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inkskinned · 1 year

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something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.

not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.

you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.

but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.

you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.

but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.

you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.

you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?

you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.

you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!

you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"

#this is very obviously about my battle with #ptsd #but i think it's also like a pretty apt metaphor for a lot of things like setting boundaries or going to therapy or choosing recovery #i was thinking about the 'comes back wrong' trope and i was like. oh no i have feelings about this bc i have mental illness #and once i stopped masking - i was WRONG. i was different #here's the good news: i am now INNUNDATED with love. fucking swimming in it. excelling at it. the people who stayed #learned my new self. my new different body and how i am different but i am trying. they have held me so tightly #and my life no longer feels quiet. it is not based in my suffering. it feels like i have been growing a tree in my chest #and now it is flowering.#it is so lovely to be surrounded by people who have said - oh! you cut off so many branches i was worried you weren't the same. but now...#... this is just a new you. and i love you. and i love that you're different and happy.#(but yeah also im nb so i was absolutely influenced by Trans things)

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happyheidi · 1 year

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ig; camilliabloomsbury

#I love this little garden shed sm!#all the greenery and flowers surrounding it <3 #cottagecore #nature #naturecore #flowers #flowercore #farmcore #garden #grandmacore #photography

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petrichormoon · 4 months

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"I only hope it felt like falling asleep."

for @barrenclan because asphodelpaw has me fucked. up. may she have sweet dreams of better places

#barrenclan #asphodelpaw #also had to do my favorite: flower symbolism #fitting that some asphodels have that red accent to them.....#my fanart #my art #fun fact: this was originally a cool sketchbook drawing fanart and its actually verrry slightly overlayed over this drawing #barrenclan spoilers #spoilers #tried to give this one a bit of a storybook vibe #also inspired by some funerary animal photos i saw like many many years ago here on tumblr where they were surrounded by a wreath of flower #blood cw

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bertoyana · 7 days

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i don't even have a smart or funny caption for this one because what the fuck does these looks from erik even mean. why is he looking at charles like he wants to climb him like a tree. why does he look so painfully fond. i'm convinced this man got his ass taken over by erik lehnsherr's real spirit in this scene and he was being puppetered around like ratatouille or venom. what were even simon kimberg's indications here i'm so confused

#yearning so bad he's not even blinking #cherik #gifset #mine*#xmenuniverse #xmenedit #x-men #marveledit #otp: i want you by my side #erik lehnsherr #charles xavier #this scene is still so strange to me overall why are they in the city of love why are they surrounded by couples and flowers what is going #imagine doing allat for a british bald man damn

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ultimateinferno · 1 year

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Brennan Lee Mulligan MinMaxing yet another PC that will very likely make me cry while also bodying his opponents.

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bug4932 · 7 months

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but we stay silly

#parahumans #wormblr #taylor hebert #generic-ass fanart of character with terrible fate looking peaceful surrounded by flowers (#<-proudly. good and wonderful thing)#parart

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skyppl-e · 2 months

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oh yeah.... im making aus now.... florist au but al haitham is a part time employee at the plant nursery tighnari owns and kaveh keeps running into him

#im very scared about talking about aus #since im not a writer... im a reader!!! shout out to all the fanfic authors you guys really carry me #also this is very obviously a modern au #in said au i like to imagine that when kaveh isnt actively drawing he wears compression gloves that double as normal art gloves theyre just #expensive as fuck so he tries not to get them dirtied in ink and graphite #in a similar vein al haitham owns 1 billion compression shirts cause comfy compression #i have a bunch of really specific and small headcanons tbh #ANYWAY ABOUT THE NURSERY PART #kaveh is a regular that likes to support his friends by buying way too many flowers he doesnt have the time to take care of :3 #also he buys samples to show clients when he has an idea involving flowers for decoration #collei also works there part time #also kaveh and al haitham knew each other in college but the Fallout(TM) happened so they stopped talking until they met again #met again in the nursery lol!!!#imagine being surrounded by carefully tended to flowers and trees and other flora while slowly falling in love #with the same guy that tore open your chest and peered directly into your soul #haikaveh #kavehtham #kaveh #alhaitham #genshin impact

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vilochkaaa · 10 months

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unbearable lightness of being

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steddie-there · 1 year

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It Sure Felt Nice When He Was Holding My Hand

Steve had finally managed to escape.

