red is for remembrance

For @illustraice and her amazing Sun/Moon spirit au? THIS WAS SO RUSHED, BY I wanted to give you something in addition to the writing.

Thank you for all your amazing work. (PLEASE DON’T LISTEN TO EINE KLEINE BY RACHIE. it really hurts with this au.)


It’s entirely a lie that the gods whisper amongst themselves. Behind soft tones and intrepid smiles, he knows what they say about her. About him.

But his golden light conceals too much. He can’t see the truth behind the glaring brightness of his own being.

They say that she’s weak without him. That they’re two halves of a broken whole, and that the moon cannot shine without the sun.

They forget that she is the night sky and all it encompasses. They forget that she holds the stars in her small hands, that she grasps the distant galaxies with her glowing night.

He doesn’t get to see her much. But when he does, the old scars across his back and his chest and the ones that sear in his heart all ache.

Vague memories of bloodless war flit through his mind. Her blue eyes are ever closed in his presence. Her dark gown spilling over like ink around her form.

She is perfection. Everything he is not.

She is not his to have. Her silver heart belongs to a human she once met.
—-

She reaches for a man she knows is no longer living. But her moon shines just for him…for Adrien.

It wanes when the remembrance of war hurts her. It waxes red and full when her anger writhes and pulls at the oceans.

She once was human. Once was on earth long enough to meet a boy with golden hair like wheat and eyes the color of sunlight through leaves. A boy who fought in a revolution with ideals as pure as newly born life wavering under the spring sun.

“Wait for me. Wait for me, my Lady. When it is over, we can see each other again.”

But he never came for her. She’d searched long and hard across the streets of Paris, her form slowly shifting as the constellations on her back faded.

Mortals had so often made wishes on her stars, but she lamented that she cannot do the same as her heart leaked open and her tears doused the corpses that littered the battleground.

It’s been centuries, and her heart still aches.

(As do the old scars that gleam like starlight across her ribs and back, the scars the curl around her legs like sea foam.)

So she waits with a smile that cuts across the dark like her crescent moon, watching the world turn while she waits for a soul to be reborn. Her eyes drift into a sleep, dreams dancing across her sight full of wishes she cannot grant.
—-

It is the strangest thing, he thinks, to make wishes on a flower.

The Earth is such a beautiful balance…one who’s beauty brings with it a sharp regret that he can’t quite recall.

There’s peace in this field of sunflowers that rise like curious sentinels for their king. He feels safe in their shade, hidden from the glare of his own sun.

There’s a little lark that sits on his shoulder, head tilted inquisitively at him. He gives it a gentle smile, and turns back to the flower he holds.

(The local flower spirit…a tiny pink robed girl by the name of Rose…has kindly left him to his devices.)

But he holds not a sunflower, but a delicate dandelion in between his warm hands, and he heaves a breath.

“I want to see her.” He whispers.

He watches the seeds drift away on the sudden breeze. They spiral upwards into the sharply blue sky, a color that distinctly reminds him of the one he adores.

His wish is carried away on the breeze. He hopes the wind spirit cannot hear it. But then again, he wonders if he should have wished on the stars instead.

Maybe then she would have heard the sound of his golden heart reaching across the sky for her.

They meet once more during an eclipse.

He thinks it oddly fitting that the darkest time of existence for him is when he can see her.

She thinks it oddly disquieting that the brightest time of existence for her is when they cross paths.

An eclipse. Solar or lunar, she can’t quite tell yet.

But those familiar tendrils of heat reach out for her. Her hands feel cold and there’s an old timeliness pain that lances through her as he calls her name.

Still, she curls into herself, a full moon who’s silvery light wanes in the face of the golden sun.

Her eyes remain closed, but somehow, her frigid fingers reach across the brief expanse, seeking a warmth they do not want.

“What are you afraid of, Night? Why do you curl away from me?” He calls out, slight irritation causing him to flare red and orange for a moment.

She lets the frost under her shadow creep into her tone…lets the elegance of snow and ice under stars color her answer.

