#primitive garden

[barbarabezina]

From the garden Digital photography + homemade filter

[totheroses]

― Mary Oliver, "The Gardens" from American Primitive

[travelersrest]

🪽🩷🪽

[lasteveharvesting]

Pig weed

My 83 year old Nana calls this “Hog’s Weed, that’s what Daddy would call it. The horses eat it and all things eat it”. She is a Southern Maryland native who grew up living off the land before it was “cool”. Her Mother and Father taught her to forage and what the local plants were called. A quick Wikipedia search proves this plant called is indeed Amarantus Retroflexus, or commonly known as “red-root pigweed”. It is native to the American tropics, but has become widespread on most continents. And it can grow over 9ft high which gives it quite the stature of observational curiosity on one’s landscape. The leaves, boiled and eaten with garlic, chili peppers, coconut and turmeric are an Indian dish known as thoran. It is high in calcium, phosphorus, protein, and iron. It’s seeds can be eaten raw or cooked, and used in bread, cereal or as a thickener. An exceptionally nutritious fodder if used sparingly.

[indiatrendzs]

Mid-century Modern Eclectic Decor

Mid-century modern eclectic decor brings in the energy of the vital source, grounding the space with natural materials and old rustic woods, and then brings in beautiful textures and brilliant hues with new and vintage artistic accents. Renovating a building that has historical character, like the 1920s Spanish Colonial home in Miami, it’s all about striking a balance between the old and the new,…

[lemongrad]

Thinking about making a cross stitch pattern for my favorite MCR lyric- “I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone”

I just have SO MANY other projects to tackle first- wedding quilt, baby quilt (for different people!) 1830′s outfit (including corset and petticoat) gift skirt, gift corset, half-finished ‘stars and baskets’ quilt, and various hemming and repair work I’ve promised my family. Oh, AND the portrait I’m planning of myself and my siblings in the style of John Singer Sargent because I am Extra

[heritagecollectibles]

Tools & Garden Supplies at Our Second Booth at Happy Trails Flea Market & Antiques in Oxford (ME)

Tools & Garden Supplies at Our Second Booth at Happy Trails Flea Market & Antiques in Oxford (ME)

[ghouljams]

Voraciously consuming cowboy!König because I missed how you write this nasty (affectionate) man. The little surprises you leave in your tags too is 👍

König's gotten softer since you started dating. Not in the way he acts or treats you, no he's always treated you with shocking gentleness ever since he met you, but the rest of him. The hard planes of muscle that you were pulled against when you first met him have developed a healthy layer of softness. He's sturdier, thicker around the middle, and you can't stop staring.

He's well fed, you think over breakfast. You sip your coffee watching König eat his plate, a big mam with a big appetite. He hardly seems to notice that his plate is full of all the eggs, bacon, and toast you could fit in the pan. He only flips through the morning paper and eyes you over the top edge of it when you've been staring too long. One of his brows raises, silently asking you what's on your mind. You shake your head, unable to find the right words for the feeling he gives you.

You think you're... satisfied, maybe. Something primitive in you purrs at seeing him well fed, well taken care of. You think he looks stronger in a way. It certainly fits his height well, making König into a mountain of a man. You can't help imagining him with a gaggle of kids hanging off his arms and over his shoulders when you watch him around the farm. He picks up Honey's massive foal when it chases after him, moves it out of the way so he can load the stall with fresh hay; he drives a new fence post into the ground with one powerful swing of the hammer.

You might make a little extra food when he swings by for dinner later. Just because you had an extra loaf of bread and your garden has been exceptionally fruitful lately. It just sort of slips out when he sits down with a full plate; he's barely got his fork to his mouth.

"Have you ever thought about kids?" You ask, watching him a little dreamy eyed when he chokes on his bite. König thumps a big hand against his chest and downs half his glass of water. He settles the glass down on the table and gives you a hard look, like he's trying to figure what you're asking, you smile at him innocently.

König is quiet for a long time, arms crossed as he leans back in his chair to regard you. You're almost worried that you said something wrong, asked the wrong question, but then he sighs and drags his hand over his mouth to look around the kitchen. His eyes are hot and hard when they meet yours again.

