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greenwitchcrafts · 8 months

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September 2023 witch guide

Full moon: September 29th

New moon: September 14th

Sabbats: Mabon September 23rd

September Harvest Moon

Also known as: Autumn moon, falling leaves moon, song moon, leaves turning moon, moon of brown leaves, yellow leaf moon, wine moon & Full corn moon

Element: Earth

Zodiac: Virgon& Libra

Animal spirits: Trooping Faeries

Deities: Brigid, Ceres, Ch'ang-o, Demeter, Freya, Isis & Vesta

Animals: Jackal & snake

Birds: Ibis & sparrow

Trees: Bay, hawthorn, hazel & larch

Herbs/plants: Copal, fennel, rye, skullcap, valerian, wheat & witch hazel

Flowers: Lily & Narcissus

Scents: Bergamot, gardenia, mastic & storax

Stones: Bloodstone, chrysolite, citrine, olivine, peridot & sapphire

Colors: Browns, dark blue, greens & yellows ( Earth tones)

Energy: Balance of light & dark, dietary matters, employment, health, intellectual pursuits, prosperity, psychism, rest, spirituality, success & work environments. Also cleaning & straightening mentally, physically & spiritually.

Technically, the Harvest Moon is the Full Moon closest to the September equinox around September 21st. The Harvest Moon is the only Full Moon name determined by the equinox rather than a month. Most years, it’s in September, but around every three years, it falls in October.

In September, the Full Moon is the Corn Moon from the Native American tribes harvesting their corn. It can also be the Harvest Moon, which corresponds with the Anglo-Saxon name, while Celtic and Old English names are Wine Moon, Song Moon, and Barley Moon.

Mabon

Also known as: Autumn Equinox, Cornucopia, Witch's Thanksgiving & Alban Elved

Season: Fall

Symbols: Acorns, apples, autumn leaves, berries, corn, cornucopia (horn of plenty), dried seeds, gourds, grains, grapes, ivy, pine cones, pomegranates, vines, wheat, white roses & wine

Colors: Blue brown, drk red, deep gold, gold, indigo, lead green, maroon, orange, red, russet, violet & yellow

Oils/incense: Apple, apple blossom, benzoin, black pepper, hay/straw, myrrh, passion flower, patchouli, pine, red poppy & sage

Animals: Dog, goose, hawk, swan, swallow & wolf

Stones: Agate, amethyst, carnelian, lapis lazuli, sapphire, yellow Agate & yellow topaz

Foods: Apples, blackberries, blackberry wine, bread, carrots, cider, corn, cornbread, grapes, heather wine, nuts, onions, pomegranates, potatoes, squash, vegetables, wheat & winw

Herbs/plants: Acorn, benzoin, cedar, corn, cypress, ferns, grains, hazel, hops, ivy, myrrh, oak, pine, sage, sassafras, Salomon's seal, thistle, tobacco & wheat

Flowers: Aster, heather, honeysuckle, marigold, milkweed, mum,passion flower& rose

Goddesses: Danu, Epona, Modron, Morrigan, Muses, Pomona, Persephone, Sophia & Sura

Gods: Esus, Green Man, Hermes, Mabon, Mannanan, Toth & Thor

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Accomplishment, agriculture, balance, goals, gratitude & grounding

Spellworks: Balance, harmony, protection, prosperity, security & self confidence

Related festivals:

• Sukkot- is a Torah-commanded holiday celebrated for seven days, beginning on the 15th day of the month of Tishrei. It is one of the Three Pilgrimage Festivals (Hebrew: שלוש רגלים, shalosh regalim) on which those Israelites who could were commanded to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem. In addition to its harvest roots, the holiday also holds spiritual importance with regard to its abandonment of materialism to focus on nationhood, spirituality, and hospitality, this principle underlying the construction of a temporary, almost nomadic, structure of a sukkah.

• Mid-Autumn festival- also known as the Moon Festival or Mooncake Festival, is a traditional festival celebrated in Chinese culture. Similar holidays are celebrated by other cultures in East & Southeast Asia. It is one of the most important holidays in Chinese culture; its popularity is on par with that of Chinese New Year. The history of the Mid-Autumn Festival dates back over 3,000 years. The festival is held on the 15th day of the 8th month of the Chinese lunisolar lunisolar calendar with a full moon at night, corresponding to mid-September to early October of the Gregorian calendar. On this day, the Chinese believe that the Moon is at its brightest and fullest size, coinciding with harvest time in the middle of Autumn.

• Thanksgiving- This is a secular holiday which is similar to the cell of Mabon; A day to give thanks for the food & blessings of the previous year. The American Thanksgiving is the last Thursday of November while the Canadian Thanksgiving is celebrated in October

• Festival of Dionysus- There were several festivals that honored Dionysus, the God of wine. It was a time of fun, games, feasting & drinking wine.

Activities:

•Scatter offerings in a harvested fields, Offer libations to trees

• Decorate your home and/or altar space for fall

• Bake bread

• Perform a ritual to restore balance and harmony to your life

• Cleanse your home of negative energies

• Pick apples

• Have a dinner or feast with your family and/or friends

• Set intentions for the upcoming year

• Purge what is no longer serving you

•Take a walk in the woods

• Enjoy a pumpkin spice latte

• Donate to your local food bank

• Gather dried herbs, plants, seeds & pods

• Learn something new

• Make wine

• Brew an apple cinnamon simmer pot

• Create an outdoor Mabon altar

•Adorn burial sites with leaves, acorns, & pinecones to honor those who have passed over & visit their graves

Many cultures see the second harvest (after the first harvest Lammas) and equinox as a time for giving thanks. This time of year is when farmers know how well their summer crops did, and how well fed their animals have become. This determines whether you and your family would have enough food for the winter. That is why people used to give thanks around this time, thanks for their crops, and animals, and food.

The name Mabon comes from the Welsh God, who was the son of the Earth Mother Goddess. However, there is evidence that the name was adopted in the 1970s, and the holiday was not originally a Celtic celebration.

Some believe Night and day are of equal legth and the God's energy & strength are nearly gone . The Goddess begins to mourn the loss she knows is coming, but knows he will return when he reborn at Yule.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Wikipedia

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Mabon: Rituals, Recipes & Lore for the Autumn Equinox Llewellyn's Sabbat Essentials

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fuckyeahpedropascal · 1 year

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Pedro boys colour matrix

*Click for higher resolution

• Masterlist •

This has been on my to-do list for ages and it’s taken even longer to make. I’m so happy with how it turned out! Which is your favourite colour on our Pedro boys? Any look you would've put in the matrix instead?

Commentary below the cut.

Pedro boys fashion matrix

Pedro boys hair matrix

Pedro boys facial hair matrix

Red

Javier, Bro Pedro, Mr. Ben, Javi G, Mario

Three of the red looks came from SNL, and I'm not complaining. I am especially feral for Mr. Ben's red sweater look, he looks broad AF in it. Javier of course rocks several red shirts in the series, but this one with the arms crossed is iconic.

Yellow

Oberyn, Javi G, Javier, Frankie

Personally, yellow is probably my favourite colour on P. He just carries it so gorgeously - the marigold yellow on Javi G and Oberyn's sun robes are literally the golden standard.

Green

Javier, Dieter, Dave, Joel

We need more green in P's wardrobe! His emerald green velvet suit on Jimmy Fallon took my breath away, and I lament the fact that we don't see this colour often enough on him. I hope Joel's green plaid shirt is just the beginning.

Blue

Javi G, Jack, Dave, Mr. Ben, Marcus Moreno

Wardrobe loves putting this man in a blue office shirt. For something different, I adore Javi G's pale blue suit, and of course - Jack's iconic snowsuit.

Pink and purple

Meemaw, Javier, Frankie, Dieter

We 👏🏼 need 👏🏼 more of these two colours on P! While he’s worn quite a lot of pink IRL, his characters are a bit behind the curve. This man owns these colours, fingers crossed we’ll be blessed with more pinks and purples soon!