His mom was holding one of her parties again, a "summer soiree" as she called it, so she'd dressed him in pressed khakis and a butter yellow button-down shirt and "Oh the cutest little blue bow tie, Steven, don't you just look darling? Now come say hi to mommy's friends."

He hated bow ties. He always felt like he was suffocating with one around his neck.

He hated his mom's parties. They made him feel like he was suffocating, too.

So the second he saw a chance to leave, he took it. One of their neighbors had walked in with her new baby and his mother made a big production of cooing over the little girl; Steve rolled his eyes - she hated babies, Steve knew, because she always told him how messy babies were and how much she'd hated cleaning the messes he made as a baby. But, not one to waste an opportunity, the moment she looked the other way, he had raced out the back door into the woods, running as fast as his little eight year old legs could go. He ripped the bow tie off and dropped it in the yard behind him as he crossed into the line of trees.

Which brought him to now. Wandering in the woods, farther than he ever had before. He could hear the burble of a creek ahead, and it drew him on like a moth to a flame. He wanted to splash around in the water and mud, splatter it all over his pristine clothes, even though he would get in trouble for it later. He would already be in trouble for running off, what was a few more minutes added to the lecture?

But at the edge of the trees, he stopped short. Someone was already there, kneeling next to a little rowboat bobbing in the water.

Steve couldn't see their face, just that they were wearing faded jeans and big boots with the laces undone and an old two-sizes too big blue flannel shirt and they had dark brown curls just grazing the edges of their shoulders. He watched for a moment as they seemed to lay something into the boat. Tilted his head, trying to see what it was.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, breaking the quiet murmur of the woods.

The person whirled around, hands coming up defensively, flowers scattering over the ground, and now Steve could see it was a boy, probably about his age. He had the biggest brown eyes Steve had ever seen. Right now, they were opened wide, startled at Steve's sudden appearance.

"Sorry!" he apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

The other boy's shoulders dropped as he relaxed. "It's okay, just didn't think anyone else was out here," he told Steve, sending him a quick smile. Something about it made Steve want to smile back.

For a moment they just looked at each other.

"So, what are you doing?" Steve asked again, trying to peer around the other boy to the boat.

The boy glanced behind him, then turned back to Steve and his grin turned mischievous. "I'm having my funeral," he announced.

Steve just blinked at him. "Your... your funeral?" he asked, baffled. "But you're -"

"Dead," the boy assured him with a solemn nod.

Steve giggled and the other boy looked pleased at his reaction.

"Wanna help me pick more flowers?" he asked and Steve nodded, dropping to his knees, not caring about the grass stains he would surely now have on his pants, and gathering the little yellow blooms into his hands.

They worked in silence for awhile, until Steve asked, "So why are you having your funeral in a boat instead of being buried?" He was pretty sure most funerals involved graves and dirt, not boats and flowers.

"For the symbolism!" the boy declared, throwing his arms wide. Steve scrunched his nose, not sure what he meant by that. The boy peered at him from the corner of his eye, then whispered, "I don't really know what that means, but it sounded important."

Steve giggled again. "You're weird," he said.

Despite the fondness in his tone, those big brown eyes seemed to shutter and grow dim, the other boy shrinking into himself at Steve's words. Hastily, he assured him, "Not, like, bad weird. Good weird. Like, cool weird. Fun weird."

That earned him a wide grin and a shoulder bump.

"So how did you die?" Steve asked, leaning back on his hands and watching as the boy artfully placed both their bunches of flowers around the pillow already inside the boat.

"Carrots," the boy said seriously.

"Carrots???"

"Carrots," he nodded. "They're evil. And my wicked uncle made me eat them for lunch. So I died." He shrugged, as if dying from carrot ingestion was just a casual, every day experience.

Steve bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing again, mimicking the other boy's solemnity. "Ah, I see."

They both glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes, bursting into snickers when their eyes met.

"Okay," the boy said, standing and dusting off his knees, not that it did much for the grass and mud clinging to the denim. "Hold the boat while I get in."

Steve moved to kneel on the muddy creek bank, grabbing the side of the rowboat and keeping it steady while his new friend stepped in and settled down with his head on the pillow. The boat rocked a little as he did, water splashing up onto Steve's shirt, but he ignored it, not letting go until the other boy had stopped moving. He sat back and brushed his hands off.

