#ghostfables

1. Yes, Julie would still love Wally if he was a worm🤣Probably make him a small home like the one in Arrietty.

2. Favorite Color

Rainbow Factory Au

(Decide to keep it almost similar to the original Welcome Home Cast)

• Walden: He did not have a favorite color…until Julianne came along. When Walden sat her smile and excitedly guessed that it was Green, he told her she was right. From that moment on, he never saw it the same again. It was everywhere, especially the color of her eyes. Emerald hues brushed with flecks of gold that made it impossible to look away from. They stirred a quiet longing in him, a desire to lose himself in them forever, if she would allow him to.

Inspiration: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZThYGBndv/

• Julianne: Pink, Primrose Yellow, and Cornflower Blue

• Frank: Doesn’t have one, but thinks that a nice shade of yellow or coral is a pretty color.

• Eddie: Violet and Maroon

• Barnaby: Sky Blue

• Howdy: Teal and Mint Green

• Sally: Orange, Cherry Red, and Amethyst

• Poppy: Forest Green, Beige, Walnut Brown, and Ash White

• Jonesy: Sage Green and Sunflower Yellow

• Franny: Blue, Indigo, and Black

• Bea: Tangerine Orange, Gold, and Hickory Brown

• Home: Does not care for it, insignificant. Unimportant.

• Wallace: Used to be seafoam green, but now he can’t stand the color.

• Walden’s Mom: Burgundy, Lavender, and Crimson

Note: I don’t like naming characters with similar names, so I decided to change Walden’s mother’s name to Charlotte. Nicknamed Lottie by Wallace.

@ghostfables​ said: ❝ Who am I to think that you would follow me into the cold and dark again? ❞ (who would i be if i didn't send you a Hadestown meme???)

“i’d follow you anywhere. end of the line, remember? i’m going.”

@ghostfables​ spoke  THUS:     “  🍆 (( because i physically cant help myself now, you’ve ruined me ))  ”

things you said when || accepting.

                three  days  heat,  after  five  days  rain  and  finally,  it  feels  like  summer  :  it’s  softness  and  stillness,  the  air  humid  as  an  open  mouth.  the  birds  chirp  overhead,  the  bees  drone  on,  drunk  off  honey.  the  sun  glares  down  and  the  air  is  thick  with  the  heavy  wetness  of  humidity.  sam’s  knees  press  at  the  wet  of  the  earth,  and  he’s  a  man  of  the  sky,  but  to  be  grounded  like  this,  his  fingers  fast  at  the  tangled  undergrowth  of  weeds.  to  have  the  the  sun  rain  down  and  shower  them  so  their  skin  is  drenched  with  the  honey  glow.  there’s  freedom  up  there,  sure,  in  the  cut  of  the  wind  under  his  wings,  but  here,  paradise  is  made  of  these  earthly  things.  the  freckles  dusted  at  his  shoulder,  his  golden  tan  skin,  their  wet  kisses  and  watermelon  baths.  the  heat  trembling  up  from  the  concrete  and  flushing  his  cheeks  to  a  sharp  pink.  the  crying   ring  of  the  ice  cream  shop,  basketballs  bouncing  on  cracked  courts.  how  bucky  sips  his  lemonade  and  smirks  over  the  rim  of  his  glass.  summer  is  made  of  all  these  things:  sun  and  smiles,  laughter  and  light.

what say you meme || accepting.

listen u kno i love u with the intensity of a thousand suns this is a an unchanging fact of the universe™ 

kiss a birb || always accepting.

                 there  was  once  :  aloneness  without  loneliness,  for   those  are  two  separate  entities,  two  feelings  that  can  coexist  but,  not  in  sam.  he’s  stout  enough  of  himself  to  be  at  peace  in  the  quiet  solitude  of  his  apartment,  but. but. things  are  different,  now.  in  the  corner,  redwing  croons  softly  at  his  perch  on  the  windowsill  ,  and  sam  mans  the  stove.  coffee  in  the  pot  brews ,  and  sam  counts  the  spaces  in  between  its  steady  drip  drip,  all  the  while  tracing  the  dappled  sunlight  streaming  in  honey  gold  from  the  open  skates  of  clear  window with  his  eyes.  pancakes  sizzle  on  the  stove,  not  that flat  european  crepe  nonsense,  but  the  good  gold  better  than  ihop  buttermilk  kind,  and  sam  flips  them  with  an  elegant  flip  of  his  wrist.  behind  him,  there’s  a  rustling,  a  grunt,  and  then,  utterly  excepted,  there  are  arms  wrapping  round  him.  and  those  arms,  sam  would  know  anywhere,  with  his  eyes  closed  (  his  heart,  open.  )  happiness  is,  when  he  turns  round,  cups  bucky’s  head  with  his flour dusted   hands  and  kisses  him,  soft  as  dawn,  and  just  as  sweet.  

                (  happiness  is  :  suspended  softness,  in  this  place  where  everything  is  the  light  touches  is  theirs  and  theirs  alone,  in  this  place  where  nothing  can  hurt  them.  )