#succulent notebook

[chelseysizemore12]

"Succulent Notebook"

Published a cute journal on Amazon today! This super cute 8.5″ x 11″ notebook is great for all of your journaling needs! Colorful, lined and dated pages for easy note taking. Pretty blue and green watercolor pattern with cacti on the front. Click the link below image to view & purchase https://amzn.to/3YemIGv As an Amazon Associate I may earn from qualifying purchases

[chewybitart]

I fibbed: I worked on notebooks instead of painting doggies 😅🥲

[wolfythoughts]

5 Holiday Gift Ideas for the Sapphic Reader (with coupons)

5 Holiday Gift Ideas for the Sapphic Reader (with coupons)

Have someone in your life you need a gift for who loves sapphic (women loving women) books? Want a few book ideas but also a few ideas that aren’t reads to fill up the gift basket? Look no further, my friends, I’m here to help. Let’s start with a holiday themed book. In the Event of Love by Courtney Kae was just released this season, so it’s possible your intended recipient might not have read…

[thaikid8]

(via Copy of minimal cactus and succulent Art Printing , Modern Art , watercolor Spiral Notebook by Somkid Manowong)

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Let's Talk About That Chapter 1

Psychiatrist!Avenger!Fem!Reader × Wanda Maximoff

Summary: You are the young psychiatrist for the Avengers, and you take your job very seriously, but what happens when Wanda joins the team, turning your life upside down?

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: legal age gap r is 19 w is 25, talks of death and grief, a bit of angst, therapy sessions

A/N: I had this idea for a while and wrote it a while ago, but spruced it up for publishing. I hope you enjoy it!

May 7th-10th 2015

The only sounds to be heard were the scratches of your pen against paper as you wrote down notes the old fashioned way and the hum of the AC unit installed in your office. Tony let you have a nice corner of the tower where there was sunlight and windows. You had gone with a soft gray for the walls, an L-shaped mahogany desk that had both a desktop computer and your laptop. Across from your desk was two couches and a coffee table between them with an assortment of fidget toys, a succulent, a handful of magazines, and a box of tissues. 

Everyone had been away on an important mission and normally you’d go with, but you'd been recovering from a previous injury, you still are when you hear a knock on your door, 

"Open." You let them know and just from their aura you can tell it's Tasha, but she's with someone else, an aura you don't recognize. You look up to find a girl with chestnut colored hair, and a dark aura around her. "Hey Tash. I'm glad you're all home safe. I'm assuming we'll restart our sessions?" You ask the red head. 

"Yes. We can resume them. Tomorrow. Today I need you to have a talk with this one." Tasha helps her into the room and gestures for her to sit down, Tasha walks over and hands you a large file. "She came from HYDRA, they had a lot of info on her, she had joined us in the fight against Ultron." Tasha tells you before lowering her voice, "She lost her twin brother during the battle. So maybe you can get her to talk." You smile at Tasha and then look past the red head. 

"Yeah of course we shouldn't have any issues Tash. Leave it to me." You tell her as I adjust your glasses, quickly looking over her file as Tasha exits, closing the door behind her, "Wanda Maximoff, 25, born in Sokovia." You say out loud as you walk around your desk to the other couch across from where she's sitting criss-cross. You take notice she's taken her shoes off and smile, taking note of the fact that she’s comfortable enough to do something like that. "I'm Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I'm 19. I'm also an Avenger. I have a power that allows me to see auras and emotions. I can also influence people's emotions and use my voice to influence others around me." You tell her a little about yourself first to help make her comfortable with talking about herself.

"You're 19? How are you a doctor?" She finally talks and you can hear her thick Sokovian accent which is like music to your ears. 

"I'm very smart. Graduated high school at 12 finished my Doctorate last year for psychiatry and Tony took me in as the Avengers Psychiatrist shortly after that. Everyone here needs a little bit of help and that is what I'm here to provide for you." You smile at her as you open a fresh notebook for her, choosing a red covered one noticing that she was wearing Tasha’s red leather jacket. "So tell me a little about yourself. Anything you want." You ask as you jot down her basic info on the first page. 

"I love American sitcoms." she tells you first. You smile and look at her over your glasses. 

"Why is that?" You ask as you jot down her words. 

"We used to watch them as a family every night so we could learn English." She tells you making a smile appear on your face. 

"When you say we who does that entail?" You question the Sokovian wanting to get to the root of her problems. 

"My Mama, Papa, and Pietro..." She tells you solemnly. 

"Who is Pietro?" You inquire, looking up from your notebook. 

"He is...was...my twin brother." You jot down everything she says during your session and she does open up a little bit with some persuasion on your part, but that isn't unusual for your sessions. 

"Well Wanda thank you for opening up to me. Your aura is looking a little warmer from when you first walked in. How about you come back in three days for another session?" You tilt your head as you grab a little card for her. 

"Why three days?" She asks nervously, tugging at her sleeves attempting to cover her hands, but the jacket doesn't budge. She starts picking at her nails as an alternative, chipping the black nail polish further. 

"I like to have frequent sessions the first month. Then we'll have them weekly just like the others." You let her know and she nods her head as you write the date and time for her to show up on the card for three days from now. Standing up with her, "I offer a high fives, hand shakes, fist bumps, or a hug at the end of sessions. Which would you like?" You ask and she's thrown off a bit by the statement at first but then answers. 

"Hug. I could use a hug right now." You open up your arms and let her come to you. She ends up crying in your arms as you sooth her, letting her know it is okay to cry. 

"I'll always be here for you Wanda. I'm always on your side." You whisper to her and she holds you tighter at the words.

You sat back down at your desk after Wanda left, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. Empathy for Wanda's pain, determination to help her heal, and a lingering sense of dread about what HYDRA had done to her. But you pushed those feelings aside, focusing on the task at hand.

As the Avengers' psychiatrist, it was your responsibility to help your teammates navigate the mental and emotional toll of their work. Sometimes that meant delving into painful memories or difficult emotions, but it was a role you took on willingly. After all, you had your own share of struggles, and if you could use your powers to help others, then it was worth it.

You glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time for lunch. You decided to take a break and head to the common area, where you found Tony tinkering with one of his suits.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted you with a grin. "How's it going?"

"Good," you replied, sinking into a nearby chair. "Just had a session with Wanda. She's been through a lot."

Tony nodded solemnly. "Yeah, losing her brother and all that HYDRA stuff... it's rough."

You sighed, running a hand through your Y/H/C hair. "Yeah, but she's strong. I think she'll come through it."

Tony gave you a reassuring smile before returning to his work, and you took a moment to appreciate the camaraderie of the team. Despite your differences and the challenges you guys faced, you were a family, bound together by our shared experiences and our commitment to protecting the world.

After a quick lunch, you headed back to your office to prepare for your next session. As you reviewed your notes from Wanda's session, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to her story, something hidden beneath the surface. But for now, all you could do was continue to offer her support and hope that she would find the strength to confront her demons and emerge stronger on the other side.

With that thought in mind, you square your shoulders and prepare to face whatever challenges lay ahead. As an Avenger, a psychiatrist, and a friend, you were ready to do whatever it took to help your teammates and protect the world from whatever threats may come our way.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Three days passed in a blur of meetings, training sessions, and the occasional emergency mission. But today, you were back in your office, eagerly awaiting Wanda's return for your second session. As you sat at your desk, reviewing your notes from your previous meeting, you couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for her. Losing a loved one in battle was something you could relate to all too well.

Before you could dwell too much on your own past, there was a soft knock on your door, and Wanda stepped into the room. Her aura seemed a bit brighter today, though still tinged with sadness. "Hey, Wanda," you greeted her with a warm smile, motioning for her to take a seat. "How are you feeling today?"

Wanda hesitated for a moment before answering, "Better, I think. Thank you for... everything last time."

You nodded, understandingly. "Of course. It's what I'm here for." You gestured toward the notebook on the table. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

For the next hour, the two of you delved deeper into Wanda's past, her memories of Sokovia, her time with HYDRA, and her experiences with her brother, Pietro. With each word she spoke, you could feel her emotions swirling around you, and you did your best to guide her through them, offering comfort and support where you could.

As your session came to a close, Wanda seemed visibly lighter, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Y/N," she said softly, wiping away a stray tear. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of fulfillment wash over you. "Anytime, Wanda. Remember, I'm always here for you."

Before she left, Wanda surprises you by reaching out and giving you a tight hug. "Thank you," she repeated, her voice thick with emotion.

As you watched her leave your office, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to help someone in need, to make a difference in their life, even if it was just one session at a time. And as you glanced down at the Power Stone embedded in your chest, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this was the true source of your ability to connect with others on such a deep level. But for now, all that mattered was that you were making a difference, one session at a time.

[appleblueberry-pie]

I NEED MORE YANDERE e42 MILES!!!!

This is a list of things he's done without your knowledge.

"Sneaked" two thousand dollars into your savings account. Best part about this is you actually never did find out that he did this. You just thought you were finally becoming financially responsible.

Fixed your TV remote 2 times.

Bought you more boxes of ramen.

Learned to make your favorite dessert.

