#i also want some odd picks but not ones that would draw too much attention. like having both a european badger and american robin

[lucabyte]

hey do i have any followers who are seasoned xenofiction fans . im trying to figure out an animal cast for something and want to know what the vibes are for "wouldn't raise an eyebrow in a setting" vs "would raise some questions". Like, as a speaking role having creature. So i don't mean a cast entirely comprised of just that species, I mean alongside other animals.

this is entirely vibes based i'm just in like. a decision-making pre-production stage rn

(no need to rb by the way i dont need a very big sample size for this)

[lunarubra]

Tommy Shelby x Jaseh Jesus

The familiar scent of herbs, tonics, and flowers enveloped him the moment the bell above the door chimed, announcing his entry. It struck him like a memory made tangible—sharp, alive, and unrelenting. Since returning from the war, he had avoided this part of the suburbs. Once, he had known it as intimately as his own heartbeat, every stone and shadowed alley etched into his mind. Back then, he could have navigated it blindfolded, when the world still felt certain.

In the haze of opium or the pit of his lowest moments, his feet had nearly carried him here more than once. Each time, some primal part of him would snap awake, dragging him back to Small Heath—the only place that felt safe, even if it wasn’t. Alum Rock was a chapter he had sealed shut, or so he told himself. And yet, here he was, standing at its threshold, the air thick with a fragrance that felt like both a balm and a wound.

The woman behind the counter was busy tending to an older customer and didn’t spare him a glance. It was as though she sensed his presence and dismissed it, deeming him unworthy of her attention. She hadn’t changed—or perhaps she had, but not in any way that softened the sting or stopped his heart from skipping a beat.

Her unruly curls were shorter now, though still as wild as he remembered, only more carefully tamed. She wore one of her signature dungarees, pockets bulging with the odd collection of treasures she always carried: herbs picked on her way, spare coins for beggars, and he was sure there was also her trusty pocket knife he had taught her how to use.

“Twice a day, Mrs. Smith—once in the mornin’, just as you wake, and again at night afore you settle,” she said, her voice steady and clear.

That voice stopped him in his tracks, freezing him in place as though under a spell. It was both achingly familiar and strangely foreign, like an old tune he’d forgotten or the soothing touch of a balm he’d long needed but stubbornly avoided.

“Thank you, dear. God bless you,” the older woman said, her voice heavy with gratitude as she gathered the remedy and laid down a few coins. The payment was swept into the till with practised ease.

“Now don’t forget, Mrs. Smith,” she replied kindly, “come back in a few days, and we’ll see if that cough’s eased up. And take things slow—rest as much as you can.”

The older woman nodded, murmured her goodbyes, and shuffled out, deliberately avoiding his gaze. He wondered if she, too, sensed the tension in the air, the kind that clung to old wounds and refused to heal. She slipped past him as though unwilling to disturb the fragile moment, and in her absence, silence settled over the shop.

Still, he couldn’t draw her attention. It was as if she, too, wanted to delay this moment, the same moment he had evaded for years. Perhaps she couldn’t face him either, unwilling to touch a wound that had never truly scarred over.

He stepped to the counter, feeling the air grow heavier between them. She didn’t turn. Instead, she kept her back to him, busily tending to the shelves lined with jars of herbs, seeds, and strange things he still couldn’t name or understand.

Under his gaze, he saw her back stiffen, her shoulders tensing as though she felt the weight of his presence. Then, slowly, she let out a sigh—soft, resigned, inevitable. When she turned to face him at last, her expression was unreadable, but her voice carried the weight of years.

“Hello, Thomas.”

“Hello, Jasie.”

I wanted to share this little snippet from the first chapter with you all! It’s going to be a while before I publish anything since I plan to finish writing the entire first part first. But I’m already in love with this new OC and couldn’t wait to introduce her. Feel free to let me know what you think with a comment or a reblog!

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part eighty-nine: "The Stray"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt spends his morning alone with the new cat until you return.

Or You say something to Matt that has a bigger impact on him than you even realize.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.2k

a/n: This update is also light and fluffy with its own little surprise at the end. It's also entirely in Matt's POV. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly

Matt hunched over his steaming mug of coffee on the kitchen table, one of his hands running along his face as he tried to wake up. He was still dressed in only his boxers, finally crawling out of bed a little after he’d heard you leave the apartment. He knew you’d woken up early, over-eager to pick up the extra odds and ends for the cat that you’d excitedly ordered last night on your phone from the pet store just two blocks over. 

It had admittedly been adorable listening to how thrilled you were just over picking out cat toys last night. A faint smile ghosted over Matt’s lips even now as he remembered the little shriek you’d made, grabbing at his arm beside you on the couch when you’d spotted sushi themed ones. Granted, Matt always thought you were adorable and found your excitement contagious. 

Drawing the mug of coffee to his lips, Matt could hear the soft patter of paws approaching him. He drank down the liquid before lowering the mug back to the table, his attention shifting to where he heard the cat sit down on the floor not too far from his chair. The soft swish of its tail back and forth was fast becoming a familiar sound around the apartment already.

"She's not here right now," Matt told the cat. "So whatever manipulative face you've been giving her to get your way since yesterday? It won't work on me. Because I can't see it."

A tiny mew met Matt’s ears, the cat's tail continuing to rhythmically move back and forth along the floor. 

"Yeah, you won," Matt told him. "Seems like you didn't belong to anyone after all those calls we made yesterday, so you get to stay here." He pointed a finger down towards the cat, his expression stern. "But don't think you get free run of this place destroying things just because she likes you so much. No scratching up the couch. Or knocking dishes off the kitchen shelves– especially the coffee mugs," he told the cat. "She's weirdly attached to a few of them. I don’t want her crying because you broke one."

Another small meow met Matt’s ears and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. Pressing his lips firmly together, he fought the smile threatening to slip onto his face.

He'd never had a pet before. His father never could've afforded taking care of one when Matt was young, and there was absolutely no way he'd have ever been allowed to have one at St. Agnes, so he initially assumed having a cat roaming around the apartment would be annoying with his senses. The meows, the multiple paw pads hitting the floor as the cat walked, the incessant purring, and the irritating sound of a cat’s tongue as it groomed itself. Those were all things that immediately came to mind when you’d suggested keeping the cat after he’d rescued it from the dumpster. But surprisingly Matt had discovered he hadn't minded the cat's presence much at all–other than the litter box you'd already bought for it. Though if you or Matt cleaned it immediately, the smell wasn't that bad to him and he was quickly learning to ignore it.

This cat’s meowing wasn't actually loud and grating to his ears like he'd always imagined it would be, either. Instead, it was more of a light, sweet noise, one that he’d come to like each time he'd heard it. And the purring almost had a white noise effect just like the patter of rain on the windows. If he was being honest, he'd actually liked falling asleep with the cat at the foot of the bed last night. He'd focused in on the purring, managing to tune out not only the sounds in the apartment building, but also the noise outside in Hell’s Kitchen. Last night was the fastest Matt had ever fallen asleep since gaining his heightened senses with the sound of the purring and your steady heartbeat in his ears. 

