This holiday season, if you know someone who likes house plants,
DON'T
get them a houseplant. DO NOT.
instead, get them a NICE, MEDIUM-LARGE, AESTHETIC, BOTTOM-DRAINING, INDOOR
POT.
that is what they want. that is what they dream of. ok? thats what will be most useful and appreciated. in fact, if you can, get them a CUTE MATCHING SET. OF POTS!!!! NOT PLANTS, POTS!!!!!!!!
they may be more excited initially about the plant. that is true. but a pot is a gift that they will go home and use to upsize one of their already beloved houseplants, and every time they look at it they will remember how much they appreciate you.
HOUSEPLANT:
- they already have so many
- needs to be watered
- takes up window space
- comes in a pot thats already too small, needs to be upsized, costing money
- can die
AESTHETIC POT
- lets them care for an existing plant they own
- they will be grateful every time they see it in their home
- does not take up window space not already occupied by a plant
- can be wrapped without dying or spilling dirt everywhere
An unexpected arrival of an equally unexpected letter. With no intention to prolong the curiosity it had stirred in her, Jyn hurried to pluck the wax seal and unfold the paper.
Whatever she felt just moments ago, it seemed to now have doubled, if not tripled.
______
Jyn receives a letter from out of the blue, and her relationship with the Andors is about to take a turn. Will it be for better or for worse?
Read Chapter 5 of Sanguinity below the cut, or check it out on ao3! Rating T.
When the day of Jyn’s first expedition around the estates with Kerri came, the heavens, to her delight, endowed its favor for their endeavor; the sun filtered through the cloudy canopy like tendrils of warmth, animating everything it touched with vigored life. From her window Jyn witnessed the daisies’ and cowslips’ slow bloom, the cool air moving through their quietude in whispers of the gentlest kind. The birds sang, and along with it Jyn’s spirits; she was ready for the day.
She was to expect Kerri’s arrival to Vallt Park by mid-morning. During the wait she spent some time writing about her new interest—a short history of Spanish hardwood species, for which she had made considerable progress, and in such a state of concentration that she hadn’t noticed how much it had eaten away at the hours before the anticipated activity.
She found, however, even as the clock had already struck the awaited hour, that her companion still had not arrived. She decided to give her some more time, and wait by milling about the gardens.
She let the petals of various flowers brush past her hand as she passed by them, their pleasant smells tickling her nose in a harmony of scents. When she reached a corner in the path, she knelt by a trimmed rose bush to examine one of its flowers being crushed under the weight of heavy, entangled brambles.
As she began to gently pull on its stem, a movement towards the house caught her eye.
There, through the foliage, she saw one of her household’s footmen walk towards the staff’s door, the day’s letters stuffed in a satchel that hung around his body. He was unassuming in stature; Jyn paid him no mind—she did not currently expect correspondence from anybody. When she returned to her attempt to break the rose free, she had even already forgotten about him.
At that point the sun now radiated warmer, and Jyn’s doubt for Kerri’s arrival, which still did not happen, had now also grown more certain. She looked at the horizon and hoped to see her friend’s figure emerge somewhere along it. It didn’t.
Just then, the very same footman from a while ago appeared out of the door yet again. Jyn watched him head towards her direction, a tray in his hand, a lone piece of paper on its surface.
“Miss Erso,” he called out as he descended the stone steps towards where she was on the pebbled path. “A letter.”
“For me?” asked Jyn. With hesitation she received the folded and sealed parchment from its vessel. Flipped over, it bore a delicate penmanship that spelled out her name and nothing more. Confused, she looked at the footman. “Where is it from?”
“Lah’mu Hall, Miss.”
Jyn frowned. “The Andors?”
“Yes, Miss.”
Sweat began forming on Jyn’s palms, for a reason she did not really know. “I see,” she said. “Thank you.”
An unexpected arrival of an equally unexpected letter. With no intention to prolong the curiosity it had stirred in her, Jyn hurried to pluck the wax seal and unfold the paper.
Whatever she felt just moments ago, it seemed to now have doubled, if not tripled.