Drove your ex's car off of a cliff

Drove your ex's girlfriend's car off of a cliff

Got on your teacher's good side for you.

Started doing calisthenics

Became pescatarian

Stopped drinking energy drinks and instead became a tea-drinker

Donated to 5 animal shelters and volunteered to help feed the homeless(one of the short programs he joined at school)

Broke 3 ribs and repaired

Got stabbed and repaired

Illegally traded with dominating gangs in Brooklyn

Illegally helped transport medicine inside of hospitals due to dominating gangs in Brooklyn

Tried on shoes he wanted to get for you to see if they'd be comfortable, understanding that people would think he's flaming for doing so.

Tried on earrings he wanted to get for you, thinking if it looked good on him, it would definitely look good on you, understanding that people would think he's flaming for doing so.

Same thing with perfume.

Got scared of you when you interrogated him for smelling like the new perfume he just bought you.

Whispers compliments to you when you sleep on his shoulder while y'all take the train.

Screamed like a lil girl when he picked up a potted plant from a flower shop, hoping to get you a succulent, and a slug dropped from the crevice of the pottery, plopped onto his hand, heavy, cold, and slimy.

Listens to all Ariana Grande albums

Annually kidnaps all boys who he knew premeditated asking you to prom, knowing your his, and drops them off by a random lake in the dead of night. Tied up, taped mouth, lightly drugged, and confused.

Attempted to give up being tender-headed so his mama could do his hair in that cool ass pattern he knew you wouldn't be able to stop admiring. It didn't work, but the result definitely made you happy.

Bombed 2 drug major illegal drug factories. Probably one of the main reasons why the crime underworld hates him.

Sketched over 40 different ways the wedding ring he plans to give you will look.

Finished 2 big notebooks that are just full of rants and drawings of you. He's halfway through his 3rd one.

Has a pinterest board just like yours that is full of clothing and room aesthetics that you like. Plans to make most of them a reality for you.

Kicks his feet at ur messages.

[ataraxiaspainting]

One More Hour.

Megumi x GN Reader.

Synopsis: After nearly a whole day of spending time in your boyfriend’s dorm, he still wants more. Can you really deny him that wish, especially after he has bribed you with more chocolate and plushies, along with cuddling his dogs?

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

we fell in love in october by girl in red

Honeypie by JAWNY

I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

Training Wheels by Melanie Martinez

Bubble Gum by Clairo

Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny

As It Was by Harry Styles

Mayonaka no Door / Stay With Me by Miki Matsubara

Hey Lover! by Wabie

Electric Love by BØRNS

*~*~*~*

No matter how much time passes, Megumi's dorm room remains unchanged in appearance and function.

The door glides open effortlessly unless Megumi has locked it for the night or day.

The rear wall of his room boasts fully stocked bookshelves, primarily filled with history books and nonfiction literature. This tends to annoy you, as reading any of them inevitably leads to immediate boredom-induced sleep. Once, you suggested that Megumi should embrace more imaginative reads, prompting him to respond with a half-serious glare that may have been annoyance or simply playful teasing, a common occurrence when the two of you are alone.

Megumi sleeps on a single futon, always left in a disheveled state, which is rather peculiar considering his typically organized nature. Even you occasionally make your bed, unless you're too tired in the mornings. However, Megumi consistently leaves his futon untidy, with stacks of nonfiction books near his pillow, as is his custom.

You always ponder silently, wondering if he keeps such boring books near his bedside so he can fall asleep faster, a mischievous smile forming within.

In the far corner of his dorm room sits his desk, always facing away from you. On it, you'll find Megumi's trusty laptop, open notebooks filled with scattered ideas, a collection of books, a handful of succulents and bonsai seedlings, and if you're fortunate, his Nintendo Switch. It's likely occupied by the perpetual loading screen of Animal Crossing: New Horizons, Omori, or Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Although he claims to play these games solely to appease your persistent recommendations, deep down you suspect he genuinely enjoys them. Of course, if you were to ever voice this suspicion, he wouldn't hesitate to sell his beloved Nintendo Switch on some online auction platform right before your eyes, subjecting you to a rather cruel spectacle.

However, he would undoubtedly retract his decision at the last possible moment. Megumi may possess various traits, but intentionally causing you emotional pain out of spite is certainly not one of them.

“‘Gumi, what’s your favorite type of chocolate?”

At your question, Megumi stares at you like you have grown a second face like Tomie Kawakami. Surely to him, you’re also just as pretty right, minus the second face thing? You’ll have to put it on your list of impulsive things to ask him, physically writing it down or otherwise.

In your hands is the heart-shaped box he had just given to you as a supposed reward for not having talked his ears off. Along with not having thrown his gift, a container of some homemade strawberry cake that you made from a boxed mix, that you would never admit, at him when he inevitably made some teasing quip. You aren’t known for being exactly willing to let insults from fellow peas in your pod pass without them hammering back. It is just what you do.

He may avoid the question, but at least he will still be chained down to sitting with you on the floor if you keep on pouting with every action he takes.

As always, acting like he is being held hostage in his own dorm room, he shuffles from side to side instead of responding. He’s faking being nervous again. Even if you wanted to, you could never actually hurt Megumi.

He looks at the floor, feigning confusion and fear.

You sigh.

There is a slight smirk that appears on his face as you do so.

He can be such a dick sometimes, intentionally or not, although him being the former is quite rare, he only does it with you. The duality of such a foreign species of a man called Megumi Fushiguro, you guess.

“Cherry, of course.” Of course. “I just love it. You should know that. Bec-”

Immediately, your hand slaps over his mouth like its life depends on it.

“Don’t you dare, everyone knows I hate cherry-flavored things!”

Like he was drowning, Megumi acts out a struggle and as soon as your hand is off, he takes in deep breaths, inhaling in and out quickly like you had single-handedly made him see the heavens itself. He is strange. But so are you.

So, against your better judgment, you throw your copy of Crime and Punishment, all 700 pages of it, at him, hitting his forehead with a loud slamming sound erupting from the attack.

“Ow!” Megumi exclaims, rubbing the sore spot with his hands. Maybe your actions were over the top? Yet, then again, so was his.

You cross your arms. “Deserved.”

“I can take away that rabbit plush I gave you last week.”

“You wouldn’t dare, Fushiguro.”

“I would. You’re lucky, though. I don’t usually tease anyone aside from you.”

That’s true. Megumi is stoic in all matters, from cooking to reading. That is, aside from matters where a closed door and you are involved. It is like he becomes an entirely different person, you heavily, heavily doubt Yuji would believe you if you told him.

Even on dates, he is never this expressive. If anything, he is a well-meaning but cold Prince Charming whenever the general public has eyes on him. If only that were true.

“But really, what is your favorite type of chocolate?”

His smirk disappears, replaced with a thoughtful expression.

“Hmm.” Perhaps the all-powerful concussion made him go back to normal? That would make sense. “Coffee, maybe.”

“Huh? Why, to still satisfy your caffeine addiction?”

“Goes well with ginger.”

“What?”

It is a hard-to-stomach image that appears in your head; Megumi eating Shogayaki for breakfast with black coffee along with coffee-flavored chocolates on the side. It makes you sick just thinking about it. If that vision ever became an unfortunate reality, you could imagine yourself looking at the scene in pure horror. 

He isn’t teasing you if his expression tells you anything.

He’s serious.

“They aren’t that sweet either.” He really is serious. “You know I don’t like sweet side dishes. Ginger and coffee are a good combination.”

He really is fucking serious.

“Get out, Megumi.”

“...This is my-”

“Argh! Don’t care! Get out!”

[alonetimelover]

Action! - tolerate it - 2020

Pairings: Harry Styles x Director!Reader

Summary: YN sees how much Harry is distancing himself from her and their relationship. She decides to confront him, not realising the cascade of events about to happen and the feelings she had buried within herself.

Warnings: angst! swearing, mention of unfaithfulness

Word count: ~3,0k

A/N: Another one based on a song, like the title says: tolerate it by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy it! x

requested by @abbeyroad069 I hope it meets your expectations 💗

part 2 - champagne problems

series masterlist let's talk about action!universe

20th of June was, like any day in California, warm and sultry.

Sun high above illuminating his face through the dimmed windows. Book that she recommended to him in his hands, flipping pages from time to time, annotating it. Scribbling in his notebook after having found a noteworthy quote. His hair falling into place like dominoes, the pink hair-slide having been forgotten from the gym the other day. Rolled up sleeves, showing his multiple tattoos and shorts, short enough to give her a peak of his Brazil one. 

She was sitting opposite him watching. Observing his head hanging low, reading the book she loved so much. His chest was rhythmically lifting with each of the deep and calm breath. His left hand, folding down the pages he’d already read. The right one fiddling with the pencil. 

She noticed everything he did and didn’t do. 

She sat and watched him. 

“I can feel your eyes on me, baby,” Harry spoke without sparing her a glance. “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring.” Scrutinising. 

Harry closed the book and turned to her, “are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Not now, at least. Also that plant hasn’t changed since the day we bought it,” he noted, noticing her eyes watching the flower. 