"Now what?" he whispered after a moment of silence.

"Now... I guess we sit and be sad?" the boy answered, sounding unsure and giggling quietly. He flung a hand up to his forehead dramatically, declaring, "Alas, poor me, we knew me well!" Then he wrapped his hands around a flower and laid them on his chest with his eyes closed.

Steve laughed at the dramatics, then pulled his knees up to his chest and, also closing his eyes, sat quietly for a while. He listened to the wind in the trees, to the birds chirping around them, to the bubble and splash of the water flowing around the boat.

Steve opened his eyes and stared down at the boy in the boat. His curls were spread over the flowers, eyes closed, hands clasped on his chest, and Steve sighed faux-mournfully. "I wish you weren't dead. You're funny."

The boy pursed his lips, considering. "I could, maybe, be brought back to life. If I got a kiss from a handsome prince." He cracked an eyelid open, peering at Steve. "That's you, by the way," he whispered loudly.

Steve giggled yet again. "Me? A handsome prince?"

The boy nodded, some of the flowers tangling in his curls as he jostled them. "The handsomest," he said, before closing his eyes again.

Steve considered him for a moment. He looked at the creek at his feet, then down at his not-so-clean-anymore clothes, then shrugged and stepped into the water to stand next to the boat, feeling it rise to about his waist. Resting his hands on the side of the boat, he leaned over, bringing his face very close to the other boy's. For a second, he just stopped there, feeling the other boy's breath hit his cheek.

Then he kissed him on the nose.

The other boy laughed aloud, a ringing, joyful sound that Steve thought might just be the best thing he'd ever heard. His eyes popped open and he stared at Steve, eyes sparkling, dimples framing his grin.

Steve grinned back. "So. Did it work? Are you alive again?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," his friend answered, "Definitely." He bit his lip and seemed to be thinking about something.

Steve waited.

"You wanna get in the boat, too?" the boy finally asked and Steve was clambering inside before he even finished his question. His movements rocked the boat from side to side and they both laughed as they held on and settled next to each other, staring up at the clouds.

Steve tried to concentrate on the cloudy pictures the boy next to him was pointing out in the sky. But he could feel a hand brushing against his own and he wondered what it would feel like to hold it. He had only ever held his mom's hand to cross the street and Carol's while they ran away from Tommy when they played tag at school. Maybe it would be different, holding a boy's hand. There was only one way to find out.

He wrapped his fingers around the other boy's.

The boy paused his detailed description of a dragon he could see in the clouds, turning his head to look at Steve. Then he smiled, a small, secret smile that felt like it was just for Steve. Steve smiled back. Tangling their fingers more tightly together, they both looked back up at the sky.

Steve wasn't sure how long they lay there, talking about the clouds and the trees and their favorite places in Hawkins, but when the sun started to set, he sighed.

"I have to go home now."

The other boy nodded. "Yeah, I should go, too. My uncle is probably worried about me."

Steve grinned at him. "Not such a wicked uncle, after all?"

The boy rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Nah, he's pretty great, actually. Aside from making me eat carrots."

He said the last word so viciously that Steve couldn't help his laughter.

"He even said he'd start teaching me to play guitar tonight!"

"That's so cool!" Steve said. Decided not to say that all he'd get when he got home was a lecture.

The boy climbed out of the boat first, then turned to help Steve. For a moment, they just stood silently, smiling at each other. "Well, I'll see you around!" the boy says brightly, starting to walk down the creek, pulling the boat along with a rope.

"Yeah, see you," Steve answered, turning to his path home. He got a few steps away before he realized something and ran back to the clearing by the creek. "Hey, wait, what's your na - " he started to ask, but the boy had already disappeared into the trees. Steve sighed and walked away with his hands shoved into his pockets.

That night, Steve lay in bed, ears still ringing from the very loud thirty minute lecture his dad had given him when he showed up, muddy and grass stained and an hour late for dinner. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if that afternoon had maybe been a dream. But in his mind's eye, he could see the clouds drifting past and he swore he could still feel the other boy's fingers tangled with his own. He closed his eyes and smiled. He knew he'd spend the rest of the summer locked indoors, his dad had promised that; knew if he even so much as glanced at the woods, he'd get another lecture. But it was all worth it, he decided, as he carefully tucked the memory of that afternoon and the boy with the big brown eyes and curly hair away into a safe corner of his mind.