It was a letter from Kerri herself, and it read:
Dear Ms. Jyn Erso,
I am sorry to write to you that I cannot come today and join you in your walk. I know that we have entered, with utmost excitement, into this undertaking of ours—you keeping a record of every plant species you could possibly find, and I sketching them for your journals—which must make this news disappointing for you to read, as much as it has been for me to write it.
But, as things would have it, I feel even more regret to impart something that I am now to do, and which, I am afraid, you may not forgive me for.
From this point on, I am withdrawing myself entirely, not only from our activities, but from your company now as well. I am truly sorry to say this, Ms. Erso, but we can no longer be friends.
I know—some questions must go through your head at this moment; I understand the suddenness, and even the shock, with which this information has reached you, and for this, I at least owe you an explanation:
Ever since our calling upon you and your family a couple of days ago, my brother Cassian has been in a state of quiet unrest. He had already been somewhat sullen prior, ever since our attendance at Mr. Rook’s ball, but it seems to be our visit at Vallt Park which has finally aggravated it to the degree which I now speak of.
The most notable attribute of this unrest was his near-constant questioning of how I have been treated by you; in times more than I would normally expect him to, he asked about your character, Ms. Erso, and if you are a worthy friend. It struck me as odd. When I finally assured him of your goodwill towards me, however, he told me that he was not convinced, and nor should I be.
I had nothing but endless questions. Here he finally expressed to me the nature of his feelings, which in turn, informed his strange disposition for the past fortnight. And I found out, to my extreme surprise, that you, Ms. Erso, have been their source and object!
I asked him to clarify; obligingly and unhesitatingly, he listed out, to the most emphatic degree, the reasons why you seem to bother him. I have debated whether I should even mention what these specific reasons are to you, but I find that I must if I am to fully explain myself, so now I will:
Cassian thinks you arrogant, spoiled, and, in his own words, “possess a spirit of the most feeble and vacillating nature.” I have expressed my indignation when he first conveyed these to me, and still to this moment I think these accusations to be baseless and untrue—you have witnessed how much I have enjoyed our friendship so far, have you not, Ms. Erso? So imagine how much it came to me as a surprise to hear them come out from my brother’s mouth, which I had hoped, from the first, would only speak well of you!
I have stated my reasons against this belief of his; but he is forthright and insistent in promoting them to me, upon the accounts of the encounters we both have had with you. He has argued against my disinclinations with the strongest conviction; he is so sure of it, Ms. Erso, and has appealed for my acquiescence to his reason.
This has become a point of disagreement for the both of us within the last few days. Though I cannot fully grasp the sense with which he has put forth his argument, I have begun, nonetheless, to feel compelled to see it. For it struck me with such shock to see him so earnestly desperate, and so desperately earnest in his manner. He has shown a kind of acute temperament which, if I may say so, he has so rarely shown to me; I have only witnessed it so few times in my life.
Whenever it occurred, I would know in an instant that he was absolutely serious about it. And so I have grown to believe that his reasons for whatever he feels now—they are motivated by true concern and no hidden malice.
Here I must now appeal to you , Ms. Erso. I hope you do not see this decision of mine as a result of me just blindly agreeing to my brother, nor do I hope, upon my taking his side, that you view this as my neglect of the kindness I have so far received from you. I acknowledge all of it, and am grateful you have chosen to make a friend out of me—truly.
But I implore you to know that I make this choice because my brother and I have been through thick and thin our entire lives—just him and me. He trusts me as much as I trust him, and where I know he would, on the first chance, seek my advice and heed it, I know that I can also do the same to his.
I only truly regret what it is at the expense of.
Please accept my deepest apologies, and I wish you well.
Yours kindly,
Kerri Andor
The feelings that entered Jyn’s heart as she read through the contents of this letter budded to a strong anger, and she felt her grip slowly tighten on the paper—a thing she did not realize she was doing until the edges had finally crumpled into her fist.
