I say life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something. And you don’t get it. You say you love me, but you don’t speak my language. You don’t even realize I’m an orchid girl. – Erin Morgenstern • You’re a quiet, beautiful woman in a loud, ugly place. An orchid among weeds. You define obvious. – Lynn Viehl

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[twistednuns]

March 2017

Passer une semaine merveilleuse à Paris avec Frank! Wow, my first impulse was actually to start writing in French, this is how far I've already come in little more than a week of intense training... Which brings me to me first good thing this month, even before writing about the great things that happened in Paris:

Being extremely motivated to brush up my French! It was so much fun to notice how my language skills improved every day even though I only spent five days in Paris. On my last day, I bought one of the Harry Potter books in French (I figured reading a book I already know more or less by heart will make it less hard when I have to guess every other word). I read seven chapters on the train to Munich and have since scored thousands of experience points on Duolingo. Gosh, I even started filling a notebook with vocabulary and grammar rules. I wonder how long I can keep up this pace... But it's so amazing, I catch myself talking to myself in French (in my thoughts at least). Immersing myself in the language definitely made an impression on me.

Ok, so, Paris. The train ride was great because I started AND finished reading a whole book. / I was so happy whenever I managed to have a successful conversation in French. / I really liked Ombeline, especially roaming around her apartment (with more than 17 chairs in the living room alone). Going through all her books and bandes dessinées (she even had one by Margaux Motin!), making breakfast in her kitchen, opening some of the cupboards and marvelling at the sheer amount of stuff and back-ups she owns, looking at her souvenirs from Africa and the beautiful crescent moon mask. / The SOHN concert at La Maroquinerie (which was by chance only a few hundred metres away from Ombeline's flat). "I can feel it coming, we can never go back." / Finding a statue of a gorgeous bearded man in marble; surrounded by baby angels with severed heads. A man after my fancy. / Sitting in Sacré-Coeur, taking cover from the rain, having a profane conversation. / Taking a walk from Montmartre to Faubourg; a good hour of sunshine, glitter on the streets in Pigalle, noticing that gay Frenchmen have a very distinct style. Sharing a passion fruit éclair. Decadent bulky waste (a pink satin canapé). / Spending time at Centre Pompidou, rediscovering Twombly, Brancusi and Klee. / Sitting outside a café with a strong drink and a cigarette (I had to think about Franzi's idea of the ideal way to spend time in Paris - sitting around in cafés all day, wearing red lipstick and smoking way too much). / Watching the swing dancers at Balajo. / Le jardin des plantes! The palaeontology and geology museum were fantastic. I've always wanted to go there but somehow I never managed even though I've been to Paris three times before. / Sitting at the Seine, next to each other, taking in the scenery.

Minimalism input: reading Escape Everything by Robert Wringham in Ombelines overly full apartment made me consider doing something drastic with my life. Sell all my stuff, become a digital nomad. So many ideas!

Overhearing a little girl one afternoon addressing the red, white and blue balloons she had just gotten in a bakery: "Ja ich weiß, ihr Luftballons ihr wollt weg!"

I've basically stopped watching TV? What's going on? I only saw one movie in February, and that was at the cinema! Awesome! More time for books!

Buying books is so satisfying. I loved spending time in French book stores (Les Mots à la Bouche!), going through the used-book section at the Bouquinistes and Shakespeare and Company. I bought so many books during the last few weeks. It's gonna take the rest of the year to read all of them.

My colleague asked me whether I'd like to start a sustainability exchange programme with a school in South America! Exciting!

The Grossstadtgeflüster concert at Feierwerk was awesome. I even got a sticker with a street sign for Fickt-Euch-Allee (I kinda wanna put it over the real street sign here in my street).

Oat cookies with dark chocolate. Baking my favourite lemon cake with poppy seeds and blueberries.

A weird weekend - I neither left the house nor talked to anyone - but I was in the mood to clean all my windows! My productivity high is getting scary...

How sadly true this article on jealousy is. The first paragraph actually triggered me to shout out "ha" because I felt caught. Oh well. After all "you have to keep breaking your heart before it opens." (Rumi)

ALMOST booking a flight to Cancún over Christmas and New Year's Eve. It might still happen. So far I'm afraid I'm spending too much money as it is... we'll see how much unreason my bank account can take. But just imagining lying on a white, sandy beach on the first day of 2018 while Germany vanishes in a cloud of dust and smoke after the annual fireworks... nice thought.

Making poached eggs for the first time. You have to make a swirl with an egg whisk in a pot of vinegar water and crack the eggs while the water is still moving.