In the fall, he looked for his friend at school, but only succeeded in meeting a girl a year younger than him, Nancy, when he mistook her brown curls for the ones he was looking for.

By the time middle school rolled around, that afternoon at the creek had been shoved so far to the back of his memory that he didn't even look twice at the strange new kid with the buzz cut, no matter how familiar his brown eyes looked from across the cafeteria.

And then high school and the Upside Down and new friends and new terrors and a morning at work interrupted by two of his munchkins desperate to prove a friend's innocence.

Which is how he found himself staring into the biggest brown eyes he'd ever seen for the first time in over a decade.

"Carrots!" Steve all but shouted as the shock of recognition began to wear off, heedless of the sharp glass at his throat. Eddie flinched back as the others stared in confused silence.

"What?" Eddie asked, baffled.

"You died because your uncle made you eat carrots. You had a funeral in a rowboat and - "

Eddie's wide brown eyes went impossibly wider at Steve's words. He cut Steve off, lowering the bottle as a shy grin crept over his face, warring with the terror still present in his stance. "And a handsome prince brought me back to life."

"It is you!" Steve beamed. Eddie beamed back, his shoulders relaxing, and Steve felt the insane urge to kiss the tip of his nose just as he had all those years ago.

The moment was interrupted by Dustin clearing his throat. "Um... what the fuck, Steve?"

Steve and Eddie laughed. "It's a long story," Steve said. Then he sobered. "And we have more pressing problems." He looked at Eddie, saw the way he curled back in on himself. Put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to sit down. "Eddie, what's going on?"

Eddie looked up at him with a gaze so haunted Steve just wanted to pull him into his arms. Settled for soothingly rubbing his shoulder.

"You won't believe me," Eddie said brokenly.

"Try us," Max told him. Steve squeezed his shoulder, and Eddie took a deep breath and started talking.

--..--..--..--..--

Later, after bats and battle, blood and bandages, after mouth-to-mouth and "I swear to God, Munson, if you die on me I will resurrect you and kill you again myself, don't think I won't," they're in a hospital room. It's just them, the others having gone home to sleep an hour ago. But Steve can't bring himself to leave. Can't quite bring himself to tangle his fingers with Eddie's where they rest on the hospital bed, either, although he desperately wants to.

"You know, that's the second time you've kissed me back to life, Stevie. Gonna make a habit of it?" Eddie jokes.

Steve looks up at him, breath catching when their eyes meet. Despite the lighthearted tone, Eddie's gaze is serious. Warm. Those wide, wide eyes locked on Steve intently.

It makes Steve feel brave. He laughs a little. "Actually," he says, "I was kinda hoping I could kiss you sometime when you're not dead."

Eddie's eyes widen even further before he ducks his head shyly, looks up at Steve from under his lashes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve says, finally tangling their fingers together.

And there's that secret smile Eddie has, the one that seems like it's only for Steve. "I think I'd like that," he says.

"Good," Steve whispers and leans in.

--..--..--..--..--

also on ao3!

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #inspired by the song If I Die Young #holy crap this got away from me 😅#I was just listening to the song the other day #and had this vision of little eddie surrounded by flowers in a boat and little steve leaning down to kiss his nose #2400 words later 😅#anyway hope y'all like #also yes the tense change at the end was purposeful #the majority is a story that already happened. a memory #the last part is a more immediate present thing still occurring #or at least thats how im justifying it 😅

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eyelessfog · 5 months

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Offering a flower at her grave (is it worth it?)

#luriart #secret life smp #slsmp #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidaritygaming #flower jimmy #gimmie a week and i'll get the lizzie surrounded by empty graves drawing outta me

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coeluvr · 4 months

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Happy to announce I received Vincent's portrait today!

I will post the portrait later, keep your eyes on here. 💗

This is what you will see in the codex part where you can choose a character to learn more about them!

#coaaf if: vincent #coaaf if: official art #coaaf if #crown of ashes and flames #interactive fiction #you know that “born to shoujo forced to shounen” meme? yeah vincent is the reversed on this one lmfao #“why am I surrounded by pink flowers mom”

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gay-ppl-real · 8 days

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Did y'all know I have a pair of absolutely ancient jeans that I use as an embroidery canvas.

