#softness and structure

[thegardensdaughter]

🌑 ☆ New Garden Path ☆ 🌑

another path winds through the garden a mirror archive of my poetry, hosted on WritersCafe.

❀ step gently: https://www.writerscafe.org/GardensDaughter

this is another garden path my poetry, growing in a different corner of the internet, for those who prefer a quieter reading space, or simply want to watch the garden grow in new soil.

[szaryherbatnik]

HES SO FUCKING GOOFY LOOKING BUT LIKE. I DONT WANT TO CHANGE ANYTHING ABOUT HIM IM SO EMOTIONALLY ATTATCHED TO THIS CREATION.

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

He's so beautiful it makes me wish I knew how to sculpt

[bxnnie-bxwl]

I wanted to try and draw out how I imagine endos look in my style, and I was inspired by an artist’s idea of like a jaw mold to make them more realistic looking and justify my cartoony style and make it make more sense so I tried it out with bonnie.. hope it doesn’t give you nightmares HDJSBSB

inspired by the art of leafyn!

[ebechnasheim]

LASHES

If you know the owner let me know

[samazing0831]

Jessie's Girl - Steve Harrington x Reader

Steve Harrington x Reader - Song Lyric Challenge

Modern AU

WARNING - alcohol consumption, dubcon (if you squint), underage alcohol consumption, cheating (!)

Steve Harrington never liked Jessie. Maybe it's the cocky attitude, maybe it's the way Jessie takes everything for granted - including the girl curled up on his couch. Steve knows he shouldn't want her. She's Jessie's. Off-limits. But that doesn't stop him from falling anyway. A party. A kiss. A secret.

1.3k words

Jessie’s got himself a girl and I wanna make her mine.

It’s a thought Steve shouldn’t be having, especially not when the girl in question is curled up on Jessie’s couch wearing his Hawkins Tigers hoodie, laughing at something dumb on TV. But the thought keeps showing up, uninvited.

You look up at Steve from across the room, your smile lingering a little too long. Jessie doesn’t notice - he’s too busy trying to crush a beer can with one hand while bragging about something from gym class.

Steve leans against the doorway, arms crossed. He’s never liked Jessie. Too cocky. Too loud. Too unaware of how lucky he is.

And you? You’re just too damn much.

Too pretty, too funny, too good to be hanging on some guy who talks more to his biceps than to you.

But you’re Jessie’s girl.

And Steve’s not supposed to want you.

So he settles for the next best thing - teasing you, stealing glances, slipping into conversations when Jessie leaves the room. You flirt back. Just enough to keep it dangerous.

It’s harmless. Until it isn’t. 

The house is packed. Music is loud, drinks are flowing, and Steve’s buzzed enough to forget he’s not supposed to be watching you dance.

You’re tipsy, red solo cup in hand, hips swaying to the beat. Jessie’s nowhere to be seen, probably shot-gunning beers in the backyard. You’re surrounded by friends, but your eyes keep drifting - back to Steve.

He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, jaw clenched, watching you with that look he gets when he’s trying not to think.

She’s loving him with that body, I just know it.

He’s not wrong. You’ve been with Jessie for a while now. Everyone thinks you’re perfect together. But your smiles are more practiced these days, your kisses timed for an audience. When Steve looks at you, really looks, you feel seen. Like he knows the performance you’ve been putting on.

You find him outside later, sitting on the porch steps, fiddling with a bottle cap.

“You ditchin’ the party?” you ask.

He looks up. “Just taking a break. Too many drunk freshmen in there.”

You sit beside him, a little closer than necessary.

“Jessie’s probably playing beer pong. He won’t miss me.”

You’re right. He won’t.

There’s a beat of silence. The buzz, the music, the alcohol - it all swirls into something electric.

“I wish that I had Jessie’s girl,” Steve says suddenly, his voice low.

You blink. “What?”

He meets your eyes. Doesn’t flinch. “I wish you were mine.”

And then you’re kissing.

It’s hot, a little sloppy, desperate like you’ve both waited too long. Your hands are in his hair. His grip tightens on your waist. He groans against your mouth, and you swallow the sound like it’s your own.

Then -

“Babe?”

Jessie’s voice slices through the air.

You bolt upright, breathless. Steve’s lips are still red. You’re flushed, panicked.

“I’m here!” you call, voice cracking.

Jessie doesn’t see Steve - doesn’t really see - but the moment is shattered.

And Steve?

He’s already looking away.

You didn’t sleep much that night.

Jessie had passed out next to you after the party, one arm flung across your stomach like you were some kind of placeholder. You lay still, staring at the ceiling, lips still tingling from Steve’s kiss.

Your phone buzzed once. You didn’t need to look.

You already knew it was him.

The next morning, you avoided Steve in the hallway at school. And again in the cafeteria. But it didn’t stop the heat crawling up your spine when you caught his eye from across the lunchroom.

And I’m lookin’ in the mirror all the time,

Wonderin’ what she don’t see in me.

Steve was unraveling.

You weren’t the only one haunted by the patio kiss.

He’d been so sure you felt it too - that spark, that fire. But here you were, still walking around with Jessie’s stupid letterman jacket slung over your shoulders.

I’ve been funny, I’ve been cool with the lines.

