Jules of Nature

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Show & Tell
Sweet Seals For You, Always
YOU ARE THE REASON
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
occasionally subtle
trying on a metaphor

Andulka

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

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todays bird
NASA
Stranger Things
Cosimo Galluzzi

if i look back, i am lost
AnasAbdin
styofa doing anything
Keni
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@blissfulblaike
The sea was rollin’ in slate gray I looked at you and I looked away.
“Alright calm down kitty cat. We’ll go looking for our friends, eh? See what they’re up to and how they are.”
“--- What they’re up to? How are you being so calm right now?”
This girl, she meant nothing to him; she wasn’t a family member nor was she a friend to him. Yet he couldn’t tear himself away from the scene, couldn’t force himself to leave her in a crumpled heap in search of his next target. Her half spoken words gripped at his morals, forcing them to the forefront of his mind as he knelled before her. If she weren’t in pain, regardless if he knew how or why, he would have pulled her into his arms, spoken words of certainty to her until help came. Instead his hand hesitated in midair, not wanting to cause her any further pain than what she was already in. Every instinct in him was screaming that this was the prime opportunity, but he forced himself to knell in that rubble, to stay positioned before the girl and ensure that she was going to come out of this alive.
“I don’t know shit about medicine, but–” he swallowed the lump in his throat as his uninjured hand lifted, cupping her cheek as his thumb brushed away the tears that slid down her cheek. “Tell me what hurts, and I’ll do the best I can.” He pleaded with her, every instinct in his body working against itself. There was something about her, an innocence that called to him, that made him want to stay there with her. He would curse himself later, force himself to kill any supernatural that happened across his path, but until then he would stay with this girl and make sure that she was safe.
The touch to her cheek was barely felt, her skin slick with sweat, despite the fact that she was absolutely freezing, her frame trembling as she held herself up with what little strength she seemed to have.. How could this even be happening? She was fine, she felt fine. Aside from a few aches and pains in her chest… Her eyes widened at the realization, a shaky hand lifting from the ground to pull at the zipper of her jacket. It took some effort, through her heaving, the pain becoming absolutely relentless the longer it went on. “E- everything.” Everything hurt. Her skin, her bones, her head, lungs. Everything.. “M-make it s-stop. please.” Every breath became shorter, her head spinning as she swayed. Beneath her chest, her heart beat rapidly, trying desperately to push the blood through her system quicker. The amount of blood seeping into places it shouldn’t have been unknown. While, the amount that spilled from her mouth only a subtle indication of how much had leaked into her lungs.
Everything seemed to be fading quickly, his form becoming blurry before her, everything around them already seemingly gone. With as much strength as she possessed, Blaike gripped his jacket in an effort to hold herself up, her other hand pulling at the hem of her own as she lifted it, glancing down as quickly as her body would allow, which really wasn’t all that quickly, dark eyes seeing the marks on her body for the first time. Panic. It was all that she had left, the brunette falling into what could only be described as absolute hysteria. Every quick, sharp breath was met with more blood pooling in her mouth. Drowning. She was drowning, and she had no idea. No idea about any of it. Her family, they’d have no idea. If they were even alive. Violent coughing overtook her, the white hot fire in her chest burning brighter than it had moments before as she screamed for everything, and nothing at all. When she spoke, ever word was masked by the spluttering, every syllable slick with her own blood as it outlined her previously white teeth. “– M- f..family.. My d-dad… Y-you.. you have to.. – Kn-Knight.. “ It was all she could manage, the youngest sibling unsure if any of it even made sense, if she was even talking to anyone anymore.
Blaike had never thought of how she’d die before. Never even considered how she wanted to go. So set on living every single day without worry.. Without pain and suffering. When her mother had gotten sick, she’d continued to deny the fact that it was inevitable, for all of them. How could she deny that now? There wasn’t any white light, no stairway – nothing. There was just darkness, pieces of reality slipping through as she struggled to keep herself upright. She couldn’t fall, wouldn’t. She didn’t want to die, but then again, who did?
Ross Copperman ✖ Holding On and Letting Go
It’s everything you wanted, it’s everything you don’t It’s one door swinging open and one door swinging closed Some prayers find an answer Some prayers never know We’re holding on and letting go
“Me? I do, but dunno why.” He said honestly, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah. Plants, sometimes. Literally grew magic weed.” He said with a bit of a laugh. “Yeah. We’re real. And… A lot of other things from the stories are real too.” He continued. “Yeah. Of course, I made it for you.” He said with a soft smile. “You can hold the flame too, if you want. It’s not hot.”