He was wrong. Not for the first and probably last time. That plant was the fourth she brought to their shared house. The first one, that Harry was alluding to, was overwatered, because before it, YN hadn’t known much about plants and had thought they needed water like people, every day. But it was succulent. YN replaced it within two weeks. 

The second plant, a completely different one - a fuchsia, didn’t last longer. This one being unfortunately knocked over by a dog of YN’s friend, and chewed on, leaving just two flowers. Nothing she could’ve done with them, she searched it up. 

The third one lasted the longest - almost three months. She only needed to replace it, having learned she was allergic to ficus. After weeks of a runny nose, sneezing whenever in a living room and lacrimation, she went to a doctor, did allergic tests and wallowed over her proud achievement that a living plant was. However, she gave it to her best friend, knowing it would be in good hands. 

Harry didn’t notice any change. It couldn’t have been easy for him though. Today was the first day in five months that he decided to actually spend time with YN. During those months he was meeting up with his new costars (of a movie YN was a director of), his management (discussing newest album), his bandmates (talking over new tour dates). All of that after having begged YN for moving in with him in LA, due to worldwide quarantine. 

“You know it’s an orchid?” She asked after some time. 

“Sure.”

“And the one we bought together was a crassula.”

“You threw away our Farquad?” He asked, exaggerating the hurt.  

 “Three months - no, wait - almost four months ago. I overwatered it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not even the funniest part,” YN started to sound sarcastic. “I then bought a totally different plant that Doger knocked over and ate. Then another one that I - how it turned out - am allergic to. This one is the fourth plant here. I bought it two weeks ago. Isn’t it hilarious?”

“You’re being sarcastic. And I don’t even know what for, YN.” Harry reached for his book, attempting to restart the chapter. 

YN was very much surprised by how quickly and drastically the person she loved could change. One talkative person who wanted to discuss the slightest and smallest problem with his partner was not here. One caring person, who was hurt whenever his loved one was, felt absent. One gentle man, who looked after his partner trying to be the best for her lost the title.

“You understand it’s not about plants?” 

“It sounds like it is,” he said dismissively, staring at the book. 

“But it isn’t. It’s about you, about us, Harry.” She emphasised the pronoun.  

“YN,” he sighed, closing the book once again. “You’re starting this pointless argument for the third time this month.”

Fifth, she thought. It was the fifth time she tried to talk it over with Harry. Perhaps, she felt, she was misreading everything. Perhaps, the neglect she felt wasn't real. She must have been exaggerating the situation. Nothing changed. He loved her as much as yesterday or two years ago. It was pointless after all.

She was waiting by the door just like she was just a kid. Waiting, having laid the table with a ‘fancy shit’ as Harry called the tableware that he’d got from his mother. It was their anniversary. YN wanted to celebrate it simply, a cosy dinner with his favourite dish, Harry’s best wine and Phil Collins playing in the background. Nothing over the top. Just them, solemnising their third year together. 

He was late. Two and half hours late. 

Was she mad? She should have been, but was hopeful. Always putting so much faith in him. 

“What are you doing still up, love?” He asked tiptoeing into the house, five hours later.

“Happy anniversary!” 

She smiled from one ear to the other, holding up the cake she had baked by herself that morning. Even though, deep down she was sad and disappointed, celebrating this milestone was more important. They’d forget about this tardiness tomorrow, only remembering what was worth it.

“Oh! Indeed, happy anniversary, babe.” His eyes not knowing where to look. He forgot.

She hated being called babe. 

“Did you have dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m full.” He patted his stomach, simultaneously taking off his black trainers. “We went to this new sushi restaurant I’d talked to you about. It was amazing! The chef was so nice, giving me a tip on how to chop the spring onions correctly.” Oh, how eager he was about it. 

“Exciting. So you won’t be eating any tacos I made?” She asked hopefully. 

“‘M sorry, YN. I’m so tired, I'm just gonna shower and head to bed. Tomorrow’s morning I’m meeting up with Olivia to talk over the few scenes we’ve got together,” Harry said, yawning and already going up the stairs. 

Harry’s and Olivia’s characters didn’t have any scenes where they would talk with each other. 

“It’s not an argument. I want to kindly and calmly talk with you. When was the last time we actually discussed our relationship?” 

“Is there anything to discuss? We’re fine.”

“Harry,” YN sat up straight, giving Harry a pointer that he’d better listen. “You don’t only discuss your relationship when something’s wrong. And,” she paused, pondering about the next question, “you really think we’re fine?”

“Yes!” He lifted up his voice, becoming edgy. “Day after day you’re insinuating something. Just say it fucking straight, whatever that is on your heart, lay it on me.” 

If she did as he had said, would it mean the end? The confrontation was the last thing she wanted. Especially when Harry already was wired. But at the same time, when would be a better moment?

“I don’t think we’re fine. We’re growing apart,” she admitted. 

“It’s your opinion.”

“Yes, it is! Thank you for noticing, Harry,” YN expressed sarcastically. “Don’t you see how much you’ve distanced yourself from this -” She pointed between them. “This relationship?”

“Distanced? I’m working, YN. I’m trying to write an album. I’m working on three films. I’m managing a relationship with you.”

“Managing?” Her voice smaller, the weight of his words landing on her.

“Of course, it’s the only fucking thing you’ve heard. Of course.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

Harry stood up from the armchair, throwing his book on an oaken coffee table. His hands brushing over his hair and then beard, he’d grown over the quarantine. 

“It’s not. You’re working, Harry. I understand that. I see you writing music and preparing for your roles. I’m here. Just like you wanted me to be. How you begged me to be.” She tried staying as calm as possible. “I am here and you’re not.”

“What do you want me to do, YN? Hmm? I can’t be at the two places at the same time. I can’t give you as much attention as you crave. I can’t.” He was throwing his hands up and down, talking with them as well. 

“Is it craving attention by just wishing your partner was there for you?”

“You think I’m not?”

“Stop asking stupid questions, Harry!” She broke her calmness, all her feelings finally having space to leave her body. “You’re not here. Not at home, not in this relationship.”

“I just said, I can’t give you all the attention you crave, “ he repeated. 

“Love?”

“What?”

“What about love? Can you give it to me?”

“Oh, now you’re sounding ridiculous. I’m done with this conversation, YN.”

He moved swiftly over the table and rushed towards the stairs. 

“I love you, Harry. Can you say it?”

He can’t, she said in her mind, observing how his shoulders tensed, halting his movements. Then, her eyes started getting teary. But she wasn’t going to cry in front of him. No. She’d wait and just like over the last two weeks, she’d wait for him to go to sleep, then she’d sit down in the downstairs bathroom and sob. Sob for minutes or hours. Shaking with all the emotions trapped inside, hurting every inch of her body.

She knew her love should have been celebrated. 

“If it’s all in my head just tell me now,” she whispered, knowing he could hear her. “Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow. Tell me that for the last five months you haven’t lied about where you were going. Tell me that you really didn’t forget about our anniversary. Tell me that she’s not the one you’re going to every day. Tell me I’m wrong. I beg you,” she whimpered. 

Pathetic, she thought. 

He still hadn’t moved. Maybe he was preparing his apology, or a break up discourse, where YN’s thoughts. 

“YN,” Harry sighed, still not looking in her direction. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” She pressed him. 

“I - I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if I’m wrong or you don’t know what to say?”

“I didn’t cheat on you.” His voice was low, like it wasn’t really his. 

Many would laugh but she had never thought about it. She trusted him too much to even consider it. From day one of their relationship to this day, she’d never believed any rumour, any post on social media, any article, any fan, any ‘friend’. She believed him, she believed his ‘I love you’s, his ‘I care about you’s, his ‘you’re the love of my life’, his ‘you’re the only one for me’. No doubt there. 

What she thought and worried about was him falling out of love.

And there were more and more signs it had already happened.

“I know. It never crossed my mind.”

Harry’s mood was changing constantly for the last 20 minutes. From very relaxed, to riled up, then annoyed and eventually scared. His mind was full of enigmas he couldn’t solve. Mixed emotions and feelings, messing with him. 

“Then what are you accusing me of?”

“Assuming I - we - are fine.”

“YN-”

“Harry. Be genuine. If not with me, then - then just with yourself.” The least she could do was make him realise it.

“I am. I - I am genuine. I -” he gulped. “I love you.” 

It was like a dagger stabbing her in the heart. The sentence, echoing in her brain, quizzical voices talking over each other, ragging on her. 

Where was that man who’d throw blankets over her barbed wire? She made him her temple, her mural, her sky. Temple, she went to ask for advice, direction, forgiveness and adoration. Mural, she appreciated all over and watched being appreciated by so many. Sky, she couldn’t imagine living without, looking up to it, thanking it for its presence. 

“I love you.” 

But this one was full of it, full of actual love. It could say everything just by the way she expressed it, all feelings inside it. No more to add, nothing to cut. Just three words. Three sincere words. 

“Please,” he begged, knowing what was awaiting him. “Can we go to sleep? We’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise.”

