#🌸its been a while

[lady0f-thenight]

🌸cough

🌸brushes off the dust on this blog

🌸Yeah no I need to reblog ask and RP memes for poor Des </3

[snoozingfae]

what would u do... if u dreamt of a maid... with purple serpents in her hair...

[ourfag]

conversation topic: dogs in the city. tiny dogs that scamper and gallop bc their legs are so short. big dogs that can't possibly fit in an apartment. purse dogs. dogs in outfits. also babies in hats. actually just what's the convo when they r browsing a lovely farmers market. 💐 happy sunday hope the weather's nice where u r

ed: oh fuck me, look at that one

stede: which

ed: there. that. i’m—pointing with my fucking elbow, look—

stede: d’you want me to take something? i can carry—

ed: just—shut up and look at that fat little baby, look

stede: oh. oh my lord

ed: with the pom poms

stede: i see what you mean

ed: little fuckin—

stede: on his booties

ed, a full octave up: on his little booties look

stede: i love when they’ve got the hats that make them look like starfish

ed: is he supposed to look like a starfish?

stede: little points on his hat. starfish arms

ed: that doesn’t look like a starfish, it looks like a jester

stede: what? no it doesn’t. the points are sticking straight up, that’s a starfish

ed: how many starfish have you seen whose arms end in jingle bells

stede: i—

stede: the world is vast, edward.

ed: see i just think—

stede: must i be accountable for every species of starfish?

ed: —if there’s a starfish with jingle bells then you’re the kind of person who’s gonna know it off the top of your head

stede: i’m sure there’s one out there

edward: ok. is this like when i floated the idea of horse with wheels

stede: ……well, not—

ed: it’s practical, save the horse a lot of effort

stede: —it’s unlikely. it’s unlikely

ed: see that’s a useful feature. what’s a starfish gonna do with a jingle bell

stede: i don’t know! celebrate??

ed: doesn’t even work underwater

stede: maybe it just wants to feel fancy once in a while, you don’t think a starfish ever wants to feel fancy?

ed: spaghetti dog

stede: that’s—now you’re just hybridising

ed, pointing in an altogether different direction: no, look, there’s one of those spaghetti dogs, look

stede, following ed’s elbow to an italian greyhound: ooh spaghetti dog

ed: spaghetti dog

stede: that one’s got a jacket on. stylish

ed: didn’t you say starfish were carnivores?

stede: it’s houndstooth though. is that a bit too on the nose? sorry—

ed: no you have a point

stede: —what about starfish and carnivores?

ed: oh, just—if the starfish’s got bells, won’t its prey hear it sneaking up

stede: well you said it yourself, bells don’t really work underwater

ed: huh

ed: now you think about it that’s actually—that’s kind of depressing

stede: oh no

ed: sorry i didn’t mean to—

stede: no, starfish baby dropped one of his little pom pom booties, look

ed: oh shit—aw look at his little toes he’s gonna get cold

stede: should we go over? is that—would that be weird?

ed: i dunno, maybe, but like, also kind of badass?

stede: …badass?

ed: yeah like we’re starfish baby’s bodyguards or something. like we’re not gonna smother him but we’re just—

stede: on the outskirts, right? to make sure he won’t be mobbed for autographs

ed: right cuz he’s a celebrity baby

stede: but then when he needs assistance, we’re—

ed: “you dropped this, sir”

stede: and then he takes it, very businesslike, because he’s a professional

ed: and he understands what we’re saying because he’s a genius baby as well

stede: yes

stede: well—normal babies can do that too

ed: what, understand you?

stede: yeah. i believe so

stede: what? what’s wrong?

ed, in quiet horror: i have said so much stupid shit in front of other people’s babies

[bbrrambo]

POP POP POP !!

[leenaur143]

oh black screen how I missed you dearly 🥰🖤

ft. the actual message djjfsj

[bbyquokka]

so uhh, should i post smth?

[sylviareviar]

hey guys i've been playing through pokemon black and white (i borrowed a copy of white from my local library) and every time i play these games i always do it with a "Pip" and "Fluffy". Since the game would be unplayable if I kept Fluffy as a Swablu, I allow myself to evolve him into an Altaria when the time comes, but the whole point of Pip's character is that he doesn't evolve, because he just can't. Therefore, anytime I play a game that has Piplup in it, I use it without evolving it and treat it as my main Water-type Pokemon, sometimes even replacing my starter.

My question is this: I'm getting to a point in Pokemon White that it's getting a little too difficult for me to keep playing with Pip as he is (if I could only give him custom stats, I'd give him higher bulk and special attack with a small boost to speed so he'd be able to take more hits without being so helpless). Should I evolve him and forget about my little "anime challenge"?

I feel kinda bad, but since White isn't my game anyway, I don't feel as bad as if it were my own game, Pokemon Black or Black 2. I don't intend to evolve him in either of those games. Plus, if I evolve him in White, it would be as though, in another universe, Pip was born with the capability to evolve. I'll be able to teach him moves I couldn't teach him as a Piplup and pass those on to future eggs if I want to do any further breeding. It's just that I keep hesitating anytime he levels up and keep cancelling the evolution.

I've kinda found myself at a crossroads here...

[izuke-the-zombie]

🌸Sorry for the long ass absent guys 🫠 family and holidays have been crazy😮‍💨

I recently came across this short monkie kid wild West AU fanfic

It's short but it's really good, And it sort of got me in the mood to sketch or at least redraw the two mystic monkeys cowboy outfits again

I really wasn't sure whether to give Mac, purple boots or just black boots you can kind of see it in the first pick faded Mac.

🌸🐎🐴✨But I don't think I've seen anyone draw them with horses or write something about it, so I'm going to be the first one to do it! (I don't know how to draw them sitting on horses, so bear with me here.)😗💦 I know I put the scar on the wrong side of the Smokey Horse. My bad, let's just pretend it's on the right side.LOL😅🪷

😽💕I headCannon that when those two summon their horses together, they get really affectionate. The sheriff's horse is more like a big old golden retriever, playful and mischievous, and rarely ever listens to its owner. While over here, Mac's is more well-behaved and obedient, and they can get quite sassy sometimes. I'm not sure what to call it. It's hard to separate those two, so they try not to summon them at the same time.