He heard the cat rise to its feet, padding over towards his legs. A second later he felt the cat's head rub against his bare calf and the smile finally made its way onto Matt’s face. The cat's fur, after having been cleaned from his time among the garbage, was silky and smoother than he'd imagined it would be, too. He figured it would be scratchy and irritating to his sensitive skin, because generally that’s how it always felt when he'd pet cats or dogs in the past. But apparently not this cat. 

"You're annoyingly persistent, you know that?" Matt told the cat.

Reaching a hand down, Matt scratched the fur under the cat's chin. Seconds later Matt’s ears picked up on the faint rumble as gradually the still nameless cat began to purr.  Some sense of pride began to stir in Matt’s chest at the sound.

“Thought it was supposed to be hard to gain a cat’s affection,” Matt mused quietly. “Don’t blame you for loving her so easily, but I don’t know what the hell you'd want with me.”

The cat stepped closer to Matt as he spoke, rubbing his side along Matt’s shin. The cat’s tail soon curled itself around his calf, the soft hairs almost tickling Matt. The smile on his face grew just a bit wider.

“I know what you’re doing,” Matt told the cat, withdrawing his hand from the cat’s chin and sitting back in his chair. “It’s not going to work.”

Turning his attention back to his coffee, he left the cat to his own devices. He’d noticed since the both of you had brought him home that he’d often taken residence along the radiator by the window in the living room, curling up on it and watching the pigeons on the rooftop across the street. But as Matt picked his mug back up, about to drink more of his coffee, he felt two paws suddenly land on his knee.

The cup of coffee hovered just before Matt’s mouth, his hand freezing. Head tilting to the side, his brows furrowed. The cat had stretched up on his hind legs apparently, his front feet resting on Matt’s knee. He heard the air shift just a bit as one of the paws reached up, and then Matt felt a furry little paw tap the back of his hand that was holding his coffee mug. Turning his head back towards the cat, he heard another little meow again.

“What?” he asked the cat. “I know I heard her feed you and fill your water bowl already when she woke up. And she’s the one who promised to fatten you up, not me. So don’t think you can trick me into giving you more food.”

The little paw gently tapped the back of Matt’s hand again and Matt’s eyes narrowed as he focused in on the cat. Nothing seemed wrong with him–or at least, as far as he could tell. It’s not like he generally tuned into a cat’s physiology and could really tell if something was off. But the vet you’d both taken him to yesterday–who’d in fact confirmed the nameless cat was indeed a male–had said he’d seemed malnourished but otherwise healthy. And Matt couldn’t pick up on anything different from him since then.

“Do you just…want attention?” Matt asked. “Is that it?”

Of course the cat couldn’t answer, but the other place Matt knew this nameless cat had enjoyed spending time was curled up on the couch. Usually next to you or in your lap. Matt remembered the first time the cat had crawled into your lap and laid down last night. He’d been finishing up taking care of the dishes after dinner, pausing when he heard your heart speed up in your chest. At first he’d thought your pulse increasing had something to do with him–but no. It was the cat. Again. Though, the cute little giggle you’d made when the cat settled down on you was one of the best sounds he’d heard in awhile.

“Fine,” Matt relented. “I’ll sit on the couch and drink my coffee and pet you. But if you so much as scratch me with one of your nails,” he warned the cat as he rose to his feet, “I’m going to throw away all of your cat toys.”

The cat made a noise in its throat, the sound something akin to a grunt of disbelief. The unexpected noise surprised Matt, causing him to chuckle as he navigated his way to the couch, trying to keep an ear out for the cat so he didn’t step on him.

“Okay, you’re right, I won’t do that,” he admitted. “But only because of her, not you. Don’t get that mixed up. She was just…really excited about the little sushi ones. I couldn’t possibly throw them away on her.”

Matt settled down onto the couch, the leather cold and a little scratchy against his skin. With a sigh, he raised his coffee mug up to his mouth for a drink, the warmth of it a pleasant contrast to the fabric on his bare skin. He heard the cat jump up onto the couch next to him as he swallowed the liquid, the soft thump of his paws landing on the cushion next to Matt only a faint noise with how little the cat weighed. Almost instantly he curled into a ball against the side of Matt’s bare thigh, the warmth of his furry little body hard not to notice. 

Relaxing back into the cushions, Matt’s eyes closed as he enjoyed his drink and tried to mentally prepare himself for the day. The warmth of the cat at his side soon became soothing, and admittedly it was nice to not be sitting here alone drinking his morning coffee while you were gone. He focused in on the cat’s faint purring, the noise a comfortable decibel to Matt’s ears. He was so relaxed and tuned into the cat that he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered the apartment building, even managing to startle him when you’d opened the apartment door.

“I’m back, Matty!” 

Matt’s eyes opened at the sound of your voice, the cat at his side stirring as well. Turning his head towards the entryway hall, he heard the telltale sound of your heartbeat pounding its usual rhythm in his ears. A smile spread across his lips. That would always be his favorite sound. 

“You manage to get everything you needed, sweetheart?” he called out to you.

“Yeah, they had everything I ordered,” you answered, the sound of bags rustling in his ears as you set them down to take off your shoes. “But I may have also bought him this little scratching post that’s also a hammock. It is the perfect height for the bedroom window,” you continued on, Matt grinning and shaking his head at the excitement in your voice. “So he can curl up in it and watch the pigeons and the traffic comfortably in our room, you know?”

“You’re spoiling this cat, you know that, right?” he teased.

Matt heard the playful scoff you made as you began to pick up all the bags in your hands again. Soon after, he heard your footsteps continue to make their way down the entryway hall towards him.

“He was found in a dumpster , Matt,” you replied. “I think he deserves some nice things.”

Matt shifted his attention down to the cat still curled up beside him on the couch, running his hand along the cat’s fur. “Yeah, I guess trash cat deserves some nice things,” he agreed.

“Matt!” you chastised.

Matt immediately chuckled at the tone of your voice and the way it had went up a few octaves. Admittedly he kept calling the cat that just because he enjoyed the way you reacted every time he did.

“He’s not a trash cat!” you shot back.

Matt heard you placing the bags down behind the couch before you made your way around it. Though when you had, he heard how you paused and the way your heartbeat sped up. Eyes narrowing, his head canted to the side in interest. What had that been about?

“Well, he was found in garbage,” Matt continued half-heartedly, his ears listening to your body. “And I am saying it affectionately.”

“Then maybe I should start calling you a trash Devil,” you quipped, “since I found you in a dumpster.”

He couldn’t resist the peel of laughter that fell out of him, his focus on your body briefly interrupted. He heard you make your way to the couch before he felt the cushion beside him shift as you sat down.

“Unfortunately that doesn’t have as good of a ring to it as Daredevil,” Matt replied, his laughter subsiding.

“Mmm, no, I suppose not,” you agreed.