Letting it slide would mean not talking about it until the moment she’d grow some confidence. She couldn’t do it. As much as it hurt her, what was coming, she needed to be strong. She needed to hear it. No matter the heartbreak. 

“You’ll break that promise. Promises about coming home on time, meeting me up for lunch, going with me to that new sushi restaurant, showing me your newest idea for a song. Promises you break, one after the other since February.” She stood up, walking up to him. “Promises about missing me-”

“Stop.”

“Promises about caring about me.”

“I said stop, YN.” His voice slowly gaining power. 

“Promises about loving me-”

“I said stop!” He shouted, making her flinch. “Stop it, YN! The way you feel doesn’t give you a reason to put it on me, making me feel like a monster, like the one responsible for everything.”

“But you promised all those things, not meeting them at the end.”

“So what?”

She begged her brain to play with her. He didn't just say it. 

“Harry, you lied so many times that I don’t know what’s true anymore. Last month, you talked about meeting Jeff for coffee and the next day there were photos of you with Olivia all over the internet. Few days ago you mentioned the trip with Chris and Gemma, but the same day the trip is going to be, are the days Gemma is spending at her parent’s farm and Chris is visiting our house. Today you said you loved me and - and -,” she couldn’t say it. 

This conversation felt like running up to the finish line of the run, you didn’t want to participate in. One that wouldn’t bring you fulfilment. One that would leave you sore all over, but mostly hurting your poor heart. One that the winner - you - would be an actual loser. 

He stood silently, looking down at his white socks. He couldn’t bring himself to look in her eyes. She made him aware of his feelings. Or the lack of them. This whole conversation not only angered or annoyed him but mostly made him think. Why did he lie so many times? Why couldn’t he stop? What was he thinking then and now? When did it all start? When did he lose it? Where was he, not realising he was hurting one person he promised not to lay a finger on? Why wasn't there any guilt? If so, why couldn’t he look into her eyes?

“When was the last time you asked anything about my life? Do you remember what show I’m working on? Do you remember the date we scheduled to fly to London? Do you remember anything?” She started listing everything that was bothering her.

“I told you about that new show,” she started answering for him. “Stranger Things. I wrote that one character, a guy who loves music, is an outcast. Character that is so close to my heart. One, I’m proudest of. Do you remember talking about it? Or rather me telling you about it?”

Silence. 

“What about that one conversation about going upstate to my cabin? We’re supposed to leave in three days. Or are you meeting up with Olivia to discuss scenes that you do not have together?” 

Perhaps she was jealous. And perhaps, deep down, she thought about the possibility. The infidelity. She was so stunned with the love he made her used to be, trust he provided, that the concept of him being unfaithful was buried within other problems. 

“I’ll pack some stuff and leave for a few days.” It was all he said, before moving upstairs, leaving her flabbergasted. 

Like in a trance, all feelings leaving her body, she walked to the couch and sat down. Thoughts were swirling in her mind, making her numb. She looked across the room, finding the photo of her and Harry from their first visit at Anne’s, laughing maniacally because Gemma had said something funny. It was the first time she met his family properly (in real life, not on FaceTime), seven months into the relationship. It was crazy how now she considered them her family too. Even more than her own.

Was it all going to collapse now? 

“Now, lovebirds, big smiles for the family album!” Anne shouted over Christmas music playing loudly. 

The warmth coming from the fireplace behind her, and the one provided by Harry, made her cheeks feel hot. Matching sweater she had bought for her and Harry, tickling her neck, big woollen socks she got from Gemma tucking her. They were right after the big dinner, carols singing and gifts exchanging. It all felt like Christmas portrayed in movies. 

“It’s an honour, you know,” Harry whispered. 

“What d’you mean?” She looked up at him. 

“Mum has a big album with only a few photos from each year ending up there. I think it’s the last vacant space for 2018, love.” Harry squeezed her closer to himself, cuddling her. “Now say cheese or gimme a kiss.”

“I’m not kissing you in front of your mum!” she protested with a teasing smile. 

“Don’t be a prude,” he joked. “One, little kiss?” 

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’. 

“Don’t make me beg.” Harry pouted, stepping on the dangerous territory. His pointing finger holding her chin, making her look at him once again. 

He smirked, “you look even more beautiful today, my love.” Smirk turning into his winning smile. 

“You are unbelievable,” she shook her head, slightly puckering her lips. 

“Okay, that’s enough flirting!” Gemma yelled. “Mum snap a photo before you become grandma.”

They laughed in embarrassment but underneath feeling peaceful.

With a Gucci suitcase in hand, Harry appeared in a corner of her eye, almost swimming to the front door. 

“I’ll be back in a few days. I - I need to think about it all. I lo - I’ll see you then, YNN.” 

Just that. 

The door closed, soon being followed by the sound of the engine starting and slowly withering. 

She knew her love should’ve been celebrated. But he tolerated it.

And she did nothing.

She sat and watched him. 

[raythekiller]

hi there!! omg i just wanna say i love your writing and your art so so so much!! thank you for keeping the fandom well-fed and alive o7! if you don’t mind me asking, what are your thoughts on the slendermansion? like the layout, how it operates, and what creeps live there :D tysm!!! - tulip anon (if it’s not already taken lol)

🗒 ❛ Slendermansion Headcanons ༉‧₊˚✧

#Notes: I have so many thoughts about this omg

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

First off, I think it's a manor instead of a mansion. Mansions are simply big houses located normally on neighbourhoods while manors are often times isolated, are bigger and have some land around them with maybe some other buildings in the property. There are three main floors, along with a basement and an attic. The first floor has a big ass entrance, a living room, kitchen, dinning room, nurse's office and storage, while the second one is almost exclusively for bedrooms, most of which have suites (but there is a community bathroom as well on all three main floors). The third floor has the proxy's bedrooms, Slenderman's room and a library. Every bedroom comes with a bed and a closet, but everything else the creeps have to either make or acquire in some way by themselves (Sally is an exception). Everyone works for and obeys Slenderman and in return receive clothes, food and a place to live. The only creep that doesn't live there is Jane. Here's some bedroom headcanons:

JEFF: A mess, lives in the second floor. The walls were shitly painted black by him and you can see several missing spots. There are some band and horror movie posters on the walls and you can barely see the floor because of the amount of clothes and trash scattered around. His blinds are always closed and they are that thick type that doesn't let any sunlight get through. Deadass lives like a vampire.

BEN: Another mess, also in the second floor. There are snacks and food wrappings all around the floor and several videogames posters on the wall, along with a pro gamer computer set complete with a LED keyboard, mouse and headset, also a big ass television. His walls are a yellowish green, also with some missing spots.

TOBY: Lives in the third floor, his walls are beige and his bed covers are a brownish orange flannel. Windows always open to let some fresh air in. It's filled with several trinkets he stole from his victims and actually looks kind of aesthetic pleasing if you ignore how unorganized it is, kinda like those indie bedrooms you see on Pinterest. Has a few house plants scattered around, like cactus and succulents, nothing too difficult to take care of (he doesn't have much of a green thumb).

EYELESS JACK: Lives in the basement, since he uses the freezers in there to store his food. Not very decorated, since he spends most of his time in the nurse's office, save from the blood (if you can call that decoration).

LAUGHING JACK: Lives in the attic. Has several kids toys he steals from his victims, all of which he DIY'd to be black and white like him. His old music box is on a prestigious self on top of his bed.

MASKY: Pretty organized, lives on the third floor. Mostly consists of brownish colors and tones. Has one of those clothes racks where he keeps his flannels and some old bands posters on the walls. Nothing too fancy. Makes his bed every morning.

HOODIE: Lives in the third floor. Kinda messy, but in a fancy way. Has several notebook pages torn off with song lyrics he writes sitting around, along with manuscript papers. His guitar is normally resting by his bed and is decorated with stickers. Masky makes fun of him for it, but he has fairy lights.

BLOODY PAINTER: Lives in the second floor, but has an exclusive art studio in the property outside of the manor that looks like a little shack. His walls are white, but covered in paint splashes, so they're very colorful, same thing with the floor. Has many canvases laying around, filled and empty, as well as acrylic paints and papers with random sketches and thumbnails.

X-VIRUS: Lives in the third floor. His walls are black and with several shelves, all with test tubes, flasks and beakers filled with strange and glowing chemicals inside of them. Has LED lights on the corners of the ceiling, always shining green. Has every lab equipment you could think of, from microscopes to bunsen burners and magnetic stirrers.

CLOCKWORK: Lives in the second floor. The most aesthetically pleasing room. Has tarot tapestry hanging from the walls and ceiling as well as those fake vines. Her walls are filled head to toe with drawings she makes herself, also those aesthetic posters with plants and butterflies and such. Speaking of, she has fake paper butterflies hanging on the ceiling. Uses monster cans as flower pots. Has a ukulele sitting in the corner that she gave up on learning how to play.

KATE THE CHASER: Left her room the way she found it, all white walls and a single closet and a bed with no covers. Barely ever steps inside of it. It's located on the third floor.