"I think about our children all the time," he tells you, purposefully, like there's no room for argument. 'Our children' not just a simple yes.

"Our children," you parrot. König sits forward to start eating again.

"At least three of them," he nods, "better chances for a boy and a girl." You open your mouth to say something, but all you can think about is, well, your future children. At least three of them staring up at you with König's icy blues.

"You don't want to know why I'm asking?" You try to tamp down the flutter in your heart. König hums, and glances at you, his eyes dragging over the parts of you that he can see.

"You've been feeding me more, staring more, I assume you're nesting," again he says it like a fact, "thinking about them too, ja?" You forget sometimes how closely watched you are, and how much you like that about König. "We can start trying after dinner."

You try not to squirm too excitedly in your seat.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I’m loving so much the new disowned verse omg, it is so good, you are a genius.

But I’m curious, how did reader and jason met?

The apartment was in a cracker box of a building with thin walls. His neighbors were a young couple that fought about money 25/8 and an elderly 'Nam Vet who liked his porno but- he could cope.

It was different than Gotham. There weren't constant gunshots. And that was weird. But. He knew better than to think his PI license wouldn't make him some money. Even out in the sticks. There was always a contentious divorce. There was always something not quite right. Cops in over their heads.

And he'd have down time. He could read. Work on his bike. Fuck. Maybe even actually go see a movie... Sure. He knew eventually he'd get bored but. For now, he was looking forward to it.

He shut the door and locked it behind him, frowning just slightly and making a note to get a better lock while he was out. He doubted he could find anything super great in town- he'd probably have to order something but. He'd passed a hardware store in town so... it might be worth checking out. If he made friends with the old guy that probably ran it he could probably get some special orders if he needed it.

So he set off that direction, wandering on foot down the sidewalks and taking note of the other houses. It was the middle of the afternoon. And the lunch whistles at the old factory still sounded at nood and then 30 minutes later. Tucked away from the tree-lined main drag, the houses back here varied from run down to better homes and gardens.

That tracked.

They got better closer to the front. The older show homes outweighed the eyesores. American primitive lawn decor. A surprising number of pineapples- and he snorted, wondering if it had come from a big box store or if it was a signal. Or both.

Still.

By the time he made it to the hardware store, he was reasonably certain he could stay busy. All was not as Leave it to Beaver as the Town Council would have you believe. And the first place he was gonna leave a flyer was in the beauty shop. Those old biddies HAD to have some shit to stir up.

He shouldered the door open and a bell, an actual bell, chimed. And he smiled a little taking a deep breath. The smell of dust, tools, and old well-maintained wood hit his nose and he exhaled. Definitely not going to find any high tech locks here. But, he had a soft spot for independent shops.

"Be with you in a minute!"

The voice made him jump. Not the gruff voice of a grumpy old fuck he expected. And it made him search of the source. Curious. "No worries," he said, walking a little farther towards where he'd heard it. Finding a young woman on a ladder stocking some boxes of bolts on a shelf. A pink canvas gardening apron tied around her hips to hold more boxes. "You got door locks?" he asked.

"Aisle 5 next to the paver catalogs," you tell him, steadying yourself so you can turn and glance down at him.

"Perfect," he said, "Thanks."

"Mhm, let me know if you need anything else," you tell him.

Jason paused and looked around, "Think you can put a tool box together for me I just moved and-"

"Ah, yeah. One Bachelor special," you tell him," Jumping down from the ladder, "I think I can get you fixed up. At least enough to get you started. You'll be smashing your thumbs in no time."

"Got a first aid kit too?"

"Right up at the counter," you snort. "But if you want anything special, you gotta see Adam at the Pharmacy. Mine are pretty basic."

"I can deal with basic- at least until you sell me a band saw-"

"Oh lord."

[barbarabezina]

Almost full moon

From the garden

[hometoursandotherstuff]

'Vallecitos' is a luxury earthship house built in 2018 in Taos, NM. It's been featured on Netflix, international TV and social media, among the pages of Forbes and AirBnB magazine, and many others, yet it's been on the market for almost 2 yrs. 2bds, 2ba, asking $825K + $20mo. HOA fee. Let's take a look inside.