White

Charlie, Max Lord, Javier, Marcus Pike

I was a bit annoyed to find out that we didn't actually get a frontal shot of P in the white t-shirt in the Sia music video, so had to improvise with a two Javier looks (yet again). I do love this man in a white shirt without a tie almost as much as in a simple white t-shirt. And also hospital scrubs.

Gray

Veracruz, Din, Frankie, Marcus Pike, Zach

I know, I know, Din's beskar is silver but it had to go somewhere. I do love this man in a gray round neck t-shirt, we get him in three!

Black

Dave, Dio, Nico, Javier, Marcus Moreno

Ngl, Dave's assassin look sends me... this man looks so sleek in black. As bizarre as Nico is, the black turtleneck is such a classic and he looks so good in it!

P.S. We need more purple on P! There was unfortunately not enough material for one row and my OCD didn’t let me put in an incomplete row 🤷🏻‍♀️ Shoutout to Javier's violet shirt and Dieter's washed out purple tshirt!

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angel-gone-south · 9 months

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i have a request for gn!reader who js eats everything after seeing my brothers doing this. Most common stuff bein like playdoh, orbeez, or flowers w craig, tweek and maybe some of the main kids? probably would make more sense if they all were 4th graders? (srry if its too much, like ur stuff and saw reqs were open!)

Main 5 + Craig and Those Guys w/ Reader Who Eats Everything!

my friend used to do this. i think its a disorder? pica iirc anyway TYSM FOR UR REQ 4th grade reader + boys

【☆】★【☆】

Eric Cartman

hey what are u doing

hey that's not food, you idiot

makes fun of you for it

but secretly keeps an eye on what goes in

berates you extra hard when its something extra bad

brings you snacks sometimes so you don't put bad shit in your mouth

if you question him about it "mom packed too much"

Kyle Broflovski

no!! no no!!!

lectures you like a mom

brings you chew stims or snacks when he can

has to practically keep you on a leash

jesus christ he does the thing where he pinches the bridge of his nose when he gets annoyed

enjoys your presence but you stress him out deeply!

Stan Marsh

bets you you can't swallow it (if it's safe)

holds your hand in a death grip so you can't run off and get into something really bad

steals his sister's mints and gum so you can have it

sometimes you gnaw on his arm

he pats your head while you do

thinks you're MAD WEIRD but loves u fr

Kenny McCormick

dude he does it too a lot

if he doesn't think it's safe he eats it first

has died a lot this way

doesn't mind though if it keeps you safe

would let you chew on him but he's a bit stinky so you don't

he steals you dog toys as a joke but you actually use them

flattered but laughs at you

Butters Stotch

oh golly

please dont eat those

he worries so bad

makes you the stuff that's like playdough but edible

has chew stims out the wazoo

lets you chew on his sleeve and then wails about the wetness

he doesn't actually mind though

Craig Tucker

pays you to do it

laughs when you hate the taste of something

"your fault for putting it in your mouth, idiot."

he's right tbh but you still pout about it

has so many pictures of you putting random shit near your mouth

taken seconds before he snatched them away from you

his sister eggs you on

he yells at her for it and then also eggs you on

Tweek Tweak

oh god oh god please don't!!

screams when he catches you

you've got this boy practically ripping his hair out

worried about even the smallest things

he can't stand to watch but also feels inclined to (to keep you safe)

learns the Heimlich just because of you

bought books upon books of what flowers, bugs, and plants are ok to eat

it keeps him up at night

Jimmy Valmer

always cracking jokes

definitely thinks you should be more careful though

will learn about it (not to the tweek extent)

tries some stuff with you like wild blackberries

one time you guys ate gingko sapling

boy, the bitter taste would NOT come out!

Tolkien Black

while he thinks it's cute, he will urge you to stop

whenever the boys catch you doing it clyde goes "aw, momma's gonna be mad"

then turns to tolkien

eye rolls are given in return as he stops you from consuming literal poison ivy

gives you gum and chewy stimmies

holds you by the shirt collar when you run to grab something

Clyde Donovan

silly goose

honest to god makes bets with craig on if you will (tw) throw up or not

bites you back if you bite him

eats certain things with you

you both got sick from eating marigolds once

his mom was not very happy with you

but the days next to each other in the hospital room were fun

you ate flowers less after that

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just-another-star-47 · 15 days

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Scents 🌹

How does each and every person in Hogwarts smell?

Slytherin edition 🐍

Plonbraw edition (OCs) • Gryffindor edition • Hufflepuff edition • Ravenclaw edition

Sebastian 🦊

Its own odour tickles the nose like warm, damp earth on a walk after the first drops of rain have touched the ground. It envelops without being intrusive and awakens an indefinite anticipation of more whenever dark clouds gather in the sky.

He was and is often responsible for the fieldwork at Feldcroft, sometimes voluntarily, sometimes to escape the house and Solomon. To soften the traces of hard labour, he uses a nourishing balm for his hands, the delicate smell of chamomile and marigold accompanies him even into the castle walls at Hogwarts, as his rough hands are often seen by him as very unpleasant. He also takes care of the rest of his appearance, regularly buying hair gel in Hogsmeade to tame his slightly curly hair, the delicate smell of yang-yang is the result, mixed with the rose of his hair soap.

However, the slightly sweet note of his care products does not make the soft woody odour of his skin disappear, but rather embeds it in a sweetish warmth.

Anne 🐈

A field full of flowers in May, surrounded by the light tartness of the strawy grass - the nose can't miss it and makes anyone passing by think of cheeky children's pranks on balmy summer days.

Anne doesn't use perfume per se, but perfumed soap, in memory of her mother, with whom she associates the smell. The delicate scent of violets blends wonderfully with her own floral scent and is more restrained than overpowering. The soap is one of the few luxuries that Solomon allows and eventually buys himself, ignoring the objections of Sebastian, who was previously responsible for buying it and had often helped out in the neighbours' fields in Feldcroft to earn the necessary money.

The moment Anne's spring-like odour was replaced by the stench of medicines and hospitals was the moment when hopelessness sank its claws into the siblings' minds - the delicate smell of violets now strangely alien and a mere, sad reminder of days long forgotten.

Ominis 🐇

Fresh and cool, like the smell on a path that leads through a dense forest, where you have lost your way and yet feel only security. Ominis has a fine nose and therefore refrains from using any perfumed products - they only make him feel woozy or give him a headache. Nevertheless, the smell of cleanliness always clings to him, which seems almost minty. To escape the clammy smell of the Slytherin rooms, he stores his clothes between bags filled with lavender, which adds a hint of flavour to his watery inherent odour. In addition, the purple flower helps him against his restless states, which always afflict him.

Imelda 🐍

She spends most of her time in the air, Quidditch training not only a part of her that is ingrained in her blood, but that also affects her scent.

Leathery like a well-groomed Quaffle, slightly tart and spicy, the smell of the salty coastal wind of her home village never quite fades.

Imelda wears a perfume that her brothers gave her for her birthday - a slightly smoky note with a splash of invigorating lemon and exotic vanilla.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #anne sallow #imelda reyes #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy headcanons #sebastian sallow headcanons #anne sallow headcanons #ominis gaunt headcanons #imelda reyes headcanons

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stuffymcstuffsworld · 8 months

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Don't mess with our dad

The great general Furfur was attacked. Somehow, winding up in the hospital with several cuts, a concussion, 3 broken ribs, his left kneecap broken, and a dislocated jaw. The large demon pouting about whatever had occurred.

A nurse walked in and smiled. "Look, general! Someone sent you a "get" well gift!" Showing him the large boutique of flowers that she arranged in the vase next to his bed. As well as a small card. For a demon like Furfur, who understood the meaning of several plants for research purposes that was anything but a gift.

13 types of flowers hidden away in disguised present. 13 flowers, basically screaming at him the same message. It was actually kinda cute how passive-aggressive the warning in it came.

Yellow carnations, meaning rejection. Columbine stood for foolishness, and the Geranium empathized that by adding folly and stupidity to the mix. Hydrangea showed signs of heartless or frigid affection. The lavender indicates deep signals of mistrust.

Orange Lily screams out hatred with its loud coloration. Marigold showed off grief and jealousy, but considering there were also Yellow Roses added, also implying jealousy and infidelity, he knew which way the message leaned. Then came the Peonies for bashfulness and shame.