Ain’t that the way love’s supposed to be?

He joked with Robin. He high-fived Dustin. He played it cool because that’s what Steve Harrington did. That’s what everyone expected.

But inside? Inside he was losing it.

I wanna tell her that I love her but the point is probably moot.

Then came the worst part.

You and Jessie - clinging to each other in the hall like it meant something. Like Steve wasn’t the one who had kissed you like he need you to breathe, like it had wrecked him for anyone else.

And Jessie?

Jessie, the dumbass, slapped Steve on the back at lunch and said, “Man, you should’ve seen how cute she was last night, all tipsy and clinging to me like a kitten.”

Steve wanted to throw up.

I feel so dirty when they start talkin’ cute

That night, you finally texted him.

You: Can we talk?

Steve: Please.

You met behind the old gym.

It was cold, but you didn’t care. Your hands were stuffed into your jacket pockets, and you were pacing when he got there.

Steve stopped a few feet away, eyes searching yours.

“You came,” he said quietly.

“Of course I did,” you whispered. “Steve, I -”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said, hands raised. “I get it. You’re with Jessie. I shouldn’t have -”

“No,” you said, stepping closer. “You should have. Because I wanted it. I want you.”

He froze.

“But I just can’t drop him like that,” you added, voice cracking. “His parents and mine - our friends, everyone thinks we’re perfect. But I’m just�� I’m pretending.”

I play along with the charade,

There doesn’t seem to be a reason to change.

Steve’s jaw tightened. “So what, we just keep pretending nothing happened?”

You looked up at him.

“I don’t want to,” you said. “But I need time.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Time.”

It wasn’t easy.

You waited a week - one long, aching, guilty week - before you broke up with Jessie.

He didn’t cry, but he looked like someone had knocked the wind out of him. “Is it someone else?”

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Steve?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

You showed up at Steve’s house two nights later, heart pounding so loud it nearly drowned out the knock of your fist on his door.

When he opened it, his expression was unreadable. You’d kept your distance since the night behind the gym. You couldn’t blame him if he didn’t trust you anymore.

“Hi,” you said, breathless from the cold.

Steve leaned against the doorframe. “Hi.”

You gave him a soft smile, nerves twisting in your stomach. “It’s over with Jessie.”

Steve’s eyes searched yours. “For real?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’m tired of pretending. I want to stop hiding.”

He stepped closer, voice quiet but sure. “And what do you want to do instead?”

Your hands found his chest, heart racing under your palms. “You.”

That was all he needed.

His mouth was on yours in a heartbeat - hungry, hot, like the weeks of tension had finally snapped. You tugged him to his couch, fingers sliding into his hair, and he let you pull, let you guide. His body pressed against yours like he was starving for you.

This kiss was different. Not a stolen moment in a hallway or a drunken blur at a party. It was real - open, honest, wanting.

His lips moved to your throat, and you gasped, hips tilting up into him. His hands slid beneath your shirt, fingers spreading over your ribs like he needed to feel every inch of you.

“God,” he whispered, “you drive me crazy.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you breathed.

And you meant it.

Where can I find a woman like that?

Turns out… she was here all along.

With him.

[missmeinyourbones]

HEY IM ABOUT TO GO BUCK FUCKING NUTS

[digitalmemoriez]

✫･ﾟ*.2006･ﾟ✫*.

[thegardensdaughter]

🌑 ⚝ Welcome to the Garden ⚝ 🌑

Below are a few paths you can take. Follow whichever ones whisper to you. Explore the oasis.

#the garden’s daughter

🖤 → the roots of this place. all of my original poems, the center of this garden.

#in the garden ♡

❀ → trinkets I’ve found and brought home for my plants. quotes, reblogs, and echoes.

#soft things ♡

♡ → healing moments, hopeful fragments, quieter days. water your plants, friend.

#picked petals ♡

⁕ → the poems that speak from the very deepest parts of my soul. my garden favorites.

#sun-warmed stones ♡

☀︎ → the poems I return to when the garden feels cold. heavy favorites, warmed by time. these stones are hot, friends. (topics may include self-harm, abuse, grief, depression, eating disorders.)

#garden thorns ♡

☆ → content warnings live here. tread gently, protect your garden ♡ (topics may include self-harm, abuse, grief, depression, eating disorders.)

[f-rg-tmigej]

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

I have a theory that dramatic lighting just follows him around of its own accord

[temeyes]

brush test ft THE colonel

[knockknockitsnickels]

... Is Idol Precure hinting at a redemption arc for Cutty? I kinda hope so!

[er-cryptid]

Soft Tissue Anatomy Vocabulary

Patreon

[longagoitwastuesday]

On the one hand, I don't believe Megumi and Gojo were ever too close, even if their apparent closeness called my attention since their first scene together because of the way they behaved and talked to each other.

On the other hand, Megumi was a fifteen years old with a lot of problems, a pretty bad childhood and a bit of an attitude to say the least, and Gojo, besides Tsumiki, was the "paternal" figure he could turn against

[dragonomatopoeia]

< guy who had to stop being an english instructor because the cruelties of usamerican academia crushed them into paste and they weren't allowed to help or support students in any meaningful way. lest they be fired from their position that paid less than a living wage