So, the typically long earthship garden that is usually inside the house, is separate here, and like a greenhouse decorated with bottles in the pretty turquoise walls.

Food grows out here- I see lettuce, aloe vera.

And, look at this- bananas. Or are they plantains?

I must say that the living room is nice, but the dining area is a little tight.

We've seen some pretty primitive earthships before, but this actually looks like a home with beamed ceilings and quality glass doors and windows.

A real kitchen and it's very pretty. Love the turquoise cabinets.

It even has a pantry and laundry room.

Very nice bath and what looks like a real flushing toilet, not a composter.

Beautiful tile sink.

The secondary bedroom is lovely. It looks like a child's room and has plenty storage for toys, games and books. A desk faces the garden window.

As we can see, the garden runs the whole length of the large "ship."

The primary bedroom is nice.

It opens to the garden area.

Pretty en-suite. I would need something on that window, though.

Out on the patio they have a sauna.

Patio looking out over the 2.31 acre lot.

View of the back of th house with the sauna and patio.

Partial privacy wall around a deck.

Aerial view of the property shows grass and vegetation, but it's quite vast and empty.

Glamor shot of it at night.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/27-Earthship-Way-Taos-NM-87577/2061804094_zpid/?

[sophiasharp]

Man I don’t think we talk enough about the fact that in the wildly accepted fanon, the ghouls were like. Creatures pulled out of a primitive society full of bloodshed and danger. These guys were just chilling in hell, fighting for their lives every day like you do, and now they’re on Earth, expected to figure out Earth manners and technology and how the fuck anything works. I’ve been thinking about it, though. Let me walk you through my thoughts

THE GHOULS TRANSITIONING TO LIFE ON EARTH

Aether

- Bull in a China shop

- Big man has gotten very good at controlling his strength over the years. That control was NOT there at first.

- Bumped into fucking everything too. Dude’s used to being in the wide open abyss the quintessence ghouls occupy. Suddenly having to learn special awareness was. A hurdle of his.

- He broke a lot of tables. And chairs. And plates. Mugs. One Sibling’s arm. He got there eventually but Omega had to walk him through how fragile everything on Earth is compared to their ghoulish strength.

- Part of his habit of jumping up and down also comes from how different Earth is to his home environment. You mean you can go up and then you’ll come down again? Automatically? What a concept! Gravity is so much fun!

- Still gets some sense of novelty out of electric lighting. Being able to just. Make the dark go away? Whenever? Amazing.

- He keeps a night light on in his room. The last person to make fun of him for it mysteriously ended up with 3rd degree burns.

Dewdrop:

- Skittish little fucker

- Kinda like that one video of those weird crabs reacting to the diver

- Dew, poking at a toaster: Friend? Friend? Friend? Big noise! Scared! Scared! Scared! Scared! … Friend? Friend?

- Fucking LOVED blankets and coats and jackets and robes and honestly just anything that will keep him warm. He was used to the cold, sure, but if he had a choice between that and being cuddled under 5 different comforters, possibly with another ghoul for extra body heat? It wasn’t even a competition.

- Still had to often be reminded to wear clothes. “We’re in a hellish commune, does anyone really care about one ghoul being naked?” “It’s not so much the nakedness as much as the being out and about without your uniform.”

- Warm food blew his Fucking mind. Coming from the frigid arctic, whatever warmth you’d get from your food’s internal temperature was short lived. Microwaves? Ovens? Tea Kettles? Marvelous. Truly a gift from the Dark One

- Got REALLY into cooking. Dude is a wizard in the kitchen. Watched so many kitchen shows once he figured out how TV’s worked and started replicating the really fancy meals they were creating on screen with whatever he could find around the Abbey and what the kitchen staff were willing to give him. Now, whenever there’s a big occasion, he’s the one asked to oversee the food.

Mountain:

- weirdly calm and placid about everything despite not knowing how literally anything worked.

- Just casually curious about everything. Was always asking questions. Not in an annoying way, but just politely inquisitive.

- There was like a 50/50 chance he was actually listening to you at any given point in time. I mean, there are so many new sights, sounds, smells to experience! Can’t expect him to be 100% there when there’s still so much new splendor all around!

