consider … her .
reboot . reboot . reboot .
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Not today Justin

roma★
DEAR READER
Jules of Nature
todays bird

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cherry valley forever

if i look back, i am lost
we're not kids anymore.
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$LAYYYTER

ellievsbear

Discoholic 🪩
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Kiana Khansmith
Sade Olutola
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@waspeachy-a
consider … her .
reboot . reboot . reboot .
consider … her .
reboot . reboot . reboot .
consider … her .
reboot . reboot . reboot .
consider … her .
reboot . reboot . reboot .
consider … her .
reboot . reboot . reboot .
hdtvtits replied to your post: hdtvtits replied to your post: ...
I WOKE UP LIKE “man i really miss xr i cant believe i was dreaming about her” AND LO
can’t believe i sensed that you missed me asdfghj
& YOU ARE OSTARA OF THE DAWN. SHOW THEM WHO YOU ARE !
hdtvtits replied to your post: consider … her .
i legit thought the notif i got from u was a fever dream so u can imagine my absolute delight when i saw that it was not , in fact, a dream
gotta revive my wife.
consider . . . her .
🍑
You are Ostara of the Dawn. Show them who you are.
Physical Contact Starters
No explicit NSFW, but some could be interpreted that way. Alter as necessary!
SOFT
“Your hands are so warm.”
“Ah, that feels good…”
“Wait… are you braiding my hair?”
“Is it okay if I lean on you?”
“Just hold me for awhile. Please.”
“You don’t mind me touching you there, right?”
“Oh! I didn’t mean to fall asleep leaning on you.”
“Don’t stop stroking my hair…”
“Be gentle with me.”
“Y’know, I could go for a back rub right now. Just saying.”
“Please… Kiss me, even if it’s just this once.”
“I bet I’m strong enough to pick you up.”
“Can I use your lap as a pillow?”
“Touch me. I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now…”
“I could kiss you all over.”
“That tickles!”
“Mind washing my back for me?”
“I didn’t know you were the cuddling type.”
“I love how soft your lips are.”
“Don’t get up just yet, I’ll miss having you next to me.”
“No one’s kissed me like that in a long time.”
ROUGH
“Ow! That fucking hurt!”
“Keep talking, and I’ll seriously slap the shit out of you.”
“You stepped on my foot!”
“Did you do that on purpose?”
“Please be more gentle next time…”
“Don’t squeeze so tight!”
“Hey, don’t touch me there. It hurts.”
“Did you just bite me?!”
“Next time I’ll hit you like I mean it.”
“Is that the best you’ve got?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’ll make you bleed.”
“You really can’t take a hit, can you?”
“Hey!! What was that for?!”
“Shit, are you crying? I didn’t mean to do it that hard.”
“That stung a little. Go easy on me next time.”
“Don’t tell me you can’t handle a little sparring.”
“You almost knocked me over!”
“I won’t stop until I hear you scream.”
“That’s gonna leave a bruise…”
“You broke my nose!”
ok but an immortal couple who break up and get back together every thirty years or so, and they’re messy as fuck, like every couple decades they break up and swear that they’ll never speak for the rest of eternity, until inevitably one tracks the other down and shows up like “okay, i’ve elected to forgive you, we’re together again” and the other is like “BUT WHO SAYS I FORGIVE YOU FOR THE AL CAPONE INCIDENT” and then they’re arguing/making out and meanwhile the rest of the immortal community just groans and rolls their eyes because jesus christ, this again, they have been doing this since the holy roman empire.
“The flowers have come, and are adorable, dusky, tortured, passionate like you.”
— Virginia Woolf, in a letter to her lover Vita Sackville-West (via minuty)
y’all know Ostara would kill a man for Media.
“I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free.”
wasteland baby. !
Ostara has been singing, her light voice carried by the cool summer breeze. dew drops cling to her skin in the far too early light of sunrise, she is the dawn, she rises with the sun and glows in it’s heat. the morning glories have started to unfold, whatever plants the harsh heat has wilted branch out with new life. it’s a selfish gift at times, to give life again, but the powers don’t pain her like people do. they listen and breathe and branch out, they become beneath her fingers and it’s relaxing. she’s at ease in her gardens, barefoot in the grass, if this were a different time she may have been bare amongst the trees, if this were a different place perhaps even still. she isn’t sure how long Media has been watching, but the plants grow quiet in their melodies, and her own honey sweet song comes to an end, long forgotten language halted on her tongue. Ostara’s face tints pink, the early morning sun seeming to glow in her cheeks, the skin turning warm as she turn. still she smiles at Media, and feels her heart swell at the sight of them, dainty hands reach out, spreading delicate fingers in a search for God’s embrace, a way of asking the other : walk with me. without saying the words out loud, hoping they might understand her wish for such simple contact.
“Are you describing me or the plants, sugar ? ” it doesn’t matter which Media means, not really. Ostara and the garden are the same in many ways, a metaphor for one another. the garden is kept under her watchful eye, it grows and spreads and is kept well, giving the illusion of freedom. Ostara, much like her garden, is constantly kept by Media. cared for and groomed to perfection when there is a show to be put on, when loyalty is called for or they need a prime example to flash in front of some unwilling God refusing a contract. just like her garden, she has the illusion of freedom, the shape of flawed nature, and she is thankful for it.