It was true, the pain of this letter’s injury seemed to come from Kerri’s choice to forsake her, but she realized, as she later reflected on it in the privacy of her bedchamber, that she ultimately did not find too much fault in her. Kerri had been nothing but kind, first for extending the courtesy of letting her know of the termination of their acquaintance, and, more notably, for even making excuses on behalf of her brother’s antagonistic behaviors.
So no, the anger Jyn felt now was not in any way directed towards Kerri, but towards the influence under which she felt compelled to make the decision. The nerve of her brother—the absolute nerve! Jyn had no other way of putting it; she truly disliked Cassian Andor now. First for reproaching her character, which on its own, was already a grievous offense, and now for reproaching it again more injuriously in front of her friend, his sister!
He was absolutely and irredeemably contemptible.
These thoughts and feelings cycled themselves anew at every possible moment, and yet Jyn’s turmoil, she realized, was not so fully fixed on her adversary; Jyn felt its intensity to be even greater whenever she thought of the most unfortunate consequence of their hostilities: the loss of a potential friend.
In lieu of this adverse turn of events, her current spirits for her studies were now effectively extinguished. All around her too, the scene had turned sour; the breeze felt too cold, the sun too hot, the birdsong too loud. None of it tempted her to inquiry and exploration; instead, she spent the rest of the day in her bedchamber, lying limp on her bed.
But even doing nothing would soon not help her restlessness, either. So by the time the afternoon approached twilight, Jyn put on her riding gown, strapped on her muddied boots, and hurried to the stables to ride out on her horse.
For a while the movement did her spirits good. She momentarily let her mare run off to its own will, allowing the freedom to thrill her to a state of elation.
She did not notice, however, that during all this, her horse had led her to the crest of the low hill that separated Vallt Park and Lah’mu’s lands. She only realized it until her childhood home came into distant view, at which she yanked the reins in a sudden panic, forcefully putting her horse to a halt.
Once still, she sighed in relief. As she gathered her breath in a quick repose, she found herself looking at the house again, standing tall yet lonely across the empty grassy field. A timid melancholy gripped her soul as she beheld its sight.
A movement from its side caught her attention, and she found, after squinting, that it was undoubtedly the figure of Cassian Andor himself, walking along the side path towards the courtyard out front.
Jyn again felt her anger rise; and yet, she found herself staring.
That was when Cassian seemed to have noticed Jyn herself, for he stopped in his tracks and faced himself towards her direction.
It was a strange moment—for a while it would seem that they were both just staring at each other.
But a wind blew past Jyn, effectively stirring her out of it. In an instant, she urged her horse back into motion again.
From where he stood in front of Lah’mu Hall, Cassian looked at her still. He did not stop, even after she had already descended to the cover of the hills.
A couple of days passed since, during which Jyn had begun to do her best to continue the life she had lived before the Andors came into it. It was not much different, she realized, for she still did the same things—read, write, and explore.
Writing, however, was something she had begun doing more—she continued to work on her piece on her history of hardwoods.
Today Mr. and Mrs. Erso had to leave to make some arrangements to one of their farms, up in the north of the country. This left Vallt Park entirely to Jyn’s whim, though she did not do anything much to do this advantage; she was too engrossed in her writing to do anything else.
By the waiting room window where she usually sat, she had been scribbling in solitude, her back and neck hunched over a stack of papers, when suddenly a footman (coincidentally, the same one who had delivered her the letter a few days ago) entered to inform her of the quick, unplanned arrival of a visitor.
Soon the visitor in question appeared through the doorway, the sight of whom made Jyn’s skin crawl.
“Mr. Cassian Andor, Miss,” announced the footman, before leaving them alone.
Cassian scanned the place, his eyes widening at the sight of only Jyn being there.
Jyn gave her unwelcome visitor a glare. She put her papers aside and stood up. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Cassian kept a straight face. “I was expecting to see your father, but I shall come back when he is here. Good day, Miss Erso.”
He was already turning on his heel when Jyn said, “I see your family’s quest for avoiding me is still very well in place.”
Cassian stared at her silently for a few seconds too long. “I do not know what you are talking about.”