- If ever he was confronted with something new but no one was around to explain what it was, he would instead try to just. Figure it out on his own using his best judgement.

- This is how he once ended up straight up eating someone’s phone. This was very early on, mind you, but it was so smooth and shiny! And the precious metals inside were so tasty! He knows better now, of course. But there are some days where he’s tempted to give his ministry-issued smartphone a nibble…

- Figured out his love of gardening pretty damn fast considering that’s what he was originally summoned for. However, aside from tending to Primo’s garden, he found himself still going out to tend to the plants even in his free time. It’s calming to him, reminds him of home. When things get overwhelming, the plants are there to let him channel his worry into something producing.

- His first personal plant was a small pot of rosemary. He kept it in the window of his room and took *such* good care of it. It’s still there to this day, nestled among the other plants he’s accumulated of the years.

Swiss

- he is so excited about everything!!!!

- He has to be touching all the new things all the time! What does it do? How is it made?? Can he eat it??? A lot of things that were small enough went straight into his mouth. Copia needed to keep a spray bottle on him at all times to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

- Of course, when he was around the other ghouls, he played it cool. Have to make a good impression on his new (and hopefully permanent) packmates after all. He reeeaaaally didn’t want get sent back to the pit so getting in good with the rest of the band was TOP priority!

- In fact that need to be liked was bordering on unhealthy and sort of sabotaged himself a bit. Acting all suave and cocksure when the entire rest of the band was on high alert does that.

- Most of the ghouls regarded him with a hefty amount of distrust at first- being the first summon of the new boss came with a LOT of baggage -but Cumulus saw straight through him. He was just a silly little guy! She became his first real friend amongst the pack.

- The two became menaces together, exploring the abbey and messing with shit they probably shouldn’t have. Primo’s garden was a favorite of theirs, much to Mountain’s chagrin.

- Was just SOOOO fascinated by this new body he’s been put in. Unlike most the other ghouls, he didn’t have a physical body he inhabited back in hell, only being given one when he was summoned to the surface. Flesh! If feels funny! What does this thing down here do-

Cumulus:

- was honestly kinda scared at first, what with the whole mood of the pack being out of wack.

- Apparently their new boss might have killed someone? That’s the guy that summoned them? Uh oh!

- Stayed glued to Cirrus in the beginning. Being summoned together meant having a strong built-in bond with each other, always having access to what the other is feeling. Being together offered a much-needed sense of comfort to Cumulus. Getting to spend time with a really pretty girl wasn’t bad either.

- Swiss was the one to bring her out of her shell, imbuing her with confidence through his own fake bravado. They came to rely on each other in that sense. When Cumulus was scared to do the things she wanted, Swiss would convince her of her capability. When Swiss was anxious and felt like a fraud, Cumulus would remind him of his sincerity.

- Was very curious about how her magic worked on the surface versus how it did in the pit. Back home, she was used to having to beat against the constant winds of the first layer of hell. Now that she’s on Earth, her powers are much more powerful than she ever expected them to be!

- LOVED textiles. She surrounded herself in all things soft and fluffy. Her bedroom (and most nights Cirrus’s as well) is just so Fucking cozy. Blankets and pillows everywhere. Her stuffed animal collection is unmatched. Will cry if even one of them ends up on the floor.

- Dew was the one to help her start her collection. To this day they are each other’s #1 cuddle buddies.

Cirrus:

- Stone cold badass front to hide how nervous she was.

- VERY protective of Cumulus in the beginning. She could feel how scared she was and felt the need to step up and protect the both of them from any threat this new environment may have… even if the perceived threat is a bit stupid.

- She once kicked in the washing machine cause it made a sound once it was done and it startled her. Not her proudest moment.

- Was almost OVERPROTECTIVE of Cumulus at first, even, doing even the simplest of tasks for her to prevent risk of injury. That was until she watched her kick a sibling straight in the nuts for making snide remarks about Cirrus in front of her. Cirrus had never fallen in love faster.

- Took a LONG while to warm up to the others. Constantly felt like she had something to prove, like she needed to show that she wouldn’t buckle under pressure. Everyone (but Cumulus) was a threat.

