smelling a flower

concept: it is a quiet summer morning. warm sunlight and cool, crisp air stream through my open window. my room is heavy with the smell of flowers, vines, grass, and growth. the only sounds are of bees outside, a gentle wind chime, and my own steady, deep breathing.


“Close your eyes!” 
“You can’t kiss me from down there, Wylan.”
“Just do it!”

I did a quick cosplay of Wylan Van Eck from @lbardugo‘s SIX OF CROWS, since I looked at the poster on the inside of the jacket and realized… that looks like my wardrobe. And I, too, am a sheltered child who loves Jesper Fahey.

The “flash bomb” actually flashed (and is still flashing, since I lovingly wrapped the LEDs in tiny plastic bags) :’D

Thanks to @amyntheoutcast for the photos and Leigh Bardugo for the overwhelmingly good book! ;u;

In you I see everything I love. I hear my favorite songs in your laugh and smell my favorite flowers on your skin. When I look in your eyes I see the river I skipped stones on as a child and when we kiss it feels like the first I picked up an instrument. Most importantly in you I see the thing I love more than anything. You.
—  /Oliver

Afraid to sit in a park and just
sit there– as if the world will glare at me
The absurd idea of putting my
phone away and sitting as those
who sat before me–
Listening to birds,
smelling flowers, noticing a stranger’s
limp and wondering where
the injury came from–
As if these observations are boring,
unimportant, a waste of time, silly–
As if somehow, staring at my phone
and reading about a stranger
on the news or scrolling through
pictures of birds is more acceptable.