They're also very affectionate to the monkeys especially the opposite ones.🐶🐎✨💕

😄I want a scenario where they let the horses stay instead of just poofing them out of existence so MK/MEI can play with the horses just a bit longer since they were begging them by giving them the puppy dog eyes (especially on Mei's side; she's a horse girl fan), and after a long while, the sheriff notices that his horse Nimbus was acting a little more strange and protective over the Smokey horse, letting them eat first, and just never leaving their side. All sorts of strange behavior on the Nimbus side. All he ever notices from the shadow horse is that they were a little sluggish, but he doesn't think too much of it.😗🤠🐵

🌟Until one day, BAM! This little cutie came into the world as a precious, adorable little cinnamon roll, prancing around like it owns the world.🧁😽🌎✨

🐎There's stupidly protective over this little guy.👿😡🦄🐴☀️🌙🌠

🐴And there's a huge problem. This little guy is clumsy as heck. He's new and everything, so of course he is, but he likes to adventure out without his horsey parents knowing or anyone else, and he loves playing games like tag his favorite, but because he's so clumsy, he causes damage that MK or his mentors have to fix, so everyone has to be on high alert and watch over the little rascal. LMAO 🐎🍼💥💕✨

🌸I hope you enjoyed this, I certainly had fun drawing this I wish there was more wild West monkeys fics there's some freaking cute💕✨

💥Aaaah! I love these freaking cow monkeys 😆💖

[polychromaic]

🌸 when the Hindriarch banished Eskhind and her kin from Bey Lah, Neelahind would follow her heart into voluntary exile. To abandon a surefooted life, as well as a coveted spot among the Fellowship, is nearly unheard of among both hindren and Wardens, but Neelahind was glowing when she took her leave. I hear the pair are quite happy together, practicing arconautics in the ruins to the west—at least, that's what the kendren bring news of when they come back to trade.

back at it again w more caves of qud deer gals 😏✨ i'm kind of enamored with the ending to the Bey Lah quest where Esk and Neela both take off, so i wanted to see what they'd look like as a matched set of lesbian pariah-arconauts. geez, i can’t believe it’s been almost two years since i drew them last

image descriptions under break!

img desc: A drawing of a hindren deerfolk girl from "Caves of Qud". On the left a title card reads "Pariah Neelahind (she/her)". Some of the details are labeled. Her fur is a rich cedar red, with a lighter heartwood underbelly curling under her arms and on the inside of her legs down to her hooves; her curly hair is dark mahogany, tied back in a ponytail with a sky-blue bandana; her antlers are a pale heartswood, deepening to a rich velvet at the tines. She’s smiling, looking up and off to her right; she's poised upright, her arms spread to either side of her as she grips the haft of her war-scythe Yal, which is laying across her shoulders. She’s wearing shining steel platemail—a breastplate over a nanoweave surcoat patterned with pale lemon slices over pink (called "Pink Lemonade"); her armor is incomplete, but well taken care of. She’s wearing leather braces, a steel gauntlet on her left hand only, and a woven blue sash and bedroll across her back.

img desc: A drawing of a hindren deerfolk girl from "Caves of Qud". On the right a title card reads "Pariah Eskhind (she/it)". Some of the details are labeled. Her fur is ashen, with her pale undercoat spotting through on her forearms and flanks. Her messy hair is a greenish bleach-blonde, and one of her ears has a hole in it; her antlers are pale and their velvet is darker grey, and they're covered in little tied-on charms and brass tine hornaments. She has an eyepatch over her left eye, and a gap between her front teeth. She's grinning, slouching in a relaxed fashion, pulling back her hood with one hand and flashing a rock-on with the other; her front two legs are crossed, while the back two are spread like she's posing for a picture. She's wearing a well-worn chainmail hauberk, which extends down over her back; a ragged cowl, with buttoned slots along the hem of the hood for her antlers to fit through; a leather bracer on her left wrist, a steel pauldron on her right shoulder, a fingerless elastyne glove on her right hand, and two pairs of croccasins on her hooves. A pocketed saddle is slung over her back, along with a backpack and bedroll; on either side, the pockets are full of tools and bits. Tucked into her swordbelt is a sheathed folding carbide longsword and a gaslight kris; slung across her chest is a bolt-action rifle called "Peashooter" (it has a lesbian flag on its stock). Around her legs are several beaded bracelets and charms; one of them is the rightfully reclaimed Kindrish, complete with its carved deer charm.

[marithempressz]

Pick a Card: What are the good news?

Hey, babes! 🌕✨ After that deep, wholesome Scorpio Full Moon energy, I thought it was time to lighten the mood and bring some good vibes into our lives. 🌸💫 So, feel welcomed—take a deep breath, ground yourself, and choose the image you're most drawn to. 💖 This is a general reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest. Sending love always. xx Deck used: Waite Tarot

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

Pile 1

Six of Swords, Four of Wands, Seven of Wands, Ace of Cups, Ace of Swords, The Moon, The Hermit

Many good things are coming your way. Your path has been long—you’re someone deeply committed to yourself and naturally reserved. You’re ready to make changes, even radical ones. This journey hasn’t been easy; it feels like you’ve been on it for a while. You never gave up, even when you were tired or defeated—you held on to your faith.

The things you focus on are mostly kept private. You understand the importance of choosing carefully who you share your inner world with. Not everyone gets access to you.

What I’m seeing here is that all your effort—all the pain that came with change—will be worth it. It’s not just about reaching the destination; what you’ve learned along the way is even more important. What’s the story you want to tell others when you share a part of who you are? Try writing a monologue to feel how right it is to simply be yourself.

There is love here—yes, romantic love—but more importantly, self-love. And that self-love reflects how much life loves you in return. There is also power. Beyond the truth that love is power, you’ll begin to see just how much knowledge you’ve gained—how much you’ve grown since the beginning. Everything will start to make sense, and you’ll finally reap what you’ve sown.

