#firecracker cactus

[crudlynaturephotos]

[cselandscapearchitect]

Creating a Colorful and Biodiverse Garden: Companion Planting with Firecracker Penstemon

Welcome to our gardening blog, where we explore creative and sustainable ways to enhance the beauty and biodiversity of your outdoor space. Today, we’re excited to delve into the world of companion planting with Penstemon eatonii, commonly known as Firecracker Penstemon. This stunning native plant with its fiery red blooms can bring a burst of color and attract beneficial wildlife to your garden.…

[twstbookclub]

Unexpectedly Cute

Summary: You were grumbling about Grim and his absurd eating habits, when you found a small cactus in the courtyard. When you picked it up, you didn't think you'd see another side of Jack that day. He didn't expect to see another side of you, either. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romantic/Platonic, Tiny Cactus!!, Tsundere Jack Howl (that's putting it superficially), MC is a short and feisty firecracker in this Word Count: 1, 879 hi, i'm alive. i genuinely have a hard time writing jack, ngl. prompts for him were being switched around, and college is still kicking my ass. it's been months, really. although, i want to thank everyone who stuck around and waited for us to post fics again. i'm going to be busy again some time soon, but i hope i get to my drafts before i have to go back to the grind. again, thank you so much and i hope you enjoy reading 💕

Jack Howl has always been an enigma to you. He was an open book most of the time. His cheeks flushed whenever you pointed out his concern for others. His eyebrows pinched together every time you called him kind. He always averted his eyes and turned away from you whenever you smiled knowingly, as if you held his secrets in the palm of your hand.

Yet, he never talked much about himself. He always tagged along with your unusual, ragtag group of friends. Even if Ace and Deuce’s fights annoyed him sometimes, he still stayed. His ears twitched at every little noise. His tail wagged whenever he was happy, and it slowly swayed from side to side whenever he was content. You always noticed the little things about Jack, but he never breathed a word about his life outside of Night Raven College nor his personal preferences.

He was an open book, but the pages were inked with ciphers and riddles that hid all of his secrets.

“Why the hell…?” You trailed off with a raise of your brow. In your hands sat a small pot with a succulent in it. Its soil was a rich brown, surrounding a round and prickly cactus. Judging by the soil and the color of the cactus, it was well taken care of.

Your hand hovered over the thorns, but you pulled away with a shake of your head. As mesmerized as you were by the tiny and cute plant, you had your priorities.

For example, why the hell was a succulent—that was given this much love and care—lying on the courtyard?

You were on your way to Sam’s store for a quick restock of tuna cans for Grim (that tiny rascal got greedy and ate a month’s supply), when you found this little thing. It laid on its side on the grass near the stone pathway. The moment you held it in your hands, you couldn’t help but admire how adorable and pretty the cactus was.

“Now, what are you doing here?” You mumbled to yourself as you continued on your way to Sam’s store. “You look like you’ve been really loved by your owner, so how did you end up here?”

With how engrossed you were in admiring the little cactus, you failed to hear a choked noise and the abrupt halt of footsteps behind you. You continued to give the succulent all of your attention with gentle hands and more murmurs.

You were an enigma to Jack Howl. You rarely talked about yourself, yet you revealed so much of yourself. He remembered how a scowl always marred your face, specifically the times when someone annoyed you. He remembered the fire in your eyes when you gnashed your teeth at Leona’s insults. He remembered the curses that spilled from your lips, whether it was spite for the assholes in NRC or your everyday self-expression. There was never a day that you spoke without cursing like a sailor drunk on booze and the salty sea air.

Jack was reminded of a wildfire every time he saw you. You wreaked havoc everywhere you went. A single touch—maybe a glimpse—from you seared your presence into someone’s mind, like an ember swelling into an inferno among a sea of trees. Like a moth to a flame, he gravitated towards you despite that faint voice warning him in the back of his mind.

The Savanaclaw freshman watched you smile, a miniscule quirk of your lips. The hands that cradled his potted cactus were the same ones that punched a sophomore, who mocked you for your short height. The eyes that held so much contempt and rage were looking at that succulent with quiet admiration, as if you were looking at the stars rather than a single plant.

Just now, you reminded Jack of a pure, white dandelion whose seeds danced and twirled in the wind.

Before Jack realized it, he clapped a hand on your shoulder with a gruff, “Hey.”

You jumped, clutching the little cactus close to your chest with a loud, “Son of a b—Jack!” One of the wolf beastman’s ears twitched, catching a hint of relief and exasperation in your voice. His eyes never missed the way you pulled the plant close to you, as if it was a child that should be protected. The soft admiration in your gaze was replaced with harsh and guarded eyes, the usual. Jack noticed how much he paid attention to you, and he became a bit embarrassed at the thought.

“That’s, uh, mine,” he stammered. Your eyes were drawn to the light flush on his cheeks. His gaze averted to the side, and he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. Subtly, you glanced at Jack’s tail.

It was wagging from side to side, for some reason.

Looking back at the taller beastman, you drawled, “I didn’t know you have a green thumb, Jack. Maybe I should ask you to help me with gathering ingredients for Professor Crewel next time.”

The embarrassed blush grew worse, darkening his cheeks. The sharp edges in his eyes returned with a glower. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face when you heard Jack growl.

“... Don’t push it, Prefect. It’s not like I’d help you out every time you call me.”

Yet, he always did.

You shrugged and laughed with a playful nudge to Jack’s side. Careful hands returned the succulent to him as you chirped, “You say that, but you always come running whenever I do. Just admit it, Jack.”

He shot you an unimpressed look, and you laughed as he took the tiny pot from you. Jack’s ears twitched again. His eyes drank in the way your smile lit your face; how your irises hid behind the chub of your cheeks. For someone who’d pounce at anyone with murderous intent in that petite body, he didn’t think he’d see you smile like that.

Jack’s tail wagged behind him, fast enough to fan cool air to anyone who stood behind him. You silently mused about how it could sweep the dirt off the ground if it wagged any faster.

“It’s not like you to lose something,” you pointed out with that grin still on your face. 

Jack clutched the pot with a stutter and a furrow of his brows. You nearly laughed at his embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but muse to yourself.

Jack can actually be cute like this. He’s even being gentle with the pot. Cute.

“I-I was taking the cactus out for some sun,” Jack began with a frown as the blush was fading from his cheeks, “when Ruggie found me and told me that Leona needed me for something. The next thing I knew, it's in your hands.”

“The little guy took a tumble, then,” you concluded with a look at the cactus in Jack’s hands. “It was on the ground when I found it. Where did you leave it earlier?”

“On that bench.” Jack nudged his head towards one of the benches in the courtyard. A patch of sunlight shone over one of its edges, while the shadow of the tree stretched across the grass.

Jack watched you stare at the bench with a hum. With your attention occupied like this, he observed you without warranting unwanted embarrassment.

You bit your lip, pulling the bottom into your mouth. A million thoughts seemed to run through your mind behind that gaze of yours. A faint breeze rustled your hair and tickled your skin—and Jack couldn’t look away, for some reason.

Your eyes darted towards Jack, and he nearly flinched from getting caught staring at you. Although, you didn’t seem to think of it that way.

“I tried to scoop back some of the soil that fell out,” you told him with a lopsided smile. It looked awkward on you, as if you’re not used to smiling this much in a day.

“You’re lucky that the pot’s made of plastic. Maybe some jerk decided it was funny to ruin someone’s day like this.”

Jack continued to watch you mumble speculations under your breath. He didn’t realize it, but his hands gripped the pot and his tail wagged faster.

Who knew you could be this mellow? Your concern for his plant was kind of cute.

“Thanks,” Jack told you with a small smile, “for finding my cactus.”

You stopped mumbling, and you looked up at Jack again. You looked surprised at his gratitude, as if being thanked was rare for you. While Jack drank in the foreign expressions you made, a thought suddenly dawned on him.

“By the way, what are you doing out here?”

That seemed to snap you back to reality. The familiar frown returned, one that Jack vividly remembered from the little time he spent with you.

“Grim ate too much tuna,” you grumbled with an annoyed glare. It was as if you could see the monster-cat right in front of you.

“Now, I gotta buy more from Sam. That little bastard, I swear to the Seven—”

Jack noticed that you mentioned the Seven, rather than the usual God. You were getting comfortable with the lingo here. The corner of his lips twitched at that. Still, he made sure not to smile. If he did, you’d just tease him more, and this conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“I’ll walk you there. It wouldn’t feel right if I left you after you helped me out.”

You paused at Jack’s words. A closed-lip smile lit your face, and the beastman couldn’t help but admire the sudden change in expression.

“Really?” You asked, and he caught the relief in your tone again. “Thanks. You sure you wouldn’t mind? I mean, you still have that little guy to take care of.”

You kept calling his tiny cactus a little guy. Cute. That was all Jack could think about. For someone who was callous and confrontational like you, you were being cute right now.

“I don’t mind. Besides,” Jack slightly raised the potted succulent to make his point, “think of it as returning the favor.”

You saw Jack’s tail wagging and his ears perking up. He probably didn’t notice, and you grinned  at that.

“If you insist!” You chirped, before slipping an arm in his and leading him towards Sam’s store. He stumbled and stuttered again, before he exclaimed, “O-oi, hold on!”

“No can do.” Your grin grew wider, as you tugged the taller and larger freshman with you. Even if he was stronger and stockier than you, Jack let you drag him around.

“You put yourself in this situation, so I’ll make you carry the rest of the cans!”

Who knew he could seriously be this cute and earnest? For someone as intimidating and quiet as Jack, his reactions are earnestly cute.

You and Jack fell into another conversation—teasing him and earning an embarrassed blush—as you two walked to Sam’s store. The silence in the courtyard was disrupted with amused laughter and mortified grumbles.

As the afternoon sun showered the two in a golden glow, the cactus seemed to look more lively and vibrant in Jack’s hands now. It basked in the two’s company, as if it was the sunlight it needed all along.

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

Don’t question this but here are some random things that the S1 dads, kiddads and teens remind me of (why? i have no clue)

Darryl: Old books. Like the smell of old books. And firewood.

Henry: When you step on a leave and it crunches. Mint toothpaste.

Ron: Finger puppets and the smell of cold coffee.

Glenn: Gasoline and old car junkyards. Also he reminds me of german sheperds.

Grant: Flowering cactus and toast.

Lark: Broken china and dried lavender.

Nicky: Burnt marshmallows and holly wreathes.

Sparrow: Plant shops and clay cats.

Terry: Marble pillars, stain glass windows and woollen jumpers.

Taylor: Taffy and carnival games. Firecrackers.

Scary: Liquorice bullets. Tinted lipbalm and blank canvases.

Linc: Muddy boots, overgrown grass and mac&cheese

Normal: The colour sky blue, socks, paper crowns and school crafts.

Hermie: Tiger lillies, cake, stage lights and grass.

[kachikirby]

Rosette any oc you'd like or as many ocs as you want I think

I'll list off a bunch of them! Thanks for the ask!

Also just throwing in my SD Gundam OC just because. Note that some of these don't have meanings I can find in floriography exactly.

[ROSETTE] What flower symbolizes your OC best and why? What does the flower mean in floriography?

Kurabe - English Rose for its elegant aura. The floriography meaning changes based on what color the rose is, but purple means "enchantment".

Mikuto - Daisy for its simplicity. In floriography, it means "Innocence, loyal love, purity", all of which really do fit Mikuto. (especially "loyal love")

Fettuccine - Bluebells for its beautiful coloring. It means "humility" in floriography.

Erhard - Christmas cactus because he has one named Paula.

Mercury - Asters for its beautiful blue and purple colors. In floriography it means "Daintiness, patience" and the second of those meanings fit.

Reedy - Snapdragon mostly for the name lmao. In floriography it means "Deception, gracious lady", which is just funny.

Akemi - Peony. They're a simple flower like Akemi. In floriography, it means "Shame, happy life, and marriage", which the second one of those fit.

Sieg - Sweet pea. The white ones remind me of him when they're clustered together. In floriography it means "Goodbye, blissful pleasure, thank you for a lovely time" which I guess the second one fits?

Freya - Plumeria. The white with a slight yellow shading on some flowers remind me of her hair.

Pandoro - Snowdrop quiet and elegant like she is.