The Poppies were a consolation of sorts as the Snapdragons spoke of deception and grace. The Zinnia were absent in affection while the Lotus tried to offer enlightenment and rebirth. Something along the lines of... 'Get lost, you jealous pig. I wouldn't even trust you in the next life.'

On the card, there was the entire misfit class, and several of them were holding a "get" well soon banner. It was rather sweet until he spotted his two trainees holding a sign over their heads. In big bold letters, it said. 'DON'T PICK ON DAD AGAIN!'.

Even that was somewhat amusing... until he remembered how he ended up here in the first place. A shudder rushed down his spine cause a brief grunt to escape as it pasted his ribs. Maybe he should wait a bit before he ever decides to visit again.

**the day before**

It was just an average weekend spent at home. All the kids were over and causing mischief. Balam currently had an energetic Clara on his shoulders whilst Iruma and Lied clung to his legs.

Kamui was sitting with Kerori and Elizabetta currently having tea. Alice and Sabro were fighting again, but they weren't destroying anything, so you chalked that up for a win. Picero was taking a nap on his cloud while Goemon, Allocer, and Jazz seemed to be playing some kind of card game.

Which left Soi, who was currently trying to sneak up on Balam with one of your freshly made flower crowns. You giggled as you watched the two of them playfully participate in a game of now you see me. Every time Balam-San would turn to acknowledge the little demon, he would disappear.

Overall, it was a lovely day. Too bad something had to ruin it. A shadow loomed over you, and you glanced up recognizing your uninvited guest. "Hiya cutie, did ya miss me?" General Furfur.

You gave him a blank stare in return. "What are you doing here?" The disinterest in you tone making the answer to his question very clear. "Aw, don't be so cold. Didn't we have fun last time?" That slick smirk stretching across his face.

"I believe I told you already. I don't waste my time with people who don't raise my interest. You had it, but you lost it just as quickly. It's not my fault if you can't maintain something." You shrug before turning back to watch your kids.

Somehow, Soi had either snuck up a tree without Balam-San noticing or the demon had let the boy think that. Either way, he hung precariously above the gargoyles head, shushing a giggling Clara as he dropped the laurel on top of their dad's head.

Shichirou, for his part, blinked and pretended to be surprised when he reached up to touch his head. "What do you even see in him?" You heard the frustration in his voice, and you stiffened.

"I mean, he's so weird, I heard he constantly carried creepy books around as a student, and he is constantly mumbling strange nonsense. So what's there to even like?" You could feel your nails digging into your flesh, your teeth clenching together like a steel trap.

"And you know even if he is strong, he's more of a pacifist, not very demon like if you ask me." Every word seemed to grate on your skin. How dare he?!? How dare he scoff at your husband/mate/whatever this relationship had escalated to.

Standing up, you were ready to send him flying through the garden wall. Only.... someone beat you to it? Well, more like two demon's cause it seemed Alice and Sabro had heard the red demon trash talking their master.

It seems all of your children had heard to actually as they proceeded to gang up on the large general before he could stand. Kicking punching scratching, you even saw iruma bitting him!! Balam cautiously approached you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

"Are you alright?" He whispers softly in your ear, brushing his woven feathers behind your ear as he does. You glance over to him. Seeing your present still firmly in place wrapped by strong vines around his neck. The pretty stone sort of winking in the light.

Reaching up, you wiped your shocked tears off of your face in surprise. Oh! You hadn't realized you were crying. "Yeah, it's just..." looking back in time to see Clara and Sabro holding a large hammer and smashing it on one of Furfurs legs.

"I'm just so proud!" The tears of shock quickly turning into one's of joy. "Look at my babies fighting to defend you! Oh, where's my camera?!" You quickly grabbed your phone and started taking pictures.

The gargoyle shifted somewhere between nervous but also proud. "Shouldn't we stop them?" You waved off his concern. "It will be fine as long as they don't kill him."

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nicoforlifetrue · 18 days

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im writeing a fic for plot swap

so the plot swap post has turned into an entire fic, with a plot chart and everything, this is going to be the basic outline for the difference in au vs cannon considering canon color crew plus purple minus orange are going to be in the au. call this the character chart. if you want to go into the au blind when i post it ignore this

Alan Becker, aka the creator, dad

actually a good stick dad, and cared for them as best he could, currently mia after the hollow heads watched him collapse and be taken away by people. the hollows are doing everything they can to find him.

Victim Becker, aka the firstborn, Vic, was an accidental creation

created rocket corp in an attempt to find the creator, runs it not to dissimilar to a mafia, ruthless with anyone perceived as being in the way, over protective of his brothers has mercs watching them near constantly so nothing can happen to them. considers his siblings an ace up his sleeve if the cards are down considering there powers are much stronger then his.

the chosen one Becker, aka the second born, cho, tco, one, created to give vic someone to spend time with

after a brief stent of destruction after alans disappearance and the pc shutting down now spends most of his time either training second or keeping the home feeling like home, the only sibling actually copeing instead of just trying to fix the problem, he and alan worked on his temper but after alans disappearance its almost as bad as when he was born.

the dark lord Becker, aka the third born, dark tdl, created to give cho someone to spar with

the most laid back after Alan's vanishing, but handling it worse then cho, has not processed what's happening at all, takes his bursts of rage out on any website that bugs him even slightly, vic encourages this, spends most days tearing the web apart trying to locate any sign of alan or sneaking second away from the mercs to go mess around in the city.

the second coming becker, aka the youngest child, sec, tsc, orange, also a complete accident

having only been around for two weeks before his dads vanishing act he blames himself for it, hasnt met any of his friends yet and is lonely, clinging to his brothers for interaction, has really bad social anxiety yet always running away from his babysitters to try and make friends, most of his brothers fear as a result of there dad vanishing has focused onto him, resulting in them being over protective. powers activated when the pc shut down, has a very basic grasp on them but they tend to react to his emotions without his imput.

the color crew(red green blue and yellow)

where never broken out of their game and are still there stuck, sick of being stuck in the fighting loop.

mango tango, aka mt, dad

suspicious of rocket corp but keeping his head down for his family, never went on his rampage because gold never died. retired professional fighter teaching gold how to fight and teaching purple he doesn't have to fight, current stay at home dad.

lilac, aka mom

also suspicious of rocket corp and is also better at keeping her head down then her husband, divorced navy when purple was six and her then husband broke their kids arm, marryed MT when purple was eight, works as a software engineer, her company is offten hired by rocket corp. her illness was treatable because of vic digging into hospital record and other such databases in an attempt to find alan, leading to her actually getting a diagnosis and eventual recovery. she can no longer work in the field and works from home most days, refuses to let MT get a job so she can quit, she likes her work too much and she knows he adores spending so much time with the kids.

marigold, aka gold, big sister

unaware of her parents worry's, is two years older then purple and wants to be a professional fighter like her dad, didn't die because the hollows had gone to the fair before them, and sec had gone in when the error was made but instead of dyeing his powers teleported him to freedom. dosent have any freinds because her energy scares most people away, she dosnt mind. she asks too many questions in too public places for her parents liking, shes going to get into something she cant get out of one of these days.

purple, aka little brother

very aware of his parents concerns, also doesn't have any friends so spends most of the time with his sister, interested in the use of icons outside of their apps, aka one of the things rocket corp specializes in, try's to keep his head down but he's got a strong sense of justice that doesn't like keeping quite

#avm #animation vs animator #animation vs minecraft #plot swap au

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mistydeyes · 10 months

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marigolds and zinnias

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

WARNING get some fucking tissues because this is sad! it's also very long (5.5k words) so buckle up

summary: The next four years are the most difficult for you and Kyle and it all ends with his enlistment in the Army. What happens to your blooming love when life gets in the way?

pairing: Gaz x childhood love! fem!Reader

warnings: ANGST, SO MUCH ANGST AND SADNESS, SWEARING, mentions of death and illness

a/n: Thank you as always for all the love and support! It's honestly so touching and all your sweet words encourage me to write more and more <3

🏷️ @the-faceless-bride @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

marigolds - grief

The next four years were some of the hardest for both of you. First, Grandad passed away in October. As the Autumn leaves continued to fall and crunch under your boots, you walked home from secondary school. By now, you were familiar with the mile trek and enjoyed the music from your new phone. Humming along to the song, you walked up the hill to your home. However, you immediately paused your music when you saw the ambulance in front of the elderly Garrick's home. From the distance, you could see Nana crying with your mum holding her in her arms. On the cot, you saw Grandad being placed in. The lack of emergency lights and sirens broke your heart further as you knew they weren't in any rush to the hospital. You broke into a sprint and made your way to the somber scene. The next few hours moved in a blur as your mother said he had died from a heart attack in the kitchen around 2. You spent the remainder of the afternoon with Nana, making tea and berry scones.