Pile 2

Queen of Wands, Seven of Cups, Ten of Cups, Page of Swords

I sense a mix of urgency and excitement—maybe even a little anxiety. But it feels like this isn't about waiting and wondering if things will happen... you know they will. That’s where the excitement comes from, and it makes perfect sense.

There’s this vibe—like you have a list of things in your mind, and you’re reading this post all fired up about what’s on the horizon lol. Don’t worry, darling—everything has its timing. Everything you’ve been wishing for is on its way.

But here’s the thing: in your reading, there’s something specific that’s going to bring you deep emotional fulfillment. Real joy. There may be a woman who shares some important information with you—something helpful that could guide you toward what you want. There’s a strong emphasis on this information being shared, because once you receive it, you’ll need to act on it.

I really hope you get whatever it is you're reaching for—whatever it is, it feels meaningful. And honestly... you’ve got this.

Pile 3

The Magician, Queen of Cups, Ten of Wands, Two of Wands

Music is important for this group. Art in general, yes—but music feels especially present here. Hmm... feeling a bit embarrassed, are we? Maybe you have a dream related to music, and what’s blocking you is a sense of shame. Oh, if you only knew how many artists feel that way—you wouldn’t think you’re so special, lol.

This actually reminds me of something. There’s this artist I really like—very down-to-earth—and he always tells people that being a singer is just a job. Nothing more special than that. Just like some people are doctors, others are singers or entertainers. If you feel called to an artistic path, you don’t have to think of yourself as someone extraordinary, bro. Everyone’s just doing their thing. Humble down a little, lol.

That said, you’re always on the right path when your heart feels connected to it. Just let things fall into place. Don’t forget your dreams. Sometimes it might feel like this calling is more of a burden than a gift—but you know better. Pay attention to what’s making it feel heavy. Ask yourself: why does following your heart feel like a burden?

You've got the mindset. You've got the power. You already know what's right for you. This reading is just a confirmation of that. Your good news? You’re right—once again.

Why are you even here??? 

[chrrybbye]

Yandere Batfam x Meta! Neglected! Reader

TITLE: one last lullaby

02 | 🌸 and I miss you like a little kid.

CW: mentions of a house fire, non-descriptjve death, child abuse(?), rough handling of a child, implied starvation, less than stellar child care, manipulative behavior

“The magic in your blood runs even deeper than mine. How can that be?”

Your mother would demand⸺though, you weren’t sure what exactly she meant⸺her nails digging into your arms where she was holding you. No matter how you wriggled, it was impossible to escape from her iron-cold hands.

You were crying. Big, fat ugly tears rolled down your cheeks. You were scared. You wanted the mommy who would brush through your curls and help you tie the back of your dress. Not the one that would spew venom at you and pierce your skin with her sharp, red nails.

Your mother softened at your crying. “Come now, child. Eat the soup Mama made for you.” And then she’d push a chipped bowl filled with a nauseating concoction into your hands.

You stifled a gag. But compared to the many nights where your stomach had forgotten how to growl, like a declawed lion, where you would lay down face-up as your stomach ate itself⸺wasn’t this an improvement? You could trust your mother⸺you loved your mother.

The moment you took a sip, it was like a thousand spiders had crawled into your brain. It felt like your skull was cracked open, a fizzing burn in your mouth.

The pain was red, hot and searing.

Singing.

Someone was singing⸺it was such a lovely tune, a beautiful melody carried by such a beautiful voice.

You cracked an eye open. Mommy, of course. She was singing to the plant she kept in your room⸺a Venus fly trap. You knew better than to question where she put her plants, so you hadn’t protested its presence in your room. Yet, you were well aware of the absolutely disturbing sensation you got whenever you turned your back to the plant, and how you woke up in a sweat whenever the plant was too close to your bedside. You never liked it. “You’re awake, love,” her radiant smile beamed down at you. “Come sing to our little venus.”

You stared at the Venus fly trap, which was drooping a little in her hands.

“Do I have to sing?” You asked, watching your mother for signs of displeasure. You never knew what might make her cross with you.

“But you have such a beautiful voice, my nightingale,” Mama caressed your cheek. Lovingly. “A nightingale that can’t sing is useless, isn’t it?”

You may not have been as knowledgeable on birds as you were flowers, but this question was easy to answer. Of course it was.

“Can’t I play the little piano? Or the harmonica?”

“Sing,” your mother ordered, eyes hardening.

You nodded and quickly mimicked her tune. You had heard it enough, thank God, so that you didn’t disappoint her. The lyrics came easy to you. It was one thing to feel her disappointed stare on you, as she crossed her arms and sighed. It was another when she’d grab you by the arm and open her mouth⸺then, it was always much much worse.

“My love, you have a true gift for many things,” Mama said, holding the Venus fly trap that was now alert and sparkling with life as you finished the song. “But singing is by far your most valuable asset.”

You nodded.

“Do you know what sirens are, my child?”

You shook your head.

“They’re mythical creatures who use their singing to lure in their prey,” she explained. “Their appearances are horrid, but sailormen are hypnotized by their voices. Come my child⸺let me do your hair.”

She took a comb to your hair and began to detangle it lovingly, all while telling you about the origin of sirens.

Your mother was the only one to die in the fire.

You learn that on a sunny afternoon. The sky is that perfect shade of baby blue. Birds are hopping from branches, singing from their perches. The sound of motorcycles roaring and car engines buzzing is missing, not because your mother is dead, but because you’ve moved into a mansion isolated from the city. Bruce⸺or your dad, as you’ve been told to call him⸺stares at you as if you’re something fragile, something that will be broken if handled too roughly. It makes your skin itch⸺he’s looking at you with pity. He doesn’t get to look at you with pity. Not when he left you and your mother and he’s the reason she died⸺

(“Master Bruce as well as the other masters have a very important duty,” Alfred explains, coming to collect the cookies and lemonade. “Do you know who Batman is?”

You stare at Alfred with disbelief.)