Matt focused back on you, still absently petting the cat at his side with his free hand. Your heart had returned to its usual pace now. Matt’s head tilted to the side again, curiosity winning out.

“What was with the change in your heartbeat a moment ago?” he asked. “Just before you sat down?”

“Oh,” you breathed out, nervously laughing lightly as you waved a hand. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

A mischievous grin slipped onto Matt’s face as he shook his head. “Okay, so it was definitely something then. Spill, sweetheart.”

There was a moment of silence before you answered. Matt could hear the way your nails were picking at a string on what he assumed were your shorts.You were fidgeting, something you didn’t do too often around him anymore.

“I just–just wasn’t expecting to see you sitting here practically naked with the cat,” you muttered.

Matt’s bottom lip slipped between his teeth, fighting back a smile. “You see me like this every morning, but me sitting with a cat gets your heart racing like that?” he teased.

The air shifted around you as you shrugged, your hands continuing to fidget in your lap. “I don’t know,” you muttered, your cheeks heating, “it’s just like…coming home to my little family or something now, you know? The two of you here together. Both my boys.”

The teasing smile slowly faded from Matt’s lips, his expression softening as he read the nervousness around your body increasing. A warmth stirred in Matt’s chest at your words, his heart swelling. Because you considered him and this stray cat family. Your family.

You waved a dismissive hand, laughing nervously. “Nevermind, it’s stupid,” you said.

“No,” Matt said softly, shaking his head. “It’s not stupid at all.”

He could feel a lump forming in the back of his throat, a well of emotions trying to rise to the surface. Blinking hard a few times, he tried to push it all back. He wasn’t about to get emotional about that, not right now.

“So uh,” Matt began, clearing his throat, “we should probably start to think of names for this little guy if you don’t want trash cat to stick.”

“Actually,” you said, voice a little hesitant, “I had a thought when I was picking up everything this morning from the pet store.”

“For a name?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “I was thinking…what if we named him something after your dad?”

That lump seemed to abruptly thicken in the back of Matt’s throat. He swallowed a couple of times, a blurry image of his father mentally painting itself in his mind. It was getting harder to fight the tears in his eyes as he blinked them back.

“What–what do you mean?” he asked, hoping you didn’t notice the waver in his voice.

“I just meant it might be like a way to honor him?” you answered nervously. “And I–I was thinking maybe we could call him Mittens?”

Matt could feel the weight of the tears building in his eyes as his tongue nervously slipped out, wetting his lips. His hand stopped along the cat’s back, his fingers burying themselves into the cat’s comforting fur.

“Mittens?” Matt asked softly.

“Yeah,” you said. “Like boxing mitts? Since your father was such a great boxer. And, in your own way, I suppose you are, too. Though you don’t technically wear mittens out at night–but you probably should in winter time because you’re always freezing out there.”

Matt huffed out a laugh just as a single tear slipped out of his eye. Before he had a chance to discreetly try to wipe it away, you’d already noticed it. He heard the way you sucked in a breath, your back straightening on the couch beside him. And then it was your soft fingers on his cheek catching the tear, wiping it away. His eyelids lowered as he leant into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No,” Matt replied quickly. “You didn’t. I uh, I think that’s a great idea, actually.”

“You do?” you asked.

Attempting yet again to swallow that lump in his throat, Matt nodded against your hand. “Yeah, I love it,” he whispered. 

You leaned in towards him, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek where the tear had fallen. Matt’s lips curled upwards in a smile at the feel of them against his skin, so soft and warm. When you pulled away, you placed a sweet kiss to his lips next, lingering against them for a moment. Once again Matt’s heart felt like it was swelling in his chest, a whole well of emotions building within him that he was struggling to keep down.

You focused your attention down onto the cat next, your hands gently stroking the top of the cat’s head. Matt smiled when he heard the soft coo you spoke to the cat with.

“What about you?” you asked him. “Do you like Mittens?”

The resounding purr that began so soon after you’d asked the question seemed to be his response.  

“Sounds like a yes,” Matt whispered.

You giggled, still focused on petting the cat as you enthusiastically continued to chat to him, trying out the new name. Mittens seemed content with the name choice and the attention, purring even louder as he curled up further against Matt’s leg. 

But while you were currently very focused on the cat, Matt was focused on you. That warmth in his chest only seemed to grow even more as he sat there, listening to your cheerful and bright voice as you spoke. He couldn’t fight the smile that gradually returned to his face at what you’d said just a bit ago.

Family. That word meant a lot of things to Matt, but it was something he’d felt like he’d never truly had ever since he’d lost his father. Even if his mother was only a few blocks away at Clinton Church, it wasn’t quite the same thing, not with the history between him and Maggie. Foggy’s family had honestly been the closest thing Matt had ever had to a family, but he’d only met them when he was grown and in college. But still, he’d never truly felt like he’d had a family of his own, one that he belonged to.

Not until now. Because you were right, the three of you were a family.

Matt drew his coffee mug back up to his mouth, his mind suddenly and very surely made up as he took another drink. Monday he’d tell you he was working late on a case so you wouldn’t expect him home at the usual time. And then he’d finally ask Foggy to go help him pick out a ring.

[mothdruid]

I Wish You Would

pairing. Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x afab!reader

word count. 3.3k

warnings. ANGST!!

author's note. this is for @laracrofted 1989 writing challenge. my song was I Wish You Would. and a special thanks goes out to @withahappyrefrain, @bobfloydsbabe, and @rae-gar-targaryen for letting me use your OC's as the bride and wedding dates for the daggers in this fic. well, here is some angsty angst for you all. also, the venue i'm writing about is a real place called The Farmhouse Siloam, and this is the dress I wrote the reader in.

The invitation had arrived earlier that year. It didn’t shock you that Jake was actually getting married, but having something tangible telling you was a little odd. Danica and Jake started off on an interesting foot. The way Jake had talked about her in secret wouldn’t have made it obvious, but once you all met Danica everything about the relationship made sense. She was the exact kind of woman that drove Jake crazy, in a good way. That’s one thing you and Bradley had always agreed on. That Hangman would hang the stars for his Venus, something you found out Bradley would have trouble doing for you.

The relationship hadn’t been terrible, honestly, it was the best relationship you had ever had. One that you thought about regularly, even though you continually told everyone you were over it. So, when Jake and Danica gave you the heads up that they were also inviting Bradley, you gave them questioning looks. Why would that even matter? It was their wedding anyways, they could invite whoever they wanted. It’s not like that final not was still something you thought about daily. But how would they had known that? They couldn’t have when you always told them the opposite.

Neither of you were bad people, but that night would have told anyone the opposite. Both of your words were laced with venom, neither one of you knowing how to convey your thoughts properly. It wasn’t like either of you, but things had gotten out of hand quick. One thing lead to another, escalating past the point of control.

An uneven breath passed your lips while you looked in the mirror. The dress you had picked was something simple. A two strap summery dress with a bustier built in. It was covered in a muted pastel floral print. Cielo and Abby had helped you pick it out. You bought it with the thought of being able to wear it again, and not to draw the attention of anyone specific.