It was late that night when you saw headlights coming up the hill and soon another car pull into the driveway. You knew who it was. Kyle walked out, eyes puffy with tears, along with his mum and his dad, who you only met on a few occasions due to his work schedule. You unlocked the door for them and pulled Kyle into a hug. You both cried as Grandad had been one for both you and him. He was the original creator of your shared journal and would always make an effort to see you playing outside or having lunch. Kyle's mum went over to Nana and gave her a long hug. As Nana cried, you saw the silent, glistening tears on his mum's face. That was her dad, someone who had raised her to value family and encouraged Kyle to spend his summers in Worcestershire. Your mum and Kyle's dad made their way to the kitchen, getting refreshments and tissues for the Garrick family. As you held Kyle in your arms, you whispered you were here for him through it all.

The funeral was small, with your families on one side and some of the local townspeople and merchants on the other. Your family provided the flower arrangements, free of charge and the parlor was filled with elegant bouquets requested from family friends who couldn't make it. Kyle's mum gave a beautiful eulogy describing how her father would always be in his workshop, presenting her with handcrafted toys and eventually bags when she became older. She described how her father would have calloused hands and she would rub her mum's shea butter on his palms and worn digits. As she concluded, she kissed her father's casket and said, "Rest now, Dad. You'll have all the time in the world in your workshop in the sky." With that, the pallbearers with Kyle in front, took the casket to the burial ground.

It was a small plot of land reserved for him and Nana. A large weeping willow stood above you. Mourning you thought, page 64 in your journal. The crowd was silent as the gentle breeze lowered some hanging dead leaves onto the headstone. Grandad had designed a simple one for them both with his recipe for his famous lemonade inscribed on the back. As they lowered him, you held Kyle's hand tightly. You began to lose circulation but you didn't care as you were here for your best friend. The crowd began to clear only leaving you, Kyle, his parents, and Nana. Your mum returned with a small bouquet of rosemary (remembrance) and took her side next to Nana. Nana hummed an old hymn, the Garricks weren't religious but the elder Garricks loved music. Your mum looked at you and signaled to offer the family some privacy. You gave Kyle a reassuring pat on his hand and turned to walk away with your mother, back to the empty homes.

No one was surprised when Nana passed away about a year later. Her eyesight was so poor she couldn't read any of her recipe books. Not that she would need to, after Grandad passed she lost all motivation to cook as there was no one she could recount her travels with. Your mum and you helped out when you could, making meals for her, accompanying her for afternoon tea, and even making the trip up to Manchester so she could see one of Kyle's track meets. However, when she stopped leaving the house, you knew it was time. You held up your phone on FaceTime as Kyle told his Nan all about his recent achievements and how he had made some of her recipes at home. The Garricks would be coming this evening to be with Nana in her final moments. After a long time, Kyle hung up and you placed your phone in your pocket. You held Nana's hand and let some tears fall. She raised her other hand and wiped your tears with a shaking hand.

"Love, don't cry I'll be with Grandad soon and we'll be the best chefs in heaven," she whispered and you couldn't help but cry harder.

"I know, I know, but what will Kyle and I do without you?" you asked, not attempting to hide that you were now fully sobbing.

"Y/N, I have seen you and Kyle grow into fine young people. We watched you grow from shy, curious kids into mature young adults. Do you know that Grandad and I used to say you reminded you of us? Except in reverse, Grandad loved his trade and I wanted to see the world but at the end of the day, I still ended up back with him." she recounted, a glimmer in her eye as she remembered her late husband.

"Now, Y/N, I know he has some great ambitions but I know you'll both look out for each other. Baby's breath, everlasting love," she continued, "a smart young girl told me that once before dropping a bouquet on our dinner table."

She gave a small chuckle and closed her eyes to rest. You kissed the back of her hand and sat in the kitchen, writing out for your mum what flowers would be needed at the funeral. You listed out some familiar ones and blossoms that Nana specially requested.

Your tears fell on the paper as you wrote out poppy (eternal rest), primrose (sadness), Michaelmas daisy (farewell), hyacinth (sorrow), marigold (grief), and Nana's request of dahlias (eternal love). As you finished, you wiped your tears off the page in an attempt not to soak it anymore. You carefully read over your shaky handwriting as you heard the door unlock. You saw Kyle's dad give you a solemn wave and was followed by his wife and son. The minute you saw Kyle's puffy face, you knew you couldn't do this. Before anyone could say anything, you rushed out of the kitchen door to your room. Your tears continued to fall as you could hear a broken Kyle try to call out your name hoarsely.

Your mum came into your room that night and let you know she had passed. As you cried into her shoulder, she gently stroked your hair and whispered that this was a new beginning for them, together in a better place. That night you don't know when you went to bed but as you slowly opened your eyes to see the sunlight peering in, your heart was broken into a million pieces knowing that two of your favorite people were gone.

The funeral was on a surprisingly warm November day. You sat in your bedroom in a simple black dress, trying to keep your makeup from running. Your room was a mess with clothes and dying flowers but you didn’t care. You pulled out a compact mirror to make yourself presentable as the funeral was in a few hours. As you adjusted your smudged eyeliner a soft knock at your door drew your attention. There stood Kyle, dressed in a sharp black suit with a flower in his lapel, he was 14 now but looked so aged from the last two year's events. You focused on his face noticing the bags around his puffy eyes and his nose red from crying. “These were her favorites,” he said, gesturing to the flower, sweet peas for delicate pleasures in life.

“I know,” you laughed slightly, “She always had me bring those over once they bloomed or the shop got some in. She loved the pink and white ones the most.” With the last word, your voice cracked and you stifled a sob. There would be no more bouquet deliveries to their house anymore.

“Can I sit?” he asked and you made room on your bed. He laid down next to you, his head tilting slightly so you could see how he glowed in the early morning light. “I don’t know if I can do this, Y/N,” he said and you could hear a crack in his voice.

You lay down next to him and held his hand tightly. “You know she’d be so proud of you,” you started, “she would look at you in front of that whole crowd and say, ‘That’s my Kyle.’”

You tried to reassure him but you could see some tears begin to fall. You pulled him against you, holding him in your arms as he cried into your comforter. You sat like that for hours, occasional sobs rippling through his body. You held on to him as if your life depended on it, trying to angle your tears away from his suit jacket. He was too tall to have you spooning him like this but it provided you both comfort. He held your arms tightly as he described some of his earlier memories with them before spending the summers here.

You hummed as he described how, when he was born, they would watch YouTube videos to learn how to style his unruly hair. He went into a long story about how Nana read him stories about her adventures in Asia, how she rode an elephant in Thailand while a flight was delayed.

“She would have loved to see me in my uniform,” he whispered through sobs. Kyle had been relentlessly communicating with the recruitment office, showing an expressed interest to enlist at 16. His bookshelves were filled with manuals and drills, and he even procured a military code of conduct.

“Well, you’ll have to visit her, Officer Garrick,” you spoke. “You should talk to her and Granddad and tell them of all your accomplishments and how you soared through the ranks as a brave little soldier boy.”

“This is a big ask but do you think when I’m giving her eulogy, you could stand there with me?” he asked, “You can say no but I don’t think I can do this.”

You lightly kissed the top of his head and reiterated your promise to stay by his side through it all.