“Magic weed?” Blaike had come across a lot of blends before, magic weed had never been one of them. Though she was sure some of the people she bought and sold for would claim it. “W-what is that..- You’re not making any sense. Stories?” A soft smile pressed her lips, something less than natural entering her lungs, forced out a moment later by a rough cough. The sharp, hot stabbing in her chest pulled her arm in quickly, Blaike almost refusing to give into it. “Hold it? How am I supposed to do that?”
The moment that the object had fallen onto his hand, cutting right through the fingers of his left hand, Tripp had only experienced pain. It was immense and sudden, and he had nearly passed out from the onslaught. The bloodloss was the worse, and his head had become light while attempting to wrap the digits, to keep them well enough until he could find assistance. Yet the woman before him had not been what he was expecting, or needing in that moment. A wrap would only keep his digits from fully falling away from his hand; no, he would need someone to stitch the digits back into place if he wished to save them. As the t-shirt was pulled away from his hand, Tripp sucked in a harsh breath, quelling the sound of pain that threatened to spill from his lips. No matter how many times he’d experienced pain in his life, the removal of the material was unexpected. “They know you’re in here?” It was a question to keep his mind off the pain in his hand, focusing his gaze on her face instead of the fingers of his hand. Judging by the time since the explosion, Tripp figured that the likelihood of saving the digits was dwindling. And it was because his gaze had been focused on her face that he witnessed the change almost immediately.
His free arm shot up instantly, gripping her arm as she fell into him. A flash of concern, a look that barely showed on his face occurred when the incident happened. There was no telling what was happening to her, the bruises giving no indication to where she had been hurt or how. As she fell to her knees, Tripp cursed himself for ever stumbling into the room. The woman was not his concern, yet he couldn’t help himself from dropping to his knees before her. “Hey. Hey, what is it? What the hell is happening?” There was the slightest hint of concern in his tone, his good hand reaching up, hesitating just inches away from her.
No. Nobody knew she was here. She wandered off, like she always did. Her unsuspecting little self not exactly ready to nearly be blown to pieces. No matter what she did though, she couldn't bring herself to answer him. The sentence had formed in her head and she tried, she tried so hard to speak them, but everything just fell in cries of pain. If she knew anything about this stuff, injuries, medically inclined facts -- she’d have damned them all to hell and sworn she was being set on fire from the inside out. Fingernails curled into the broken ground beneath her, shattered pieces of concrete biting into her flesh as she tightened her grip, needing to find anything at all that would distract her from the agony that grew in her chest.
Her breath falling heavy against the dusty ground, every exhaled lung full kicked up another puff of dust and ash, “I d-don’t..” Her head spun, eyes rolling into the back of her head as he reached for her. Terror. It crippled her beyond anything else. The human unable to move from where she sat as pain froze every muscle in her tiny frame. The ground soon littered with her tears, her face awash with the salted water as she cried out, unable to stop the sounds from falling, unable to ignore it any longer. “W-what’s happening to me..” Each word fell as a new sob, a new heart wrenching cry of confusion. “Hel..--” Was it too much to ask for? A single moment to call out to him, to beg him to help her. It must have been, the idea of the word causing her to choke, blood dropping to the ground as her insides heaved. The force behind it convincing her the single movement had ripped the lining from every organ she had. The red scarlet liquid coated her lips, the iron taste matched with her entire body suddenly quivering uncontrollably couldn’t have been made any worse had she been in here alone.
“A couple severed fingers isn’t the worst I’ve been dealt, princess.” He commented with a shrug of his shoulders, not phased by her questioning. In the time that he’d been a hunter, Tripp had suffered more wounds than he could keep track of, most of which typically required quick medical attention. “No, I wasn’t.” He commented with little regard to the fact that he’d been at a fair by himself. There had truly been one reason he’d been there, and enjoying the festivities hadn’t been it. “What about you? Anyone going to come looking for you?” He questioned simply because she had done so, the hunter giving little care to if she’d come with someone or not. She wasn’t his concern, nor did he care to help her find whoever it was she’d come with. A grin formed once again on his lips, his gaze sweeping over the area in which they stood. It was obvious that devastation had occurred, the evidence plain as day. It was when she reached out for his hand that eyes narrowed momentarily, gaze flicking down to her hands holding his. There was a brief hesitation before he nodded his head, giving the woman before him the confirmation to continue. His gaze dropped to his hand as the makeshift bandage was removed, revealing the two fingers that were barely hanging on. “If you’re going to throw up, let me know ahead of time, alright?”