Even though you and Bradley ended on poor terms, you still yearned for him. Almost two years later and you still wished for something. But you weren’t just hoping and wishing for him to reach out to you, you were also wishing you could have changed things. Wished you would have never hung up on him. Wished that maybe you wouldn’t have said the things you did. Wished that you would have swallowed your pride and reached out. Too many wishes, but it was all in the past and you couldn’t change it now.

All you could do now was face the day. Face the fact that you would be seeing him again. Face the emotions that were going to resurface.

You did a small twirl, calming your nerves in the process. If anything you could hide with Mickey, Cielo, Abby, Bob, and Reuben if things became too much. Or at least just Cielo and Abby. No matter what, you would survive. Ignoring the sensation tightening in your chest, you moved to the bathroom to finish your makeup.

-

Bradley stared at himself in the dressing room mirror, ignoring all of those who were fluttering around him. He had known about this day for a long time. Hell, he knew when Jake decided he was going to propose. Jake had immediately sent him and Javy a picture of the ring. Eager. That was all Bradley had thought about it. Bradley had a slightly pessimistic view on love now.

After his last relationship, he took a break from love. It was too painful, the only thing in the world that could hurt everyone. Even those whose walls were so high, heart so guarded. Those like Bradley.

Love had been the most damaging thing in Bradley’s life. The love for his father? Heart breaking. The love for his mother? Life altering. The love he had once felt for Maverick? Trust breaking. The love he had for you? World crumbling. It wasn’t worth it anymore in his mind. He had tried it multiple times, each time ending in pain.

The pain he had felt with you had been different though. It was a shared one, a pain he could tell that you were also experiencing. It wasn’t like when his dad just never returned home, or when his mom took her final breath in the hospital, or when Mav set him back. All of that had been one sided, him being the only one being hurt. But when he saw the tears roll down your cheeks, the way your chest heaved with each breath. That finally click he heard when you hung up. The ache in his chest as he stared at the phone, deciding not to call you back.

Yeah, you had been the one to hang up, but Bradley had been the one who did nothing. He didn’t do anything in that moment except let you slip through his fingers, like sand in an hour glass. He regretted it to this day. Knowing he should have at least reached out but didn’t. It was one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He finally popped his collar up then ran the tie for his suit around it.

He hadn’t been this dressed up, outside of his Navy regalia, in a long time. The last time he remembered was for your cousins wedding. A smile drifted to his lips, but only a small one, as he recalled the way you had tied his tie for him. Your face was so calm and focused, threading the material through the knot and tightening it up for him. His own hands followed the same pattern that yours once did. He was never able to capture it completely, but he always preferred how you had tied his ties.

“Crazy, huh?” Javy said while grabbing Bradley’s shoulder and pulling him close.

“That’s one word for it,” Bradley let out a little chuckle.

The two of them sat there for a moment, silence over taking them. Javy's bright smile faded a little when he met Bradley’s gaze in the mirror. Javy wasn’t oblivious to what today meant for Bradley, Jake neither. Jake had told Bradley immediately when Danica sent out invitations. Bradley was happy you would be there, seeing the union of two amazing friends. But he couldn’t ignore the anxiety festering in his chest.

“If you need anything, just ask man.”

“Thanks.”

-

Throughout the entire ceremony you had fought the urge to throw up. Which now lead to you in the bathroom, waiting for your nausea to calm down. It was the worst symptom of anxiety you got, that and the tightness in your chest. You didn’t think that seeing Bradley would do this to you. You had been preparing and hyping yourself up all morning, only for him to crack it all with one look. A look he didn’t even return.

You moved to the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror. That’s when you noticed something that you didn’t catch prior. Well, you had ‘caught’ it, but didn’t realize the full extent of your choice in lipstick. It was Bradley’s favorite shade. It was a soft neutral, one you wore cause it went with everything. Bradley had loved it because, “It just makes you glow”, or at least that was what he had told you. Your fingertips almost brushed your lips, but you stopped yourself and simple smiled.

The reception was gorgeous, the entire thing had been gorgeous. It was an outdoor venue, a boho-esque farm house that had been transitioned into a wedding venue. People were swarming everywhere, waiting to the newly weds and wedding party to show up for things to officially start. You made your way up the steps of the outdoor pavilion, looking around only to find familiar faces staring back at you. Danica and Jake had been kind enough to put all their good friends at the same table. Bob and Mickey both noticed you at the same time, alerting everyone else at the table of your presence.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Reuben said as he stood to pull your chair out for you.

“As if I wouldn’t miss this,” you replied while sitting down.

“That’s right, can’t stay away from us,” Mickey said with a big grin.

The night had moved fast. Dinner had been an event, Javy making his way over to your guys table to greet everyone. Jake and Danica eventually came over too, only after making sure to say hello to all the extended family, which Mickey was claiming you all were a part of. You, Cielo, Abby, and Natasha had talked about the struggles of finding the perfect guest dresses. Bob chiming in to say that you all looked phenomenal, only to turn red when you all complimented him back while Abby pressed a kiss to his cheek. The only person that was missing from your group was Bradley.

Your anxiety about the situation had subsided when the wedding party walked in. Bradley had actually looked at you, even gave you a small smile. The butterflies you had felt weren’t brand new, but they weren’t something you had felt in a long time. They were a regular thing Bradley used to give you, no matter how comfortable you had become with him. Butterflies on your one year anniversary, two year, and even three year.

Your gazes didn’t stop meeting throughout the entirety of dinner. He calmly sat at the wedding party table, disappearing at some point. The thought about finding him had crossed your mind, but you decided to stay seated, a small amount of anxiety winning that battle. It was a good thing though, the first dance starting only a few minutes after you made the decision.

All of you sat there mesmerized by the gorgeous couple dancing. They looked so seamless together, making your heart swell with fondness for the both of them. After the first dance was the dances they had with their parents. Danica with her father, Jake with his mother. All of it, everything was making something inside of you sad. Not for the people around you, but for the fact that you could have had this.

The night continued though. About forty-five minutes had passed since the music and dancing had started. You were sitting at your assigned table while sipping your wine. It had been your second glass. Even though you wanted to get really drunk, you decided not to. It wasn’t the time nor place, and seeing Bradley didn’t fully constitute it. But there was a still a part of you, one that was becoming a little overwhelming, was yearning for him.

A slow song had started to play, many people dispersing from the dance floor. It wasn’t the first slow song and it wouldn’t be that last. During the first slow song, Reuben had asked if you wanted to dance at one point after seeing the saddened look on your face. You had politely declined though, and Reuben confirmed that he understood. The two of you instead had sat at the table and watched all the varying couples on the floor. Jake and Danica, Javy and Natasha, Bob and Abby, Mickey and Cielo. The first time you didn’t take notice to Bradley’s presence, trying to ignore the silent plea inside of you.