Risotto - Forget-Me-Not, they feel gentle and they are blue. In floriography it means "True love, memories", and the second one fits more.

Katsumi - Firecracker Bush, also for the name lmao.

Goldymargret - Buttercups, because YELLOW

Build Knight Cosmos - English Lavender, because it just fits imo. Lavender means "Serenity, calmness", which is mostly funny because that's something he needs to work on.

[thepiratekitty]

Started to try to get into drawing again. There is this nice app called Sketch a Day where everyday you get a prompt to Draw Something and it makes fun. Likes do not matter that much. Followers do not really matter. Just drawing.

[ID]

The first one is a small blue flower pot in which sits a small green coloured hedgehog, a yellow flower blooming on it's back. The theme was cactus.

The second one is a little silvern robot mouse surrounded by screws and a screwdriver. I thought of these little dog robot toys from the 2000's. The prompt was robot

For the third one the prompt was channel. So we have a big screen showing a white room. On top left there is the symbol of a popular German tv channel for children called "Kika" it is red and yellow with a little blue circle between the letters.

On the top also is a robot arm that reaches into a very old TV through a blue portal. The robot has written "Busch Entertainment" on it. The tv has a wooden case and is from "Chilli tech". Looking into the tv we see a clock in the background showing it is 3 AM. The Kika channel is on the top left again. The robot arm is shown too holding a brown box shaped bread with eyes, a mouth, hands and feet. This is Bernd the bread. It is a show that starts late in the evening to fill the time until kids shows starts again.

Years ago we had a kids show where we were introduced to Bernd. He is a grumpy bread living together in a House with crazy firecracker and bomb loving sheep Chilli and the hyper intelligent and experiment loving Busch the bush.

Crazy time back then.

[floraldecorimports22]

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[notesfromthecactuspatch-blog]

Memorial Weekend News From The Cactus Patch And Other Worthless Information 5/27/2023

Hey Folks, It Was More Fun Being A Kid Back In The Day…. Back in the 1950s, also referred to as ” Back In the Day,” we played with toys that should have either maimed or killed us. Cherry Bombs, a firecracker equal to a 1/4 stick of dynamite, yet our parents let us blow up things with these lethal fireworks. My ingenious cousin, Jok, decided to put a Cherry Bomb on top of the front tire of his…

[lasriohq]

LAS RIO’S 50TH ANNUAL BLOSSOM BASH

Welcome all townspeople, tourists, and newcomers alike! We - the people of Las Rio - invite you to our 50th annual Spring Blossom Bash, where we have activities, food, and much much more. There’s truly something for everyone; Spring is in the air! 

This Blossom Bash will take place from April 3rd - April 9th and it’s always just what  the town needs to welcome the warmer months back into Las Rio. While the food is always exactly the dream come true - nothing like stations of food fit just for the occasion, sandwiches, snacks, cold and warm drink station, and as always Polly’s world famous lavender tea! Stop on by Polly’s Emporium to try the drink for yourself. 

If food and drinks aren’t your thing and you’re someone that prefers to socialize, this would be the best time to check out the art and kite festival that’s set up on the West side of the town. Booths are set up for miles wide, decorated and full of the most prized possessions, art pieces made with nothing but love, and kites made out of recycled materials and painted the most vibrant colors. Make your own kite or your own art pieces to decorate your home. If art isn’t your thing, the night of April 8th check out our hot air balloon rides that are launching at sunset on the west side of the river. All donations given for this event will go towards the businesses of Las Rio for repairs and maintenance. 

To top it all off, our annual gardening event is being held on the East side of the river, and we don’t want Mrs. Lewis to win the grand prize for the largest cactus again. Enter your most prized plant possession into the contest for a grand prize. There will be gardening classes hosted, as well as the ability to help make the town beautiful with your own area to plant things you desire! Come on out and help make this event personal, but overall a great time. 

While the event is lasting a full week both in character and out of character, you all will be able to write threads for this event starting on April 3rd at 8AM and can write until the event ends on April 12th at 8AM. This will allow you all to write as much as you want to surrounding the event, and we can’t wait to see what you come up with. 

We know you probably have a lot of questions, so below is some things that we think could be helpful when you begin writing. Gardening- Some things that are available to be grown at this time of year in New Mexico are: peas, cabbage, spinach, carrots, broccoli, kale, arugula, radishes, cilantro, scallions, cilantro, and lettuce, but be sure your characters prepared them ahead of time. We are allowing this to be for both personal use, and also if your character is more like to do it for volunteer purposes, we’re allowing you to help plant things to give to those less fortunate and really capture the inclusiveness and closeness the town is supposed to represent. If food or vegetables aren’t your thing, some flowers you can plant are: Parry's Penstemon, Firecracker, Rocky Mountain, Pineleaf, Huskers Red, Scarlet Bulgar, Rondo Mix and Pikes Peak Purple and attract things like bees, butterflies and hummingbirds. Art & Kite Festival - For this, it’s kind of as basic as it sounds. This is just some booths set up with different types of art; along with art you can buy, we think it would be cool to have your character to be able to explore making those types of art work, so feel free to explore that side of it if that’s something you wish to do! Food & Drink - There will be an assortment of food, drinks and snacks with a range from poke, a coffee stand, italian ice and more. You won't leave hungry, especially if you check out any of the food trucks parked in different areas around town to meet your needs. (Use your imagination here too! The more Spring inspired dishes the better!)

Booths - While the specifics aren't listed, if you want your character to run some sort of booth set up around town, Rancho De Plaza will be full of booths of all sorts! Join Elijah at the face painting booth or set up your own! Hot Air Balloon Rides - The price for these hot air balloons are $2 for single riders or $5 for every ‘couple’ (double rider balloons) and the donations are being collected and dispersed evenly to local businesses by City Hall. Plan a date, watch the stars, or grab a balloon and get away from reality for awhile; the sky really is the limit when it comes to this fun activity. As always, feel free to have fun and explore all the possibilities. We can’t wait to see what you guys come up with! 

[poppys-pets-and-arts]

Some of my propagations - all raised from leaves!

[cheesy-cryptid]

What is everyone saved as in Javier's phone?

Javi's phone names

Bruno : papa (derogatory)

Evalina: Mama

Ignacio: Spitfire Idiot !!!

Angelina: Birdbrain

Mirabel: Dork (cousin)

Camilo: bane of my existence (cousin)

Isabela: cactus stabby stab (cousin)

Dolores: Dolores (cousin) *emergency contact

Antonio: Tonito (cousin)

Luisa: the cool one (cousin)

And then all the other madrigal adults in his phone are just their regular names.

@lunamadrigal since i wanna include the bebés too hehe

Diego: the reliable one

Auri: firecracker kaboom

[mintawasalreadytaken]

Hi hi hello! If you so wish, and if it inspires anything, can I please have prompts no. 5 and or 9? And or any of them you'd like? And or anything, literal? All the love and admiration and puppy dog eyes! 💖

your girl has been in a mood so i wrote this angsty little *cough, why is it now 5.7k, cough* response to prompt no. 9: "Yes, but it'll cost you." this is also indebted to @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm’s really beautiful fic(s?) featuring the theme of “firecrackers are bullshit that cause nothing but stress and strife”.

get socked in the feels over on AO3 or read the whole thing below in Tumblr formatting like a real sadist below:

1

It started when Harry caught Malfoy puking behind the greenhouse in eighth year.

It was Gryffindor’s turn to host the Halloween party, and so as the unspoken rule of all festivities went, Slytherins weren’t permitted to attend. 

Harry stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, meaning he slipped away as soon as Dean placed the empty bottle they'd been passing around on the pavers. The eyes of those near flew to it, mesmerised by the possibility of a game to force them out of their skin and into someone else's. Spin the Bottle was as likely as Seven Minutes In Heaven, only they called it Seven Minutes now because the reference to Heaven was an invitation for Death to join the party, and Death was a maudlin guest. It was best to leave Death to linger in her usual shadowy corner at their gatherings. She sucked enough Life from them every day already. 

Harry didn't slip so much as stumble through the back half of the Desert greenhouse, overturning a potted cactus as he went. The plant turned to black ooze before his eyes, which prickled with undue feeling. He didn't trust his voice to utter Reparo, so he stood and blinked fast and fled to where the air was clear and cold and the cheering of a spin, a meeting of someone's slick lips with another's, was distant. The scene he fled to was unfortunately even more wretched. 

He’d left the promise of lovely kissing for Malfoy, retching, one spindly hand clutching the nearest tree. Harry watched him vomit, saw his cheeks hollow as he gathered saliva and spat and spat again. He wiped his mouth with his cuff and cursed quietly. 

Three body-lengths away, it was as close as they'd been all year.

Malfoy turned to stagger up the slight incline, slipped and fell to hands and knees. He groaned and dipped his head until the lankest, longest bit of his hair caught on the grass. It was dew tipped and in the bright of moonlight, Malfoy was rendered in black and white. He was alone. He smelled, even at a distance, strongly of weed. He leaned his forehead into the ground and just as Harry wondered what he would do next, and wanted to escape in case it was cry, because everyone was crying all over the place lately, or maybe pass out, and Harry didn't want to be the one to nudge him over so he didn't choke on his puke in the night—Malfoy looked up.

He huffed a breath of surprise.

"Hullo, Potter."

He pressed one hand to a knee and used the other to lever himself off the ground. He stood, poorly, as though on a wave-battered ship.

"Malfoy. You weren't invited."

"Ah, yes. That's why I'm—" he gestured over his shoulder and then fumbled for something in his pocket. Harry had his wand out at the ready when Malfoy's hand returned with the source of the strong sagey scent of burnt cannabis.

"Would you like this? It seems I don't know my limits."

Harry frowned.

"No. Bugger off before you ruin everything."

Malfoy pocketed the roach. He looked at his feet, stumbling, and fell back so his shoulders rested on the oak he'd recently used as a lavatory.

"I like parties," Malfoy said wistfully, to the moon. 

Harry lowered his wand.

"The people at this one don't like you. You should go."

"I want to be invited to parties. I'm good fun when I'm not—" Malfoy gestured again, apparently unable to debase himself by describing his debauched physical state.

Harry snorted. He scrubbed his face, palm dry against hot cheeks. The air wasn't enough. He needed water and a lie-down. He needed away from this conversation. He needed his bed, to be alone in it, for a long time. Harry was sick of being awake and tired of sleeping through sunlight and too exhausted to rest and—

"You're not good, though. You're—you shouldn't even be here," he said. It hurt Malfoy to hear it. It showed on his face, the way he winced. His face kept the screwed-up look long after Harry said it, and Harry took that to mean Malfoy got his deeper meaning.

"None of us should be here," Harry continued. His mouth was running away with him. He meant himself, not the rest of them. He shouldn't be here, he meant. He wasn't supposed to feel anymore. He didn't want to be around, but here he was, around, mucking shit up and putting that twist in Malfoy's face, Malfoy who Harry should be allowed to hate, to want dead. Harry should be allowed at least that hate, shouldn't he?

"I want to be here," Malfoy said. From the careful way he said it, he meant it the big way too. "I want to want it. You know?"

"Go away, Malfoy," Harry said. His throat hurt and he'd been staring at Malfoy's too pale eyes and his dishevelled, too greasy hair for too long. He knew all about how Malfoy looked these days. He needed to go.

There was a long pause, into which Malfoy schooled his features. He stared at the sky, which freed Harry from feeling stared at, a feeling he rarely escaped with other people. It was refreshing, even if his simmering anger didn't dissipate, only sunk lower into his guts, where it was less noticeable.

"I need to learn," Malfoy spoke with a serious slowness, "how to be the sort of person who gets invited to parties.” Harry realised the reason he sounded a little dreamy, a little Luna, was because he was high. Malfoy snorted, the wide line of his lips curling up close to his pointy nose. Malfoy snorted at a joke he hadn't said aloud, and it was the first time Harry had seen him smile all year. 

"Honestly," Harry said, tiredly, because he was, after all, tired, and talking to Hogwarts eighth year's equivalent to the town drunk, "fuck off, Malfoy."

Malfoy’s smile shrunk to a tiny little one. "I'm serious. I'll throw one. I'll pay for all the Weasl—hey, no! I wasn’t—"

Harry stormed off towards the lake and found it easy to knock Malfoy's grasping hands from his robes. The lake was a glittering black jewel in the night, Malfoy a yippy dog at his heels.