Isn’t he supposed to be Batman? Is a measly house fire too much for the heroic vigilante who protects Gotham’s citizens? Your mother was a citizen too. And yet, she died, the only one to die in the entire complex.

What if you had died? Would he have sat before your mother, staring at her with pity?

You’re stewing in your own disgust when Bruce slides a mechanic box with a lense over. Your stomach drops when you see the familiar stickers on it.

Your mother’s digital camera.

“It was one of the only salvageable items, after the fire,” Bruce explains. “You may toss it if you don’t wish to keep it. But it seemed good enough quality.”

Your mother loved this camera. She preferred capturing the world in her own colors through painting, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love the world as is. She would always tell you about the beauty of simplicity.

You try to leave the room, wanting to return to your own room after that, but Bruce keeps you for some odd reason. It all goes in one ear and out the other, but you catch a few names⸺Dick, Jason, Barbara, Cassandra⸺and then, after an excruciating ten minutes, you’re running out the door. It’s only pure coincidence that while you’re running out, someone is running in, and you happen to collide with one another. You meet Jason Todd.

And as it clicked, you realized⸺oh, those people must be my siblings.

A/N: sorry about the constantly changing graphic design, lol....if anyone would like to be added to the taglist, just ask<3

prev. {☆||☆} next.

[sunniepoo]

girlie i love your writing!!💗💗

i was thinking mean!rafe x virgin!reader where he’s a meanie but he softens when he finds out it’s reader’s first time. it’s your choice if you do the act or the aftercare, i just need this in your writing please🎀🎀

~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~

nice was the last word anyone would use to describe rafe cameron; the constant frown on his face paired with the flow of mean spews that would leave his mouth didn’t provide much help with his reputation

yet every time you find yourself on his lap, sloppily making out with him the seat of his truck

and every time his hand would slip underneath the hem of your sweatshirt and knead the supple fat of your tits, slowly working themselves down to the edges of your panties- there would be some sort of abrupt stop caused by you, something or someone else

thank god!

he made it so hard for you to tell him he would be your first with his brutish, rough manner constantly poking and teasing at you and you knew that if you let this slip that you wouldn’t hear the end of it from him and you weren’t ready to face that humiliation just yet

that’s how you find yourself in a circle of random kooks, them looking pensively at you, waiting for you to answer the question

‘what’s the craziest place you had sex?’

well fuck! you thought to yourself as you could see the familiar cameron bore his eyes into the side of your head anticipating your answer

“uhh” you nervously mumble out “well i’ve never-“ you begin before kelce and another group of kooks come booming in, squealing and screaming with a water gun in hand spraying anyone they can find

the group quickly scattered, each and everyone running off to a random place in the cameron residence

with that, you feel the older cameron’s hand make its way to your waist, softly dragging you up the stairs, making way to his bedroom

and here you were again making out in his lap, hand softly toying with the hems of your short dress, stopping for a moment as he speaks “you never got to answer your question?”

“hm?” you ask already forgetting the incident downstairs, drunk off the touch of his lips “craziest place” he recalls the question again

“oh yeah..that” you mumble out as his palms rub up and down the sides of you, occasionally giving an oddly comforting squeeze, almost like he knew

“well..i’ve kind of never” you start, the words coming out as a soft whisper. god why did this feel so intimate.this is rafe cameron! “you know…never done it” you gulp immediately as the blondes eyes pierced into yours

“oh” he lets out after a short moment of silence, a soft smirk making way on his face

“look rafe if you’re gonna be a prick about it… i’ll just go because-” you announce, ready to leave and bury your face in a pillow and scream

“no no no no” he interrupts as he continues to grip on the sides of your waist, holding you in place and stopping you from moving

“s’cute..y’know” his hands making way to the ends of your hair, softly running his fingers through them while the other rubs against the length of your arms “if i was your first and stuff ”

“would show you a real nice time”he continues as he peppers soft kisses to your neck, sucking gently at that one spot which he knew had you all sensitive and weak

“really?” you choke out, your own voice giving up on itself

“course”

the subtle banging of the headboard against the wall drifted into the sound of the music blaring from the speakers

as the night unfolded, and you lay caged in between the muscle of the cameron’s arms, legs tangled with one another

you couldn’t help but think he wasn’t the big? bad scary rafe cameron after all

~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~🌸~🎀~

notes: so sorry lovely that i wrote it so so late, been a bit busy but i hope you like it!!

[ghostlyferrettarot]

🌁Pick a Picture:✨️❄️What wishes will come true for you?❄️✨️

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

✨️Hello! I wanted to say thank you for being a part of my year and for supporting me so much, i am so thankful to everyone that took a little bit of their time to look into my page! I hope you guys have a Happy Holidays and i hope we can still be together next year <3✨️

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

🌸If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🌸

🎀Masterlist🎀

⛄Pile 1: The Hanged Man, 5 of Pentacles and Ace of Cups.

Hi pile 1! You are my creative people, and this is a sign that wishes related to creativity, personal growth and the beginning of new projects are on their way to being fulfilled.

There is a vibration of creative abundance and personal power, I feel like you will be stepping into your power, you will be manifesting into reality a creative project that you have been working on for a while.

The next few months will be full of opportunities to expand your mind and your creative nature. If you were waiting for that moment to launch a new idea or project, get ready to see how the universe opens doors for you. This is a period of fertility and manifestation: everything you sow with your effort will manifest successfully. Do not hold back because of doubts, because your power of creation is at its peak.

Wishes that have to do with artistic projects, entrepreneurship or simply personal development will be aligned. Remember that abundance flows to you when you nurture your passions and follow your instincts. It's time to take action and trust your vision.

❄️Song:

⛄Pile 2: The Moon, 4 of Cups and Page of Wands.

Hi pile 2!, there is a strong energy related to love and emotional healing. This pile brings with it the fulfillment of desires linked to emotional healing and deep relationships.

If you have been looking for a deeper type of connection, whether in the romantic realm or in your friendships, this is a time of revelations and healing. You will have more hope, restoration and an energetic flow full of inner peace. Those desires related to the perfect relationship, reconciliation or the feeling of belonging will soon manifest. It is a time to trust that the universe will guide you to what is right for you.