There wasn’t a thing in the world that could have prepared her for what lay beneath the torn fragments of clothing, her stomach almost immediately turning over. She wouldn’t be sick, not over this. How would she make it through any of this, if she couldn’t handle a little blood.. and bone.. and everything else that lay beneath human flesh. Blaike had never really paid much attention to biology. “Not really.” She choked back, wiping her sweaty palms across the thigh of her jeans before she pulled the old bandage out of his hands. “I was taking photos for my portfolio.. Kind of wandered off from the people I came with.” People she would look for, as soon as she was sure the makeshift bandage would hold. Swallowing, the smell of iron hitting her was soon masked by her own movement, causing the air around them to swirl as she tore the slightly cleaner material in her hand into strips. Busying herself as she slowly, and as carefully as she could began wrapping the loosely hanging fingers, the brunette unable to help herself from looking as she covered the wounds. Could they even be called that? Generally, wounds could heal. Severed fingers, was that even possible? “Ahead of time..--” She laughed lightly, her chest tightening as she did. He spoke as though he’d been through this before, as though he’d asked for any kind of warning from someone else. ”Do you usually get much warning whe..--”
Whatever it was she felt in that moment, it wasn’t vomit. She wasn’t going to be sick. Rather, it felt like her entire body was about to implode. Feeble fingers dropped what remained of the torn shirt, Blaike falling forward into him. White hot fire erupted in her chest, her lungs reaching for air that didn’t seem to make it far enough as she cried out. “W--what..” The onslaught of words she was able to bring up didn’t make sense, didn’t fit together like they should have. Confusion coming over her like a dark cloud. Doubled over now, her knees hit the ground hard before him. The youngest Knight feeling as though all the soothing in the world couldn’t take an ounce of pain away from her.
ohmysweetwestley:
“You’re always a damned sight better than anyone.” He said with a grin. A lie, she looked liked death had kissed her, which he supposed it had. “And some other stuff.” He continued. “I’m… A witch.” He told her. “Magic, spells, potions, grimoires. The whole bit.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re adorable, Westley? His grin pulled at the corners of her own, a weak, feeble attempt at returning it. “Other stuff?” Even as she asked, fingers still traced the flower. How anything so simple and beautiful could come out of a day like this, she had no clue. “I didn’t think witches existed..” She said, almost haphazardly, Blaike having slight trouble following conversation. “Can I keep it?”
“I don’t know, maybe you should be locked up for those. You’re a danger to sciety with those stunnign good looks.” He laughed a little with her, stopping when she did, his heart hurting, metaphorically of course, at the obvious sign of pain. At her confusion he smiled sheepishly, gently setting the lily in her hand, the metal still a little warm. “Magic. I can uh, control fire pretty well.” He said, a flame popping up in his hand, no warmer than the metal lily he’d assembled, glowing blue, then green, then red, then purple, flickering a myriad of colors.
“I’m sure I’m a damned sight better than most right now, so you might have a point.” Little did she know the bluish tinge to her lips was spreading, her features becoming more ashen the longer they sat there. Her hand shook beneath the woven flower, tentative fingertips brushing over the edges, barely feeling the slight warmth they held. “How is that..--- You can control fire?” Hues switching between the flower and the flame, she felt her head spin, the brunette stuttering over words she wasn’t sure made any sense at all. “What does that.. you’re not.. what are you?”
“Good plan. You’re easier to find if you stay in one place.” The witch said with a faint smile. Her voice was softer, which worried him, but there wasn’t anything else he could do at this point. “A lily. Okay. Now, watch, and don’t touch, okay?” His other hand came off her waist, warming up the metal with his magic, then carefully folding and bending the piece into a lily. It wasn’t the most accurate depiction, nor the cleanest, but it certainly resembled one. The metal lost it’s red glow, the metal hardening as West cooled it rapidly with his magic, cradling the flower in his palms.
“I’m not a criminal mastermind because of my looks.” She replied, her chuckle broken as her insides protested, her arm snaking around her waist. If this was how she was going to feel for the days to come, she was already dreading it. “Uh..-- okay?” Blaike spoke quietly. She had no idea how long she stared, how long it took him, or how long since finished the broken debris had transformed, but her mouth hung open, the brunette unable to find words. “How did you..-- impossible..” Lifting her hand, she reached out hesitantly. “-- Can I..?”
“Does it still hurt a lot?” He asked tentatively. “That’s for damn sure, I’m sure they’re okay. Probably out looking for you right now, worried sick. But there’s nothing to worry about, right? Just a little banged up.” The witch said, rambling a little, not sure if he was saying it for his benefit or hers at this point. “Well, I guess it’s not something I can tell you, so much as show you.” He told her, stretching a hand out and grabbing a piece of ripped metal that lay on the ground beside them. “What’s your favorite flower?” He asked, trying to keep his tone light.
It was ebbing, though slowly but surely, the ache grew. “No.” She was fine, she had to be. Movement was possible, she was breathing, which was more than she could say for some others. “They’ll find me, if we stay..-- they’ll find me.” She said, almost sleepily. Blaike didn’t really understand what he meant, leaning forward slightly, despite the ache, with a hiss. Eying the metal, she cast him a look that conveyed her confusion perfectly. “-- A lily.. Lame, I know.. I just.. I was a kid that adored her older sister. Lilies just.. make sense.”