- Adores weather on Earth and how it isn’t just WIND 24/7. She loves all the different shapes of the clouds, how dark they get with moisture, the gentle snowfall or the needle-like rain. Really puts her at peace to be out on a rainy day

Rain:

- S C A R E D

- Everything is new and bright and cold and heavy and loud and- and- and-

- Yeah he barely left his room for a week, didn’t talk to anyone for anything. Not shy, necessarily, but just freaked the fuck OUT. They were starting to think he was nonverbal cause man refused to use his voice. In his defense, talking outside the water feels very different when you’re used to your vocal cords wiggling in water all your life.

- In my brain the first time he did speak was to Copia after he did his lil oopsie with the rest of the pack. It’s like a day later and Copia’s tryna plan how he’s gonna make it up to the ghouls when rain cornered him in a dark hallway, made direct eye contact, and in the softest voice went “I wouldn’t go near the lake if I were you. It’s hard to hear screaming underwater.” He then left a completely stunned and freaked tf out Copia standing alone in the hall like it never happened.

- He kinda regrets letting his first words on Earth be a threat now but the rest of the pack is flattered, although they do still sometimes tease him for it.

- Really started coming out of his shell when Dew made dinner for him. Dew was in the same shoes as him once and, although his relationship with the new water ghoul was complicated, he still felt obligated to help his new packmate adjust to life on Earth.

- Bro went through the trouble of showing Rain what every little thing in the kitchen did so he wouldn’t be scared to make his own food anymore, all while making him some grade A gourmet dining. Dew didn’t know it at the time but that’s when the heart-eyes started.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Sequestration.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Robotic Bodyguard!OC x Reader.

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Heavy Themes of Isolation/Reliance, Needles, Intimidation, Manipulation Through Health, Reader Wears A Dress And Is Called Princess But Like In A Non-Binary Way, and Codependence.

On your best days, you could remind yourself that life outside the castle probably wouldn’t be any more interesting than life inside of it.

How could it be? You’d never actually been outside, sure, but you’d spent hours staring out of your dust-covered windows, sorting through your mother’s research, walking across the scarred landscape in your holographic enrichment chamber until you came to the end of what the simulation was able to generate or Prince decided that you’d spent enough time thinking about things you shouldn’t, that day. You’d talked to other survivors (real survivors, you mean – you still don’t know if you could really call the way you live ‘surviving’) on your mother’s communication devices and the more primitive radio transceivers you put together yourself, and you knew that it was more routine than anything, that scavenging for food and gathering clean water and praying that, by some miracle, you’d stumble onto one of the few remaining pockets of civilization before that pocket devolves into in-fighting and anarchy was about as much fun as sitting inside and daydreaming about doing the same. You knew how to keep yourself busy; the castle was endless, its rooms countless and the labyrinth of tunnels that ran underneath it endless, and even if you did spend the rest of your life mapping out its every twist and bend, it would’ve taken another to finish the restoration work your mother started. You had enough dried and canned food to last you the next century, and you always kept the indoor garden going strong. You had hobbies, and routines, and when you were absolutely desperate for company, you had Prince. That, you guessed, would never change. No matter what you did, he would be there to guide you through it. No matter where you when, you’d always have Prince on your heels.

On your best days, you could tell yourself that life outside of the castle would be as boring as life inside of it.

On your worst, it was impossible to make yourself believe that anything could be as boring as the life you were living now.

It was a quiet, knotted despair – the kind that lent itself to long days spent consumed by low-burning anxiety and dampened terror and everything else that comes along with knowing you’d likely never take so much as a step outside of the building you’d been born in. You tried to keep it hidden the best you could, to avoid Prince and, by association, one of his well-intended but less than helpful ‘check-ups’, but the inevitable could only be delayed for so long. He found you in one of the castle’s tallest spires, sitting in a bay window spilling over with patterned quilts and velvet-lined pillows. He was already scowling when he appeared by your side, his lips quirked downward and his gaze ever so slightly narrowed. You’d expected as much. He’d always said the spire's damp air would worsen your condition, but according to Prince, nearly everything would worsen your condition. If he had his way, you’d be locked in your library all day and your bedroom all night, and he’d always know exactly where to find you.