This pile also speaks of the importance of listening to your intuition. If there is something you need to let go or heal, the energy of the Moon is really prominent in this pile, so it suggests that the desire for emotional release will come true. You have the ability to release internal blockages that have prevented you from living love in its purest form. Self-love will also be key in this process. I feel like a significant connection, especially a soulmate one is coming into your way pile 2!

❄️Song:

⛄Pile 3: Death, 8 of Wands and 6 of Wands.

Hi pile 3! this pile indicates that you are in a stage of changes, where desires related to destiny and personal transformation are about to become true. You are going to experience powerful changes that represent life turns and success.

Desires that relate to important life changes and recognitions of success are aligned for you. If you have been waiting for a turn in your destiny, this is the time. Your guides tell you that the cycle is changing, and that what seemed uncertain will now become a golden opportunity.

It is a time of rebirth and evolution, you probably are in a transformative journey right now and its gonna pay off pile 3!

I also feel that wishes for prosperity, joy and success will soon come true aswell. It is time to shine and take advantage of the opportunities that the universe brings you. All that effort, those seeds planted with sacrifice, are now ready to grow and bear fruit, you are doing an amazing job, so trust yourself and soon you will live your dream reality step by step!

❄️Song:

✧˚.⋆Thanks for reading and let me know if it resonated!✧˚.⋆

Dividers by: @dollywons

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 7

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

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By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky’s gut had been gnawing at him for weeks, a familiar, nagging feeling whenever Ian was around. Something about the man didn’t sit right, and Bucky couldn’t shake the sense that he’d seen this behavior before. His instincts kicked in, and he ordered someone to dig deeper into Ian’s past.

The brown envelope arrived the next day. Bucky sat at his desk, his eyes narrowing as he tore it open. Inside were the results of the investigation—pages that painted a much darker picture than he’d anticipated. As he skimmed the documents, his jaw clenched, and a low curse escaped his lips, “Shit.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day, you and Bucky arrived at a shelter for single mothers, a stop on the campaign trail. The women inside had experienced hardships most people couldn’t imagine, fleeing from abusive partners and trying to rebuild their lives. Their stories of survival hung in the air, unspoken but palpable in their tired eyes and wary smiles.

You moved through the room, serving food and making small talk with the women, trying your best to offer some comfort. As you handed a plate to one woman, you said softly, “I understand what kind of psychological torment you’ve been through. I hope you stay strong.”

The moment the words left your mouth, what you’d meant as a word of encouragement didn’t land the way you’d hoped.

Later that night, a video of the conversation went viral. It was clear someone had recorded the interaction and released it online. Bucky knew this had to be the work of his opponents, seizing the opportunity to discredit you—and by extension, him.

You watched the video, feeling a pit form in your stomach as the comments poured in:

"Stay strong? She doesn’t seem like someone who’s ever been through what we have."

"She wouldn’t understand. She lives in a happy home. How could she possibly know what it’s like to run from someone who’s supposed to love you?"

Their words cut deep, slicing through your carefully constructed image. They didn’t know the truth—that your marriage to Bucky was its own kind of prison. Pretending to be the perfect wife had taken a toll on you, but no one saw behind the curtain.

You froze, feeling exposed, as if they’d somehow sensed the cracks in your façade. You had become so good at lying, at convincing the world that you and Bucky were happy, that now, faced with these women who had lived through real pain, you felt like a fraud.

Furthermore, you wanted to tell them that you understood, that you too had felt trapped and powerless. But the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you smiled for the cameras, playing your part, knowing that your life was being documented as an example of “happiness.”

Then your eyes landed on a comment that sent you reeling:

"If they’re so happy, wouldn’t they have a kid by now?"

The question hung in the air, mocking you. They didn’t know the truth—how could they? And yet, their words seemed to pierce through the mask you’d been wearing for so long.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The silence between you and Bucky was heavy, almost suffocating. You hadn’t said much since the shelter incident, and Bucky could sense your stress in the way you barely touched your food or drank any water. You sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the untouched plate in front of you.

Bucky watched you for a moment before stepping closer, his brow furrowing with concern. He gently touched your forehead, his fingers warm against your skin.

“You have a fever,” he said, his voice low with worry.

You immediately pulled away from his hand, your body instinctively recoiling. Your stress had a way of manifesting physically, and whenever you were overwhelmed, your body shut down. This was no different.

“Don’t touch me,” you muttered, your voice hollow.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He knew this would happen, knew how your body responded when you were pushed too far. Without a word, he slipped his arm around you, supporting you as he guided you toward your room. You didn’t resist, too tired to fight.

“Just leave,” you said once you reached your room, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Bucky ignored your words. He sat you down on the edge of the bed, gently lifting your feet into his lap. You stiffened in surprise as his hands began to massage your aching feet. The familiarity of the gesture caught you off guard—he used to do this all the time when you were together, especially on nights when you came home exhausted, too tired to even think.

Your face grew warmer, though not just because of the fever. The tension between the two of you was palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and unspoken words hanging in the air. Bucky’s touch, once comforting, now felt like it held the weight of all the things left unsaid.

“I’ll bring the medicine,” he said after a few moments, his voice softer now.

You didn’t respond, too lost in the swirl of emotions flooding your mind. The way his hands moved, the care in his touch—it was all too familiar. It made your chest tighten with memories of when things weren’t this complicated.

As Bucky stood to leave, you finally spoke, your voice quiet and raw. “Why are you doing this?”

He paused, turning back to face you. “Because I care. I always do” His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it was as if the walls you’d built between you both cracked, if only just a little.

You didn’t respond, not knowing what to say. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion of the day and the fever pulled at you. Bucky noticed, his eyes softening. Without another word, he pulled the blanket over you and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You lay there, your mind racing despite your body’s exhaustion. His touch, his words, they lingered long after he’d gone. You hated that he still had this effect on you. And yet, deep down, there was a part of you that wanted to believe him, wanted to let your guard down. But after everything, how could you?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You woke up, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to your limbs, but something was different. The fever that had clouded your mind the night before was gone, leaving you with a sense of relief. Slowly, you sat up, glancing around the room. Bucky wasn’t here. It was the first time you’d been alone in the apartment since arriving.