Jyn scoffed. “Spare yourself this charade—I already know what you did. Your sister told me—she sent me a letter. Or did you not know?”
Cassian did not respond.
A dry chuckle escaped Jyn’s mouth. “Miss Andor. I truly feel bad for her. It is clear to me that she really values your opinion, and here you’ve gone and disused it against me.”
Cassian looked at her questioningly, his gaze sharp as a dagger. “Is that how you really see it, Miss Erso?”
The provocation compelled Jyn to step around the table and towards the middle of the room. Her voice raised, she answered, “Yes, Mr. Andor. You have deprived me of friendship—deprived her of friendship. And for what?”
“It is not so much deprivation,” replied Cassian, “as it is an escape from her doomed affections for you.”
A quiet gasp left Jyn’s mouth. “You astound me. You know, I would have been able to live with your animosity, but what you’ve done—involving your sister into it—it signifies your cowardice. And for that I do not think I can forgive you.”
Cassian’s face formed into a sharp grimace.
“If you truly hate me,” said Jyn, her eyes piercing his, “do it yourself.”
Taking long, swift strides, Cassian met her in the middle of the room. “I merely told her what she ought to know,” he said in a quiet but intense manner, “and done as she ought with that knowledge she did.”
“That I am arrogant, spoiled, and spineless? What fantasies you must have concocted in your own head to truly believe those things about me, Mr. Andor. And you’ve discerned that from what, our quick introduction and our subsequent meeting? From that you have gravely misjudged my character, and it baffles me so that you are so assured of its truth, when you do not even know me!”
Cassian scoffed. “I know you well enough, all right. The things you said to my sister during our visit in this very same room were enough, notwithstanding the rest. Yes,” he added when he noticed the stunned look on Jyn’s face, “I heard all of it, and not with any effort of trying, for you were not being as discreet as you thought you were.”
Jyn put her chin up in defiance. “That is a useless charge, for I did not say anything wrong.”
“Really?” challenged Cassian. “What about the fact that you wish to marry Mr. Krennic merely for the advantage of his wealth?” He laughed dryly. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you are indifferent to the folly of it, for you are just like every other person of your station.”
“My station?” It took Jyn a few seconds to truly register the accusation being made against her. She blinked rapidly. “Am I right in hearing that you are reproaching me for entering a marriage for what it commonly is among women like me, an economic proposition? Why should I be exempt from this? This is preposterous—you’re a solicitor, you should know better!”
“Oh I couldn't care less that you would marry for that reason, Miss Erso!” Cassian matched her volume. “But you have done so in abandon of a long-held principle.”
Jyn frowned. “What—”
“For someone who wishes to staunchly excuse herself from the institution for her education and freedom, you certainly resigned yourself to Mr. Krennic willingly the moment it promised monetary benefit for you.”
Jyn tried to speak again—
“Your inconstancy to your principles suggests to me that you have never truly adhered to them in the first place. I can never witness my sister, or anybody I care for really, to maintain friendships with the sort of people.”
Jyn’s mouth hung open, feeling the censure hit her harder than she would have liked it to. She heard it echo all the way through the back of her head, traveling down to the hollows of her gut, making her squeamish. She felt her pulse quicken.
She clenched her body to discipline, fighting the urge to show any sign of her current emotion.
“You do not know me,” she said. “You do not know why I do not want to get married, or why I do . Frankly, it is none of your business. What do you know of my situation to quickly deduce the issue as a matter of my inconstancy, of my poor character? Here is my question to you, Mr. Andor: do you think we all have the privilege to do as we wish to?”
Cassian shook his head disapprovingly. “Do not speak to me of privilege, Miss Erso.”
“Oh I will,” said Jyn, “for it is the very thing that gives you leave to speak over me as you now do. Did it never occur to you that I have no other choice but to marry for wealth?”
Cassian’s expression did not change.
“Is this what it is?” Jyn proceeded. “You scorn me for choosing to not die a destitute? Must I suffer through life to prove myself worthy of your regard? This is incredibly high levels of self-importance, Mr. Andor. I do not need your esteem.”