The nice feeling of the dust cover of Zeige deine Wunde by Rüdiger Sünner.

Talking to Inge on the tram.

Watching Wilde Maus at Rio Filmpalast. Pia Hierzegger is such an interesting actress and I just found out that she's been dating Josef Hader for years now! Ha. Best quote: "Bist du angrennt irgendwo?"

Drawing some figures for my sixth-graders and colouring them in Photoshop (I haven't done that in a while but it's so much fun). And in general - being more creative. Drawing a treasure map with black ink. Getting the watercolours out. Sitting down with my students to make clay and stone sculptures. It's so nice to create something, free from pressure.

A fantastic room tour.

The handsome dude from the French textbook publishing company. Can he come over more often, please?

Watching old Art Attack videos.

A very stormy morning. 6am, the sky still dark blue, the trees bending and bowing as black silhouettes against it. What an energetic start into the day.

Pressed flowers. I'm thinking about making my own, just like I used to as a kid.

This article: On drowning goats.

I just had a wonderful idea: I'd like to make a book for my friends. I'm not quite sure what should go inside but I was thinking of stories and memories, recipes, photographs and of course some of my drawings. I'd have so much fun layouting it and I'd also have a full round of really good Christmas presents. Projects! Whee!

It sounds counter-intuitive but: Running from a situation instead of suffering through it. I often try to do "the right/decent thing" to put a good face on the matter and sit it out when I'm actually dying on the inside. It felt good to say "no, not that shit again" and walk away.

An unexpected support squad at school (thanks, Selina, Osna, Katarina!)

Liberté, Egalité, Beyoncé

My tiny new portrait drawing class.

Successful adulting: taking care of boring insurance policies, contracts, applying for a visa, having my bike repaired, refilling my car's water tank. But I did all the things!!

Milchschnitte Himbeer and mango panna cotta.

Liebertext / exchanging daily mails with a stranger.

Getting the invitation for Franzi's and Ralf's wedding in the mail! I was so happy I was hardly even mad about all the confetti in the envelope, I mean, on my bathroom floor. And I was so relieved that my return flight from Helsinki is going to be on the day before; for I second I thought I wasn't going to make it.

"Komm mal her!" - "Aber ich hab dich gar nicht lieb." - "Ich dich aber trotzdem."

Sexy schmexy (I love saying this at the moment)

Bibiana Beglau as Mephisto in the Faust production at the Residenztheater.

Hitting the jackpot when opening a pint of ice-cream just to find a huge pool of liquid caramel right under the lid.

Seeing how creative some of my students are (I mean, hello, Frenchman, hunter, Santa Claus, rockstar and superhero minions made out of clay? Such great ideas!)

Little pink tulips with round heads and yellow edges. So cute.

Dinner with the Educational Lady Warriors. I mean, Franzi, Elsa and Martina. Finding out that Elsa is pregnant! She showed us her ultrasound picture and you can actually see a tiny human already, with the spine, brain hemispheres, the heart, the limbs... Fascinating.

Receiving a 50€ gift voucher for a book shop after completing a random survey on school questions. AND winning two theatre tickets for Liebesblind at the Pathos. Sweet.

Unsweetened almond milk. It tastes like marzipan!

I noticed that I really like the sinew over my right big toe. I don't have many body parts that aren't soft, which is why I appreciate this one sinew standing out.

I won two tickets to Liebesblind at Pathos and took Franzi with me. The location was pretty great, very Berlin-esque. Afterwards we had some drinks at her place, Ralf and a few of their friends were also there. A pretty nice evening!

My trusted old 2-minute-recipe: couscous with some feta and tomato puree.

I went to a drive-in cinema for the first time and I don't know why I'd never been before, it's AWESOME. You're in your cosy little box, get the audio via radio frequency (since my new car has a BOSE sound system the quality is excellent) AND you can talk throughout the movie!!

This incredible weather. Getting the first pistachio ice-cream of the year at my favourite ice-cream parlour in Schwabing. Seeing everyone sitting in the sun in front of the Glypthothek. And the blossoms on the trees. Munich is so nice in the sunshine.

Having pizza and ice-cream with Lexi, driving on the highway with open windows and extremely amusing German songs blasting (Schnipo Schranke, Von Wegen Lisbeth, Sookee). Drinking beer at the Bilderbuch concert, singing along, mock-arguments with Frank.

Hugging Doris just as long as she can bear it.

The other day my pupils told a colleague that she was beautiful, then they saw me and quickly added: "Oh, you are beautiful, too!" And then they group-hugged me. Adorable, bootlicking little gangsters...

How much fun I can have when I'm layouting tests and worksheets.