NINA THE KILLER: Lives in the second floor. Her room genuinely looks like some kind of early 2000's emo parade. Walls covered entirely in band posters (especially the main singers) and an unholy amount of plushies, mostly sanrio ones. Has a shelf only for her Monster High dolls.

SALLY: Second floor. Any little girl's dream bedroom. Fairy lights, pink walls, an insane amount of plushies and dolls as well as a dollhouse. Has some of her drawings pinned on the walls.

bonus!

LANE: Third floor. Grey walls with some band and horror movies/series posters, especially Supernatural, along with some random sketches pinned. A lot of plants sitting around on the shelves, floor and windowsill. Windows always open. Their bed has black covers and a hand-saw fox plushie laying by the pillow.

[lovemyavatar]

other post got deleted so reposting!

STAR GIRL

| Lo'ak x F!Avatar Reader |

summary: they say curiosity killed the cat, but what about an Avatar?

warnings: no Lo’ak in this chapter, reader is dumb

notes: reader is 15 in this, will be aged up (as will other characters) in later parts

chapter one

Before

Sometimes, you think if you stare hard enough, long enough, that the flora of Pandora will open itself to you.

Your eyes squint against the bright sun looming above. They threaten to cross—again—so you screw them shut tightly before letting them pop open, refocused. The world tilts upward ever so slightly with each deep breath that enters your lungs, before falling back down with every exhale.

The earth beneath your chest is sturdy, a constant reminder that you are here. That this is real.

Part of you is convinced that if you just look deeper, the secrets of Pandora’s beauty will become clear. Your head tilts to the side, long blades of grass rustling against your cheek as a gentle breeze caresses your exposed back.

It’s a hot day in the rainforest. Few clouds dot the sky, leaving you to bake beneath the sun as you explore the open field. You’d found the spot a few days before when you were supposed to be gathering yovo fruit for the staff at the lab.

You still managed to return with a basketful, but not before you’d spent ample time mapping the location of this field. It was perfect. A small haven of openness in the otherwise densely populated Pandoran landscape. You’d silently promised to return on your next day off, and you never break a promise. Not even one to yourself.

Not more than ten minutes after your human body awoke, you were climbing into a pod to gain access to your own painstakingly developed Avatar. Eclipse had barely transitioned into day when you arrived, gently tossing your tote bag onto the ground with a satisfied exhale.

Several hours passed in the blink of an eye. You explored and frolicked, occasionally pulling out your notebook to help identify unknown plants or animals.

Now, you lay on the ground, curious eyes trained on a plant you haven’t yet seen before. It’s large, as are most living things on the moon. Thick, green leaves wrap around its base, forming a skirt that cascades down the flat surface it grew from. It’s petals are an iridescent mix of blue and purple. They curve up and inward, loosely resembling the succulent plants once common on Earth.

With each kiss of the wind, tiny speckles of pollen rise from the middle of the plant. They glint against the sunlight as they waft toward the sky. You’re captivated by the sight. So much so, that it takes several seconds to register the sweet, floral scent suddenly emanating beneath your nose.

Your elbows dig into the earth, propelling you toward it without thought. Eyes falling closed, you inhale a slow breath through your nose.

“Ftang (stop)!”

A surprised yelp bursts from your lips at the unexpected warning. You jerk upright, the muscles of your back contracting harshly when you race to shove yourself away from the plant. Pain radiates between your shoulders, making your lips twist with a wince. Muffled curses are the only sound in the field as you scramble into a seated position.

Your eyes widen, heart hammering in your chest at the sight of a Na’vi only feet away.

A living, breathing Na’vi.

The first one you’ve ever seen.

They speak quickly in their native tongue, the words sounding like nothing more than a harsh jumble of sounds to your inexperienced ears. You’d studied the language since childhood, but any knowledge you had took shelter in the recesses of your mind at the sight before you.

The Na’vi is a girl if the intricately woven vines strewn across their chest is any indication. You simply gape at her, mouth hanging open in pure shock. Its all you can do as panic and intrigue fight within your chest. She’s beauty and danger in equal parts, strong and powerful. Easily capable of killing you if she so desired.

She rolls her large yellow eyes at your lack of response, quickly growing impatient. Your breath catches in your throat at the familiar, almost human, expression of annoyance.

She’s tall, as all Na’vi are, but clearly hasn’t matured yet. Her features are soft, almost kind despite the irritated click of her tongue. Her hair is short and wispy, falling against her forehead as she shuffles from side to side. Two thin beaded strands on either side of her temples are the only braids visible, something that strikes you as unusual.

She waves a hand forward and you lurch back, unsure what she’s doing. Her lips purse and she stills, head tilting to the side as she takes a moment to study you. Several long, tense beats pass. Your body begins trembling as the hit of adrenaline her presence caused begins waining.

Her nose scrunches in distaste as her gaze slides along your form slowly. You glance down toward yourself, noting how differently you’re dressed. She’s wearing traditional Omatikaya attire, which is to say, very little. Her chest piece and loin cloth are simple, yet clearly expertly woven. They’re adorned with colorful beads, adding to her youthful appearance.

You’re wearing an old beat up pair of khaki’s, the only ones in the lab that would fit your growing Avatar, and a sports bra. As the sun rose in the sky, you’d quickly discarded the button up that had covered you during the walk here this morning.

“Syekalin (sweet breath flower).” The girl points to the plant at your side, speaking slowly this time, and you realize she’s telling you what’s it’s called. “Txumnga’ (poisonous).”

Your chest squeezes with anxiety. Now that is a word you know, even in your terrified stupor.

“I…I don’t…” You wrack your brain for the words is it fatal but come up short.

How could you be so stupid? You knew better than to mess around with unknown flora. The flower was just so beautiful, with the sunlight hitting it perfectly, and you hadn’t been thinking about potential consequences.

Your gaze darts toward it again, the bright colors of the petals blurring together into a blob of purple. The earth beneath your palms feels softer as your weight presses into it. It seems to move with you when the world shifts abruptly. You blink quickly, but your vision only grows more fuzzy.

A hiccup bubbles up your throat, heartbeat steadily increasing to a dangerous level. One of your hands moves to press against your chest—an effort to calm yourself—but it stops short when it splits into three before your eyes.

The toxin moves quickly. If you were a full Na'vi, it may have taken several minutes for the effects to take hold. But your Avatar body isn't accustomed to the land and all it's forms of life. Breath catches in your throat as it swells closed almost instantly. You choke, chest spasming against the lack of oxygen.

“Skxawng (idiot).” The hiss of disapproval is barely above a whisper.

Quick footsteps approach and something shadows the blazing sun as it begins it’s decent through the sky. Your stomach rolls and you fall forward, barely catching yourself before two strong hands wrench you upright by the shoulders.

“Drink.” The girl orders, holding something cool against your lips.

It isn’t as if you have a choice but even so, there is no hesitation in the way you gulp down whatever concoction she offers you. There’s no taste, only a faint burning as it slides down your throat. She’s quick to release you and you fall back into the grass. The once stuck air leaves your lungs in a rush, knocked free from the impact.

Your eyes are clenched tightly for nearly a minute. When the world stops spinning, you tentatively peel them open. Just as quickly as it had begun, the reaction within your body is gone. There is no blurring, no shifting of colors. There is nothing but serene rainforest greeting you from above.

You go slack with relief, tired muscles pressing into the ground. You place a hand on your chest and count the beats of your heart as it slows to a normal rate.

“You are one of them. Sky people.” The girl’s voice is quiet, almost solemn as she speaks in English once again.

A deep breath in presses your hand closer to the sky, a long exhale dropping it back down. There is a curious, if not a bit timid, stare boring a hole into the side of your head. You make no moves to meet it.

Her question lands on a wound within you, deep inside the very foundation of your soul. It’s an impossible question for you to answer. Despite its simple nature, you are anything but. Why you are here is anything but simple.

You are human, yes. But in your fifteen years of life, you’ve never set foot on your own home planet.

“No.” The single syllable rolls from your tongue, the response quick despite your inner turmoil.

From the corner of your eye, you watch her head tilt suspiciously. “You are not Na’vi.”

A surprised chuckle bubbles inside your chest at her obvious statement. Your eyes remain fixed on the trees above. “No.”

“Then—”

“Kiri!” You finally turn your head toward her at the new voice, echoing somewhere within the nearby forest.

Her eyes fall closed, brows pinching in irritation. It’s at this moment you realize there are tiny hairs framing her brow bone. Something that shouldn’t be possible in a full-blooded Na’vi. Your lips part in wonder, thoughts racing with possibilities.

Could she be an Avatar? There are no other children at your lab, but maybe there is another you don’t know about? Could she be a hybrid, a sign of some kind of intermingling between Avatars and Na’vi?

“Kiri, I’m not messing around! Dad will skin us if we aren’t back before eclipse!” The voice is much louder, much closer now.

The girl, Kiri, cringes, ears flattening against her head. She abruptly shoots to her full height and gathers the few items she’d taken out of the bag thrown across her chest.

“I have to go.” She announces, adjusting the strap and casting you a lingering look. “Don’t be such a skxawng next time.”