No, you didn't, because turns out I've apparently never shared my Layton or Encanto patches on here I guess??

Well, I made a Welcome Home patch on them!! My buddy was kind enough to help me take some pics wearing it while I was in town today.

What symbols for which characters under the hood :)

Wally: apple, eye, his lil face! Barnaby: his pawprint and his hat Julie: pink and purple flowers Frank: their tie, butterflies (plus hearts) Eddie: a multicoloured letter (plus hearts) Howdy: a caterpillar Poppy: the little wings she draws next to her signature, and a cupcake Sally: Stars!

Having more things dedicated to a specific character doesn't have any significance, it just means I had more ideas for them or they fit nicest to fill in a space haha

#welcome home arg #welcome home fanart #welcome home #innisart #embroidery #yes I am wearing rainbow socks #The fit was fire ok I was v pleased with my look today but alack could not get any pics #You can still see my stitching markers around Barnaby's paw LOL #those will come off in the wash adsfakjsdf #My bud didn't take a pic where you can properly see but Frank's tie and Eddie's letter are next to each other and surrounded by hearts #also the butterflies are purple (Eddie's fav) and yellow (Frank's fav)#idk man I just think that them.#y'know.#and Wally's face is next to Barnaby's hat #and Julie's flowers are always near Frank's symbols #because they are best friends :)

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soonysy · 3 months

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Day 39

I don't like drawing flowers

But I really like drawing Scott

#scott smajor fanart #scott smajor #mcyt #Dont judge me for these flowers pls #maybe I will study surroundings art #BUT NOT TODAY NO THANK YOU

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fromtheseventhhell · 8 months

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I want to make a longer post about this someday but: I think Arya's TWOW arc is going to include her coming to terms with her identity as a Lady. This has been an ongoing conflict with her since her first chapter and I think her flowering in winds is going to mark a turning point. The theory of her having an apprenticeship with the courtesans holds a lot of weight and the idea of Arya going through puberty among a group of unconventional women she's fostered a positive relationship with is just too perfect. It would really have an impact on Arya reconciling her personal idea of what a Lady should be. There's also a lot that she could learn from them in terms of courtesies, communication, appearances, body-language, etc. that would elevate her current skill-set and ways her relationship with them could push the plot.

Not to mention she will undoubtedly reclaim her identity as Arya Stark, and her being a Lady is inseparable from that. Arya Stark is a Lady Stark and being a Lady is a social position, not a measure of how well someone preforms feminine tasks. She shouldn't have to relinquish her position because she doesn't fit patriarchal standards. That's not to say that she's ever going to be the perfect example of a traditional Lady but what I think will happen is that she becomes capable of playing the part. She plays several identities throughout the series but she's always been Arya underneath, so I think it's appropriate that she learns to adopt a "persona" that's part of her. Her remembering Ned putting on his "Lord's face" (+ the various examples of other characters being separate from their ruling persona) makes me think that Arya will be donning her "Lady's face" when she makes a return to Westeros.

#arya stark #asoiaf #twow speculations #Arya has been through so much traumatic shit and I think her flowering is going to bring up a lot of her self-esteem issues #I just really need her surrounded by kind older women when that happens so she can have some comfort #George saying her arc in braavos could be the plot of a YA novel?? definitely makes me think she's going to grow up a lot there #she's already one of the most mature characters so I think part of it's going to be her accepting her duty as a Stark Lady #she wants to help and protect people and the best way she can do that is if she has political power #She could learn that first hand in TWOW #possibly through her finding out about her marriage??? and meeting Jeyne in Braavos??#and before someone says it courtesans are so much more then sex work so I don't want to hear it #they are such a big part of Braavosi high life...they're cultured and connected with very important people #I just have so many thoughts on the subject cause I think her apprenticeship with them will serve multiple purposes #the faceless men and their plans...the iron bank...the sealord...It's all connected and I think her apprenticeship with them will kick off #the braavos plot and could mark the beginning of the end of her time with the faceless men and in braavosi #half a boy half a wolf pup -> half a lady half a wolf #I think her current skillset fits well and it's likely she'll learn even more in TWOW #Arya defining her own role as a Lady and becoming comfortable means so much to me

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