Cassian’s face contorted in disgust. “Nor I am not trying to give it. And do not attempt to garner my pity because you feel like you do not have a choice but to marry a powerful Krennic, Miss Erso, a baron to be with 12,000 pounds a year.”
“And I am not trying to! It would take the last person on earth to perish before I would even begin to seek yours .” Jyn shook her head. “And what is your issue with Mr. Krennic? Why does it matter to you that it is him whom I choose to marry?”
She searched Cassian’s face; his expression did not falter under her scrutiny. It only seemed to glower more intensely upon her asking the question—a question which he did not respond to.
“You can’t answer me, can you?” said Jyn. “For you have no good reason—for any of it.”
Cassian took a step closer towards her. “Why, Miss Erso?” he challenged. “Will it even matter to you if I did?”
A shaky breath suddenly escaped Jyn’s mouth. She blinked.
Then she shook her head and attempted to walk away in her frustration, but soon found herself facing him back. “I had supposed you could stand to reason, Mr. Andor. Of all things, I at least hoped your hostility would grant me that grace. But it is clear to me now that you are averse to it, not because you do not have the ability, but because you do , and yet you refuse to. That is all the worse to me! And you say I’m just like every other person of my class? Have you looked at yourself? You’re practically the same—you are just like every other genteel person that has ever been, especially the ones you detest.”
Cassian stepped even closer. “Am I, Miss Erso?”
“You are,” Jyn replied. “You may not have not been born into your status and wealth, but that does not make much of a difference now to me.” She cocked her head in mock inquisitiveness. “Is that not why you bought a part of my father’s estate, and are now even considering retiring from your occupation—to become a part of all of this?”
Cassian’s expression took on a look of indignance.
“For all I know, Mr. Andor,” Jyn said, finding satisfaction in it, “you already are. You are now a part of the same brood which you criticize me for. You are just like everyone else—just like me. Gentlemen and ladies who play and scheme and make alliances to build their own wealth.”
Cassian’s expression hardened, his sharp gaze boring into Jyn’s eyes. She steeled herself.
“Clearly, Miss Erso,” he said quietly, “the books you read haven’t done you justice. Such a shame—all that reading, and yet no amount of knowledge has yet to cure your narrow view of the world. You attempt to insult me, that much is clear, but you do not even know what you are saying.”
Jyn relented with a lethargic shrug. “I suppose that makes both of us, when you first insulted me.”
The lines of Cassian’s scowl deepened. Jyn’s heart raced. They both watched each other silently, unable to get a read of what went in each other’s minds.
After a few moments, she finally said, “Is there anything else you would like to tell me about my character, Mr. Andor, in my own home?”
She stepped closer to look up at Cassian’s face. His expression slightly faltered at this move, but in only such a brief moment in time. After a few seconds of their stewing in this heated silence, the solicitor finally stepped back.
“Good day, madam.”
Jyn did not reply to this and only averted her gaze. Cassian began to walk away.
When he disappeared out of the door, Jyn finally let out the guttural and shaky sigh that had been building up in her chest since he’d arrived.
As she shut her eyes in the middle of the room, she felt her heart sink to depths she hadn’t known existed before. Her soul wore heavy upon her body, and yet the fiery tongues of her anger burned it so hot she felt it surface to her face.
Gathering her wits, she finally walked back to the window where she had left her papers. Soon enough, through the glass pane, she saw Cassian emerge from the house below, his steps quick and light as he hurried back to his carriage.
Jyn did not watch him leave this time; before the carriage door even closed on him, she had already twisted on her heel and walked to her bedchamber.
Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)
Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):
1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time
In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.
2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean
Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.
3. People Trail Off...
We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.
4. Repeating Words Is Normal
In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.
5. Fillers Are Your Friends
People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.
6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences
Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”
7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation
Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.
8. Awkward Silences Are Golden
People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.
9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous
When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.
10. Inside Jokes and Shared History
Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.
11. No One Explains Everything
People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!
12. Characters Have Different Voices
Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.
13. People Change the Subject
In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.
14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate
People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.
Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.
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