Your heart was screaming at you, telling you to just walk over. It was wishing that you would simply go up and talk to him. Wishing that he would come talk to you. Wishing for so much that would probably never happen.

But this time you did notice his presence.

That’s because he wasn’t there, completely absent from the pavilion.

-

The day was going better than Bradley had anticipated.

So what if his chest was filled to the brim with regret and anxiety. He could get over that. What he couldn’t get over was how beautiful everything was. The venue looked like something from out of a movie, Danica truly looked like Venus, and it was perfect. Including you. Before he even walked down the dirt path they called the aisle, his eyes were locked on you.

How could they not be?

After countless days and nights he had spent with you. The very image of you was seared into his soul, being able to immediately pick you out before even seeing your face. You looked as beautiful as ever. It made his heart race, now being faced with the reality that he was only a mere twenty feet away from you. So, he made sure not to make eye contact throughout the entire ceremony. It was harder than he thought it would be. All he wanted to do was look at you, but he forced himself not to.

That was until the reception started. When he walked up the steps of the pavilion his heart was hammering. The DJ announced his name and he walked through, eyes finally meeting yours. It was brief, but it was enough to make his mind spin. He immediately noticed the color of your lips. It was his color, the one he had always loved on you. The one that made you look radiant, complimenting you in all the best ways. It had always grabbed his attention. It wasn’t an extravagant color, but you made it extravagant.

And you continued to keep his attention all night. His eyes followed you, adverting away fast enough for you not to notice when you looked his direction. It was borderline painful watching you with all of his friends. They were your friends too, but the two of you hadn’t been around all of them at the same time in forever. Not actual forever, but that’s what it felt like to Bradley. More like a lifetime.

All he kept thinking was about how foolish he had been. Wishing all over again that he would have done just something. Called you back, sent a text, or simply just not disappear out of your life. But at the time he thought that was the best thing. Only after did he realize how dumb he actually had been. He had to leave the pavilion for a moment, getting fresh air to relieve himself. He returned only a few minutes later.

Then when Jake and Danica started the first dance he started to feel sick. If he would have been better, that could have been the two of you. He could have seen you in one of those gorgeous white gowns. All he saw when he pictured it was you as an ethereal being. This all had to be karma, finally coming around to bite him in the ass. And it didn’t stop either. Watching everyone take their partner, arms wrapped lovingly around them.

Watching how Bob softly moved a stray strand of hair from Abby’s face. The bright smile that Mickey brought to Cielo. Even the way Natasha was laughing at Javy's dumb jokes. He wished that he could have been like that with you. Whisking you around the floor, whispering in your ear about how lucky he was to have you. But it was simply a wish, nothing more.

So Bradley left.

He didn’t want to sit with the regret and pain anymore. The memories of how foolish he had been to let you slip through his hands. He made his way out of the pavilion, dress shoes hitting the grass quickly as he walked a little bit away from the pavilion. Warm deep breaths filled his lungs as he stared out at the sky. Hues of orange and pink were starting to blend in with the clouds.

Not even a minute later did he hear someone coming down the pavilion steps. He waited for a moment, hoping he would hear the steps hit the stone path, but they didn’t. The small sound of shifting grass was creeping closer to him, making hm let out a sigh. He was whole heartedly expecting to see Javy, maybe even Nat in tow. But when he turned around he was much more surprised.

-

“Hi,” you said barely above a whisper.

“I.. Hi,” Bradley greeted back.

The two of you stood there for a moment, staring at one another. Bradley’s eyes had brightened, a soft smile pulling at his lips. Which you mimicked, offering your own small smile at him. Neither of you knew exactly what to say. It didn’t feel awkward, but it wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable either. You looked up, seeing the gorgeous colors of the sky. Bradley looked up to see a little more pink had settled in the sky.

“It’s beautiful,” you said.

“It really is,” Bradley replied.

There were a few beats of silence before you spoke again.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” you didn’t look at him, keeping your gaze towards the sky.

Bradley looked at you though, wondering why you would ask that question. You had never bothered him ever, he just sucked at showing how much he cared about you. Sucked so much he couldn’t even properly show it to you.

“You never have,” Bradley decided it was a now or never thing.

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow to act like you had no idea what he was implying. A breathy half laugh passed your lips as you stared at him now. You waited for a moment, hoping he might retract it or something. That never came though, so you dropped the slightly confused expression from your face.

“Bradley, I didn’t mean it like that,” your smile was gone now.

Bradley nodded, “I know, but there was a lot I wanted to say and never did.”

Those bubbles of anxiety were floating back into your chest, threatening to pop at any moment. But there were things that you had never said either. It was now or never, say your peace or forever hold it.

“There’s a lot I never said either,” you started to fiddle with your hands, a nervous habit you had always had.

“First, I want to say I’m sorry, genuinely,” Bradley’s eyes were sincere as he spoke, “you didn’t deserve anything that happened or that I said. I was stupid then, the emotionally capacity of a peanut.” You both let out a chuckle after that one. “And I don’t expect everything to be magically okay, but I just wanted to apologize and say”, he paused briefly, “that I miss you.”

It felt like your heart had broken into two. Everything you had ever seen in the media was telling you to ditch him, tell him to fuck off. But you couldn’t, because you completely understood what he was saying. You felt the exact same way. Ever since he left it was like you were missing something, double checking every time you left your apartment.

“Bradley, I’m miss you too,” you grabbed his hand as you spoke.

His hand encapsulated yours. The warmth was something familiar yet distant. He had always ran a bit warmer than you, something you had always appreciated. A soft smile appeared on his face once more. He rubbed his thumb lightly on the back of your hand. Neither of you were sure how much time had truly passed since you found him, but another slow song started to play in the distance. Bradley let out a small huff that caught your attention.

“What?” You asked.

“I just… I’ve been meaning to ask you all night,” Bradley started, “would you like to dance?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The two of you stayed there in the grass. Bradley kept you close to him, hands resting on your waist. You rested your head on his chest while your arms where wrapped around his neck. It was peaceful, anxiety melting off the both of you. It wasn’t completely perfect, but it was something the both of you had wished for.

[imagine--if]

banda protecting quiet reader during jack of hearts?

A/N: This was the second most voted after Chishiya, so ya, enjoy 😁 I did some headcanons because I felt like an imagine would be too long and complicated haha 🖤 also there's a bit of Chishiya x reader near the end 😏

♡ Banda Being Protective Includes... ♡

💜• Banda probably noticed you being your quiet self, once everyone's gathered together and he's assessing the players around him in his head. Like, the Jack intrigued him since he already had an air of superiority and independence about him, and Banda picks up on those things about a person with mild interest as he waits to see what they'll do and if they're worth his time. So when he sees you watching everyone starts to exclaim at the game's strange rules and how they could be trapped in it forever, and then you just sitting quietly by yourself, his grey-blue gaze lingers, and he stalks over to you.