"But I didn't mean it—oh, come on, you know I—"

When Harry stopped Malfoy didn't and they fell to the earth in one uncoordinated tangle of limbs. Harry growled and rolled away and balled his fists up to his mouth and yelled an incoherent sound and Malfoy scooted away very quickly. Harry didn't punch Malfoy in the mouth because he was busy doing his own desperate breathing. Harry very much wanted to be alone and to not kill Malfoy and the other boy was making that very difficult for him.

"Why won't you leave me alone?"

"Because I need you to teach me, Potter," Malfoy said. He crawled closer and stopped just out of kicking distance. His shirt was missing a button and where he'd been wearing one earring there was an unhealed gash of a cut like someone had ripped it out, and he was pitiful. Malfoy, with little left in the world, was a pitiful creature come to Harry Potter for help, and Harry rolled onto his back and closed his eyes against the glittering of the stars. They were rotating too fast anyhow.

"I meant it as a joke,” Malfoy’s small voice cut the cold air. “I'll pay for things. I'll be polite, I'll let Hufflepuffs attend, and, and—I'll supply anything anyone wants. I meant it, that the Weasley's can come. I mean to—"

"Yes," Harry said. Malfoy’s stammering stopped. 

"Really?"

Harry dragged an arm over his eyes. 

"I said yes, didn't I?"

Harry peeked. Malfoy was beaming at him. His face a beacon, too white, reflecting back the happiness he gained from Harry's yes. Like Harry was his savour. Like Harry was the sun.

"But it'll cost you," Harry added because he couldn’t have one more person look at him like that. He thumped his head to the frozen ground and did it again for good measure.

2

Malfoy's education in being a person other people wanted to be around was not a particularly difficult one. 

"Keep your mouth shut," Harry snapped when Malfoy opened his mouth to deliver an easy jibe. He did, and lowered his head, and stopped speaking out of turn in class. 

"That's your cue," Harry said, brows raised expectantly when Malfoy's benchmate in Potions was missing their quill and had tapped Harry, rather than Malfoy, on the shoulder to ask to borrow one. 

"Oh," Malfoy said, and squirrelled around in his bag to hand one over. The student, a seventh-year girl Harry hadn't met before, looked at the eagle feather like it was covered in boils.

"Uh. Thanks," she managed. Malfoy nodded, land went back to stirring their cauldron. Harry turned around and exhaled and wondered when the wad of feeling in his chest would reduce in size so he could breathe around it.

Ron noticed the new interactions and asked Harry whether he needed to make a pet project out of Malfoy.

"It's not like that. He's…trying," Harry said. Ron went back to his thoughts and Hermione to helping him through them. They didn’t fight anymore, the three of them. Not even over the tiny things. They asked questions or offered advice once and then left it alone. Or, at least that was how they dealt with Harry, now that there was them separate from Harry. He missed their closeness but didn’t miss the scrutiny. 

Hermione didn’t approve of the smoking, or the drugs, or the Malfoy of it all. She approved of attempts at reform though, so after a while she stopped checking in on Harry altogether. 

“We’re here if you ever need us,” she said when Harry and Ginny broke up. Harry nodded away the lump in his throat. He didn’t have words for what he might need to talk to them about. They were feelings without form. Not yet. 

3

Winter turned to spring, and Malfoy offered quills and bit his cheek to keep from laughing when someone stuttered over their reading in class, and soon Harry had little to say to him.

But the words were backed up in Harry's chest, so he went out of his way looking for Malfoy. He thought to catch him at something secret and spiteful and instead found he stayed late after Potions ended, Wednesdays and Fridays, working on his Advanced N.E.W.T. work. Harry under his cloak and Malfoy mostly alone, except for when his partner stayed too, to ask if she could copy from his notes.

"Your notes aren’t the issue.” His eyes darted side to side. “The way you stare at the back of Potter’s head like it might hold the keys to brewing a perfect Draught of Clarity might be. Why don’t we brew it again, together?" His face was as pointy as ever, and shiny from the steam off his brew, but he no longer held his lips in a tight, unpleasant line. They quirked up on one side. "Don't look so surprised. I need all the practice I can get, and you're only slightly better than Potter at Potions." 

"Bold to talk about your only friend like that," she said. She slouched, letting her bag fall from lowered shoulder to the worktop. “Who died and made you the Supreme Mugwump of having a pash on pretty Potter? Jealous, much?”

Harry held his breath waiting for disgust.

"It’s not like that," Malfoy smiled at the floor. “He’s got a bleeding heart and terrible handwriting. You should aim higher, frankly.”

Malfoy remained, in that way, a stubborn stone in Harry's shoe. Harry liked that he'd said what he’d said—to put the girl at ease. He didn't mind that Malfoy remained, forever, a little contrary. He was tutoring Hufflepuffs, for Merlin's sake.

Harry hated that he didn't mind.

4

Spring melted into summer. Malfoy's remedial Potions classes were well-attended by several eighth years, and he pitched in coaching the Slytherin quidditch team. He was no longer actively derided in classes, but still didn't feature at any parties. 

Harry found him asleep on the Slytherin common room couch. He nudged the bony hill of his ankle and watched Malfoy's nose wrinkle with displeasure. His hair was long, spilling over a fussy tube-shaped pillow of black velvet that wasn't meant to be slept on.

"Malfoy," Harry said. He cleared his throat. "Malfoy. Get up."

One eye blinked open. He scrubbed the stubble of his cheek and squinted at Harry.

"What on earth brought you down here to bless our cavern with your presence?"

Harry folded his arms. Malfoy made alarms go off in the back of his head, and there wasn't a reason for it. It was maddening to look at him.

"Where are you wearing robes? It’s Saturday."

Malfoy looked the long length of his body and curled onto his side. He blinked owlishly at Harry.

"What would you prefer me in?"

Harry mentally swatted the insinuation of his tone away. 

"Why aren't you in your own bed?" He wondered if the other Slytherins were still troubling him. He’d heard of the dousings of his sheets with Bubotuber pus.

"I'm fond of the—" Malfoy started to lie and Harry strode to the door he knew was his and pushed in and saw a room that looked like grief. A mess, reeking of apple cores gone sour and the sheets were twisted on the floor and shirts piled on the bed and there was a path to the closet but only one set of clean clothes hung on a solitary hanger and it fucking hurt to look at. There was a black shroud over the window. The wad in his chest lodged more firmly. 

"I never learnt how to…do anything." Malfoy edged sideways past Harry in the door to sit on a corner of bed without an object blocking his way. 

Harry pried his own jaw open to grind out words. He was furious already.

"What did you do to the house elves? Why aren't they coming in here anymore?" 

"Granger gave me a pamphlet. Terrible acronym, mind you, the girl's got no brain for marketing…" Malfoy twiddled his thumbs. "I asked them not to service my suite anymore, and they wouldn't hear of it, so I sent them away."

That was worse. It was worse, him being useless and alone by choice than him being useless and alone because he’d earned it. 

Harry taught Malfoy the incantations he'd learned at the Weasley's. He recited the things he'd learned at four, maybe five. 

"Start at the top and work your way down,” he said, and Malfoy nodded, wide-eyed. “Dust first, then a wipe. We’ll do the floors last.”

Harry held an armful of comforter that reeked of wet quidditch leathers and musky sweat and a scent that was too masculine and sharp for him. Harry learned it was a cologne he'd taken from his father's collection. 

"I snuck it out," he admitted when Harry picked it up. "I wasn't supposed to take anything from the…the house." 

"Don't worry," Harry said, turning over the bottle of amber glass. He flicked a look at Malfoy, attempting to radiate reassurance. He looked so fucking uptight, wringing his hands. Like Harry would smash it out of spite. 

"I won't tell the Aurors." 

It was the one thing kept upright on the armoire, not left where it was dropped like every other thing Malfoy touched and was too lazy too pick up. Harry pretended it was laziness and Malfoy let him because neither was prepared to admit that Malfoy was anything but lazy and that this mess was sadness, was the darkness that made it difficult to get up or do or be anything. 

Harry uncapped the bottle while Malfoy cleared away apple cores. He inhaled and was whisked back to the Potions dungeon on the wave of the specific scent that lingered when Malfoy worked there a while. It was the smell Harry hadn't realised he associated with remedial potions and now, intimately, with Malfoy's linens.

"You should make your bed every day," Harry said, putting the bottle away and tugging the shroud down from the window. "Stop sleeping on the sofa."

"That's the trick, hmm?" Malfoy knelt, dusting his side table with a scrap of cloth. It wasn’t sarcasm. 

"To what?"

"To claw my way back into society," Malfoy said, breezily. "That's what this is all about, isn't it? You can't stand seeing anyone fail as hard as this." 

He treated it all as a joke, a lark, his infinite loneliness. Harry closed his eyes and could only see Malfoy, concentrating deeply on how to wipe away dust stuck to a sticky spot. 

A group of words, nice ones, coalesced in Harry's mind. It seemed the only thing that made his eyes prickle anymore was seeing Malfoy like this. The way he was. Given up and yet, not quite. Scrabbling, however quietly, to hold onto the world that Harry desperately wanted out from.

"Look," Harry said, and then his breath caught because Malfoy did. Look at him, expectant. He trusted Harry, which was never good for anybody. Trust got people hurt, maimed, killed. Harry swallowed the nice words like shards of glass.

"You'll never make friends if you keep dressing like a fussy Pureblood all the time. Don't you own, like, jeans?"

Malfoy shook his head. 

Harry took Malfoy shopping. He was little help other than to tell him that he didn't have to wear a singlet under his button-down shirts but he should, because otherwise the look was very "nipply", and Malfoy puffed a breath of laughter and bought the vests and t-shirts and trousers in stately blacks and whites until Harry chucked a soft blue jumper at him, so Malfoy bought that too.

"Stop eating alone in your room," Harry told him, as Malfoy clutched the jumper to his chest and nodded. 

He followed the instruction and ate alone, a solitary figure hunched at the far end of the Slytherin table. Harry let it go on for a long week before he broke away from Ginny and Ron and Hermione on a late Sunday morning and loomed behind Malfoy until he turned around.

"Come on," Harry said. He didn't look anywhere but at Malfoy, knowing full well where most sets of eyes in the Great Hall were focussed.

Malfoy reeked of weed most meals. He played with his food, twirling his spoon through pudding before thoughtfully taking a single bite into his mouth. He sat to Harry's left, the last seat at the Gryffindor table, and everyone else to Harry's right. He often tucked a textbook under the lip of his plate, not in mockery of Hermione's habit but mirroring it. He drank his coffee black and ate croissants so fastidiously that not a single crumb made it to his lap.

The first time Ginny addressed him directly a month later, he looked up and around, unsure where his name had been uttered.

"Pardon me?" he said.

She rolled her eyes, chin resting on her palm.

"I said, do you fancy coming round for drinks later? Far side of the lake tonight. Last chance before exams and all." She looked at the Slytherin table and then back to Malfoy. "Zabini's friend's with Dean and said we should bring you. If you're not going to be a tosser about it."

Silence, into which Malfoy nodded. 

"I'll be there," he said to his soup, "with bells on."

5

Harry wasn't a go-getter. He floated through exams and into what was meant to be young adulthood and hid, tucked away in Grimmauld Place. He didn't have to choose any path in particular so he chose none at all. 

Ginny left for more school, and Ron for the Aurors, and Hermione to an internship, and Harry hosted the occasional party and went flying and that was fine, so far as he was concerned. He baked bread and wondered about a career as a baker, and collected offers for quidditch training camps and as the spokesman for various charities and the envelopes collected dust, torn open and unanswered.

A year came and went. He kissed his first boy on new year's eve and immediately Floo'd to Ron and Hermione's flat to drunkenly tell them about it. He slept on their couch and woke up without memory of any of it, so it was Hermione who had to convince him it had happened at all.  

"How do I know it wasn't a mistake?"

Hermione patted his head and handed him a coffee, a black pool to see his haggard self reflected in.

"You need to learn to trust your feelings," she said. Harry's mind went to one place when she said that, and the only thing that feeling made him was frightened.