“I don’t love you. I don’t want eternity with you. We may remain friends.”

He’s frustrated. And he can’t catch her glance, because still her eyes are closed against him and the tears well up in his own gaze.

“I understand.” He says quietly, and the rest of the eclipse is spent in silence.

But there’s a gentle smile in her goodbye and he just barely catches the tips of her fingers to press a burning kiss to them.

She opens her eyes the smallest bit, oddly gray in the light of the blue stars that color her gown.

And then they part.
—-
She hears the wish he made on her brightest star.

She can’t grant it.
—–

They think the night needs the day to shine. How wrong they are…it is the day that wholly depends on the night.

It is his golden heart that aches for her. It is his balance that is broken when she disappears and he remains.

Her night sky remains, but there’s a wailing loneliness that makes it seem so much dimmer.

His cries echo across the stars, and his tears become rain.

She hides on Earth, and while her heart aches still, she shifts her dark umbrella higher over her shoulders and lets the tears roll cruelly over it.

She cannot grant his wish when she’s working so hard to grant her own.

There’s someone she needs to find.

8

star wars female character meme 4/4 outfits

jamillia’s throne room gown ; elected queen after amidala’s two terms expired, queen jamillia conforms to the strict dress code for naboo royalty. she wears a black and white gown, complete with large sleeves in the naboo style and resplendent sequins trickling down the front. and like amidala before her, jamillia wears the highly symbolic make-up of the Queen: two symmetric beauty marks on her cheeks, and the red ‘scar of remembrance’ dividing her lower lip in memory of naboo’s anguish before the great time of peace. returning to the ideas that inspired amidala’s gowns in the phantom menace, trisha biggar created another beautifully noble gown for the new queen. the dress consists of hand embroidered and hand sequined edges, as well as antique pieces integrated throughout. a mother-of-pearl brooch details the collar and matches with the headdress, which consists of ten mother-of-pearl 'petals.’ to find ten that matched perfectly, dozens of these petals had to be created.

Somethin’ to Talk About (reader x Bucky) [Accidents Happen pt 8]

Hey, look! It’s daylight and I’m posting a fic! Wow. I don’t know what got into me. Maybe a day off of work had something to do with it. :D So, here’s part 8! I’m trying to plan the next parts but I think there might only be a few more. I have a lot more fics planned and don’t want to drag this one out too much. I still love this reader, though, so it’ll be hard! 

Any who, thank you so much for all of you who keep reading my stuff! I appreciate your likes and comments more than I can say. Ya’ll are the BEST. Muah!! 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Somethin’ to Talk About (reader x Bucky) [Accidents Happen pt 8]

Characters: reader x Bucky, Steve, Natasha, other Avengers mentioned.

Summary: Reader and Bucky finally tell the team about their relationship in the least subtle way possible because that’s how she rolls. : ) Steve surprises the couple with news and things get a little angst-y. 

Warnings: Fluff, a little angst. 

Tags at the end.

Song link : Let’s Give ‘Em Somethin’ to Talk About by Bonnie Raitt

Part 7   Part 8   Part 9

Originally posted by bovaria

(I love his Space Nerd visiting NASA look, I had to use this gif.)

——————————-

Morning came and with it brought the moment of truth.

“Are you ready for this?” you asked.

Bucky looked down at you, squeezed your hand intertwined with his, and gave a confident smile.

“I’m ready.”

Taking a deep breath, you turned the door knob and walked into the hallway with Bucky beside you.

You walked at a leisurely pace toward the kitchen where you assumed most of the team would be for breakfast. After considering how best to “break the news”, deciding from calling a weirdly formal meeting or telling people individually or, your personal favorite, walking into the room and yelling “HEY GUESS WHAT WE’RE DOING IT.” But in the end, you and Bucky decided on none of them. Or any plan of any sort.

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Two girls can fall in love

Teensy hands cup my curious eyes,
I am young and full of wonder.
At the blissful age of five.

This is when the freak show started,
God made a joke and
that joke was me.
But what kind of God would mess with a child of five
and tell her that although you see the Big Bang in a pretty girl’s eyes,
You should only ever fall for:
guys.