💜• We know what he's like at this point - basically antagonising the person with some backhanded compliment that could be considered an insult, before he follows it up with an offer of alliance or friendship. So with you, you'll get something like, "Being this quiet will only make people want to kill you more. They'll think you're up to something." And as you stare at him uneasily, his serious expression suddenly morphs into a smirk, as he comments, "I hope you are. I'll help."

💜• Yeah, he's an odd guy 😅 but at least you're not one of his targets or anything. For the first couple of rounds, he won't do much in terms of communication and protection, not just yet. Banda wants to see if you can survive on your own, if you're smart enough. And when it's proved that you are, it only makes you more of a pretty curiosity, and that's when he'll start shadowing you and speaking for you when you don't want to.

💜• It's a little similar to that woman who Jack secretly communicated with and the other psycho if you know what I mean 😂 but less servant-master vibes, and more partner vibes. For example, if someone's asking you too many questions, or if the bouncy manipulator girl tries getting into your head with a sweet smile, he'll make a remark from sitting behind you or something. One remark, but its what he says and the way he says it that's all they need to get the picture and back up with a confused and uncomfortable look on their face.

💜• Banda's way of protecting you comes through telling you the truth about what card symbol is on your collar, basically following you around wherever you go, speaking for you when you prefer to stay silent and simply look, and whispering things to you for you to whisper back in your naturally hushed tone when its something private or important about the game.

💜• I'm gonna throw in some Chishiya here because I can't help it 😉 you'll come to realise that Banda's protective nature over a mysteriously quiet and observant person can be borderline possessive when the game's drawing to a close and he's become more attached and obsessive. So, when there are only a few of you left, and Chishiya's lost his partner, naturally coming over to you to try to convince you not to ally yourself with Banda because he's a murderer... 😵

💜• Suddenly Banda himself steps from behind you with a dangerous glint in his eyes you've never seen before, and whispers something in Chishiya's ear that you can't hear. When Banda pulls away with a self-satisfied smirk, and takes your hand to pull you away, Chishiya's left watching after him blankly, his usually amused features slightly caught off guard by whatever threat Banda breathed into his ear. It doesn't stop Chishiya from trying to figure you out though - if anything, it intreguies him, though he'll be more sneaky in the ways he does it so as not to catch Banda's attention.

💜• If you ask Banda what he said, he'll only shrug and give you a half-smile, tracing a finger down your cheek to hook impossibly softly under your chin with "Don't you like me protecting you, baby?"

💜• And you're just like 😶

💜• So when the game finishes, and Banda and the other guy go after Jack, Banda manages to get a hold of some sort of tracker and makes you keep it on you. "I've got some things to do for us," he'll tell you with a casual smile, "but I'll come back from you. I'll be watching. Always. Can't let anything happen to this pretty face, can I?"

💜• And he won't. But meanwhile, Chshiya's observing the scene hidden behind a wall somehwere in interest.

okay maybe i should follow this storyline up with an imagine now cus im loving it bahaha

[inbarfink]

You know, considering both Invader-Zim-the-show's reputation for not giving a crap about storylines or continuity and Invader-Zim-the-character’s reputation for being absolutely terrible with infiltration and disguises - there seems to have been actually a surprising amount of Thought put into the continuity of one of Zim’s human disguises. Namely this one -

This old man disguise is the first not-Skoolboy earth disguise we’ve seen Zim wear, in the episode ‘Walk of Doom’. At first it was kinda Weird to me. Why there was a whole new disguise just for this episode? And then it hit me…

Zim’s usual disguise is that of a 12 year old child - and being a child running around unattended and unaccompanied in the middle of the Big City might draw unneeded attention. Especially if this is happening on a Skoolday. (Which, judging from the lack of child extras in the episode, it could very well be.)

And so Zim created a new disguise that unambiguously looks like some sort of an adult (an old man in this case) to make sure there would be no questions or issues about him wandering the city on his own.

That same logic also applies to that disguise’s second appearance in ‘Attack of the Saucer Morons’. This one also has Zim venturing farther away from his regular neighborhood and it explicitly takes place on a Skoolday judging from the bus seen in the final chase scene.

And since it was night when the Voot crashed and Zim wanted it back ASAP, I think this episode takes place very early in the morning and this Skoolbus is bringing kids to school and not driving them back home.

But it would still be kind of odd to see an elementary schooler running around on his own at 6AM on a Skoolday. Or I mean, it would be odd if any not-Dib-adjacent-human in this show was capable of processing what’s happening around them - but Zim has always been a lot more careful than he really needed to be. Like, that's the whole gag of that episode

And also, after this episode this costume is never seen again. Which also makes sense when you remember that in ‘Attack of the Saucer Morons’ this disguise was publicly compromised.

So yeah, it makes sense Zim would never wear it again. That ‘green old man’ was already revealed as an alien in disguise. Instead, the Old Man Disguise is basically replaced with the ‘Fluffy Guy’ one which he wears for basically the same purpose. 

When he wants to be seen as an adult and not attract too much attention to himself cause he’s away from home or Skool

Or when he doesn’t want to be identified as the local green Skoolboy Zim.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I think all the logic about why Zim pick his disguises does absolutely check out, so…

[pondslime]

what have I done (to deserve this)

bo sinclair x afab!reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4k

Bo POV. It’s the day before Valentine’s. Bo goes shopping at a bargain outlet. In true romcom fashion, you’re there too. 

Chance encounter meet-cute. Except it’s with the worst man this side of Baton Rouge. Sucks! But you get to make out with him! Hope that’s worth the incoming pain and misery, bestie!

Crossposted on AO3 here. 

Very self-indulgent and GOOFY. A heaping dose of humor and general dumbassery. Big warning for Bo being Bo. We’re in his head and he is, as always, so stupid. Reader does not have a car for porn reasons. That’s it. She’s a public transportation whore for roadhead purposes. She’s also kind of annoying. And a bratty bimbo. 

The title of this fic comes from the song “What Have I Done to Deserve This” by Pet Shop Boys. It’s just a jazzy lil 80′s track that I could 100% picture playing in a bargain outlet over shitty speakers. Bo’s on his Gen X shit.

I just wanted to write about Bo encountering a chick who immediately wanted to hoover him down. Ambiguous ending with some unsettling implications.

This fic is a birthday gift for @raccoonspooky​! 🦝💝👻 MWAH!!! I LUV U!!! HAPPY BDAY!!!! HAPPY BIRF!!! DAY!!!! HERE’S STUPID!!!! 4 U!!!

The bargain outlet stretches out in front of him, large yellow signs hanging from the warehouse ceiling. Sales down every aisle, 25% off on all kitchenware. Music blares out of loudspeakers, spitting out a song that Bo hasn’t heard since high school.

He’s thinking of his mother again.

Packed into the family car, bumping down the road to the department store. Just the two of them. Mama would tell him that it was because he couldn’t be left alone, that he wasn’t trusted like Vincent was—up at the big old house, drawing his pictures and staying out of the way.