It was chance that brought Harry to the second floor of Grimmauld Place on his birthday. He needed a breather from the roaring party happening outside and so hid in the dustiest corner of the house in an attempt to find away from it all.

The rotary phone on the wall vibrated with a shrill ring. It startled him into spilling the glass of water in his hand and set his heart to race. He'd given the number to a handful of people. He'd posted them letters shortly after moving in, letters he'd meant to reveal feelings in like I'm scared of living and dying in this big house alone and everything reminds me of Sirius and I don't know how to ask for what I want. He'd scrapped those attempts and instead scrawled the phone number and asked his tiny circle of found family to call if they ever needed him, night or day, it was like a Patronus only they could speak in real time, it wasn't an imposition, really, he'd love to—

"Hello?"

A surprised breath. Outside in the garden, a firecracker went off. Pop. Harry flinched.

"Hello?" he asked again. His palm on the receiver was damp with sweat. The breathing alone was enough to make his chest tight and he knew, then.

"H-hello. This is Draco Malfoy speaking." Harry rested his forehead to the wall and closed his eyes. His entire body sighed with relief.  

"Is that you, Potter?"

"This is Harry Potter speaking." 

Malfoy huffed a series of broken laughs and the wad in Harry's chest crumbled into a cloud of butterflies. They fluttered up Harry's oesophagus.

"Well done,” Harry twirled the cord around a finger. “You've figured out the most dastardly of Muggle inventions, the telephone."

"I've called to wish you a happy birthday," Malfoy spoke, barely louder than a whisper. "It's quiet, for a birthday. Are you doing something later?" 

"Everyone's outside. Malfoy, are you alri—"

"Yes, no, yes. I'm fine, thanks. Just wanted to say happy birthday."

"Yeah, thanks. I wrote you—"

"I got it." 

More explosions, and Harry clenched his teeth and wrapped the coiled cord another time around his fist. It had been silly for him to tell Seamus it was fine to bring them, when the sound and the sparks, the smell of the smoke, it was all too much and—

"Potter, are you still there?"

"Yes. You should come. If you'd like to, I mean." He remembered to breathe and adjusted the receiver between ear and shoulder to wipe his hands on his shirt. He envisioned Malfoy cradling the receiver on his end with caution, the way Arthur did. Like at any moment it might bite. 

"Oh. I couldn't," Malfoy whispered. He inhaled shakily. Harry had thought perhaps he was hiding his conversation from being overheard, but now he could only envision Malfoy making this call alone.

"You could, actually, very easily. You're the sort of person who gets invited to parties, now." 

Malfoy huffed. It was like he’d forgotten how to laugh properly. 

"It's rude not to respond when spoken to on a phone call, you know."

"I'm gay," Malfoy said. More muffled rustling, and then his audible breathing again. 

"Shit. Fuck, I'm sorry. You’re busy. I've been meaning to write you back but I couldn't and, I just—"

"Malfoy, please come over.” More rustling. The vision of Malfoy changed. Harry envisioned him in robes again, the way he'd dressed until Harry told him not to. Malfoy was on a single bed someplace, covering the mouthpiece with his sleeve to hide sounds from Harry. Harry could see the room—it would be small, and meticulously neat. White walls and a comforter that smelled of sandalwood and a sad little Malfoy that didn't know what to do in the centre of them. 

It hurt the way it had always hurt to talk to him. Harry didn’t have to see him to feel it again, that chasm. That yearning to close the space. 

“You have my address."

"But—"

"It's my party and I'm hiding from it,” Harry spoke quickly, the words tumbling out. “I’m on the second floor, and they’re lighting firecrackers, and it would be a favour to me." He took a deep breath in through his nose, annoyance spiking. "I hate firecrackers.”

“Did you hear what I said?” Malfoy asked. 

“Yeah." Harry’s heart was going to beat free from his chest. "I don’t know how to talk on the phone. I don't like not being able to see you—the person I'm talking to. Just come over, please?"

The line crackled. Harry loosened his grip on the phone cord and it left deep, looping welts across the back of his hand. 

"Could you bring me some weed? I can pay you for it, I could just really use a—"

"Alright," Malfoy said, before Harry managed friend. He hung up without saying goodbye and three minutes later the top stair creaked and there he was. In worn-in jeans with a torn knee and a band of red across his nose and cheekbones from sunburn and pink in the cheeks from something else. Malfoy was there.

"Hey," he greeted Harry. He cupped one elbow in a grip so hard his knuckles were white, arm crossed protectively over his body. He stood, tentative on some invisible threshold, and waited. 

"Thanks for not being weird," he said. Harry felt weird. He felt seen, and seen through, but he raised his chin at a table and chairs and Malfoy sat and Harry joined him. Malfoy pulled out his battered tin and papers and set to roll them a spliff like he had back at school. Harry reflected on how long his finger bones were, how practised at this thing. How many times had he watched them do this trick, this precise act he'd never mastered? His own fingers felt heavy and blunt in comparison. 

Malfoy did not look particularly well, but Harry had to be honest with himself for once. He thought, in the late honeyed light trickling in through the dusty window, that he found Malfoy’s points and hollows beautiful. 

The butterflies inside Harry turned to bees, buzzing so furiously he was sure to open his mouth, he'd throw up from nerves.

"There you are," Malfoy said, twisting the tip closed. "Please accept this as the most meagre present I could possibly muster."

"It's a fantastic present. I love it." 

Their fingers touched when Malfoy passed the joint to Harry. Malfoy touched him again, briefly, fingertips to the back of Harry's hand when he cupped it and lit the joint with the tip of his wand.

"I always thought it was strange—" Harry leaned back into his chair and held the initial pull into his lungs "—no one came out during our year."

His fingertips tingled when he passed the joint to Malfoy. He exhaled and his head went light as a feather. Malfoy noticed his flinch at the pop pop pop of firecrackers. He frowned and cast a charm at the wall, dampening the sounds of outside to nothing. 

Lights washed over his pale face, like he stood before a wall of painted glass. Red, blue, green. Malfoy's teeth shone when he smiled, and blushed. Nervous. Malfoy passed the joint back to Harry after a few puffs. He gripped the back of his own neck and dipped his head, hiding his face from Harry's scrutiny. 

Harry had been staring. His stomach was in knots, and he flushed, hot. He'd been staring at Malfoy's burn, and the tips of his ears revealed by the absence of his once-long hair. Harry puffed the joint again and tamped down the urge to cough. 

"Did you fancy someone, back then? In school, I mean." 

Malfoy broke his grasp and looked at Harry, pink-eyed from under a lashline like frost. His jaw hung open, and Harry didn't think he blush any harder until he did. 

"Not—no, no no, I didn't mean myself!" He choked on his spit and spluttered, coughing, waving his hands. 

"I'm not one of those people who assume you'd be into just anybody. I didn’t—not—I wasn’t saying it was me, obviously."

"Not you?" Malfoy asked. He took the spliff from Harry and put it out in a mug holding the dregs of last week's tea. His voice was quiet again like he’d been on the phone. 

"Yeah, no. Why would you? I was a dick to you all year." Harry washed his hands over his face and when he let his glasses fall back onto the bridge of his nose Malfoy was staring at him. His mouth was open, and his lips looked soft, and he still smelled like leather and musk and his quickened breathing was visible in the rise and fall of his collarbones.

"Potter…you were kind to me when you had no reason to be," Malfoy said. "You asked for nothing in return. I mean," Malfoy scoffed, incredulous, "you can be thick, but I didn’t think even you were this thick. Do you know that you’re being kind to me now?”

Harry frowned. “I told you to come over because I wanted to see you. This isn't charity. I didn’t ask you over out of the pure goodness of my heart.”

Draco’s smile was disbelieving. “You think that makes you selfish, don’t you? To ask for the company you want?” 

Harry shrugged, his chair creaking beneath him. 

"Merlin, you really are something," Malfoy sighed. He wiped his palms on his trousers and tapped them a few times, his sign of preparation to stand. To go. 

“Well. I've got my—uh, news, off my chest— and provided my meagre gift. So, yes, I've kept you plenty long enough. I'm sure you should go back to your party before they wonder where you've wandered off to.” 

"Don’t go,” Harry said. His blood rushed, nerves on high alert. The weed wasn’t doing anything to calm them. “Stay. Please. There’s, um, cake.”

“I don’t think it would be—"

“But I’ve missed you," Harry breathed the words. It sounded like a whine to his own ears. What should it matter to Draco, that Harry had missed him? That Harry wanted him to come downstairs and try the cake, and to sit next to him, to his left, because Draco was left-handed and that way their elbows didn’t bump while they shared meals, and he wanted to hide up here and sit and chat while the room grew to smell of him, wanted this, only this, wanted it for just one minute longer—

"And you didn't answer my question," Harry said. 

"That's because I don't have an answer you'll like," Draco whispered. 

They watched each other, neither moving. Both stuck like magnets to their seats. Harry tried to suck spit into his mouth, suddenly dry. He hadn't meant to admit to his longing. It lingered in the air between them, and Draco wasn’t responding, so Harry figured he might as well continue.

"I thought it was strange that no one came out our year. I wish someone had, then.” Harry had to look away. He picked at his thumbnail and frowned at his fingers. “I wish—" 

His greatest fantasy was to have his hands held. His palms itched with the want of it. He wanted to have someone hold on to him, a quiet way of saying they wanted to keep him. Maybe then, he’d stop floating away the way he felt he did. 

Draco reached out and touched Harry's knee.  “You wish?”

"Sorry. I’m making this about me,” Harry's reassuring smile faltered. The wad was back, a clog stuck in the chest. 

“I'm happy for you. I hope you're happy, too."

Draco's touch burned. His gaze did too. He looked at Harry like he was a puzzle to solve. Like he was seeing Harry completely anew.

“Is it about you, though? Isn't it?" He swallowed and withdrew his touch, hands cupping his own knees. "Even a little?” 

Harry pretended not to understand the question because Draco was very close, as close as he’d been in a year, and it was a tenuous closeness. He could go again and leave Harry alone, again, in the darkness. 

"Potter…”

Harry shook his head. “It's Harry. Please.”

“Harry,” Draco licked his lips after he said it, like it was a new flavour of word. 

“Harry," he repeated. He liked that flavour. 

"It's presumptuous that if I did have a pash, it would be on you, but…so what if it was?"

"Was what?"

"You," Malfoy said. He laid his arm down and outstretched his hand on the table, long fingers curled just so. An invitation.

Harry didn't normally do things tentatively, but he was careful with this. He brushed the soft skin at his wrist and delighted in Draco's shiver. After a moment, unsure, he pressed their palms together. He sighed an exhale he hadn’t known he was holding as Draco raised his hand and slipped pale fingers through Harry’s sun-darkened ones. Harry held his hand with intention, and the light in the room faded dark and pulsed yellow, yellow, yellow. It was warm in the room, and Harry should have known better a long time before, should have recognized what the cost had been to break his own heart over and over again. Each time he’d had the chance to reach out, to give shape and form and breath to his words, and had denied himself the simple pleasure of this. 

[wjbsart]

A complete, very long list of all GBoard-combinable emojis because I can't find one anywhere.

Ok so for those who haven't seen my stuff (or have only seen my Bionicle posts), I sometimes emoji mashup redraws, with the recent fourth one using GBoard-based fusions. Frustratingly, there's no actual list of fusion-compatible emojis, so I'll attempt to compile them, in a list below the "Read More" thing:

Green/▢ = compatible with fusion Blue/△ = only works with certain emojis Red/◯ = not compatible with fusion

Also, since other people's terms for specific emojis might not match up with mine, I recommend using CTRL+F and then doing this to find the specific emoji you're looking for. This list is in the order presented in GBoard's Emoji menu. Some of them will be generic unicode symbols, I don't know how to change that, sorry for the inconvenience. Also, I won't aknowledge multi-category Emoji.