The quietness felt strange, almost eerie. For a moment, you simply sat there, trying to shake the grogginess from your mind. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to explore the space. The apartment was large, meticulously designed, but there was a personal touch to it that reflected both of you. You wandered through the rooms until you stopped at his office.

The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open. His office was a mess—papers and law books were scattered across the desk and shelves, as if he’d been too busy to organize anything. But something caught your eye, an area that was surprisingly tidy amidst the chaos: his vinyl collection. It was neatly arranged, displayed with care, each record in perfect order.

Bucky loved collecting vinyls. You remembered that about him. As you approached the collection, your eyes scanned the spines of the records. Most of them were from artists both of you used to listen to. Your fingers grazed over the albums, a nostalgic pang in your chest.

Then, something unusual caught your attention. Tucked between the vinyl sleeves was a piece of paper, slightly worn. Frowning, you pulled it out and realized it wasn’t just any paper—it was a letter.

You stared at the handwriting, your heart skipping a beat. It was Bucky’s handwriting. Slowly, your eyes widened as recognition dawned on you. It was a letter he never sent. A letter to you.

Your pulse quickened as a rush of emotions hit you. Should you open it? Guilt twisted in your stomach, but then that familiar voice—the devil on your shoulder—spoke louder. He wrote this for you. He never sent it, but it’s yours.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you quickly hid the letter under your shirt, glancing around the office as if someone might walk in at any moment. Your heart raced as you hurried back to your room, the letter burning against your skin like a secret you weren’t supposed to know.

Once in the safety of your room, you sat on the bed, staring at the letter in your hands. The room felt smaller, your breaths shallow. Was this right? Should you be reading this? But you couldn’t stop yourself.

With trembling fingers, you opened the first letter.

It was short, written in Bucky’s familiar scrawl.

"I’m sorry. I know everything we went through must have been painful for you, more than I ever realized at the time. We were close, but we never truly communicated. I knew you were hurting, and I did nothing to stop it. That’s my fault. I’m the one to blame.

One day, if we ever meet again, I hope you’ll give me another chance. You deserve happiness, and I wish you the best of luck in finding it, even if it’s not with me."

You blinked, feeling a lump form in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. An apology. Words you thought you’d never hear—or read—from him. Your hands shook as you carefully unfolded another letter.

"I read your article. It’s really good. I always knew you’d make a great writer. You’ve always had a way with words. I’m proud of you. I hope you have a safe journey."

The words blurred for a moment as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You never knew he was following your work, that he cared enough to read what you wrote. It felt like a secret window into a part of him you thought had closed off to you long ago.

With a deep breath, you opened the final letter, bracing yourself.

"I’m worried about you. Going to a war zone as a journalist—it’s dangerous, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Please be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. I pray every day that you’re safe."

Your chest tightened as you finished reading, the rawness of his words washing over you. Bucky had been worried about you all this time. His concern, his pride—it was all there, hidden in these letters you were never supposed to find. And yet, here you were, holding the pieces of his heart in your hands.

It was overwhelming. You didn’t know how to feel—angry, confused, touched. All you knew was that the walls you had built to protect yourself were starting to crack, and you weren’t sure if you could put them back together.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You and Bucky met Greg again to prepare before heading to the TV station for the debate. Greg, always thinking ahead, was pacing as he went over the final details. His sharp gaze darted between you and Bucky, trying to ensure everything would go smoothly.

As the minutes ticked by, Greg suddenly paused, his face lighting up with an idea. "Perhaps," he suggested, "before Bucky heads out for the debate, you could give him a peck on the cheek. You know, for the cameras. A little show of affection can go a long way."

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, your expression neutral. "Okay," you agreed simply. The decision seemed easy enough—just a small gesture for the public eye. However, from the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky’s brow arch slightly, a glint of surprise crossing his features.

Bucky glanced at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "How about a kiss on the lips instead?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your exasperation. "Shut up," you muttered, though the warmth of the moment lingered between you. Bucky chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the brief banter as Greg scribbled down notes, already planning how to work this into the media strategy.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The day of the debate finally arrived. The room buzzed with tension as cameras were positioned, reporters whispered amongst themselves, and the stage was set. You stood backstage with Bucky, watching as the other candidates made their entrances. Edgar, running for president, was calm and composed, the very image of a seasoned politician.

Then there was Brock, another candidate for vice president—and Bucky’s long-time rival. The two had been at odds for years, their competition fierce and personal. The air between them crackled with animosity as they took their places.

As the debate began, the moderators threw sharp, pointed questions at the candidates, each probing their policies and character. Bucky was in his element, answering each question with practiced ease. His words were clear, his tone confident, and his delivery flawless. Every question thrown at him was met with a precise, well-thought-out response.

Moderator: "Mr. Barnes, what would be your first priority in office?"

Bucky: "My first priority is to address healthcare. Ensuring affordable and accessible healthcare is the cornerstone of a strong nation. We must invest in preventive care and make it easier for families to access the support they need."

The audience nodded in agreement, and even the other candidates seemed to respect his answer. Brock, however, was struggling. Every time he tried to match Bucky’s eloquence, he stumbled, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to make a point.

Moderator: "Mr. Rumlow, what is your stance on education reform?"

Brock: "Well, uh, we need to… to invest in schools, yes, but we can’t just throw money at the problem. We need accountability, and we need… um, better results."

His answer lacked the conviction and clarity that Bucky’s did, and you could see the frustration in Brock’s face as the debate went on.

The tension between the two men simmered, especially as Bucky continued to outshine him with every answer. But just when it seemed like Bucky had the upper hand, Brock saw an opening—and took it.

At the height of the debate, Brock's voice cut through the air, sharp and malicious. "You talk a lot about honesty and integrity, Barnes. But what about your brother? Didn’t he hit someone and never face any punishment?"