You barely hear the lighthearted threat, gaze locked on her hand. The one she used to tighten the strap of her bag. It had five fingers. Five. Not four like a Na’vi should.

By the time you realize she’s gone, the sound of playful arguing fades into the trees. You’re left with an ache in your back, a throb in your head, and countless unanswered questions.

You remain frozen in place long after she's disappeared from view. Adrenaline finally disperses and you wonder if everything you just experienced was a dream. It had to be, you quickly decide.

There is no way you just met a real Na’vi. There is no way a real Na’vi just saved your life.

“Holy shit.” You whisper to yourself, lips pulling into a slow grin as realization finally dawns.

If only you could’ve known at this moment what would happen in the years to come. That, you truly would never believe.

[lichenaday]

I thought it might be nice to share a bit about what PhD student life is like since before I started it, I really had no idea what to expect.

I have an office that I share with 3 other PhD students at my institute. It is in an old, historical building at the Munich Botanical Garden.

Let's take a tour around my desk:

First, my homemade Darwin crossstitch (pattern compliments of @shitpostsampler) to remind me that all scientists have bad days.

It sits behind my wonky dragon tree (Dracaena marginata) who I rescued from the trash outside my apartment. Who throws away a whole ass tree?

He's recovering beautifully, considering how fucky and sad he was when I pulled him from the bin.

Above my unnecessarily giant computer monitor I keep part of my expansive plant collection. Pink princess philodendron (Philodendron erubescens) w/handmade moss stick, my beloved jewel orchid (Macodes petola), zebra plant (Tradescantia zebrina) in owl pot (courtesy of my labmate, since I am the bird person) and poorly mounted staghorn fern (Platycerium bifurcatum).

Little baby jewel orchid! He flowered recently and I am so proud of him.

Then there's my Cladonia collection, and my bottle of Icelandic lichen (Cetraria islandica) booze.

On the top shelf is my Calathea musaica 'Network', and jar of discarded lab lichens. I will figure out a use for them eventually. For now they are just aesthetic.

Then there's my monstera Peru (Monstera karstenianum) in a pot I "salvaged" from a cemetery. Pretty sure it's cursed, but nothing I can do about that now. Also the baby succulents off my mystery flea market sedum. Behind my desk you can see my German sailing cookbook, Florentine bat notebook, Pikachu of encouragement, and turtle postcard. The turtle is one of many who live in the greenhouse that I visit when work gets stressful. Also a magnet of my favorite Minoan goddess--tits out, snakes in hands, cat on head.

This is desk ant. She appears to have no colony and just hangs out with me all day. I have tried to track her and find where she comes from but she just runs around in circles on my desk for hours so I have given up. Sometimes I give her a little bit of my tea to drink. She is the backbone of this working group.

Anyway, if you ever see a scientist's office that isn't cluttered and chaotic, they are doing it wrong.

[chewybitart]

#1 Succulent and Pink

$22 On sale $18

3.5x5 in unlined pocket sketchbook! It's painted and sealed, ready for a new home

[ghouljams]

your fae au is WONDERFUL i kinda read every single post in one sitting and can't get enough of those fae boys (loved them all but Soap and König are my favs, mean trickster Johnny ❤my love). Do you have some more of Soap and their Darling, pretty please with a cherry on top? Maybe Soaps visits Liebling shop? Does Johnny know König, they probably wouldn't like one another but Soap never was one to get scared...

This is a good post to say: No Fae!141 do not know König! Or like, they know of him because he's a weirdo but they don't know him. Price maybe has met him, but the rest of the boys are not acquainted with the nasty boy. This is a lot of Soap's darling being an adhd queen and not a lot of romance stuff. Very territorial fae vibes tho.

We’re going to get a quick Liebling POV before jumping to Soap and his Darling because God, I love terrorizing Liebling's shop.

You’ve had very little reason to fear the creatures that enter your shop since König started hanging around. You really have no reason to fear anything with him hanging over your shoulder at every hour of the work day. König tends to keep most of the fae in line by sheer presence alone, and human customers tend to act better when they notice how imposing he is. “Scary dog privilege” is what Love called it.

That said, this one is… bad. In a way that squirms in your stomach, visceral and primal and understanding in a way that you can’t even start to think about. He looks human enough, but it’s wrong. The way he moves, limbs long and calculated, elegant and dangerous, inhuman in a way you’d expect from a spider not a man. His voice rubs against your brain like petting the wrong way on velvet, hollow behind the friendly tone, in-genuine. His eyes slide to you like water and stop, staring, Looking.

Ice cold fear grips you tight in your chest. He doesn’t like you. You know it as soon as you meet his eye that you are something he despises. Not in an interpersonal way, no, he hates you the way you would hate a cockroach. Just through the virtue of its very existence in your presence.

König wraps a hand over your eyes, warm darkness obscuring your vision. You’re thankful for it, before you remember this isn’t exactly workplace appropriate behavior. You pull at his wrist and he presses harder against your eyes. His body curls over you, growling a low warning.

-

You are just full to bursting with ideas. You feel all light and golden and your brain wheels are turning at 100 miles an hour and you are getting that sweet sweet dopamine just how you like. God, you love that brand new special interest feel.

You pull out your phone to write a few lines down that pop into your mind and then can’t stop. Johnny’s hand slides right at home on your lower back, as you type. Your shoulders jerk a little, not used to being touched when you’re in the zone. Your fingers hover over the digital keyboard, trying to come up with the next line, no this is a good stopping point for now. You look up at your neglected date and he’s not even looking at you. He’s frowning at some guy across the store. He’s talking to the woman behind the counter, spinning her toward the back room insistently. Not your circus. You turn back to the display you’d stopped in front of. 

You came in here for something, not that you remember what that was, plant stuff probably. You do have a few houseplants still desperately clinging to life. You pick up one of the cute little potted succulents and try to ignore the way the hand on your back is starting to burn. Johnny’s fingers curl against your shirt, breaking the fabric and digging into your skin. You hiss and jerk away from the feeling. Whatever spell he was under seems to break as you rub your back. Your shirt is all in one piece and the pain is gone like it was never there. Still, you’re not a fan of whatever that was.

“Thought we were looking for a notebook,” Johnny says as you hold up the terracotta pot to check for a price.

“I have a million notebooks,” You tell him, settling the pot back in its place. You look up at him, there’s something different in his face, something- huh, you don’t have the right word for it. He’s like a cat with its hackles raised. But that’s not quite right. You don’t have the right linguistic trigger to pull the word from your catalog. Not upset, almost… threatened. Almost. You’ll think of it later. “You good? We can do something else if you want.”

“I’m happy just being with you, we don’t need to do anything special.” He smiles, and it feels… hollow.

“You’re not a very good liar,” You raise a brow and his eyes widen ever so slightly before his smile turns into something much more genuine.

“Let’s do something else.” He relents. You nod, that’s much better. You don’t like being given the runaround, direct is your preference. That’s part of the reason you like Johnny so much, he doesn’t beat around the bush with you.

“We can grab lunch? I’m starving.” You tell him, letting him lead the way out of the shop. Your wrist is grabbed as Johnny holds the door for you, and you turn to see the rather frazzled looking shop girl. She presses something like crumpled paper into your palm with a tight expression.

“This is weird, I’m really sorry, but please take this,” She says and you give her a confused look but nod. She looks almost relieved, and lets you go. You follow Johnny out of the shop and open you hand curiously.

It’s paper, notebook paper, with a phone number on it and some weird name you don’t understand. You don’t really pay attention to the name on it, focus instead drawn to the silvery ring. It’s basic but pretty, not the sort of thing you’d give to a stranger. You slip it into your pocket to inspect later, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“So, lunch! I’m thinking-” You list out a few options, meandering the conversation in whichever direction you please as Soap bites down a growl. The only thing worse than a seer is a nosy seer.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and worst of both worlds (part 42)

Tw: manipulation from Yves, eating disorder mentions

Part 43

There was a knock on your door before it opened.

You turned your head to see Yves with a bowl of sliced fruits in his hands, he had taken the time and effort to cut them into various adorable shapes, namely: hearts, stars, circles, and squares. His laptop and notebook are tucked safely under his arm.

"Hello, my dear." He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as he set the bowl down on your desk. "For you."

You thanked him and dug into the healthy, succulent treats before you. While doing so, Yves crouched down to check if you'd developed a rash under your cast, luckily, there wasn't any.

He sat on the sofa a distance away from your desk, providing you a sense of privacy. You watched Yves open his device on the coffee table, he set up his wireless mouse, and the book laid flat next to it. Is he not done working?

"Yes, my love?" He didn't have to look up from his screen to tell that you've been staring at him for a while. Yves continued typing away.

You asked him if he was still working. His fingers paused their tappings.

"Would you like me to accompany you for an activity?" He leaned back, resting his hands on his lap. Yves was smiling sweetly, eager to interact with you in any way.

Well, you wanted to ask him for advice regarding your next step. But you wouldn't want to interrupt him just because of that, you could always talk about it at a later date.

As if he was reading your mind, Yves assured you that he is simply doing non-essential tasks for his research. He never specified what was the research for, you assumed it had something to do with his doctorate in mathematics.