I buried my feelings in a grave labelled guilt-
And then I was eight.
Too young to contemplate,
the thoughts of my wedding day
not being the same
as the ones you see on reality TV.

Eleven.
My gaze at the eyelash on her cheek lingered too long.
Twelve.
These thoughts are wrong.
Thirteen.
God isn’t real, or he’s sick for creating me like this.
Fourteen.
Her cheeks are the only cheeks I want to kiss.
Fifteen.
Rainbows burst through the floorboards, march their way up the stairs and yell in my face:
“Acknowledge the stares, it’s just a girl”
It’s just a girl.
You are worthy of love.

Sixteen.
There has been a hell of a storm.
Dig up the grave, dust off your feelings and leave only red flowers in remembrance.
In remembrance of the time that you hated God because he hated you.
Of the time you would flick your wrist, when you thought of her lips.
Of the time when boys would temporarily fill the whole in your chest.
Of the time you thought that two girls could not fall in love-
could not hold each other,
and could not whisper the sound of forever into the silent night.

Teensy hands cup my curious eyes,
I am young and full of wonder.
At the blissful age of five.
If only I knew then, what I know now.

Natural Disaster // Moon Taeil

-

the prompt: what if Taeil is a florist who never give any girls a flower before but one day he met a girl who asking him to teach her about flower language and making boquets, since he getting extra money he finds with it but the more they spend time together the more Taeil attract to this girl till he cant help but kiss her after that she never coming back to continue her lesson later Taeil found out that the flower boquets was for her dead lover after that is up to you.

words: 1983

category: angst

author note: angst and i have a relationship that shall never be destroyed. but there really isn’t that much angst in this and it’s kinda messy pls forgive me my brain is fried. also sorry for killing taeyong.

- destinee

Originally posted by ithastobemoontaeil

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we’ll miss you

Magickal Uses for Poppy

Planetary Association:  Moon
Element:  Water
Gender:  Feminine

History and Folklore:  Red poppies have been a symbol of remembrance of those who died in wartime since a famous poem described the brutal trench warfare that took place in the poppy fields of Flanders during World War I. This is why Veterans wear and distribute poppies on Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day in the US and throughout the world on Remembrance Day.
Centuries before this, however, it was believed that poppies sprung up in places where men died in battle and white poppies are said to have sprung up in the battlefields of Genghis Khan.

Red poppies have also long been associated with sleep and death, perhaps because the narcotic made from the opium poppy can easily bring about both. Ancient Greeks and Romans presented them as offerings to the dead.
In the Victorian Language of Flowers, poppy symbolized eternal sleep, oblivion, imagination. Red poppies also mean pleasure, the why poppy means consolation and the yellow poppy means success.

In Persian literature, the poppy is a flower of love and symbolizes those who died for its sake.
According to Servius, Demeter loved a youth named Mekon. When he died, she turned him into a poppy.
Hypnos, Greek God of Sleep and Dreaming, sometimes carried a poppy stalk or a horn filled with poppy juice.

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littleinksheep  asked:

hello, may I have a list of flowers that mean memory or fear?

Hey littleinksheep,

of course, you may, I hope it’s what you were looking for. These are also the only two meanings which contain the word fear, I have tried several other synonyms also meaning scared, but nothing turned up.

  • aspen - fear, lamentation, groan, excessive sensibility
  • bay (red) - love’s memory
  • everlasting - never ceasing memory, never ceasing remembrance, perpetual remembrance, always remembered
  • periwinkle (blue) - pleasures of memory, sweet remembrance, early friendship
  • periwinkle (white) - pleasures of memory, pleasing remembrances
  • rosebud (stripped of thorns) - I fear no longer I hope
  • syringa - memory, fraternal love, fraternal regard
  • syringa (carolina) - memory, disappointment

- Mod Jana

Disclaimer

This blog is intended as writing advice only. This blog and its mods are not responsible for accidents, injuries or other consequences of using this advice for real world situations or in any way that said advice was not intended.