Time seemed to drag on days like that, plodding along ungainly as Trudy slowly perused shelves. It always felt like he would be stuck there indefinitely, rotting away in front of the floral baking sets and printed potholders. When people congregated around the racks, Bo would reach up and grab her hand. Surrounded with onlookers, she’d let him hold onto it.

Sometimes they’d pass by the toy aisles, but she never gave them more than a passing glance. These trips weren’t for him, after all. Despite that, he looked forward to them with an odd giddiness.

Bo couldn’t be alone, but Vincent couldn’t get this.

Vincent didn’t get to watch himself reflected in the shining glass of the displays that their mother stopped at, tutting over bottles of perfume. He didn’t get to see the chrome and glossy mirrors, the array of beautiful women with long nails behind the counter tops. It wasn’t for him.

Bo would return home smug, carrying Mama’s bags. He always made sure to catch his brother’s eye.

Look. Pay attention. This is mine, it’s all mine. It isn’t yours.

He got in trouble one day. He couldn’t remember for what. Whatever it was, she got angry, and the trips stopped.

That department store had long since been razed. There weren’t a lot of things that stayed the same. Tradition was lost and paved over, turned into this.

Picking up a basket, he makes his way to the back of the store.

The hardware section is pitiful. It always is.

Tools are strewn everywhere, each one emblazoned with illegible clearance stickers. They never have the shit that he needs here. He sifts through the pile of haphazardly stacked tools, pulling a wrench out. It’s a twelve-inch, decent weight. He wraps his hand around it and knocks it against his palm. It’ll do.

On his way out of the aisle, he snatches up two rolls of duct tape and a pack of braided nylon rope.

There are some things you can never have too much of.

He cuts through the clothing department.

A store display looms overhead, announcing another sale. A woman pouts out of the ad, the heaving curve of her breasts spilling out of black lace. He feels something under his foot. Bending down, he plucks a bra off the ground. There’s a boot print across the front, dirt smeared across the polka dots.

“Good afternoon, shoppers!” A voice crackles over the intercom. “Two-for-one deals comin’ in hot this holiday season—”

Trudy would hate this place, with its messily stacked piles of clothes and the incessant beeping of the registers. That’s part of the reason he’s here.

“Um. Excuse me.”

“Huh?” He blinks, jerking his head up.

“Sorry, I just…” You look at him quizzically, your lips pursed. You’re holding a bra that looks identical to the one in his hands, sans dirt. “Need to get…uh. Behind you.”

“Yeah, of course.” He shuffles to the side. “Go on.”

He flicks through the rack, shoving the ruined bra unceremoniously to the back.

“You buying a bra?”

“Yeah.” He says absently. “For my sister.”

“…You’re buying your sister a bra?”

He turns to look at you. Wrenched away from the padded curve of the bras, he finally has a chance to assess you. Cute.

“Sister-in-law.” He amends.

Your brow scrunches in confusion and you nod slowly, fidgeting with the bra in your hands.

“I’m just messin’ with you.” He smiles.

“Okay.” You huff out a perplexed laugh.

He’s rummaging through the detergent when he sees you again.

“We just keep running into each other.” You remark.

“Seems like it.” Gesturing at the duct tape and utility gloves in his basket, he flashes you a smile. “Gotta get some stuff for work.”  

“You a plumber?”

“Uh, no.” He’s unable to hide the flicker of indignation that twitches his lip up into a sneer. “Mechanic.”

Your lips curves into an open-mouthed O and he glances down at your left hand. Finding your ring finger conspicuously bare, he files that away for later. It’s not like he gives a shit, but less collateral is less collateral.

“I run a station not far from here.”

“That’s cool.” You pick up a lint roller. “Well, nice to meet you.”

Bo finds you in the Valentine’s aisle. Or you find him. He can’t really tell.

“Are you followin’ me ‘round here, girl?” He shoots you a bemused smile. “You gonna tell me your name, stalkin’ me like this?”

“Maybe. What’s yours?”

“Bo.”

“You buying that for your sister-in-law too?” You nod towards the box of conversation hearts he’s holding. “Can’t imagine your brother likes that much.”

“Now, that’s where you’re wrong. We share everythin’.”

“Oh yeah?” You grab a box of chocolates off the shelf, placing it in your cart. “Seems messy.”

“She’s a lucky girl.”

“That depends.” You quip. “What’s your brother look like?”

He angles toward you, resting his hand on the shelf.

“We’re twins.”

Your eyebrows raise.

Couple months ago, he had one downstairs that kind of looked like you. Same hair color. He has a lock of it in one of the gas station drawers. Her ID’s in there too, but he doesn’t remember her name. He couldn’t place it at first, but that’s who you remind him of. Another version of you, maybe. You’ve got the prettier mouth, though.

“Surprised this one didn’t sell.” You pluck a card off the wire rack. A goose peers off of the paper, surrounded by hot pink lettering.

VALENTINE, WON’T YOU LET ME GET A GANDER…

You flip the card open. With a sigh, you hold it up so he can read it.

…AT THEM HONKERS.

“That’s a good one.” He nods appreciatively.

The food court is tucked into the corner of the store, a collection of neon signs and scuffed tables. The whole area smells gray, strings of cheap cheese and the lemony reek of industrial cleaner.

As he appraises the menu, he notices you at the drink fountain. When you turn, your eyes go wide.

“This isn’t what it looks like.” You exclaim.

“Huh.” He sighs. “Darlin’, you keep this up and I’ll have to call the cops.”

You open your mouth once, close it.

“You hungry?” He gestures toward the menu.

“You’re not from ‘round here, are ya’?”

“I’m just passing through.”

“Hmm.” He murmurs out his acknowledgment. “You should stick ‘round for a bit. Nothin’ like Mardi Gras in Baton Rouge. Family vacation?”

“No, it’s just me.”

He hides his laugh around a forced cough. Pinching at the bridge of his nose, he clears his throat.

“Sorry. Cigarettes.” He smiles at you. “I’m thinkin’ ‘bout quittin’.”

You chew idly at your slice of pizza, your eyes drifting over his face. He arches a brow.

“You like what ya’ see?”

“I’m not sure.” Your lips twist into a smile. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

You have a lot of damn nerve.

“You do this a lot?” He fixes you with a pointed look.

“What? Go shopping?” There’s something so hopelessly dumb about your expression. You’re blank and brainless, an assortment of curves and painted-on prettiness in front of him.

He imagines paddles whacking the careening Ping Pong ball of your thoughts across your brain. A thought misses the paddle, ricocheting off the side of the board. Game over. Fiddle with some buttons, start over. Another one comes to take its place, bopping uselessly in your skull.

He’s met enough of your type that it shouldn’t surprise him, but somehow it always does. Someone this stupid shouldn’t be allowed to wander too far. And yet, here you are, all by yourself. Just you and your flimsy hold on rational thinking, wandering around his state.

If he hadn’t have met you here, lord knows what trouble you would’ve gotten into. You’d probably have wandered out into the bayou. Blinking all pretty, getting stuck in the muck. Wrenching open a gator’s mouth and stepping into it just because you were curious how many teeth it had.