He was wearing his holographic form, as he always was – his pink hair pulled back into a perfect low ponytail, his features softened yet well-defined, every part of him manicured and refined in the way a creature who’d been quite literally designed for companionship could be. You’d only seen his true form, his physical form, once; that shambling mess of gears and iron banding, but you could still remember the way it creaked as it moved towards you, the strange dissonance of hearing Prince’s voice and seeing that malformed, mechanical nightmare. You couldn’t be scared of him, not really, not when you knew it was still Prince underneath all that metal and all those jagged edges, but you listened when he warned you away from certain parts of the castle, now.

You didn’t turn to face him immediately, keeping your eyes on the distant landscape until he cleared his throat and took a step toward you. You watched, out of the corner of your eye, as Prince reached out, moving to touch your shoulder before pulling back and letting his hand fall to his side. He couldn’t touch you, not in this form, but he’d try, occasionally. It was an expression of the more human side of his programming, the half that was made to keep you happy, not just safe. You could only imagine what string of numbers could make a being so rational carry so much sentimentality. “I believe it’s past time for your treatment, Your Highness.”

You pulled your knees up to your chest, burying your face in the thick fabric of your skirts. “Again? Didn’t I just take my medicine yesterday?”

“Yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. It’s a daily essential. You’d know that if you ever bothered to listen to me.” His frown was gone in a moment, replaced with a small smile and a pleased look in his eyes. “Do you need me to escort you to the clinic?”

“I think I can find it on my own.” You waited for a long beat. When Prince failed to move, failed to respond, you added, “But, if you want to accompany me…”

“It’d be my honor, Highness.”

He waited patiently as you slowly removed yourself from the windowsill, sparing one last look towards the lifeless horizon as you smoothed over your skirts and placed yourself at his side. You couldn’t take his arm, but you didn’t need to. He knew how to keep pace with you, by now, matching your stride as you quietly navigated through the castle’s tangle of empty hallways and overly cluttered rooms. Everything, from the ancient furniture to the box-like sensors posted in the corner of every room to your own sparse decorative touches, was coated in a layer of dust you’d never been able to stave-off. You tried to clean whenever you could, and Prince did his part, but there was just too much to take care of. Your world was, simultaneously, impossibly small and incomprehensibly large, and it was similarly difficult to imagine that you’d ever be able to fill the space or shake off that ever-growing sense of claustrophobia.

Eventually, you came to a pair of towering glass doors – the entryway to the otherwise unused sunroom that you’d taken to using as a makeshift clinic. You looked to your side, nodding to Prince, and in an instant, he’d dissolved into thin air. You counted out a minute and, more importantly, waited to hear the sound of metal scraping against tile - the sound of Prince’s footsteps - before slipping inside. As always, the clinic greeted you with shining marble walls and a glittering glass cieling, but only dread accompanied the lovely sight. Your treatment, for as much as it delighted Prince, wasn’t something you could bring yourself to look forward to.

Prince was already waiting for you, a familiar wooden case in-hand, looking just a little more vivid than he had a second before. You knew why – that his holographic body was now anchored to his physical form, that he had to wear a skin you wouldn’t be able to see through – but you still made an effort not to look at him. It was too realistic, too uncanny. You didn’t know what you’d do if you ever met another living person. If Prince was too much for you, you couldn’t imagine how you’d react to someone who was made up of more than projected light.

You took your place on the cot in the center of the room, folding your legs underneath you and cringing at the way the stiff sheets crinkled. In a moment, Prince was at your side, already sanitizing the needle of a long, bronze syringe. You just held out your arm, pointedly glaring in the opposite direction, and Prince acknowledged your discontent with a low hum, a slight pinch, a sudden numbness slowly ebbing from the crook of your arm. You closed your eyes, but that only gave you less to distract yourself with, only left you more focused on the discomfort lodged just underneath your skin, the stark chill quickly seeping away what little warmth you had. Still, you kept your eyes shut as he worked, determined to at least pretend that it helped. “Prince.”