“We shouldn’t be doing anything. You need to relax.” He told her, holding her close when she cuddled into him, stroking her hair with his hand. “It’s alright. I haven’t seen them, but I’m sure they’ll be okay.” He really wasn’t sure, but she really didn’t need to deal with anything more right now. West caught the shiver, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he dared, using the smallest bit of magic to warm her a little. She was going to die unless someone stronger found them, but at least she could be as comfortable as he could manage. “Hey, want to hear a secret?” Godfrey asked with as much of a smile as he could manage.
“I’m okay.. I’m okay, West. Just for a minute, we can’t just sit here while..--” She trailed off, having lost her own train of thought, unable to bring herself back to it. Fumbling teeth scraped over her lip and she allowed herself to simply be held. How she’d allowed it, she wasn’t sure. There was no attitude, no sass, she couldn’t find it in her to be any of those things. The sudden need for comfort beyond anything she could comprehend. “You’re probably right. We’re fighters you know.. Us Knights. Never done anything but.” Craning her neck a little at his question, a small wince crossing her features at what she could only assume would be bruising ached in her chest. “It’s not a secret if you tell me -- but yeah.”
Good question. Eight years prior her parents had disappeared on a job. Personal code had kept Letha from seeking them out immediately. Maybe eight years ago they were still alive. Eight years ago when they were tracking something up this way. She was sure they were gone now, disposed of in some unceremonious way that suggested whatever had killed them didn’t care about the daughter left behind. Didn’t care that they had a family. “They disappeared when I was twenty,” Letha sighed brushing strands of her hair from her eyes. She was suddenly aware of how chilly it seemed outside, despite everything that happened … or how oddly quiet it was here, with the girl. “She did, yeah. My grandmother is still alive, back in New Orleans scaring children with her animal bones and curses.” The softest of chuckles escaped Letha and after a moment she shook her head, “It’s too dark, I can’t tell if you do. So we’ll just have to be careful. You’ll let me know if you get tired, alright? You have to stay awake.” At the mention of her name she stood up, pushed herself off of her perch and offered her hand out to her again, “Let’s go find your father, Blaike.”
Would it have sounded strange of her to apologize, for the umpteenth time during this conversation? Probably. Staying silent seemed to be her best bet. How she did it, she had no clue. Her generally opinionated personality struggling to find the spark she’d usually felt, the frustrations she’d felt at hearing the girl’s parents had disappeared died almost instantly, Blaike simply not having the energy to keep it up any longer “Animal bones and curses? I’d name my daughter after her too. That’s badass.” She laughed a little, the force of it tearing at her chest as she gripped at it again. Her heartbeat and breathing becoming labored as she panicked for a moment. Why was it hurting? She didn’t remember being hit with anything, didn’t remember much to be honest. Nodding lightly, she took the other woman’s hand, signals from her brain taking longer than usual to make her hand respond, her grip hesitant and loose as she pulled herself up, a little unsteady on her feet as her head spun. “Do you always help out strangers like this?”
“Nobody at all.” It didn’t bother her. It was part of the conditioning, really, and most of Letha’s focus was on the girl anyway. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t anyone in the fair, in town hall, or in Red Creek that she had to really worry about – and yet she was making this her responsibility. Why? She couldn’t answer the question, merely shifted her hands to the girl’s cheeks and cupped either side of them. “I just want to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” Though the regression of memory was a sure sign of that at least. Damning the poor lighting Letha released her hold but kept close, leaning against the other’s perch but beside her. “Letha was my great grandmother’s name. And you … you’re a Knight, yes? Your father is the mayor.” Can’t remember her name … maybe she clocked her head harder than originally perceived. Either way … there was no way Letha was going to leave her alone, or to wander around attempting to help others. Something wasn’t right, between the blue of her lips and the loss of memory, the way her hands had clutched her stomach when Letha first stumbled upon her …
Any other day, she might have been able to take the hing. Short sharp responses. Something the woman wasn’t all that bothered to talk about, but with everything going on, the growing panic that something had happened to her dad. Her sisters or brother, Blaike couldn’t help but be curious. “What happened to them?” Allowing Letha to maneuver her face, trying desperately to catch the light -- though they’d remain slightly more dilated than usual, despite whatever light she stood in. As hand were removed from her face, Blaike merely sat there, “Do I? -- Have a concussion I mean.” Her hands gripped at the perch she sat on, fingernails turned blue as she tapped them weakly against the surface. “She meant a lot to your mother then.” It broke though, the mention of her family name, the corners of her lips turning up a little as pieces became unhazed. “Blaike..-- Blaike Knight. Youngest of five. My dad... can we go look for him now?”