Eventually, your mum summoned you both to the cemetery. You walked out hand and hand with Kyle as the line of cars appeared outside your house with the hearse leading the way. His dad beckoned his son and you walked to their car, holding his hand the entire way.

Kyle’s eulogy was beautiful. As the ceremony approached the fateful moment, you could feel his feet tapping on the home's wood floor. You whispered to him, "It'll be okay, I'll be right there with you." Finally, he was summoned to the front. As the crowd of family and friends quieted, he gripped your shoulders tightly and guided you both to the front.

"Um hi, I'm Kyle, for those of you who don't know," he started and got a small laugh from the crowd. "My grandparents, Nana and Grandad as they liked to be called, were some of the kindest people you could ever meet in life. When I was younger, they took me into their home and taught me everything I needed to know. My first word was 'aviation', something that Nana taught me while she told her stories about traveling," he paused and you could see his eyes start to water. "I just know she wished to take me to all the places she went. I couldn't blame her. If I was able to walk across the desert on a camel, I would want to take someone else there too," the crowd laughed and his parents looked at their son, proudly. "When I told her I would see the world through the army, she joked, 'That's perfect! No more long haircuts to manage' and asked me to send her a postcard no matter where I went." At this, Kyle was now fully in tears and you too felt your face become wet with your own. "I, uh, know that she won't get to read them but I hope she knows that I'll tell my kids about all of her adventures and add some of mine less interesting ones in there. I love you Nana and Grandad and hope you too are making some good food wherever you are."

Later, your mum would tell you there wasn't a dry eye in the crowd after Kyle spoke. Somehow in your flood of tears, you were able to make it to the cemetery with the rest of the processional. As you stood in front of the gathering of people, you looked around to see the flower arrangements. You were enraged when you saw the golden marigolds in an ornate wreath. The language of flowers frustrated you, how could something so bright and so intertwined with happy memories be connected to grief? From the lemonade to your birthday to this, you couldn’t stand the sight of them. You wanted to walk over there and rip them down, erasing any memory of Nana’s passing.

Once Grandad and Nana had passed, Kyle solemnly visited. How could you blame him? The house was filled with memories of them and sadness. You would text and call every few weeks but it was clear his training for selection was taking precedence. He would send pictures occasionally at the gym and you could see him gaining muscle and becoming broader. You simply replied with a 'looking good!' and a snap of you with your latest floral order. You had been working part-time managing your mum's florist shop and the online store, you eventually wanted to go to Oxford and knew you needed the money.

In December, a month after Nana’s passing, a family with a teenage daughter and a boy on the way moved into the Garrick’s home. When you saw the moving truck, you went over to introduce yourself. You brought a bouquet of wisterias, something you had done years ago. The family was introduced and you met their daughter, Delilah, Lila for short. She was 16 and had decided to work instead of continuing to a university. Her family described her as an avid herbalist, frequently brewing teas and creating her sachets. That’s how she ended up working in your family floral shop with you and your mother. She was a quick learner, carrying around a notepad to write down every instruction and flower she came across. You became friends over the months but nothing could replace Kyle.

Kyle had his own life in Manchester. As you continued with school and working with Lila, you would constantly see Kyle posting on his socials. By early January, you had recognized a pretty girl making reoccurring appearances. You had your suspicions and these were confirmed with him posting a pic lightly kissing her forehead.

By now, the recent deaths had made you realize that you were content with just being Kyle's summer friend. You no longer held resentment over your unrequited love. You texted him and typed, "Let me know if you'd like me to send something for St. Valentines! You know I'd make your girl a meaningful bouquet." You placed your phone down, smiling at his contact picture. During the summer after Year 8, Kyle picked up two daisies and placed them in front go his eyes. You couldn't help but laugh. After you snapped a picture, you wrote Innocence in your journal along with a daisy-plucked petal. Remembering that moment, you understood why children would take daisy petals and play effeuiller la marguerite (he loves me, he loves me not game). As you finished your coursework, you could hear the landline ring. You knew your mother was out at work so you picked up the phone.

On the other line the solemn, female voice spoke, "Hi this is the Worcestershire Royal Hospital, am I speaking to Mrs. L/N?" This was odd as you hadn't remembered your mum having any recent appointments or tests.

"No sorry this is her daughter, can I take a message for her?" you asked, twirling the cord of the phone in your hand.

"I require her in person. If she is available today, I'll be in my office at 6 pm. This is Dr. Sanderson if she asks. She should know where my office is." With that, the woman hung up the phone and you quickly grabbed yours to call your mum.

You saw you had a text from Kyle but ignored it to immediately dial her. When you told her the urgent message, she said to meet her at the florist shop and you both would drive to the hospital.

You walked amongst the puddles of melted snow, saying a silent prayer to Grandad and Nana. Your mother told you once that when her husband died, the phone call she received was similar. Her heart had dropped upon hearing it was from the hospital, knowing he was on his way from work and you were safe in your crib. That feeling resonated through you, Dahlilas instability.

Within 10 minutes you made it to your destination and saw your mother turning the sign on the shop. She motioned for you to come around back to the car and you walked with her, a hand around her waist.

The drive was silent as you made your way to the sterile appearing hospital. She parked and you ascended the lift to Dr. Sanderson's office. Your mother went in first and pulled out the chair next to her for you.

That day the hospital was filled with your agonizing screams. Dr. Sanderson told your mum that her recent X-ray and blood work confirmed the presence of cancer. "Stage 4," she softly said as your mum gripped your hand tighter, "we will do whatever we can but I'll be honest with you, the prognosis does not look good."

You couldn't lose your mum, she was the only one you had left. There was no next of kin and you knew the foster system would take you in as you were not yet 16. As your mum assessed her options, you hugged her as if your life depended on it. She sent you out into the hallway to discuss the treatment plan and you sunk to the floor in defeat.

She emerged soon after, a pained look on her face and tears in her eyes. "Let's go home, sweetheart," she said, voice breaking and you descended to your car.

As you tried to process everything happening, you completely disregarded Kyle's text saying,

"thanks, flower girl! i think i'm good though, i can handle it for her :) you taught me a thing or two about the language of flowers."

In the spring, your mum started therapy. Lila promised to manage the shop more frequently as you accompanied your mother to her appointments. You would bring all your flower books to read to her as she laid down to receive another round of chemotherapy.

"Really, I didn't know that oats meant 'the witching soul of music'" she said hoarsely. "That's what the book says, must be one you haven't read" you replied and smiled back at her. You couldn't help but feel nauseous as you saw the IV slowly trickle the drug into her arm. She looked so weak, beginning to lose her hair and her color.

"Hey now, look at me," she said, noting your distracted gaze, "read me the next one, sweetheart." And like that, the cold winter months continued into spring then summer then back to the month when you first learned of her diagnosis. It had gone by like a blur, holidays were spent in the hospital, and without your summer routine, you spent all of your time with your mum. You made it through 12 books by the time your mother finished the first round of treatment. They said they'd give it time before seeing how she was doing and continuing. "Promising news," the doctors had told you both. By all accounts, it did look positive. You were able to enjoy your last summer before sixth form and had been working full-time managing the shop and handling orders while your mum rested. She was far too weak to handle carrying buckets of flowers around, so she primarily napped and would read when you weren't home. You made an effort to sit her by the window so she could see the growing flowers in the garden and wave to the neighbors passing.

After a long day of wedding preparations, you waved Lila goodbye and entered your home. However, something was different. You could hear two voices laughing in the living room. As you rounded the corner, you saw Kyle sitting on the loveseat across from your mother. You hadn't seen him in months. By now, he was 16 and looked like a soldier. You couldn't believe the amount of training he had put in to prepare for enlistment. He just looked so different, blooming like a cattleya orchid mature charms.

"Kyle, I didn't expect to see you here," you exclaimed and embraced your old friend tightly. "He came by this afternoon but told me not to rush you out of the flower shop," your mother joked as you held him close. "I've missed you," you whispered. "Me too."

As you caught up, your mother looked at you both lovingly. You discussed your new school in September along with your accomplishments with Lila at the shop. In return, Kyle entertained you with his relationship that had fizzled out, "she told me I was at the gym too much," he joked. He even mentioned how he was going to join the famed Special Air Service. "I've been training and I think I can get the fastest times, just have to wait until I'm 18." As you marveled at his ambitious nature, you could hear your mum snoring softly in her chair.