Smileys and Emoticons

😀Open-mouthed smile▢

😃Wide-eyed smile▢

😄Closed-eyed smile▢

😁Closed-eyed grin▢

😆Laughing▢

😅Sweating smile▢

😂Cry-laughing▢

🤣Cry-ROFLing▢

😭Crying▢

😗Kissing▢

😙Kissing, closed eyes▢

😚Kissing, blushing▢

😘Kissing, winking w/ heart▢

🥰Surrounded by hearts▢

😍Heart-eyes▢

🤩Star-eyes▢

🥳Noisemaker and party-hat▢

🤗Hugging▢

🙃Upside-down▢

🙂Smile▢

☺Blushing, smiling▢

😊Blushing▢

😏Looking off to the side▢

😌Relieved▢

😉Winking▢

🤭Hand over mouth▢

😶Nightmare fuel Mouthless▢

😐Neutral▢

😑-_-▢

😔Pensive▢

😋Licking lips▢

😛Tongue out▢

😝Tongue out, eyes closed▢

😜Tongue out, winking▢

🤪Tongue out, wide-eyed▢

🤔Hmmm▢

🤨Suspicious▢

🧐Monocle▢

🙄Rolling eyes▢

😒Unamused▢

😤Snorting▢

😠Angry▢

😡Angry, red▢

🤬Swearing▢

☹Frown▢

🙁Frown but less▢

😕Confused▢

😟Distraught▢

🥺Pleading▢

😳AWOOGA Flushed▢

😬Yikes▢

🤐Zip▢

🤫Shushing▢

😰Distraught, sweating▢

😧Distraught, shocked▢

😦Distraught, neutral▢

😮Open mouth▢

😯Open mouth, surprised▢

😲Shocked▢

😱Horrified▢

🤯Your head asplode Mind blown▢

😢Crying, single tear▢

😥Crying, less sad▢

😓Sweating▢

😞Dissapointed▢

😖Pained▢

😣Persevering▢

😩Weary▢

😫Tired▢

🤤Drooling▢

😴Sleeping▢

😪Sleeping but different?▢

🌛Left-facing moon▢

🌜Right-facing moon▢

🌚New moon face◯

🌝Full moon face◯

🌞The sun▢

🤢Queasy▢

🤮Vomiting▢

🤧Sneezing▢

🤒Unwell▢

🤕Bandaged▢

🥴Drunk▢

😵Dizzy▢

🥵Hot▢

🥶Cold▢

😷Masked up▢

😇Angel▢

🤠yee haw▢

🤑Money-tongue▢

😎Cool▢

🤓Nerd▢

🤥Lying▢

🤡Clown▢

👻Ghost▢

💩Poop▢

👽Ayy lmao Alien▢

🤖Robot▢

🎃Jack-o-Lantern▢

😈Demon 1▢

👿Demon 2▢

👹Oni◯

👺Tengu◯

☠Skull and crossbones▢

🔥Fire▢

💫Star with trail▢

⭐Star▢

🌟Star with bits▢

✨Stars▢

⚡Lightning◯

💥Explosion◯

💯100△

💢Anime anger symbol◯

💨Steam▢

💦Sweat Droplets▢

💤Zzz▢

🕳Hole▢

🎉Party popper▢

🎊Confetti ball▢

😺😸😹😻😼😽🙀😿😾Literally all the "cat in different emotions" emojis▢

❤🧡💛💚💙💜🖤Literally all the coloured hearts△

♥Heart suit▢

💘Heart with arrow▢

💝Heart with ribbon▢

💖Shiny heart▢

💗Growing heart▢

💓Beating heart▢

💞Swirling hearts▢

💕Two hearts▢

💌Love letter▢

💟Heart in square▢

❣Heart exclamation mark▢

💔Broken heart▢

💋Kiss▢

👥Two silhouettes◯

👤Silhouette◯

🗣Talking silhouette◯

👣Footprints◯

🧠Brain◯

🦠Microbe▢

🦷Tooth◯

🦴Bone◯

💀Skull▢

👀Eyes◯

👁Eye▢

👄Lips◯

👅Tongue◯

👃👂🦶🦵💪👍👎👏🙌👐Every other body part and hand gesture, seriously this isn't even all of them◯

People

Seriously, I don't know why none of the people-category emojis are Fusion-compatible. Let's just move on.◯

Animals and Nature

💐Bunch of flowers▢

🌹Rose▢

🥀Wilted rose◯

🌷Tulip▢

🌺Hibiscus flower◯

🌸Cherry blossom▢

🏵Rosette◯

🌻Sunflower◯

🌼Daisy▢

💮White flower◯

🍂Falling leaves◯

🍁Maple leaf◯

🌾Rice plants◯

🌱Seedling◯

🌿Herb◯

🍃Falling leaves again◯

☘3-leaf clover◯

🍀4-leaf clover◯

🌵Cactus▢

🌴Palm tree◯

🌳Deciduous tree◯

🌲Coniferous tree▢

🏞National park◯

⛰Mountain◯

🌊Wave◯

🌬Wind◯

🌀Tornado symbol◯

🌁Foggy scene◯

🌫Fog▢

🌪Tornado▢

☃Snowman (with snow)▢

⛄Snowman (without snow)▢

❄Snowflake

🏔Mountain with snow◯

🌡Thermometer◯

🌋Volcano◯

🏜Desert◯

🏝Desert island◯

🏖Beach◯

🌅Sunrise/set (water)◯

🌄Sunrise/set (mountains)◯

☀Sun▢

🌤Sun with cloud◯

⛅Sun and cloud◯

🌥Cloud with sun◯

🌦Sun and cloud with rain◯

☁Cloud▢

🌨Snowcloud◯

⛈Stormcloud◯

🌩Thundercloud◯

🌧Raincloud◯

💧Drop◯

☔Umbrella with rain◯

🌈Rainbow▢

✨Sparkles▢

🌙Crescent Moon◯

☄Comet◯

🌠Shooting star▢

🌌Milky Way◯

🌉Bridge◯

🌆City in the evening▢

🌃City at night▢

🌍🌏🌎Earth▢

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘The moon◯

🙈🙉🙊🐵Monkeys, wise or not▢

🦁Lion face▢

🐯Tiger face◯

🐱Cat face▢

🐶Dog face◯

🐺Wolf face◯

🐻Bear face▢

🐨Koala face▢

🐼Panda face▢

🐹Hamster face◯

🐭Mouse face◯

🐰Rabbit face▢

🦊Fox face◯

🦝Raccoon face◯

🐮Cow face◯

🐷Pig face▢

🐽Pig nose▢

🐗Boar head◯

🦓Zebra head◯

🦄Unicorn head▢

🐴Horse head◯

🐸Frog face◯

🐲Dragon head◯

🦎Lizard◯

🐉Dragon◯

🦖T-Rex◯

🦕Diplodocus◯

🐢Turtle▢

🐊Crocodile◯

🐍Snake◯

🐁Mouse▢

🐀Rat◯

🐇Rabbit▢

🐈Cat▢

🐩Poodle◯

🐕Dog◯

🐅Tiger◯

🐆Leopard◯

🐎Horse◯

🐖Pig▢

🐄Cow◯

🐂Bull◯

🐃Water buffalo◯

🐏Ram◯

🐑Sheep◯

🐐Goat▢

🦌Deer▢

🦙Llama▢

🦘Kangaroo◯

🐘Elephant◯

🦏Rhinoceros◯

🦛Hippopotamus◯

🦒Giraffe◯

🐒Monkey▢

🦍Gorilla◯

🐪🐫Camels◯

🐿Squirrel (why does the squirrel of all things have a Unicode symbol?)◯

🦡Badger◯

🦔Hedgehog▢

🦇Bat▢

🐓Cockerel/rooster◯

🐔Chicken◯

🐣🐥🐤Chicks◯

🐦Bird▢

🦉Owl▢

🦅Eagle◯

🦜Parrot◯

🕊Dove◯

🦢Swan◯

🦚Peacock◯

🦃Turkey◯

🦆Duck◯

🐧Penguin◯

🦈Shark◯

🐬Dolphin◯

🐋🐳Whales◯

🐟Fish▢

🐠Tropical fish◯

🐡Pufferfish◯

🦐Prawn◯

🦞Lobster◯

🦀Crab◯

🦑Squid◯

🐙Octopus▢

🦂Scorpion▢

🕷Spider▢

🕸Spiderweb◯

🐚Shell◯

🐌Snail▢

🐜Ant◯

🦗Grasshopper◯

🦟Mosquito◯

🐝Bee▢

🐞Ladybird◯

🦋Butterfly◯

🐛"Bug" yeah sure ok◯

🐾Pawprints◯

Food and Drink

🍓Strawberry▢

🍒Cherry◯

🍎Red apple◯

🍉Watermelon◯

🍑Peach◯

🍊Orange◯

🥭Mango◯

🍍Pineapple▢

🍌Banana◯

🍋Lemon▢

🍈Melon◯

🍏Green apple◯

🍐Pear◯

🥝Kiwi◯

🍇Grapes◯

🥥Coconut◯

🍅Tomato◯

🌶Chili▢

🍄Mushroom◯

🥕Carrot◯

🍠Sweet potato◯

🌽Corn◯

🥦Broccoli◯

🥒Cucumber◯

🥬Lettuce◯

🥑Avocado▢

🍆Aubergine◯

🥔Potato◯

🌰Nut◯

🥜Peanuts◯

🍞Bread▢

🥐Croissant◯

🥖Baguette▢

🥯Bagel◯

🥞Pancakes◯

🍳Frying pan◯

🥚Egg (somehow)◯

🧀Cheese▢

🥓Bacon◯

🥩Meat◯

🍗Chicken leg◯

🍖Anime meat◯

🍔Burger◯

🌭Hotdog▢

🥪Sandwich◯

🥨Pretzel◯

🍟Chips◯

🍕Pizza◯

🌮Taco◯

🌯Wrap◯

🥙Stuffed flatbread◯

🥘Paella◯

🍝Spaghetti◯

🥫Can◯

🥣Bowl◯

🥗Salad◯

🍲Pot of food◯

🍛Curry◯

🍜Noodles◯

🍣Sushi◯

🍤Fried prawn◯

🥡Takeaway container◯

🍚Cooked rice◯

🍱Bento◯

🥟Dumpling◯

🍢Oden◯

🍙Jelly Donut Rice ball◯

🍘Rice cracker◯

🍥Fishcake◯

🍡Dango◯

🥠Fortune cookie◯

🥮Moon cake◯

🍧Shave ice◯

🍨Ice cream◯

🍦See above◯

🥧Pie◯

🍰Cake slice◯

🍮Custard mate what kinda custard have you been eating, this is clearly a créme caramel◯

🎂Birthday cake▢

🧁Cupcake▢

🍭Lollipop◯

🍬Boiled sweet◯

🍫Chocolate◯

🍩Donut◯

🍪Cookie◯

🍯Honey◯

🧂Salt◯

🍿Popcorn◯

🥤Soft drink◯

🥛Milk◯

🍼Baby bottle◯

🍵Green tea◯

☕Coffee▢

🍺Beer◯

🍻Beers, plural◯

🥂Champagne glasses◯

🍾Champagne◯

🍷Red red wine◯

🥃Whiskey◯

🍸Martini◯

🍹Cocktail◯

🍶Sake◯

🥢Chopsticks◯

🍴Knife and fork▢

🥄Spoon◯

🔪Kitchen knife◯

🍽Plate▢

Travel and Places

🛑🎡Everything from the stop sign to Ferris wheel◯

🎠Merry-go-round horse▢

🎪🏕Everything from circus tent to campsite◯

🌇City at sunset yes I'm surprised as you are▢

🛤Train tracks◯

🛣Road◯

🗺Map◯

🗾Japan is an island by the sea filled with volcanoes and it's beautifuul!◯

🌐Globe with meridian lines▢

💺Plane seat◯

🧳Luggage◯

Activities and Events

🎈Balloon▢

🎀Bow◯

🎁Present◯

🎇Sparkler◯

🎆Fireworks◯

🧨Dynamite Firecracker◯

🧧Red envelope◯

🎐Wind chime◯

🎏Fish streamers◯

🎎Japanese dolls (that's what the emoji's called, don't @ me with the actual name for them)◯