It was a reflex, by now – just another routine. Shut your eyes, and when that didn’t work, call out for Prince. He was as used to it as you were. “Yes, Highness?”

The pain was minimal, but you winced as he drew the needle back. “Do you think we could go for a walk tomorrow?”

“You go for a walk every day.” The bandages were next – white, plush, and virtually useless. You’d take them off in less than an hour, but Prince enjoyed the ritual of it, and it wasn’t as if you didn’t have time to spare. “As far as I was aware, you don’t have any other way to get around.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You threw him a hollow glare. “A walk outside. Just around the courtyard.”

“Why would you want to go out there?” You didn’t have to see him to know he was grimacing. You could hear the disgust in his tone, picture his automatic revulsion. “It’s filthy, and dangerous. The dust would shred your lungs.”

“I’d wear protective gear. We have ventilators, and I could make a—”

“The strain alone could break you. That’s not to mention the heatstroke, or the bugs. You wouldn’t last a second.” There was a soft laugh, a swatch of cotton against your skin. His fingertips brushed against your skin, as cold as ice and as lifeless as metal. “Don’t make me watch you suffer like that, princess. You know I like taking care of you, but that’d just be torture.”

You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “There are people who’ve been out there for as long as I’ve been alive. I think I could survive a day.”

It wasn’t a chuckle, this time, but a laugh – whole-hearted and chirping. Perfectly engineered to be as mirthful and as patronizing as possible. “You can’t be serious. An hour, I could start to understand, but a day?” He shook his head, a stray length of pink hair falling over one of his eyes. “Please, don’t put my poor heart through that.”

“You don’t have a heart.”

“I have enough of one to know that this isn’t a good idea.” He smiled, and when you didn’t return the gesture, he sighed, lowering himself to one knee. The bandage was secured, and before you could pull away, he took your hand in his. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was secure, remorseless and iron-clad. He must not have realized how confining it felt. Otherwise, you knew he never would’ve held you that way. “I know it sounds harmless now,” he started, in that faux-sympathetic tone. The same one he’d used when you scraped a knee, or came crying to him about another malfunction in one of your half-baked inventions. “But you have to trust me. You’re safe here, with me. I can’t promise that I’ll be able to help you out there.”

You felt something acidic rise into the back of your throat. “Prince,” you said, again, if only to buy time to brace yourself. “I want to go outside.”

It was quick, but you saw it. A flicker to his holographic form, a nearly imperceptible lilac aura suddenly tinted a harsh red. You caught a glimpse of spiked shoulders, of a steel grate obscuring a nonexistent face, and then, Prince was back – still smiling, still staring up at you. It might’ve felt more genuine if you hadn’t known what was lurking behind his eyes.

“Do you know,” He spoke slowly, carefully, no part of his expression ever-changing, “what would happen if you missed one of your treatments?”

You shook your head. It wasn’t like either Prince or your mother had ever gone out of their way to explain why you were sick, lest the stress of it all take a toll on your oh-so-fragile helath. “I... I might get sick? It can’t be worse than spending the rest of my life doing this.”

He chuckled, bowing his head, his lips coming to rest a hair’s width above the back of your hand. “You’ll die. You’ll wither and fade away, just like the world outside of this castle did. Just ike your mother.” This time, when his grip tightened around your hand, you couldn’t tell yourself it wasn’t deliberate. You couldn’t tell yourself that he didn’t see how quickly your shoulders stiffened, that he didn’t notice you try and fail to pull yourself out of his hold. “Do you understand?”

“Prince, I don’t want to—”

His thumb dug into the bone of your wrist, metallic fingertips burrowing into vulnerable flesh. You winced, and Prince’s grin widened. “Do you understand, princess?”

“Yes, I do, I— Please, let me go.” You were gasping, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you fought to urge to pry yourself away from him. “I’m sorry, I understand – I’ll never ask again.”

He spared one more playful, bone-crushing squeeze before releasing you, letting you draw your hand back into your chest. He stood, taking up the syringe and its case before retreating back towards the clinic’s cabinets. You didn’t dare to move until he’d returned to your side, until you felt his hand on your shoulder. “I knew you wouldn’t be so cruel to me.” The words were muttered, barely audible. If there’d been anything else to hear, anything else in this castle save for you and Prince, you might’ve missed it. You wish you could’ve missed it. “Will you be tending to your garden this afternoon?”