The room fell silent, a heavy, uncomfortable stillness filling the space. From your spot backstage, you could feel the tension roll off Bucky in waves. His muscles tensed beside you, his jaw clenched tight. This was his darkest family secret, one he’d hoped to keep buried. But now, here it was, dragged into the spotlight in front of a national audience.

Bucky’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his eyes narrowing as he shot Brock a cold, hard glare. For a moment, it looked like Bucky might lose his composure. The silence stretched on, the entire room holding its breath, waiting for his response.

But then, with a deep breath, Bucky straightened, his voice steady but laced with restrained anger. "My brother's actions were reprehensible, and there is no excuse for them. But unlike my opponent, I believe in accountability—and my family has taken steps to address that privately. This debate is about the future of this country, not digging up personal attacks to avoid talking about real issues."

The room shifted as Bucky’s calm yet pointed response cut through the tension. Brock, visibly thrown by how easily Bucky had deflected his attack, fumbled for his next words, but the damage had been done. Bucky had taken control once again, leaving Brock at a loss.

Backstage, you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of relief and pride swelling within you. Bucky had handled the moment with grace.

But you knew you couldn’t rest. With Shawn’s dark secret now exposed, it meant that your marriage to Bucky could be the next scandal to surface.

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[ghettogirly]

Head Cannon: How will Armando be when you're pregnant ? Btw I live for page 💕

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: how would he take care of you when you’re pregnant?

-> format: headcanon.

-> theme: fluff!

-> warning: armando is a little overprotective.

-> authors note: hope you enjoyed it, i think we need a little fluff of him being a family man!! thank you for supporting my blog!! 💕 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> you’re going to have everything you can possibly think of.

-> new baby clothes? he’s bought them. new room for the baby? workers are already on it. more food? already on its way.

-> you’re not lifting a FINGER. do not let that man see you do anything otherwise you’re getting a lecture.

-> “¿Estás tratando de darme un ataque al corazón?” “Babe, i just picked my glass up.”

-> yeah, don’t even think about doing any chores. he’s got workers for that or he will do it himself.

-> he definitely has hidden cameras around the house to make sure you’re not doing anything for yourself.

-> it may seem a little excessive but your priority should be resting and taking care of yourself and the baby, he believes you should rest to the maximum and it should be a stress free journey.

-> while it can be annoying with how much he cares, it’s honestly heartwarming.

-> sometimes he’ll come back with some flowers just to appreciate how strong you have been with carrying his child.

-> i totally believe he will give you little foot rubs and massages if you need it!

-> ALWAYS there for the doctor appointments, you can’t tell him otherwise. he always wants to make sure you and his child is okay.

-> packed everything needed for labour at least the week before so you don’t need to stress.

-> with your moods, he will initially be defensive and fight back but will come to the realisation that it’s your hormones. then he will just listen and take it.

-> “Estás pasando por muchas cosas, nena, está bien.”

-> when your water breaks, he does freak out a little on the inside but quickly gets you in the car and on the way to the hospital.

-> he makes sure the doctors cater to your every need, giving death stares if they’re not listening to your request.

-> his hand is automatically there if you need to crush it to death while pushing. gives you words of encouragement while you’re pushing out his child.

-> “Ya casi llegaste a esto.”

-> when his child is placed in his arms, a tear does slip out. He feels as he’s done it right and broke the cycle of his parents.

-> even seeing Mike, his father, hold his child made him feel happy. Kissing your forehead, you both smile at the happiness your new edition has made people.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¿Estás tratando de darme un ataque al corazón?”: Are you trying to give me a heart attack?

“Estás pasando por muchas cosas, nena, está bien.”: You’re going through a lot baby, it’s okay.

“Ya casi llegaste a esto...”: Nearly there, you got this..

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @milliumizoomi @shurisgf @sarcasticbitchsblog @tyneshaaa @5tarlan7 @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @armandosbabymama @thedarkworldofhananerea @deadpool15 @believeinthefireflies95 @dyttomori

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

congrats on 1k love, so deserved !! can i request han w the prompts 🧷, 🌕, 💋, 🌸, and 🧋 for the time capsule event pls ?? :3 tysmmm <33

📚 — paring・hannie x reader // genres・fluff, cookies time capsule event!! // words・1.6k // the event・wanna open your relationship time capsule? click here to request!

a/n・tee hee thank you sooo much, so crazy coming from you figuring i'm down bad for your nerd!ji series (was this lowkey based off that? yes. am i ashamed? absolutely not.) hanji being a hot nerd is so coded. to anyone reading this go check out her page her stuff is awesome!! (sorry this is kinda shit, i'm going through it right now lolol p.s there is an ungodly amount of ramen mentions in this)

🧷 — the first time you met ➵ ꒰ 0 days into your relationship ꒱

jisung is a certified loser, so naturally, he was head over heels in love with you before you two ever actually had a conversation. the first time you formally met—not him daydreaming about you in chemistry or stalking your social media—he had already been caught staring at you at least 20 times within the last hour. you've never seen a man pale and then blush so fast in your life; it was almost impressive. "do i have something on my face?" you muse, leaning forward on his desk. he's rehearsed his first real conversation with you for literal years, but alas, the moment you actually look at him, all those cool-calm-collected skills he religiously googled go poof in his brain. "w-what? n-no?? you d-don't have anything on y-your face?" his ears are so red that he can feel them, which means you can see them, and that only makes him more embarrassed. yeah, that is not a fun combo. you send him an amused smirk, running your finger along his desk. "you sure? you seem to really like my face." oh. my. god. he wants the earth to crack open and swallow him whole, shifting in his seat and clearing his throat as if this wasn't one of the most embarrassing moments in his life. "no! i-i haven't been, um..." you give him an unconvinced look. he sighs, sinking deeper into his seat, face practically on fire. "sorry..." at first, this was all a silly joke. but the way he seems so embarrassed before you, fiddling with his fingers underneath the desk and bouncing his leg as if he's going to run away, makes you think this isn't actually a joke to him. you smile, soft and disarming in its sweetness. "don't sweat it, just maybe... next time watch where you're looking." half of him expected you to laugh at him for having this silly crush, but the way you acted, how kind you were, made the delulu part of him flare up like no other. he couldn't stop thinking about you for the rest of the week, but he knew deep down, there was no possible way he could talk to you again. god had different plans because—of course this would happen to him—a week later, you get assigned to him for peer tutoring. yeah, he was so done.