🎑Moon viewing ceremony◯

🎍Pine decoration◯

🎋Tanabata◯

🎄Christmas tree▢

🎗Ribbon△

🥇🥈🥉🏅🎖Medals◯

🏆Trophy◯

📣Megaphone◯

🥅Goal◯

⚽⚾🥎🏀🏐🏈🏉🎾🏸🥍🏏🏑🏒SPORTS◯

🥌Curling stone◯

🛷Rosebud Sled◯

🎿Ski◯

⛸Skate◯

⛳Golf-hole◯

🎯Target◯

🏹Bow◯

🥏Frisbee◯

🎣Fishing rod▢

🎽Running shirt◯

🥋Martial arts uniform◯

🥊Boxing glove◯

🎱8-ball◯

🏓Ping-pong◯

🎳Bowling◯

♟Chess◯

🧩Puzzle piece◯

🎮Controller◯

🕹Joystick◯

👾Videogame alien◯

🔫Gun◯

🎲Dice◯

🎰Slot machine◯

🎴Flower playing card◯

🀄Mahjong tile◯

🃏Joker◯

🎩Top hat◯

📷📸Camera◯

🖼Painting◯

🖌Paintbrush◯

🖍Crayon◯

🧵String◯

🧶Wool◯

🎼🎵🎶Music▢

🎷🎺🎸🎻🥁Instruments◯

🎤Mic◯

🎧Headphones▢

🎚🎛🎙📻Assorted audio stuff◯

📺TV◯

📼VHS◯

📹Camcorder◯

📽Projector◯

🎥Film camera◯

🎞Film◯

🎬Clapperboard◯

🎭Comedy and tragedy masks◯

🎫🎟Tickets◯

Objects

📱🧻Everything from smartphone to toilet roll◯

🧸Teddy bear▢

🧷🧢Everything from safety pin to baseball cap◯

👑Crown▢

🎒💍Everything from backpack to ring◯

💎Diamond▢

💄👓Everything from lipstick to glasses◯

🕶Sunglasses▢

🥽📁Everything from goggles to folder◯

🕶Newspaper▢

🗞🔎Everything from rolled-up newspaper to right-pointing magnifying glass◯

🔮Crystal ball▢

🧿🔓Everything from Nazar amulet to open lock◯

Symbols

There are no compatible non-repeated Emoji here.◯

Flags

Aaaaand none here either.◯

Feel free to let me know if I got anything wrong.

[shyflameweasel]

This is stupidly self-indulgent but I wanna write it cause it’s funny in my head. So Imma indulge my starved inner simp for once using my oc Jojo.

Deimos would definitely call today a good day. Nothing blew up that wasn’t supposed to, San and him had a blast on their last mission, and he found a gift for his short stack! Patting one of his pockets to check that the surprise was still there Deimos made his way towards her practice while waving at a couple of her neighbors on the way.

Reaching the building, he took the last couple puffs of his cigarette before stamping it out and knocking on the door. A soft “Come in” had him opening the door to a sight that made him smile. Sitting at a old beat up desk, reading over a couple of reports with dreads pulled out of her face in a ponytail was his girl. Walking in and closing the door Deimos greeted with “What’s up doc?”

Her head lifted from the work and look of surprised delight came over her face. “Well look who the cat dragged in. Thought you weren’t supposed to be in this part of Nevada for another few weeks Firecracker.” The look morphed into one of concern a moment later. “You aren’t hurt right?” Getting up from her seat, she moved around the desk and fussed at him “I swear to god if you’ve gone and hurt yourself I will hit you with the noodle sword.”

Chuckling, Deimos ruffled her hair “Naw, just had a mission in the area that’s all.” Taking a dramatically hurt pose he continued “How rude of ya. Going after little old me like that. Aren’t you supposed to kiss and make it better.” She snorted, trying to keep a serious face “Tough love there fire man. You need a couple of smacks upside the head. Good thing your buddy has that covered for me.”

Both broke out into soft laughter, just happy to see each other in person after all this time. They did message each other frequently but it calmed their minds to see in person that the other was ok. “I’m almost done for the day so you can wait a few minutes on the couch.” ���Nooooo.” Using his taller height to his advantage Deimos draped himself over her. Chuckling and a “Yeeesss.” were his answer. Pouting he replied “But I wanna spend time with you. Even got you a present and everything.” “Tempting, but I’m sure that the big bad mercenary can handle a few minutes by his lonesome in my lair.”

Sighing dramatically Deimos got up and lounged on the couch in the office. He looked around the room as she went back to the desk to complete the left over work. Everything was the same from the last time he was there. Shelf filled with books and knickknacks, therapy materials stacked neatly in a corner along with the ever feared noodle sword for rowdy patients. The familiar beat up desk with a small cactus and a bowl of sand-wait what?

Deimos doublechecked and yes, sitting right on the desk was a bowl of sand with a spoon in it. As Deimos was wondering why a bowl was full of sand. His doll just...took the spoon and started eating it like it wasn’t sand?! “Eh Jojo?” A hum “Why are you eating sand.” “Iron’s low, I’d usually eat ice but my machine is down and won’t be repaired until next week.” “Doesn’t explain the sand.” “I get cravings for things that aren’t food when its low.” “Oh, ok?”

A few minutes passed in silence, Deimos watching the bizarre sight. Quickly finishing work, she packed the papers away in her desk. “Ready to go. Sorry again about the whole sand thing. Its kinda an unconscious thing.” Shaking his head to clear it, Deimos decided that while weird it wasn’t the strangest thing he’s seen in Nevada. Taking her hand, they walked out the building. “I heard that Graves found some DVDs not too long ago! Why don’t we go ask to borrow some. I still got plenty of those snacks you like from your last visit.”

She seemed to love the small beat up sheep he was able to find. The movies and snacks were good but his favorite was them bantering and joking with each other. It was nice being home. (There was another bowl of sand and maybe he should take a look at that ice machine before he left.)

Small explanation: I have an iron deficiency and one of the side effects is pica-like cravings. So I know that it’s low whenever I crave weird stuff. Chewing ice helps.

[dokidokey]

cabbage babies

－ when bokuto, your usual customer and friend who is a sunshine on a rainy day comes to your store looking like a hurricane brewing, he realizes that maybe getting rejected was for the better.

pairings: bokuto koutaro x kayla (reader)

genre: fluff, angst, f2l

warnings: swearing, an asshole for a customer, a pinch of jealousy, pining, bo gets rejected lol

word count: 4,941

notes: @janellion KAYLAAAAA SORRY THIS IS SO LATE this is inspired by that post u reblogged before, that hcs of hq boys bringing u flowers and bokuto gives u succulents instead! i can’t stop thinking about that :( this is a very very very late happy birthday post (*￣︶￣) happy late late late birthday kayla baby the love of my life i hope u like it (。’▽’。)♡

“Hi Y/N!” Bokuto Koutaro’s voice booms inside the small space of your shop. You look up from the small succulent you are transferring to a bigger pot and smile up at him. “Can I get one of those cabbage babies again, please?”

You throw your head back to laugh, the familiar name he adapted to calling succulents creating a wave of nostalgia to wash over you. The first time the bubbly boy entered your shop and looked for cute, small plants to give to this girl he likes, he pertained to succulents as cabbage babies.

“Hi!” His voice had boomed inside your little shop on a sunny, Tuesday afternoon. He was wearing a loose white shirt and some jersey shorts, a bag hanging on his right shoulder. He anxiously fiddled with his fingers before locking eyes with you. “Do you, uh, have those. . . those plants that look like cabbage babies?”

It felt as though your brain malfunctioned for a brief amount of time. “What?” You said, and you felt more dumbfounded than he was that moment. The boy with gray streaks on his hair looked down in embarrassment. “Ah! Forget I said anything, I’m so sorry, I’ll just leave!”

“No, no, no!” You were quick to scamper over the counter to stop him from opening the door and fleeing. You were. . . quite intrigued about these － these cabbage babies. Sure, many other customers came into your shop calling all kinds of plants these weird names but cabbage babies is new. You’ve never heard that before. You found it quite endearing.

“Can you describe these. . . cabbage babies to me?”

The man happily did with his eyes bright, hands animatedly flying everywhere. You took that time to take him in and you realize just how tall he was. You barely reach his shoulders. God, this man was huge. His arms were nearly popping out of the sleeves of his white shirt. You had to remind yourself that you were supposed to help him with this cabbage babies situation and totally not to admire just how attractive he is.

Or both. Both could work. You were a proud multitasker

He stopped mid-sentence to fish his phone out of his pockets. “Here! Sorry, I forgot I had a picture of that. . . This! These things!” He flips his phone to show you the screen and it displays an arrangement of different kinds of succulents. You almost slapped your forehead for being so slow. Yes, of course, cabbage babies. They did look a lot like cabbage babies.

So you led him to the small entrance of your shop after locking the doors. Not very convenient, you know, that if this overly-enthusiastic man is somehow hiding some ill intent, then you’re screwed. But you can’t think of him that way with the way his smile widened when he entered the small greenhouse in the back of your shop, littered with everything green and growing. He was so eager to jump from plant to plant to examine each one.

“Oh, this one is pretty!” He exclaimed, pointer finger caressing the soft pink tips of the succulent. He looked at you with a smile. “What’s this called?”

“That’s a Sunrise.”

Bokuto bought the little succulent in a pot, bouncing on the ball of his feet as he cradled it in his hands. He asked you what your name was and you asked him his, and that was when he said it was for this girl he likes. You were thinking about how lucky this girl must be, having a guy like Bokuto liking her so much that even the mere mention of her name has his eyes twinkling and his overall demeanor changing in excitement. All the while you were writing his receipt and his little reminder on the neon green sticky note he spotted on your desk and gingerly pointed to, claiming his penmanship is shit and what if she thinks it’s ugly?

He stuck the little note on the pot and went on his way, waving you goodbye. He came back the next week, talking your ear off about how much she liked the succulent. He purchased another one that day, a small cactus called Bunny Ears. He came back the week after that, and the week after, and the week after, buying a Kiwi, Mexican Firecracker, and Afterglow, in that order.

Now Bokuto is here again, his familiar bag draped over his right shoulder, clad in a white shirt and the same jersey shorts he wore the first time he came here.

“What would you want this time?” You ask, wiping your dirty hands on the apron wrapped around you and pushing the greenhouse door open. Bokuto follows you, eyes raking over the countless plants in the small space like he’s seeing it all for the first time. He hums and walks over to the rack of succulents in the corner.

He’s just staring at the pots, hands on his knees, worrying his lip. You’re worried too because Bokuto is quiet. It seems a little uncharacteristic of him to be quiet, especially if it’s about these plants that he loves giving to this girl, who you learned is their manager after a few late walks, talks, and eating out together. You also learned that he is a member of the MSBY Black Jackals, which you have heard before but aren’t that familiar with because you have little to no experience or interest in sports.

“Hey, Bo?” You’re a few steps away from him, fiddling with your fingers. “Is, um, something wrong? You’re so quiet.”

His smile is back at the sound of your voice, like you just pulled him out of this headspace and in his usual, cheery voice, says, “I. . . kind of, want to take her out on a － a date. You know,” he huffs out a breath nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I feel like she’s not getting the hints of these gifts so might as well tell her I like her and go for it, right?” He beams.

You nod and tell him yes, that’s great, ignoring the way your chest tightens, brushing off the fact that you, unfortunately, like Bokuto Koutaro. He isn’t that hard to like, anyway. His energy is so infectious, along with these little antics that are quite too much but you very much adore. He’s told you one time how some people think he was too much, like Bokuto was something they should but cannot keep from their palms. And they are right. Bokuto is too much, but for you, it is in the best way possible.

You actually met two of his friends before when he asked you if you wanted to eat somewhere after you closed your shop, two weeks ago. He took you to this restaurant called Onigiri Miya, who he said was owned by his teammate’s twin, Atsumu. There, you met Akaashi Keiji, his old setter and vice captain from high school. In the end, Osamu didn’t let any of you pay, saying everything was in the house. You insisted though, of course, but Bokuto, with a very pleased smile, shushed you.

Akaashi even thought you and Bokuto where in a relationship, which hurt, to be frank, on your part, because Bokuto was so quick to deny it. He received quite the judgemental raise of an eyebrow from the younger boy and just a frown from Osamu when he revealed who he liked.

You came back to Osamu’s restaurant just last week, and you love every food that man makes. Literally heaven on earth.

“I’ll drop by again later. Do you want to go to Osamu’s again?” The spiky-haired man who kind of just broke your heart asks. “My treat!” He says proudly, then his smile falters. “If she, uh, agrees, that is.”