"If it's alright with you, I packed a bag to stay over. I'll be leaving for the AFC in September so I won't see you for a while, flower girl," he asked and pointed to a neatly packed duffle. You shook your head in agreement and slowly led him to your bedroom.

"This place has not changed since I was last here," he joked as he looked around at your books and dried bouquets. "Haven't had much time to add things," you replied, plainly.

"Y/N, why didn't you tell me she was sick?" he asked and you turned towards him. You knew the answer but couldn't bring yourself to accuse him of not being there for you. "I knew you were preparing for assessment and there wasn't much you could do besides worry," you replied quietly, sitting on the bed. Kyle joined next to you and held your hand. "I could've been there for you," he whispered back. Like that, you were defeated and could help by crying deeply into his chest. He held you and tried to soothe your wails but you let out all the pent-up sadness inside you. Eventually, your tears came to a stop and he felt your chest slowly rise and fall into slumber. "I love you," he whispered, knowing you couldn't hear him.

The next day, he left and you held each other for what felt like hours. "Promise me you'll call when you can?" you asked through your tears. "I will, take care of yourself, okay?" he said as he kissed your forehead. You and your mum waved goodbye as Kyle walked to town to catch the next bus home. Little did you know, this would be your last time seeing him.

"Mum, I'm home," you called. The beginning of September heat coated the air and you took off your apron, dusted in pollen and cut stems. It was quiet but you assumed your mother was resting. You stepped around the vases filled with bouquets, all with a similar sentiment 'to stay well and live a long healthy life.' You crept through the house, trying not to wake her. However, as you approached the kitchen you could see spilled soup splattered on the walls. As you rushed to assess the scene, you saw your mother laying on the ground, surrounded by a shattered bowl and a flower clutched in her hand.

Somehow, you managed to call an ambulance and were sitting with her in a hospital. She was hooked up to so many machines and her breathing was shallow. You stayed there for many sleepless nights with Lila's family bringing you food and encouraging you to sleep every so often. You tried to will everything in the universe to get her to wake up, you just wanted to hear her voice again and talk about the flower language she was fluent in. Her hands were cold as you held them and begged for her just to open her eyes, one last time.

September 18th was the day you lost her. You never learned why she was holding a flower in her hand. But when you researched what the yellow petals of a cinquefoil were, you could help but sob. My beloved daughter, they signified and you silently cursed your mother's secret message.

Your mum knew her time was fast approaching and presented a detailed plan to Delilah's family. She wanted a small funeral, no frills, no eulogy, just a ceremony to see her off. She made arrangements to be cremated and turned into a chrysanthemum bushel, cheerfulness under adversity. She only left you with one task: prepare the arrangements.

You threw yourself into the florist shop and did the best you could with the end-of-summer harvest. You managed to bundle bouquets of cosmos (joy in love and life), rosemary (remembrance), Michaelmas daisy (farewell), poppy (eternal rest), and hyacinth (sorrow) all wrapped in moss (maternal love). No one dared to bother you as you went about your work, with every flower placed came a flood of tears and you were a mess.

That night, you slowly wrapped yourself in one of her sweaters a laid in your bed. You tried to place numerous calls to Kyle but eventually knew he was unable to be reached. You assumed training had begun and they were given limited access. You decided to call his mum, a woman you respected and truly needed at this time. As you held the phone to your damp face, you heard her pick up. "Y/N sweetie, what's going on?" she asked sweetly. You couldn't hold it in, you cried and she knew what had happened. "Well be over soon, love, don't you worry," and she hung up, leaving you alone in the empty house.

Unlike when Nana and Grandad died, it poured into the countryside. Kyle's parents had packed up to stay the next couple of days through the burial and constantly checked in on you. You refused to eat and couldn't bear to look at her room. You spent most of your days practically catatonic as Mrs. Garrick held you tightly on the couch. Seconds went by like days and soon Delilah was at your door telling you it was time.

The trip to the crematorium was met with flooding streets and the sickening cracking of lightning. Per your mother's wishes, only you, Kyle, and Delilah's family were there. You saw they had prepared your mother's body and had transported your bouquets for her. She lay there, in a plain shirt and her overalls surrounded by flowers. She looked like Ophelia in that one painting, so beautiful and with a smile on her face. As you looked at your mother, you stroked her cold face and whispered that you loved her. You then placed a yellow jasmine bunch in her hands, the first language of love. You took one last look at your lovely mother, wanting to hold her tightly and thank her for the wonderful 16 years she had given you. As you felt Delilah's hand on your shoulder, you knew it was time. Mr. Garrick held you into his chest as they began the process of cremation. Your sobs drowned and gasps for air out the crackling sounds of the fire that put your mother to eternal rest. You crumbled to your knees when they whispered it was over and you were carried to the car. As the cold rainwater met your face, you realized you were now truly alone.

zinnia - thoughts of absent friends

It took you two weeks to return to school. You were gaunt and tired, not caring what anyone thought of you. Delilah's mum offered to drive you, saying she would pick you up in the afternoon. You entered the halls and greeted your teacher who gave you a comforting smile. As you sat in your seat, you tuned out the world and threw yourself into your studies.

Your mother was smart and had made all the preparations for you following her passing. The house and sixth form had been paid off and she gave careful instructions to Delilah's dad to help you pay for utilities, manage the shop, and take care of yourself. The bills were put in their name and they provided a weekly allowance for yourself, something both your late parents had prepared for you. While you appreciated their kindness, it was difficult. You felt like you were constantly drowning. You ignored the constant texts from Kyle's parents and only opened the door when it was Delilah bringing over food and making sure you had done your work for the day. Whenever you finished dinner and your schoolwork, you slept and tried to fill the emptiness inside you.

Sixth form was a blur. You made a few friends but primarily spent your time studying or working on university applications. When the December frost coated the air, you received a text from Kyle. "I am so sorry. I wish I could've been there for you. Tell you what, I have 8 weeks of leave and you could spend the holidays with us!' you read. You couldn't bear to spend time with another family when you had just lost your one. Maybe it was too harsh but you replied, "I'm doing okay, I would just like to be alone. Take care and Happy Holidays!" You hoped he read that with enthusiasm as you cocooned yourself in a blanket, preparing to sleep the holidays away.

Delilah's family understood your request and came over the next few days to deliver food as well as presents. You cracked a fake smile when they knocked on the door to present you with the items. As Lila handed you a fresh tray of food, she brought a variety of things in for you. Amongst the decorative packaging was a parcel from the Garricks. You gestured for her to put it in the living room and said you would get to it later. Before she parted she said, "You should open the box, it's from Kyle. Also here, my family thought you would like this," and she handed you a small note. On it, an address had been scribbled. "This is where they planted the chrysanthemum bush, father says it should be blooming in the spring. It's by the weeping willow tree," and you knew exactly where it was, your mother lied with the Garricks. You shook your head and thanked her. "Take care of yourself, just know we're always here for you," with that Lila was gone, trudging across the cold snowy lawn.

You lay directly on the carpet and wished you were better. You wished you were happier, that grief hadn't affected you like it had. You wished Kyle was here and that you had taken his stupid offer to see him. You let your tears fall freely as you thought of zinnias, thoughts of absent friends.

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

a/n: you made it! thank you for reading all the way through :) don't worry, there are happier days ahead for our two lovebirds so just you wait

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing

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owlish-owlhouse · 1 year

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Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病)

For those that don't know Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where a person spits up flower petals if they like somebody/ have found who they think is their soulmate. As time goes on the petals turn to full fledged flowers growing from the heart. If the love is one-sided then the person chokes to death on the flowers, the petals filling their lungs. If it's mutual the disease fades away.

Platonic soulmates spit up their partners/friends petals. They are non-dangerous but the petals can rot or wilt over time if the relationship fades. Romantic soulmates spit up petals and grow flowers from their lungs until the person confesses. Once the confessions been made petals will occasionally show with strong emotions.

Tagging you Dopp, @dopp-loves-yanderes

...