You tried getting up on your own, Yves obviously shot up from his seat to guide you. Though you are happy that he didn't have to touch or hold an arm, you feel like you're regaining a bit of independence by getting up on your own.

It hurts, of course. But you wanted to waddle to the sofa yourself, it's just a few steps away. You were too focused on making your way to the seat, that you missed his displeased frown at your budding autonomy.

You plopped yourself down with a grunt, already working up a sweat. Yves sat next to you and allowed your cast to rest across his lap.

He sensually rubbed his hands up and down your leg and thigh. But it wasn't anything impure, it felt like a nice, loving gesture between romantic partners. Yves tilted his head to the side and hummed, wanting to know what was on your mind.

Perhaps it's his comforting smell that drew you in, or maybe the room is a little too cold and you need a bit of warmth from your boyfriend. Shuffling, you made your way to his lap instead, sitting on it while resting your head on his broad chest. An arm wrapped around your torso while he massages your hands.

You felt him grin in your hair. Neither of you spoke in the next few minutes, simply enjoying each other's presence. Eventually, you began to feel drowsy with your belly filled with fruits and heart full of love. You closed your eyes and ignored the sounds of typing and clicking that restarted.

Yves wasn't ready to even think about you moving out of his home. However, he wanted to relish in your company, and he couldn't do that without you bringing that topic up in some way. So, he had to delay it and make the room as enticing as possible. He used fragrances that subtly reminded you of your childhood bedroom and sprinkled a touch of finely crushed, potent sleeping pills into your nutritious fruits.

He curled himself into a ball with you in his arms. Closing his eyes as he rests his lips on the top of your head, all he wants to do after being separated from you for so long (A mere hour), is to wind down the best way he knows how.

__

You woke up to Yves's fingers running through your hair. Opening your eyes, you're grateful that the room is dim, save from the bright light source from what you think is the flat-screen TV. Your ears picked up on the soft murmuring of monotonous speaking.

You find that Yves is hugging you like his teddy bear as he watches what you think is a conference on an academic or scientific breakthrough. It's unbearably boring for you and you couldn't understand any of its jargon, it almost lulls you back to sleep. But Yves softly called for your attention.

You craned your neck up to look at him. Yves pressed a delicate and admiring kiss on your lips.

You snuggled deeper into him, waiting for what he has to say. Except, he didn't have anything, he simply chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Nothing. I merely wanted to kiss you." He whispered, reaching for the remote control and switching the television off.

Yves stood up and carried you, bridal-style. He gently lowered you to your wheelchair and secured you on it. After that, Yves pushed you out of your room and headed towards the dining area. It must be dinner time.

You were expecting him to have a long table that would fit fifteen guests, but you were greeted with a round, modest table that could accommodate three seats. Four, if everyone didn't mind brushing shoulders and bumping elbows.

You commented about it. Comfortable enough to tell him your thoughts about the stereotypes of rich people.

"Those ridiculously long dining tables are only for guests. When it comes to daily meals alone, we eat in a separate room that appears 'normal'. At least, to the working class." He stated, while pulling a chair away so he could fit you in.

"And, Unlike other individuals with my wealth, I am a recluse." Yves locked the wheelchair in place, so you wouldn't roll away.

"Though, I couldn't get enough of your company." He strokes your shoulder while pecking the shell of your ear.

Yves left the dining room to prepare the plates. In the meantime, you decided to curiously examine everything around you.

Just like the rest of the house, it's modern gothic. There aren't any paintings or framed pictures on the wall, but there are mirrors on all four walls.

Yves appeared to love chandeliers, as there is another grand one right above you. How does he clean it? It's not dusty at all, perhaps he hired someone to do this regularly?

Candle holders too. They're everywhere, containing unlit candles. There is one in the middle of the table.

You were brought out of your thoughts when Yves sets a plate filled with appropriate portions of carbohydrates, proteins and vegetables, they're steaming hot and very palatable. It's aroma made your mouth instantly water and your eyes gleam at how Yves decorated them appetizingly with various delicious garnishes.

You turn your head to the side to see that Yves is carrying a large tray, containing his own plate, two glass cups with a slice of lemon wedge on each rim and a clear, crystal pitcher of water.

While he was pouring the liquid, you noticed that the amount of food he has is significantly less than yours. It's of the same menu, but you don't think that could sustain a man of his stature.

"Bon appétit, my love." He sat directly opposite of you.

It was too difficult not to ask him about his food choices. It looked unbelievably little for anyone actually.

So you asked him why he was eating so little.

There was a vague curl on his lips, pausing for a moment to rethink his answer.

"I... do not have the best relationship with food."

Huh?

Your reaction was so visceral, that Yves looked away in what you assumed is shame. Now you feel terrible, you didn't mean to judge, you're just curious.

You stutter, trying to backtrack and assure that it is nothing to be ashamed about. You have so many questions and the things he did, the way he eats all makes sense now.

You just didn't know how to go about it nor did you know how to comfort him. Does he even need comfort for this?

You felt like you were dissolving under his unwavering gaze, he hadn't started eating yet. But he was already holding his cutlery.

You don't know what to say. So you said nothing and began digging in. Embarrassed at yourself for not having enough tact to handle this topic. Only after your third mouthful did Yves begin cutting his food up into smaller pieces. Microscopic, even.

It was interesting to see that when he puts the fork in his mouth, the tines are always facing downwards. You think it would've been easier if he was using it as if it's a spoon.

Now that you thought about it, this is the first time Yves ate a meal with you properly. It's either that he watches you or he gives you his uneaten portion of the meal.

Yves chews slowly and it seemed like he was counting it. Or maybe you were the only one doing it, he chews 42 times per bite and the chunk isn't even particularly tough or big.

You felt like a creep, but it was hard not to notice especially when it was your first time having someone like Yves in your life.

Your boyfriend minded his own business, enjoying the silence and his dinner, and the lack of discussion around you moving out of his humble abode. Yves has to find another distraction soon, because the shock of knowing he has some sort of an eating disorder is beginning to wear off on you. He predicted that you will eventually try to bring it up.

Attempting to lighten up the mood, you tried to strike up a conversation. But no sound left your lips as you didn't know what else to talk about without him prompting you.

Then you remembered, the topic of finding another place to stay--

"Have you checked your electronic inbox, dear?" You brought your head back up to look at him.

That's right. You missed nearly half a month's worth of assignments and lectures.

"Your tutors contacted me. They were concerned over your lack of response towards their emails." He sipped on his lemon water.

You told him that you haven't and you will look into it after dinner.

Yves's face was neutral as he scrutinized your body language and expression. He daintily patted his mouth with a clean napkin.

"You had an assignment due yesterday and another today. However, you were given a two-week extension on both."

You frowned. Right. University. You're not on vacation anymore and you knew that it's going to be much harder since you missed a lot. And... that was embarrassing, to say the least. You're fully responsible for what goes on in your academic life, yet your university has to get your boyfriend involved.

You felt like you were in grade school again where the teachers would send their complaints about your late homework and in-school behavior to your guardians. It is humiliating and you tried to shy away from Yves's grinning eyes.

You quickened your chewing pace, there is one thing on your to-do list. Which is to save your grade as soon as possible. God, you don't even know what to expect or where to start, everything left your mind frazzled.

Yves smiled behind his napkin as he knew the thought of moving out was fully pushed to the back of your head.

[neopronouns]

flag id: six flags with 9 stripes, with the second and eighth being smaller than the others, the first and ninth smaller than those, and the fifth the smallest.

the top left flag's stripes are light brown, faded yellow-green, light yellow-green, bluish-white, pale yellow-green, bluish-white, pale green, dull light green, and medium dark faded yellow-green. the top right flag's stripes are dull green, light grey-green, light yellow-brown, very light sandy brown, pale green, very light sandy brown, yellow, faded yellow-green, and medium dark yellow-green.

the middle left flag's stripes are very dark bluish-green, dark bluish-green, faded green, faded light yellow-green, very dark green, very light sandy brown, light brown, red-brown, and green-black. the middle right flag's stripes are dull dark green, medium dark green, soft green, pale green, medium dark faded green, golden yellow, yellow-green, dark yellow-green, and very dark yellow-green.

the bottom left flag's stripes are dark yellow-green, yellow-green, light yellow-green, cream, medium dark yellow-green, very light silver, soft green, green, and dark faded yellow-green. the bottom right flag's stripes are dull green, dull light green, pale seafoam green, very light seafoam green, green-yellow, bluish-white, pale yellow-green, soft yellow-green, and yellow-green. end id.

banner id: a 1600x200 teal banner with the words ‘please read my dni before interacting. those on my / dni may still use my terms, so do not recoin them.’ in large white text in the center. the text takes up two lines, split at the slash. end id.