You hum, stepping closer to him to take a look at the small grasshopper resting on the large leaf of the Golden Pothos next to your rack of succulents. You were about to answer him when the bell signaling someone entered your shop rings. Bokuto forgot to lock the door, great, and you frowned at him, which he responded to with just a smile before you both went inside.

There’s a man wandering the small space of your shop, whistling as he looks around with his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. Despite the negative energy this customer is radiating, you have no choice but to accommodate him. “Hello,” you greet politely, putting aside the plant bag where the succulent you were transferring before Bokuto came was placed. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, this shop’s got a cute owner, alright,” he chuckles, and you might as well have screamed at him to leave. But you plastered a tight smile on your face as you ask again, “is there anything you want? A plant, maybe? I have－”

You don’t get to finish what you want to say when the sound of his lighter flicking on cuts you off. Your head is quick to turn to Bokuto, who has a frown on his face. You clear your throat and point to the No Smoking sign hanging beside the door.

“Uh, sir, if you don’t mind, if you’re going to smoke, please do it outside. This is a non-smoking area.”

He puffs out a billow of smoke and it takes everything in you not to scream at him to get the fuck out. Customers that do not consider shop owners’ signs and policies are not and never will be welcome in your store. Before you can talk again and try to send him off as politely as you can, Bokuto beats you to it.

“They said get out if you’re going to smoke.”

You almost lose your mind with how serious and scary Bokuto sounds. You always see him with this giddy and happy aura around and to hear him be this serious for the first time is quite unnerving. You are so lucky to not be on the receiving end of this. . . this Bokuto.

The suspicious man clicks his tongue, inhaling and exhaling another puff of smoke. “Ah, too bad. Is the little shop owner taken?”

You purse your lips momentarily before firmly pointing at the door. “Get out.”

“Not the best way to treat a potential customer, hun,” he smirks. Your eyes zeroes in on the ash that falls on your tiled floor. If this fucking man does not leave in the next two minutes, you swear yo－

“Just leave, man.” There Bokuto is again. You thank all there is to thank that Bokuto is here. If this man came in here without him and just you, you aren’t sure what you would do. It’s not like you to judge people easily, but you are always quick to sense if the person is genuine or not.

The man just raises his eyebrows at Bokuto before his eyes flits over to you. He says nothing as he turns on his back and pushes the door open. From behind you, Bokuto notices how you visibly relax as the man slowly disappears from your line of vision. You turn to him with your eyebrows in a pinch. “I’m so glad you’re here, what the fuck, if that man came in without you I’d probably lose my mind.”

Bokuto just smiles, adjusting his bag on his shoulder before placing a large hand over your head and patting the top of your head.

“I told you, you need at least another staff here in case things like that happens again,” he looks pointedly at you before adding in a low voice, “but that should never happen again.”

“I know,” you roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “But I can’t find anyone yet. That’d be more convenient because I’ll be able to entertain more than one customer at a time.”

Bokuto brushes past you to lock the door and walks back inside the greenhouse, immediately cradling a Blue Rose. A grin blooms on your face as you call, “maybe you can drop out of that volleyball career and help me instead.”

There is a brief pause in your surroundings, as if what you said stopped everything and you’re wondering if you somehow stepped over a line, that maybe Bokuto took offense in what you said, but he turns back to you, smiles and says, “yes! I love these small plants, anyways. Maybe I’ll grab Hinata with me and there’ll be three of us.”

Oh. Oh wow. Bokuto is inspecting the tiny plant in his hands with stars in his eyes. He looks ethereal under the sunlight filtering through the glass, his features looking a little sharper than usual. How lucky, you think, that in less than eight hours or so, the possibility of him getting together with their manager will become higher. There’s a little voice in the back of your head quietly wishing it will end up opposite of what Bokuto wants, and you’re berating yourself for being selfish. You’d like to keep Bokuto to yourself a little bit longer than this. You’d like to keep Bokuto without the thought of him sharing what little time he has for you with his girlfriend.

The guilt only intensifies when he locks his gold eyes with yours, eyebrows quirked upward. “Or I can also bring Miyoko-san! We’ll grow cabbage babies together and maybe expand your shop so you can have more plants.” He says it all as if it will happen. As if he’ll really drop his volleyball career to take care of plants with you instead.

You just smile softly, wringing your hands together and trying to keep your emotions at bay. “Are you taking that?” He nods, and you tilt your head to signal him to follow you back inside. You take the stack of sticky notes, which grew a lot more thinner since Bokuto showed up, waiting for whatever he will say for you to write. To you surprise, he holds his palm up, and you look up at him in confusion as you place the paper in his hands.

“I want to write it this time,” his eyes crinkles in delight, “to make it a little more special for Miyoko-san.”

There goes your heart breaking all the way. God, why can’t you have someone like Bokuto do that to you? Why can’t Bokuto do that to you? The things you’d give to experience what it’s like to have him fawn over you like this.

“There!” He rips the small note and sticks it to the ceramic pot. “I hope she says yes,” he frowns, and your melancholy is quickly flying out the window when his hair droops. Nothing in this world will make you panic more than the sight of his usually spiky slacking.

“I’m sure she will!” You’re scampering over the counter the way you did when you held him off the first time he came here. “She’s wasting such a precious person if she ever says no, you know. She’s very lucky to have you. I’m sure she knows just how lucky she is to have you like this as you are.”

Your words didn’t go to waste as Bo’s vibrant smile blossoms on his face. He’s pulling you into a tight hug before and he’s out the door before you know it. You’re left here once again.

Being alone wasn’t so. . . so lonely before. But ever since Bokuto frequents your shop before and after practice, whenever he leaves, it’s as though he is leaving behind a great hole no one can ever fill in. Like he’s taking all the space from you to make you realize just how lonely it is without him.

So you wait, like you always do. You wait for the excruciating eight hours for him to come back and talk about whatever it is that happened during their training. You expect him to come bouncing inside the store all sunshine and wide smiles, but as you’re mopping the floor, the glass doors open and Bokuto Koutaro looks the saddest you have ever seen him.

“Bo!” You shuffle to set the mop against the wall and take his face in your palms. “What happened? Why are you so－”

“She’s dating ’Tsumu,” he whispers dejectedly, his forehead finding its way on your shoulder. There’s an audible gasp from you as the weight settles on your skin, and you notice then that he is still holding the small potted plant he bought this morning, the sticky note nowhere to be seen. You gently take it from him, your fingers brushing against each other before he links his pinky with yours.

You wonder if Bokuto can hear just how much your heart is bartering against your ribcage; or if he can feel the rush of blood through your veins; or maybe he can feel just how stiff you are from your posture. But you let him curl his pinky finger with yours, your other hand cupping the ceramic pot.

“All this time. . .” His breath is hot against your skin. “They were together all this time and I didn’t even know.”

Your voice is soft as you ask, “how did you know?”

“Saw them kiss,” he mumbles.

If this is what it’s like having Bokuto all to yourself without the thought of sharing his time with his girlfriend, then you take it back. This is so much worse than what you expected and the guilt in your chest for wishing he somehow gets rejected is enough to choke you. Just how cruel can you be to ask for his dedicated time when it would mean he will hurt like this?

“Bo,” you whisper. He says nothing. “Bo,” you try again, and this time he hums. “Look at me, please.” The ruffle of his hair as he shakes his head tickles your neck. You have no choice but  to cup your right palm on his cheek to lift his head up, the back of your left hand holding the ceramic pot making contact with his other cheek. There is a glossy haze in his eyes as he stares at you, looking like a lost puppy with the way his hair is frowning.

“Now who’s this sad little guy in my shop, hm?” You pat his cheek gently. “I’ll treat you to some ice cream,” you offer, completely disregarding what he said this morning about going to Osamu’s again. You’re pretty sure seeing someone who looks like Atsumu at this moment is not a good idea. Bokuto’s lips are still curled down and you bring your thumb to the side of his mouth, softly pushing the end at an upward motion. “My poor boy.”

You’re kind of bitter, to say the least. Of what though, you don’t know. Or who. But as Bokuto walks beside you all quiet with his hands in his pockets, an aching hatred blossoms at your chest. You know it wasn’t that girl Miyoko’s fault, or anyone, really, but you don’t know how to project the bitter feeling it leaves in your stomach. Bokuto, of all people? He deserves to be happy. If happy means having a girlfriend and his time and attention for you decreasing, then you’ll gladly take it.

You push the doors of the ice cream shop a few streets away from your store, going for the booths at the back. Bokuto is still quiet and you’re close to pulling your hair out because his silence is choking you. You sit down beside him after handing him his “whatever, you can decide” ice cream.

“So. . .” You start, lightly stabbing your cup with the plastic spoon. “Are you okay?”

That is the dumbest question you have ever asked.

“No,” he mumbles, his own spoon dangling on his mouth, “but I will be.”

God, yes, you can almost cry from relief. At least Bokuto is not as beat up as you thought he is. You hum, taking a bite out of your dessert and turn to look at him. “There are plenty of other people who will be more than happy to love you, Bo. If she’s happy with Atsumu then that is good, right? Maybe she just isn’t the one for you.”

There is a faraway look in the ace’s eyes and you wonder if he even heard what you said. You got your answer when he says, “I know.” He pauses, then sighs, and looks at you. The frown on his face is gone, but he isn’t exactly happy either. There’s just the littlest hint of a smile on his face. “I know, Y/N. And I don’t know, I’ve been having these. . . these weird feelings lately?”

Your eyebrows rise at that. What now? “Like?” You softly prod.

Bokuto groans and presses his forehead on the table, his arms covering his hair. “No,” he whines, “I don’t want to tell.”

You scoff, slapping his arm. “What do you mean you don’t want to tell! You say things like that and now that I want to know more, you leave me out?”

He groans again. He honestly just sounds like a big baby, which he is, but you don’t mind because he’s slowly reverting back to his usual self. “I don’t know if I like someone else or not.”

Okay, wow, well, that kinda stings.

“Who?”

“I’m not sure yet so I’m not going to tell you!”

You huff, dipping your spoon in his cup and spooning a decent amount of ice cream off. “Okay, yeah, whatever, but you better tell me soon,” you glare.

You actually would rather not! But if that person is the key to really make Bokuto happy, then you’re all for it.

It is kind of crazy, and scary too, thinking about how Bokuto was just another customer on that certain Tuesday. The one-time buying turned into daily visits, and daily visits turned into dinners, strolls, to meeting his friends. You didn’t see that far into the future to even consider that Bokuto will be this important in your life, yet here you are. 

And there you are when he invites you to one of his volleyball practices because Hinata’s been pestering him about meeting you. You meet Atsumu and their manager, Miyoko, who is a total sweetheart. And there isn’t even tension between the teammates, all of Bokuto’s heartbreak quickly passing. Oliver, the team’s spiker, even hit you accidentally on the back of the head one time, which resulted in the whole team fussing over you.

It’s been over three weeks since Bo came back to your shop looking like hurricane personified. Today is another Tuesday, a rainy one at that, and you’re fondly looking outside the window as raindrops pelt the ground. Your surprise is evident when you see Bokuto waving at you outside.

“What are you doing here?” You ask quizzically, watching him shake his umbrella before stuffing it on the rack. He grins at you, all sunshine and happy. “It’s my day off!”

“And?” You rest your chin on your palms.

“I’m gonna buy cabbage babies again.”

It pulls a lighthearted laugh out of you. It seems so long ago since Bokuto came here, usually asking for his cabbage babies and nostalgia swallows you whole. It comes with the cold, hard realization that cabbage babies mean he is going to give this to that person he likes.

Your heart cracks in time with the lightning that lit up the gray surroundings.

“So when do you plan to tell me about this person, hm?” You inquire, standing up from your seat behind the counter and opening the greenhouse door. Bokuto follows after locking the entrance.

“Soon,” he says, giddy, “real, real soon, I promise!”

Real, real soon before your heart breaks again.

“Pick away,” you gesture to the succulents awaiting him, and he picks out an Aloe Vera and a pink succulent (not Sunrise.) “You want that?” He nods. You both go back inside and hand him the sticky note that’s been collecting dust on the corner of the counter. Bokuto is extremely hyper today, almost shaking in his giddiness. You huff, resting your face on your palms once again. “You buy cabbage babies but don’t tell me who it’s for. Okay. I’m totally not upset.”