💋 — the first kiss. ➵ ꒰ 1 month into your friendship ꒱

you were 'just friends' when you first kissed han jisung. he had just made a large bowl of spicy ramen, as one does, while you were finishing up some problem questions he wrote for you. you were almost finished with them when you looked over, a large splotch of sauce slathered over his bottom lip. you let out a little chuckle, motioning to his lips. "you've got something right there." he perks up, ears turning bright red. "r-right here?" he scrambles to wipe it off, but fails miserably. "no," you laugh, pointing back to where it is. "it's right there." perhaps it was because he was so flustered, but no matter how many times you showed him where it is, he just couldn't find it. he huffed in frustration, cheeks all cute and red. "i'm gonna go check the mirror." "don't worry about it," you say, pulling him back down by the sleeve, crawling to him and pressing your lips together. time stills, and when your tongue pokes out to lap against his bottom lip, he's truly convinced this was some sick, wet dream. when you finally pull away, jisung almost melts into a puddle on the floor. he should say something smooth, win you over with his totally-not-just-in-his-head flirtatious skills, but no. in classic jisung fashion, he stammers out—"d-did you, um, did you get it?" you can't help the laughter that spills from your now red and puffy lips. he can't stop thinking: shut up! shut up! shut up! you're making a total fool of yourself! "yes, jisung, i got it." "o-oh yeah, t-that's really good, w-we wouldn't want..." yeah, he doesn't say anything after that. don't worry, you didn't leave the poor boy to wallow in humiliation for long. the classic "what are we?" conversation happens the next day.

🌕 — the first night. ➵ ꒰ 1 month into your friendship ꒱

the first time you spent the night at his apartment, it was a mix of food, anime, and laughter. han has been plotting this night ever since you brought it up. he literally made an entire note on his notes app labeled super-awesome-first-night-with-my-gf. the first bullet on the list—woo my girlfriend into thinking i'm actually really cool and not just a simp. the second bullet—make tons and tons of ramen. only one of those bullets got checked off that night. anyways, the ramen was pretty smack. all jokes aside (guys tell me im so funny), you had a blast. you both huddled under the covers and didn't stop laughing until you were doubled over, stomachs cramping. he shared his favorite anime show and his super-secret-spicy-ramen recipe, which he swore up and down wasn't just ramen and cheese (it totally was). and maybe, secretly, he did woo you—just a little bit.

🌸 — the first time he got jealous. ➵ ꒰ 4 days into your relationship ꒱

it's pathetic really, how quickly han can get jealous. you weren't doing anything to evoke jealousy, you were just... talking. that's what bothered him so much — you were talking — to a tall, hot, white guy that looked nothing like him. he doesn't wanna admit it, but bagging the most beautiful girl in school came with a rap sheet of insecurities. you had only been dating for four days, but he was already worried about you also seeing how far out of his league you are. i mean, come on, you two weren't even in the same sport. (he just needs to be kissed bc what is this gorgeous baby talking about??). he'd be so pouty when you come back and sit down beside him. jisung isn't the "imma fight this hoe" kinda guy. he is the "imma cry in the corner and imagine fighting this hoe" kind guy, so when you see him avoiding your eye and pawing at his thighs, you know almost immediately. "hey ji, you good?" he scoffs, looking at you like you were crazy. "me? good? pshh, i'm so good. i'm cool, man. i'm so cool. cool like... ice..." you both cringe at that. it's silly, he knows that, and it isn't like he thought you were cheating or something — he was just... insecure. and you, being literally perfect in every way, noticed, cupping his cheeks and gingerly pointing his face toward you. "baby, talk to me, what's wrong?" he doesn't look at you when he mutters, shy and embarrassed, "who was that guy... you were talking to?" you really, really liked jisung, so you don't let out the laugh that threatened to leave your lips as you say, "who? my cousin?" han jisung has never been more horrified in his life. "your cousin?!" "yes, my love. he's my cousin." he takes another look at the fine-ass specimen of a man, then back to you. yeah, it checks out. though, meeting said cousin after that was really weird, but that's a different story for a different time.

🧋 — the first time he realized he wanted to marry you ➵ ꒰ 2 years into your relationship ꒱

han jisung realized he was going to marry you when you were looking like a total mess. work had made him feel like the entire world was sitting on his shoulders, back aching and heavy as he slipped off his shoes, stepping into the kitchen to find you—bent over the stove, stirring a heaping bowl of ramen. it was 3 in the morning, and he had taken extra shifts to help pay for bills, and quite frankly, he doesn't remember the last time he ate. you were in your hello kitty pjs, hair tangled and rustled from the power nap you took before making his meal, and the sight alone is enough to make tears spring into his eyes. "baby," he whimpers, strolling up behind you to wrap his arms tightly around your waist. you jump, but when you catch a whiff of his scent, your body relaxes into his touch, so familiar it feels like coming back home. you smile, giving the noodles one final stir before pouring them into a bowl and handing them to him, garnering it as if you were a 5-star michele."i hope you like it!" he was so tired, so tired he could collapse onto the kitchen table and never wake up again, but with you, around you—it didn't matter—he was going to eat your food gosh darn it. he took a bite and suddenly, he wasn't tired anymore, he was starved. your eyes sparkle like he just handed you the moon when his wobbly lips turn into a firm, convincing grin. "this is so good, baby. thank you." you give him this look, like you were staring straight into time, like you were imagining a life with him, and you liked it. that was where it started. it was the strangest phenomenon—it bloomed inside his chest, this feeling, and then, with disorienting intensity, it all—clicks. that's when he realized he was going to marry you, sitting there on kitchen stools, sipping on the best ramen he's ever tasted in his life.