Belos is Orange Lilies

Orange Lilies: Lilies are considered a beautiful, popular flower but the orange variations symbolize confidence, wealth, hatred, disdain, and pride

Hunters is Sunflowers

Sunflowers: Loyalty, Honesty, and Adoration. They can also symbolize a want for happiness or stronger commitments/connections as the flowers reach towards the sun.

Liliths is Jasmine

Jasmine: These flowers have many meanings. Purity, feminine powers, sensuality, modesty, hospitality, community, inspiration, and spiritual ascension being some of them.

Kikimoras is Red Tulips

Red Tulips: They Represent passionate and fiery love. Also often seen as obsessive deep or true love. They can be weeds as well.

Raine is Red Roses (R.I.P Eda)

Red Roses: Also seen as a flower that represents passionate love they can also be a sign of wanting deeper commitment. Often thrown onto stage after a performance they express love, gratitude and appreciation to performing artists.

EberWolfs is Orange Poppies

Orange Poppies: Wild and free, orange poppies represent health and regeneration.

Vitimirs is Marigold

Marigold: The change of the winter season they are seen as a sign of clear thinking, the future changing, inner strength, and positive emotions.

Terras are Snapdragons (of course)

Snapdragons: Typically associated with grace and strength due to how they look and the rocky areas they grow, these flowers can also represent deviousness and deception.

Adrain is Forget me Nots

Forget me Nots: They represent true love. Giving someone this flower means you truly love and respect this person. It is a testament to your relationship and promises the other person that you will never forget them in your thoughts. It can also be a flower of great sadness and loneliness.

Hetties are Morning Glorys

Morning Glorys: A flower used in many medications (LSD) it represents resilience and strength.

Osran is Wisteria

Wisteria: Representing love and devotion even past death, they are seen as having good luck, lasting success, and longevity in life.

Darius is Lilacs

Lilacs: The Joy of Youth. Connecting to the spiritual and sexual they often mean renewal and confidence. They can also bring happiness and tranquility to one's life the relationships in it.

Mason is Chocolate Dahlia

Chocolate Dahlias: New beginnings and fresh starts, steadfastness, beauty, commitment to what is good, and kindness these flowers have many meanings depending on the colors.

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marigoldhospital · 10 months

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#weirdcore #oddcore #unreality #liminalcore #surrealcore #sadcore #voidcore #dreamcore #feverdreamcore #angelcore #grief and loss #marigold hospital #july 2023 #(I made this edit on my phone)

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jekyll-doodles · 3 months

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Is there any specific theme regarding the plants chosen for the Masked Lords keychains (and why the White Lord only has them on the unmasked side)?

You know there is, bud:

Nigredo / Black Lord : Grapes. For his upbringing on a vineyard. Representing his family and the work he put forth for them and his home. A sense of hospitality (giving/sharing food). The black lord's however bare thorns and are inaccessible without causing pain. No longer a source of good will, only malice and betrayal.

Albedo / White Lord : Baby's Breath. For their religious upbringing. For their gentle and calming nature. For their baby. Relating to them becoming The Soul in the After. The missing flowers then standing for the loss of their child and their values.

Citrinitas / Yellow Lord : Marigolds. For overcoming past hardships and enduring pain without slipping into cynicism. For bravery. For his warmth and nurturing nature. They are stained red, the bloodshed from senseless violence and brutality.

Rubedo / Red Lord : Roses. Felt a little obvious for this, for love and compassion. Thornless for his genuine love of those around him, and colored using his future color theme in the After as The Heart. The red lord's are saturated to red, and bare many thorns. Desires turned into cruelty, hostile and possessive.

#clyde clyde CLYDE. you KNOW i thought about this.#scp wakey wakey #alagadda sans masks #scp au #scp alagadda #ask #greenghostlyjekyll

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honest-jellyfish · 1 year

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Flower Language

Alstroemeria- Friendship, devotion, sentiment, love, strength

Apple Blossom- I prefer you over all

Amaryllis- Splendid Beauty

Anemone- Anticipation

Anthurium- Hospitality

Aster- Patience, September birth flower, love, daintiness

Bird of Paradise- joyfulness,

Bouvardia- Enthusiasm

Carnations- Pride and Beauty, January birth flower,

Cushion Chrysanthemum- fidelity, November birth flower

Corn Flower- be gentle with me

Calla Lily- beauty

Daisy- fidelity, April birth flower, loyal love, innocence, I love you truly

Standard Chrysanthemum- fidelity, November birth flower

Daffodil- chivalry, March birth flower,

Delphinium- Heavenly, July birth flower

Freesia- Innocence

Gladiolus- strength of character, August birth flower

Gerbera Daisy- innocence, joy, cheerfulness

Gelid- love,beauty, refinement, beautiful lady (ha! Ironic isnt it?)

Heather- admiration

Hyacinth- constancy, your loveliness cheers me, tragedy, love

Hydrangea- Heartfelt

Honeysuckle- devoted affection

Iris- my compliments, February birth flower, “I send a message”

Larkspur- levity

Lily- May birth flower, humility, devotion, restored innocence after death, “my love is pure”

Lilac- youthful innonce

Lillies of the valley- return of happiness

Marigold- October birth flower,

Mimosas- sensitivity

Magnolia- perseverance

Maidenhair- discretion

Narcissus- December birth flower, confidence, beauty, dedication

Orange Blossom- purity, virginity

Orchid- A belle

Peony- bashful

Primrose- “Can’t live without you,”

Peach blossom- captive

Poppy- I am not free, sleep

Rosemary- remembrance

Rose- June flower, love, passion, respect, courage

Sunflower- adoration, loyalty, longevity, pure thoughts

Snowdrop- hope

Sweet pea- delicate pleasure

Tulip- love, declaration of love, friendship, gratitude

Tiger lily- wealth, pride

Veronica- fidelity

Violet- faithfulness

Wild rose- pleasure, and pain

#beauty #studyspo #flowers #herbology #plants and herbs #meaning #bouquet #i love her #self love #secret message #hatred #red roses #hapiness

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tyetknot · 8 months

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I managed to just barely stay in Leo season, which probably explains why I'm so bad at it.

I am 40 years old today, which is weird to think about. When my father was my age I was ten years old. I have outlived my own mother, but my father tells me I have her hair. I called my parents today and was regaled once again with the story of how I was born, with new additions each time - this year I learned that my stepmother, who worked with my father, saw the cab he used to drive parked out front of the hospital, and knew that he was visiting his newborn and tenuously-alive son. When I was younger I found this boring, but now I know I need to treasure these stories because at some point I will no longer have the people who tell them to me.

At one point this felt like an impossibly advanced age, with a host of expectations imposed by society, many of which I have rejected or avoided.

A friend who is a gardener at a local historic mansion brought me a bouquet of flowers - there's strawflower and marigold and zinnia and sage in there, amid other things. People never give men flowers, which is a shame because I really like having a vase of them on my desk at work - maybe because I'm a plant and gardening guy, who can say - and being reminded that there are people out there who appreciate me enough to give me an ephemeral and useless pretty thing just because it's pretty.

#Selfie #Me #Birthday selfie #Personal #male witch

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stories-by-an-anxious-ice-dragon · 7 days

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[Horror] Necromancer - 01

I've noticed a lot of memes saying that necromancy isn't as scary as it seems, and while I sometimes agree, I wished to try my hand at it.

CW: Gore, Bugs, Death

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The sound of the footsteps tells you that the floor is wood, though to you, it feels like long-since-dusted stone. Or perhaps, it feels like nothing at all. Perhaps it was the mantle, upon which you’d be judged by… whoever you were meant to face after their death.

Who… are you? It’s so hard to recall anything. There’s a buzzing noise in your head that reminds you too much of the printing machines you used to work with at Marigold’s shop, and it fills your prefrontal cortex with too much white and gray noise to focus on anything. When you do focus, the only thing that sticks out to you is the cavity in your chest, where you can feel specks of flesh dripping where your ribs should be. When you curl up, and put your head to the cavity, the smell is noxious and makes your eyes water. If you could open your eyes… would you want to know what’s happening down there?