honeysucklecolauric | sagecolauric forestcolauric | greencolauric mosscolauric | chartreusecolauric

honeysucklecolauric: a colorgender related to the color honeysuckle, succulents, key lime, glow-in-the-dark stars, blown glass, honeydew, garter snakes, and notes in bottles

sagecolauric: a colorgender related to the color sage, herb clippings, matcha, bullet journals, mini backpacks, needle felts, pistachio, and laptop stickers

forestcolauric: a colorgender related to the color forest, fern leaves, greenhouses, cloaks, bookstores, pine trees, chokers, and snake scales

greencolauric: a colorgender related to the color green, climbing ivy, snake eyes, frogs, rainboots, koi ponds, abandoned places, and clovers

mosscolauric: a colorgender related to the color moss, marshes, microscopes, crocodiles, green juice, grid notebooks, long socks, and algae

chartreusecolauric: a colorgender related to the color chartreuse, handbooks, spring buds, bamboo, forest ponds, glass, vintage sofas, and fairy circles

[pt: honeysucklecolauric: a colorgender related to the color honeysuckle, succulents, key lime, glow-in-the-dark stars, blown glass, honeydew, garter snakes, and notes in bottles

sagecolauric: a colorgender related to the color sage, herb clippings, matcha, bullet journals, mini backpacks, needle felts, pistachio, and laptop stickers

forestcolauric: a colorgender related to the color forest, fern leaves, greenhouses, cloaks, bookstores, pine trees, chokers, and snake scales

greencolauric: a colorgender related to the color green, climbing ivy, snake eyes, frogs, rainboots, koi ponds, abandoned places, and clovers

mosscolauric: a colorgender related to the color moss, marshes, microscopes, crocodiles, green juice, grid notebooks, long socks, and algae

chartreusecolauric: a colorgender related to the color chartreuse, handbooks, spring buds, bamboo, forest ponds, glass, vintage sofas, and fairy circles. end pt]

first set of colorgenders based on the results of this 'what color is your aura?' uquiz for anon! i'm organizing them roughly by color into sets of 6, so there will be 9 sets total.

these are in the colorgender flag format with the aura color from the uquiz as the center stripe and colors inspired by the listed things as the rest of the stripes. the terms are the aura color, 'col' from 'color, 'aur' from 'aura', + 'ic'!

tags: @radiomogai, @colorgendered | dni link

[leohtttbriar]

the snow-melted and it's sunny and it's spring and that makes me feel some type of way so here's a kiradax springtime fic featuring the fascinations of a nature-walk and jadzia dax as a sort of ms. frizzle:

On a bright day like this, Kira was happy to be handing out juice boxes.

Sure, she would’ve preferred to have been part of Keiko’s field-trip party, with the older students on a rock-climbing mission to observe cliff-side fungus. But Keiko had been a little too bright-faced and excited as she tucked her climbing shoes into her backpack and gathered all the older kids together for a lesson in knot-tying and rappelling, and, almost immediately, Miles had begged Kira to swap chaperone positions so he could trail after his wife pretending to be worried about the cliffs on which she was leading an educational expedition but really interested in just documenting ‘the moment,’ as he called it.

“When Molly starts to be embarrassed of us,” he said, turning on his camera and smirking as Keiko demonstrated a very long finger-hold on a nearby boulder, the strained muscles in her forearms and shoulders not even appearing to shake. “I want evidence that we’re actually cool.”

“Well, one of you is,” said Kira. “You mostly play games with Julian in your free-time.”

Miles shot her a dirty look but then Keiko was calling her group to start on the hike and he was scampering after her.

So Kira was left with the younger kids on a much less dangerous nature walk that didn’t involve rock-climbing. But she was happy about it. The day was bright, crisp air with warm sun, and she didn’t have to do much more than make sure the little ones stayed on the path and hand out juice boxes. And, really, they were all too mesmerized by Jadzia to misbehave or wonder off.

Kira couldn’t exactly blame them, though. Jadzia had turned up in a shirt covered in colorful scientific illustrations of various Bajoran insects, a giant hair clip that looked like one of the stone-caterpillars that Kira used to make into a stew in her hungriest moments during the war, and a box of tiny, kid-sized binoculars which she handed to each student with all the sincerity and solemnity of a general handing out medals of honor to soldiers. She oo’d an ah’d over every little thing and all the kids were following after her like she was personally responsible for putting a flower in their path to look at.

“Oh, look at that!” gasped Jadzia, pointing up at what looked to be a normal tree limb with such drama that every single kid was gasping with her despite, Kira assumed, not knowing what it is they were gasping at. They gathered around Jadzia, following to where her finger pointed, their little mouths open in awe.

“What?” asked one of the more impatient kids. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s an aerial succulent,” said Jadzia, bending down. “See, between the stalks, there's a film which will expand and catch on a breeze if the plant needs to move.”

“Like wings?” asked another kid, taking rigorous notes in her notebook (Kira was able to read she had just added plant flying color green pretty in uneven block letters).

“Yes! Exactly like wings!” said Jadzia, as if this comparison had just occurred to her.

“Wow.”

Jadzia had them all draw a picture of the succulent, a star shaped thing with a sparkly veil between each point, tipping this way and that on the tree branch but yet holding steady. Kira attempted a drawing herself, as Jadzia had made sure to provide her with a “field notebook” and binoculars, along with the kids. It was not a good drawing, but Kira liked it. After, they continued shuffling along the path and Kira helped a couple kids not to trip on their feet as they traversed forward, binoculars glued to their eyes.

When Keiko had suggested a field trip, Kira had not expected to be asked to help. But it seemed Sisko was of the opinion that she needed “a break,” or something like that. And so he had volunteered much of his chief staff to help out with the trip to Bajor and even extending the offer of the supervised field trip to some of the schools that would be nearby their educational expedition. As the morning progressed, Kira couldn’t help but be thankful for it. There were worse ways to spend a day. And Jadzia had been very happy when Kira had turned up, which always made Kira feel warm in more ways than one. She might've switched assignments, anyway, if Miles hadn't asked.

Eventually they ended up by a stream and Jadzia instructed everyone to be on the lookout for fossils.

“I know there are fossils,” she whispered triumphantly to Kira, once the kids were darting back and forth on the bank like the intrepid explorers they were. “I scouted the trail—this watershed area is almost nothing but limestone.”

Kira bent down to examine the earth herself, picking up an angular yet smooth-cornered rock and rolling it around in her palm.

“Limestone has more fossils in it?” she asked.

Jadzia plopped down next to her. “Yep,” she said. She reached over and gently guided Kira’s fingers to hold the rock so the angle was pointed up. Then she poured a splash of water on it, smoothed away some dirt, and pointed to an imprint in the stone. “See?” she said. “A shell.”

“Oh,” said Kira, looking closer at the strangely patterned whirl. It looked like the aerial succulent.

“Limestone is a graveyard, for organic life,” said Jadzia, halfway to soft but still cheerful. “It’s got a bit of a sacred history on Trill, but I never bought into all those sad poems. Trills only seem to know how to write sad poems”—she rolled her eyes, and Kira bit the inside of her cheek to contain her grin—“and I just don’t think fossils are things to be sad about anyway. True, this”—she indicated the rock in Kira’s hand by cupping Kira’s knuckles and pushing gently against them, causing Kira to, embarrassingly, blush—“is made of the compressed bodies of ancient marine life, but it’s not as if they’re gone. There they are.”

Kira turned her gaze away from Jadzia’s open face and back to the dirty rock in her palm. She didn’t like to think of it as a graveyard. Death was a strange, conceptual thing for Bajorans—as all things are and have been and will be all at once, so eternal ending is just one edge of infinite reality, which has many edges stretching on and on.

“It’s just evidence that they were,” she found herself saying. “But they also are. Just—are.”

Jadzia tipped her head, her eyebrows pinched together. “This might be one of those temporal perspectives I don’t get,” she said.

Kira smiled. “I mean,” she said. “In some way, this…shell?”

“Crinoid.”

“This crinoid,” said Kira, still biting back a grin. “Is swimming around now. In the sea.”

Jadzia looked at her, eyes sparkling. “Okay,” she said. “Then limestone isn’t a graveyard at all.” She picked the rock up out of Kira’s hand and placed back on the ground but replaced its weight with her own palm. “Everything just adds and adds, in every direction.”

Kira’s smile couldn’t be stopped. She curled her fingers around Jadzia’s wrist. “Yes,” she said, leaning in close, tracing the line of sun lighting up the dark hollows on Jadzia’s face and the soft hairs on her jaw.

Jadzia tilted her chin down, their noses now millimeters apart. The sound of the stream and the sound of her breath on Kira’s mouth washed over her. “Nerys—” she said, voice sweet.

Then, “Da-ax!”

They leaned away from each other quickly.

“Yeah?” called back Jadzia, wiping her twitchy hands on her shorts.

“I fell in!” said one of the kids while all the others laughed.

Kira snorted. Jadzia pressed her palm against Kira’s once more before launching to her feet.

“Duty calls,” she said, dramatically. “Remember me fondly.”

She walked off, already lecturing all the kids about the joys of an impromptu swim and the subsequent chance to dry off in the sun, and soon Kira was being bombarded by tired students in search of snacks.

She slipped the rock in her backpack, when no one was looking. An eternal touch of a swimming creature and the warmth of Jadzia's hand--everything just added on. It was a bright day.