Bokuto’s laughter fills the quiet of your little store, his head thrown back as he rips two notes and sticks it to the pots. “Real soon, Y/N, I promise. Just wait.”

You’d rather not, but you pout in reluctance, nodding. “Ju－”

“’Tsumu’s calling!” He shouts above the loud ringing of his phone that interrupted you. “What? But it’s our day off,” he whines on the phone, and you take this time to admire him again － the quirky arch of his brows, his bright, golden eyes, his lips that almost never loses that smile you love. He’s literally so breathtaking and you have to slowly let this man go despite never having him, in a romantic sense, in the first place. You have to tell yourself that having him like this, as a friend, will be more than enough.

He frowns at you as he ends the call, grabbing his umbrella. “Something came up and now we have a meeting,” he informs, and you purse your lips and nod in agreement.

“You take care,” you bid softly, waving a hand. Bokuto waves too before he’s out of your shop and into the rain. You sigh sadly, staring off outside, the gloomy weather worsening your melancholy. You don’t know how long you’ve been thinking or staring before you lean back on your seat, and it’s then you see the little Aloe Vera and succulent Bokuto purchased, staring at you. You slap your forehead in disbelief, a humorless laugh bubbling out of your throat.

“What the hell, Bo,” you mutter, curiously scooting forward to read the little notes he carefully wrote out earlier. Nothing in this world could have woken you up from your shock, your little heart stuttering in your chest. You shake your head, close your eyes, before reading his writing again.

aloe you vera much, Y/N :) says the sticky note on the Aloe Vera pot. i’d love to raise lots of cabbage babies with you ♡ says the other one.

“Fuck,” you squeak, taking the plants in your hands and reading it again. “Fuck, what the fuck.”

Your hands are shaking as you reach for your phone, ready to call him and demand just what the hell this trick he is pulling but a customer suddenly barges in, and you have you act normal through the chaos in your mind as the old woman asks you three dozens of small, ceramic pots, two dozens of brown, plastic pots, and seven pieces of large pots. After successfully entertaining your customer without breaking a pot despite your shaking hands, you call Bokuto.

He didn’t answer your seven calls.

You had to wait three ungodly hours before he came back, a soft smile gracing his face. “Hi,” he says quietly, gauging your reaction, “did you see the－”

You kiss him. After almost two months of meeting him, you finally, finally did what you wanted to do four weeks ago. His lips are soft on yours, a little hesitant at first, before you move your hands from his cheek to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. There’s a sense of urgency in his kisses, a little rushed, a little fiery, but it was perfect.

He pulls away and nudges his nose on the side of yours.

“You saw, huh?” He huffs lightly.

“I did,” you reply, just as quiet.

“Been wanting to say that since the ice cream shop.”

You pinch the skin on the back of his neck and Bokuto yelps. If you only knew this is how it will end, you would have wished he told you about it right then and there. You would have wanted to know it then. But soon never came this early, and you’re thankful you didn’t have to wait eight, long hours like when he has trainings.

“So the call?”

His eyes are crescent moons in the middle of noon. “No meetings, all plans.”

You shake your head in light mirth and disbelief, pecking him once on the lips before untangling your arms on his neck. He kisses the tip of your nose affectionately before you could fully pull away. Your heart clenches in your chest and it hurts so good. You finally have Bokuto, you couldn’t ask for more.

You grin as you stare up at him, eyes looking like two little hearts. “Aloe you too vera much,” you sputter between giggles. Red smears Bokuto’s neck and ears, and your giggles turn to laughter. He kisses you to shut you up, which is, unfortunately and fortunately, successful.

“So,” you start, wringing your hands together, just wanting to be clear between what this is between the two of you. “Are we, like, dating?”

He tilts his head. “Gotta take you out on a date first though, right?” He beams, and you smile shyly, stomach fluttering with the idea of going on cute, little dates with him.

His phone rings once again, and he scowls as he sees Atsumu’s contact displayed on the screen.

“What do you want?”

“Are ye guys finally dating?” Asks the setter, and you plant your face in your palms in slight embarrassment. It only heightens when you hear Hinata’s bubbly voice in the background.

Bokuto laughs, a warm sound that surrounds the small space of your shop, battling with the gloomy weather outside. “We are,” he smiles, softly grazing his thumb on your cheek. “We are.”

more notes: if there are errors i am so sorry i wrote the first half of this panicking because i missed kayla’s birthday and the other half earlier at 4 am because i can’t sleep lmao

[marlenethemenace]

WHEN: 9 December, 1979, between Dueling Club and dinner WHERE: Transfiguration corridor

“Not looking for me, I hope.”

Marlene’s feet -- which had carried her to the empty Transfiguration corridor of their own volition, propelled by the last few scarlet threads Vivian Travers had shrouded her in -- came to an electrified halt. They might have been looking for Gilbert Selwyn, but the rest of Marlene had not been. In fact, half of her had thought he wouldn’t be there when she came looking, but the other half of her had hoped it. Being alone with Gilbert ever again was one of the last things Marlene wanted for herself, if she even wanted it at all. But now, in the wake of his voice---

Marlene kept her back to him as the panic set in, more familiar to her now than she wanted to admit, especially as she realized the power it wielded had never waned. It spanned across the wide, gaping chasm between want and need that she had always wrestled with, especially where Gilbert was concerned. As she found herself inching closer towards the latter -- and closer to the wizard who had happened upon her with loud, ferocious steps -- Marlene wondered if this thing she dreaded didn’t fall neatly into that category.

“I need to talk to you.”

Unsurprisingly, Gilbert stayed silent. But he nodded. He nodded, and then he opened the door to his favorite unused classroom with well fabricated kindness. He stepped to the side, allowing for Marlene to lead the way in before he closed it behind them.

Before she could lose the nerve, Marlene opened her mouth to speak, loose ends flying about as she searched for the precise ones that had haunted her on the way up the stairs---but the attempt proved fruitless when the lock clicked in her ears, and she was forced to confront, at long last, a face she had only seen of late in dreams and nightmares. This was the first time in months that Marlene had taken note the details of Gilbert’s face, and how they had changed from the way she remembered him. Glimpses of dark hair and cheeky smirks in the corridors had hardly made a picture, and Marlene found now that the pieces she had drawn in from memory were strangely shaped, deformed and discolored when held up for comparison. The bags that had once dangled beneath his eyes were gone now, replaced by a new breed of confidence that had changed the angles of his mouth when it was at rest. And yet, he looked the same---just as patronizing and misunderstanding as he had ever been before. Maybe even, somehow, more. Worse, Marlene dared to think as she grew brave enough to meet Gilbert's eyes. Flat, plain, monotonous eyes that had once stretched to such depths. Or had they? Marlene wondered as a dissatisfied scowl slunk its way onto her face. Maybe there had never been any real depth there to begin with; or perhaps it had always been Marlene’s, skillfully projected and refracted back at her where he lacked by the both of them. She felt especially lacking now, hollowed out and useless everywhere but the eyes that had been burdened with this new, uninviting image of an older and just as unwise Gilbert.

“I haven’t forgotten your birthday.” It was simultaneously the most and least surprising thing to come from Gilbert’s mouth. He had always managed to exist just beyond the periphery of understanding when it came to Marlene, a point only proven further when he pulled from his bag a long, thin box that boasted an obviously expensive piece of jewelry inside. He extended it, but she did not take it. Even when waved in her face, it was the dimmest of details in this vibrant nightmare of a moment. “No matter which owl I try, Brian’s not been very receptive.”

“That’s not what I’m here for.” Marlene snatched the box from between them. She turned the unopened box over in her hands, stunned into silence again by the attempt at an olive branch that felt more akin to an unpotted cactus in her fingers. But Gilbert knew that. He had to know, in some capacity, why it was she had come here, even if she was later than expected. Her anger didn’t feel so erratic and loud anymore, like it had when Vivian had first swaddled her in it; it instead rattled impatiently beneath her feet. Once her eyes had adjusted to the way the shadows that hung from Gilbert’s shoulders had shifted, Marlene still didn’t know how to begin.

“I know I said you didn’t have to say anything.” She had hoped he would at least pretend to concentrate on setting up his cauldron, the same way she hastily stuffed the gift into her bag with great intent, but the weight of Gilbert’s unoccupied gaze stayed, weighing down her every movement, coloring the anxious breath that controlled her every word. “Or even that you had to acknowledge it.” She would be glad to be home at Number 5 an hour from now, she told herself as she zipped her bag shut, freshly scrubbed clean and bundled up with thick socks and a wool blanket. “And I meant it then. I really did.” Maybe a little lighter with the truth of her tangled and torn feelings discarded from her shoulders. “But it bothers me that you didn’t.”

A far more long and treacherous silence than the others stretched beyond the time Marlene had allotted herself for this poorly budgeted interaction. Silence was unsurprising with Gilbert, but what did surprise her, once Gilbert had walked around the room only to land on the edge of the table in front of her, was his continued nonchalance, the same perfectly practiced pretending that had driven her to the brink of insanity in these lonely past months. It took, this time, the form of another long silence, and more disappointing words.

“It bothers you that I didn’t do what, exactly?”

“Don’t.” The world was suddenly crimson again, this time without Vivian’s help. But this was not so vibrant a crimson. It was dark, certainly, but not nearly so fleeting. Instead of filtering Marlene’s vision like a thin scarf around the eyes, it colored the earth at its very roots, seeping up through the quaking foundation in a toxic haze. “Of all the things to be a cunt about, Gil.” Two furious and fiery tears cropped into the corners of her eyes, sprouted not from sadness, but the irrevocable anger that longed so desperately to escape that it cracked her voice on its way to freedom. “And now you want me to be the one to say it out loud---”

“Say what?”

“The letter,” Marlene hissed back at his impatience. “The one that Rosalind found.” She watched Gilbert’s face carefully now, with no inkling of a clue as to what it would reflect back at her next. “About me being pregnant.” Unsurprisingly, Gilbert remained, again, silent. But Marlene sensed something different in this silence---a certain lack of intention, an air desire for a loud response to crack it open with, an unpreparedness that she, ironically, had not been prepared for at all. When she allowed the truth to sink in, accompanied by the memory of Rosalind’s satisfied smirk as she had slunk away that night on the beach, Marlene felt as flatly ironed out as the eyes that stared back at her.

“You didn’t know.” The twin tears in her eye slid down her cheek, taking with them every last exhausting ounce of anger that Marlene had clung to. Just as she had when she had written him in June, she clung now to the simple facts. “She found the letter,” Marlene said slowly, eyes widening with every word. “And she didn’t tell you. She didn’t tell you I was pregnant.” But it was all for naught. No words came to break the silence; no emotion colored the blank expression on his face. Even with the truth laid so largely and plainly between them at last, Gilbert gave Marlene nothing in return.

“But you took care of it, didn’t you?”

Nothing but disappointment.

“Yes, Gil.” Her teeth clenched behind the words, making it all the more impossible to get out the next, even as she deadpanned them. She thought she understood him now, after all these years. Even one drop of emotion from her now would have unleashed an unforgiving, messy flood. Maybe Gilbert was simply an old neglected dam, ready to burst at the first sign of minor disrepair. But then came the relief in Gilbert’s eyes as she uttered the words, “I took care of it.” They gave Marlene enough pause to retrace those steps. Maybe there really was nothing there to be held back.

“Good.” Good. “Great.” Great. It was the only sincere smile Gilbert had dared to give her in those moments alone. And Marlene, taking a page from his book, refracted an insincere one right back. “And you’re alright, aren’t you?”

She was---physically, at least, which was all Gilbert cared about, if he even had the sense to do that. Anything else--- Marlene was too numb now to recognize anything she might have been feeling, much less to reconcile it with him now. The blood that had beat the war drums in her ears earlier had returned, this time with a much more melancholy symphony than before. It didn’t beg her to fight anymore; perhaps because she knew now that there was nothing there for her to fight for.

“I’m alright.”

Marlene smiled through the lie; he wouldn’t know the difference. And if he did, he wouldn’t care enough to let on. “It just seemed important that you knew, is all.” And now, it just seemed silly. Like a defunct firecracker, she shot past him for the door, nodding through the echoes of whatever parting words Gilbert was offering her now. When she could stand them no longer, she slammed the door in his face, and kept walking.