Would you want to see the cockroaches and fat beetles skittering around inside of your stomach?

The footsteps are slow, and methodical. They arrive with the swing of a door whose hinges might not have been oiled in decades… or maybe centuries. The gust of wind causes the bugs to jump. And then the door closes. Something drags beside the footsteps, scratching and sliding over the floorboards, clinking off the nails embedded in them like it was meant to be some kind of demented musical instrument. Tapping closer and closer to the pile of grayed flesh that are your remains.

Whatever it is, it nudges you. The tip of it is glassy, and it chills your spine as it drags down it. Eventually, it forces itself into the fetal curl you’ve found yourself in, and forces you out of it. The rod gets under your chin and pushes it back, until the back of your head hits the skirting of the wall. The skirting’s just as rotted as… your stomach.

Who are you…? What are you doing here?

Wait, no… it starts to come back to you. The last moments that replayed in your mind, over and over like a broken record, before you woke up in this place. You remember the hospital bed, and the white - too white - walls all around you. You remember holding your wife’s hand, how soft and gentle it’d been, kissing her for the last time before the… doctors put you to sleep. You remember telling her that it’d be alright, that you’d always be with her.

Something of the stomach, it had been, right? You remember the pain being numb after a while… though with the way you’re feeling now, you would never guess that. You can barely feel your own heart. You don’t wanna look. You don’t wanna look. Where the hell are you?

The glass rod nudges you again. “Rise,” a voice rings through the small room. And then there’s heat, welling up inside the glass like it’s an electric stove. It seers into the dry flesh along your chin, and you open your mouth to scream, but you can’t even manage that. Just a pathetic squeak.

And then - gods, *how!?* - you sit up. As if an invisible force grabs your hind end, it drags up against the wall, much to the complaint of your insides, which drip even more sagging flesh as you lean upwards. You feel a centipede squirm up between two of your guts. The feeling is even worse when your arms push against the splintery wood, to force you as high as you can go.

Once you’re up, your torso lulls forward across your outstretched legs. Oh, you’re in it now. You can feel your cracked ribs, how a gust of air goes into your chest and whistles out the opposite side. Is it possible to want to wretch when… you aren’t sure if you have a stomach anymore?

“Come on, my thrall. I know that you can sit up better than that.” The rod is pushing at your chin again, and forces it up no matter how much your eyes and cheeks want to melt off your bones. They’re crusted up and dry, conceding to their death.

Eventually, you sit straight up, much to the dismay of your ribs. With your lips nearly stuck together, you find something creeping out of them, sneaking up a tightened throat from distended lungs. “Where… am… I…?”

“There you go. No more time to laze around, my thrall.” That voice… you’ve heard it before. It’s foggy, and snappy, but you remember it being softer than this. You remember hearing it… sometime before you made it to the hospital. “Gaze upon me.”

One of your eyes open, and that’s about all you can manage. You see the brown, dusty swirls of the room around you, and the pricks of the nails poking out of the floorboards. In the midst of it, there’s a bright red, glowing rod of glass that still threatens to seer your chin off. It shines so bright that it almost looks superimposed on top of the rest of the room, which is so dead-looking compared to it. With your pupils low and exhausted, your iris climbs the rim of the rod, up the ancient tree branch that it must have been made of, all the way to the smooth fingers gripping it at the other side.

A *staff*. That’s the word that comes to mind. You remember once reading about wizards and witches who dominated the world before the modern age, but you thought it was all… all… Christ, is any of this real? Does it really matter if any of that insane stuff is rooted in reality when you’re sitting there, feeling your guts *melted*? Feeling ants nibbling at your insides?

“I *said* to gaze upon me, thrall.” The voice snarls, and the staff gets hotter. Either as a tear, or condensation, a drop of water streams out of your crusted eye. You recognize the voice now. Oh god, you recognize it. Out of all the voices in the world to violate your ears when you’re meant to be sound asleep in your coffin, there are few that could be worse.

“Why… why am I…”

You, who must be the “thrall,” gaze upon her, as commanded.

You remember speaking with your wife, a few months before the extended hospital stay interrupted, about how the entire atmosphere around Marigold’s printing press was starting to scare you. It started as something small: Marigold, the royally-dressed woman who ran a printing business, had pushed you when you showed up late, and crossed her arms at you. “I didn’t buy you for $500 a week just for you to steal five minutes of my time,” she had said. You only brushed past her then, apologized, and clocked in, avoiding her fingers.

And then, it was the way that her hands glided down yours while you were working. As if the sound of the clunking printer was an invitation to her. The raw tension in her fingers, the sweat they sent down your spine and the way they made your then-existent stomach turn. She mentioned your wife, and how she must be a lucky woman. A lucky, lucky woman. “Is she fulfilling all your needs?” she asked. “Ever want someone else to suck your soul out?” That soft voice, like the surface of a Marigold flower.

And then, on the hospital bed, where you were writhing and trying to keep your composure in front of your wire, as she ran her fingers through her hair in the way that made you wish to sit up and kiss her, you thought that you saw Marigold again. She’d been outside the window of your room, but it was dark out at the time, and rainy, so you convinced yourself that it was just the flash of a tree branch. Just an ordinary tree branch. Or, when you were feeling superstitious, it was a ghost ready to guide you to the afterlife. You were ready, and quite honestly, of all the things in your life to reminisce on, your job was far down on the list.

You hadn’t thought of Marigold in days. You could’ve gone all of eternity without remembering the name of the boss who once leaned in to kiss you on a Thursday afternoon, leaving the remaining 2 hours of your shift an awkward ordeal for you to shimmy through. You could’ve left her as a footnote of your life. Would you even mention the printing place to the angel tasked with weighing your life?

“In the eye, thrall,” she says now, and you want to vomit. No - why her? Why is she here, when you can’t talk back to her?

“Wh…what… have you done…?”

You look her in the eyes, the shining green eyes that had been a dull blue before. You study her face all the way down to the grin. A few more scars have made the way across her face since you last saw her.

“I was dead,” you continue. “I kissed my wife goodbye and I heard the… the heartbeat monitor stop,” you grit your teeth, though your head still lulls. Out of ink, no more miracles, your free trial of life ended - you were dead, dead, dead!

“Oh, you are dead, my thrall…” she says, leaning close to you. You expect her to stop, but she doesn’t, and soon her chapstick is violating your mouth. She sucks out your rotted breath from your plaque-covered teeth, and you lack the strength to pull away. It’s only once she does, that you once again relish in the permission to breathe, through lungs filled with bugs. “Dead as dead can be… dead, dead, dead…”

“W…was happy… being dead…”

“That’s not your choice to make, my thrall. You’re but a corpse. Do corpses get to make choices about how their owners play with them? No. And you’re a corpse. A dull, smelly corpse for me to animate as I please.”

She puts her stuff into your chest… how big is the hole? How much of you is dripping away?

“Just, a fucking, corpse. And not even one of the more useful ones under my command.”

“...why?”

“You thought that you could skip out on work by taking an unannounced vacation to the afterlife? No, no, no my thrall… think again. I invested too much training time into you to let you go to waste. I expect you to be back to work in minutes, thrall. Rise…”

You feel the joints in your legs start to light up… and you move.

No, no, no, you whisper to yourself. Not like this. You remember joking about how necromancy isn’t as scary as it sounds, how all that talk of disrupting the sanctity of the dead was hogwash. And now the wind through your chest tickles the sides of your exposed organs, teasing them, causing a beetle to flicker its wings against a drooping artery. You think of the trillions of infections creeping their way into your vessel right now.

But you stand, head lulling, eyes sagging. Something flakes off your cheek. Your hair is full of blood and loose flesh. You fail to lift your arms.

“Necromancer…” you mumble under your breath.

“That’s right, my thrall,” she bats her hair, and sticks her staff under your shoulder. “And you’re now my dull, reanimated property. It’ll be a long, long, long time before I let you return to the ground.”

[TO BE CONTINUED]

#writing #writblr #horror #horror stories #necromancer #necromancy #short story #cw: gore #cw insects #cw bugs #writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #female writers #second person pov #second person narration #ongoing #horror writing

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