You nodded, as if in a trance. Prince hummed in approval. “Would you care for an escort?”

“I…” You crossed your arms over your chest. Your wrist throbbed, but you didn’t know what to do about it. You weren’t used to this type of pain. “I think I’ll manage on my own.”

You cast your gaze downward, to the cot’s over-starched sheets. You waited until those dull, thudding footsteps were too distant to hear, until you could bring yourself to sigh, to shrink, to glance toward the reddened bruises forming along your wrist. You might’ve done more, if you’d known what to do. You might’ve cried if you hadn’t still been able to feel Prince’s eyes on you, unblinking and ever-present.

So, instead, you picked yourself up, let your hands fall to your sides, and – like you would tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that – started towards your garden.

[indiatrendzs]

Luxurious Architecture Indian Interiors and Furniture

Rich in color, pattern, and texture, an authentic antique damchiya adds an exotic element to the room. An Indian bench made from oxcarts and adorned with colorful pillows creates a vibrant, lively atmosphere. Block printed cotton throws and an antique triple arch adorn the living room, while unique architectural items and art infuse the space with a dash of vivid hues. A large brass-clad hope…

[homunculus-argument]

I've learned to be neutral about other people being religious, but my own experience with it was definitely coloured by my issues with my dad. He was a proper Edgelord Atheist, loathing religions as a whole and christianity in particular, never hesitating to remark about how stupid and backwards or primitive it is. My mother didn't care either way, she only talks about god when she talks about gardening. So he was the only one in the house with any strong opinion about it. And yet, me and my sister were babtised, put into a christian daycare for a while and then put into christian religions classes at school.

I always loathed religion classes as a kid and didn't know why, I hated hearing about it and having to put up with it and always felt like the teacher is just insulting us by lying right at our faces, about something that surely nobody actually believes for real. My childhood best friend was put into the non-christian option despite of coming from the same kind of a vaguely culturally christian background as I did, and I envied her intensely for it. I asked repeatedly to get to go to the non-christian classes as well, and was told "no", because my mother didn't think that letting your kids do that was an option even though my friend's parents clearly had already done it.

I had a serious Edgelord Edgy Atheist phase in my teens, and was wrangled into going through confirmation anyway because Everyone Else's Kids Are Doing It Too. The aforementioned friend got to go through a non-religious version of the same thing, which I had not even known was an option, so I didn't think to ask for it. Being wrangled through jesus classes as a 15-year-old bag of spite who was only marginally self-aware enough to avoid physically wearing a fedora, I was not a pleasure to have in class.

My father was physically present in the house until I was 14, until my mother finally accepted that this man's presence might actually cause physical harm - his drunken attempts to cook almost caused a fire, and he drove drunk with me and my sister on board once - and he reluctantly agreed to be removed from the picture. His absence at home made no impact nor difference in our daily life, the man who sleeps in the spare room just wasn't sleeping in the spare room anymore.

We saw him frequently enough after that, he visited us for family events and joined us for outings. At some points I tried to bond with him, over mutual interests and passions, even tried to prompt him to join me on snide remarks about religions that he used to make all the time, but he would not. He refused to bond with his children even over mutually hating the same things. It slowly occurred to me over time that the reason why christianity had played any role in my life was because he had never, at any point at all, moved a finger to stop it. Harmless or not, he had no instinctive desire to move his children away from things he considered bad. He had hated it enough to make it known that he hates it, but genuinely just did not care enough to consider not letting him children grow up in an environment he loathed.

My father died when I was 17, and I never really mourned him - not out of hatred, but because his death had hardly even altered the empty absence that was his presence in my life. I had grown up with religious classes trying to tell me about a loving god, and I had not understood why I had hated it, why I felt betrayed and lied to. My relationship with the christian god I was taught to understand has been exactly the same as my relationship with my father.

Desperately shrieking into a void that is so vast that not even my own echo would answer, and knowing for certain that the dead silence I'm hearing in return is the complete, absolute absence of a loving Father.