Yeah can someone help me identify these three, im prett sure the yellow one is a yellow quarts but I could be wrong.
Since little kids (and adults…mostly chicks when I was there) love to mix up pretty little rocks I didn’t know which was for which just..UUUGH.

And I looked everywhere I could with my limited temper and I have no clue what stones they are, mighty pretty I gotta say.
I should have gotten a rose quarts too…but ah well we might start going to that place once every ear so I’ll build up my collection. Slowly

Sweet Dreams

Mystic Messenger Short, Unknown | Saeran / MC, shouldn’t spoil any routes, fluff because bedtime stories and… bedtime itself, giveaway story for @lingering-sound

The word ‘no’ is nonexistent in Saeran’s vocabulary, so when he asks you to read him a story to help him go to sleep, you have no choice but to follow through. The request took place weeks ago; you are currently once again laying down beside Saeran, your head facing the ceiling as your voice breaks the silence of the room.

“I’m only reading a short story today, the both of us need to sleep so that the Savior doesn’t think anything strange,” you grumble as you flop down on the bed horizontally, the heavy book you always read from pressing down on your chest uncomfortably. “Shall we read where we left off last night?”

“We didn’t finish?” Saeran asks, entering his bed in the regular bed-entering fashion. You turn your head to the side, watching his expression.

“You fell asleep halfway through,” you remind him with a small smile, and he shakes his head.

“I still heard everything you said,” he mumbles, shifting his body around until he was comfortable. “Get over here; it can’t be comfortable to lay in the position you’re in right now.”

Your cheeks begin to burn, and you lift the book up as you sit up. “It’s… it’s not that comfortable,” you say hesitantly, looking away, “but making me lay down beside you every night is-”

“Just do it,” he grumbles, quickly grabbing your wrist and pulling him to you. Your cheeks become an inferno, as they do every night this happens, and he wraps his arms around your waist in a tight hold before you’re able to even think of escaping. “You have nowhere to go now,” he speaks softly into your ear, and you tremble from the strange feelings that bud inside you, “so how about you stay?”

Keep reading

You must understand the whole of life, not just one little part of it. That is why you must read, that is why you must look at the skies, that is why you must sing and dance, and write poems and suffer and understand, for all that is life.