He’d pay good money to watch that.

“Don’tchu act all shy ‘bout this. You know what I’m askin’.” He tears the straw wrapper into tiny pieces, his gaze trailing down your neck and onto your breasts. “Ya’ make a habit of goin’ ‘round and propositionin’ men in stores?”

You choke out a laugh, your eyes going wide.

“I’m not propositioning you!”

“Whatchu doin’ eatin’ my pizza, then?”

“What am I…doing…” Your eyes twinkle with barely contained glee. You muffle a laugh around another bite of pizza. “…Eating…your pizza?”

“Yeah.” He leans back in the chair. “Ya’ seem pretty happy to be sittin’ right there. Eatin’ my pizza.”

“You’re very cute.” You wipe your mouth off with a napkin, staring pointedly at his hands.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Grabbing a slice of pizza, he takes a bite.

It’s awful. Grimacing, he manages to swallow it down. Glancing down at it in disgust, he lets it fall limply back into the box. It takes him a moment before he remembers to readjust his face into one of tranquility, winking over at you.

“You know what.” You deliberate for a second, your eyes darting to his lips. “I think I am propositioning you.”

“There’s a theater next to my shop.” He smirks. “You wanna catch a movie?”

“I don’t wanna interrupt your work.”

“I got all the time in the world, honey.” He winks. “Truck’s outside.”

“You’re not gonna kill me, are you?” You rest your chin against your palm.

“Not yet.” He shakes his head. “Hardly know ya’ yet. That’d be jumpin’ the gun.”

“Alright. Fuck it.” You grin. “Let’s go.”

Standing in line at the register, he reaches into your cart and snatches out the box of chocolates.

“Hey!” You put your hands on your hips. “What are you…”

“Ya’ think I’m gonna make a girl buy her own chocolate? What I look like to you?”

You move to say something, your eyes glittering.

“If ya’ say plumber—” He gives you with a sharp look, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll tan your hide.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” You stage-whisper, loading up the belt with items.

“Goddamnit, girl. Let’s get you outta this fuckin’ store.”

Pulling down a side road, he parks the truck.

“Hand me that, would ya’, baby?”

Rustling in the bag, he pulls out the box of chocolates. Ripping the plastic off, he tugs the lid open. He takes a bite of one. Cheap, shitty chocolate. Puts it back in its slot. Picks up another one and takes another bite. Caramel, but it’s still—

“You wanna give me my chocolate back?” You tap on his arm.

“Sorry, darlin’. I bought it. It’s mine.” He smirks at you. “Maybe if ya’ ask all pretty, I’ll give ya’ one.”

Your mouth falls open in shock and you let out a frustrated huff.

“That’s not fair!” You exclaim. “You lied.”

“Lyin’? Nah. Just omittin’ some details, sugar. It’s how we do it down here in Louisi—”

You clamor into his lap, making a grab at the chocolate. Popping one in your mouth, you bug your eyes out at him.

“Bad girl.” He tosses the box onto the dashboard. Reaching up, he grabs your chin, pulling you closer.

You taste like chocolate when he kisses you, his hand slipping down your jaw to tighten around your neck. You hum happily into his mouth, your hands on his shoulders. He can feel your breath under his fingers, the pulsing hammer of your heartbeat against his palm.

You’re always so close to death, to all that red and heat underneath, and you don’t even notice. He could press down a little more, constrict your airflow. Make it hurt. You need that, don’t you? You don’t have any fuckin’ structure. Leave you with your throat burning, your eyes swollen with tears. Make you thank him for that.

“I don’t really do this.” You murmur against his lips.

“Whatchu doin’ right now, then?”

You laugh, a breathless little noise. He reaches back and gathers your hair together at the back of your head. When he tugs your head back, you gasp.

“How bad ya’ want it?”

“I—” Discomfort flashes over your face. “Wait, um. Hold on. This is really awkward, but—”

You readjust yourself in his lap and he drops his hand, watching as you reach under your shirt. Biting down on your bottom lip, the strap of your bra slips down your shoulder. Working it through the sleeves of your shirt, you blow out a huff of relief. Stretching your arms to extricate the loops, you tug it free, tossing it onto the floor of his truck.

You turn back to him with a bashful smile.

“Movin’ fast, girl.” 

"The wire's been digging into me all day.” You shake your head, glancing over your shoulder at your discarded bra. “I needed to get a new one, but—I got kinda distracted."

"And whose fault is that?"

You look at him curiously, as if his question is strange. You lean forward and flick at the brim of his cap, smiling.

"Well, yours, technically."

“Don’t see how that tracks.” He leans back onto the headrest. 

“You distracted me.” Your voice goes high-pitched and melodic, a sing-song lilt that makes his hand tighten into a fist at his side. 

He exhales, snorting out a laugh. 

“You know what?” 

“What?” You tilt your head, raising your brows.

“I changed my mind. I’m killin’ ya’.”

You blow a raspberry at him, rolling your eyes. 

“Not yet, c’mon.” You whine, dropping kisses down the bridge of his nose. “It’s like you said. We haven’t even gotten to know each other yet!”

“You’re tryin’ my fuckin’ patience, girl.” 

“Good.”

You’re a bratty fuckin’ thing. Untrained, not an ounce of discipline in you. You rock your hips against him, wetting your bottom lip. Tart and wild, a stubbornness coasting under your skin.  He wonders how long you’ll be able to hold onto all that sass. What he’ll have to do to make sure you lose it. He can’t wait to see you cry—you’ll taste sweeter then, curled up inside yourself.

What kind of fuckin’ coincidence. 

“Look at’chu.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“What’d you say? Take a picture, it’ll last longer?”

“Oh, don’tchu worry, baby. I will.” He grins. “Gotta get you all warmed up first, though.” 

Slipping his hand between your legs, he rubs at you through your jeans.

“You’re not fucking me in your truck.” With a giggle, you still his hand, tugging it back onto your hip.

“You gonna try to stop me?”

“Um, yeah.” A shriek of laughter spills out of your mouth and the movement rocks your body against his lap. “Anybody could see us!”

“Ya’ gonna tell me that’s what you’re worried about?” He squints at you, squashing down the glare that threatens to darken his features. Not yet. “After grindin’ on my lap like that?”

“Look, I’ve got a better idea.” Shimmying off his lap and onto the passenger seat, you grin at him. “When’s the movie?”

“The movie?” It takes a moment before the realization hits him. Scrubbing a hand over his mouth, he clears his throat. “Oh, uh—an hour.”

“And how far away is it?”

“Uh, twenty, thirty minutes.”

“Well. I don’t wanna miss it.” You tilt your head, raising a brow. “What if there’s a line?”

“There ain’t gonna be a line.” He says definitively, a wave of exhaustion settling over him. 

“You don’t know that.” You laugh. “Anyway. I think…you should drive us there. Now. So we have time.”

He’s barely started the truck back up when he feels your hands at his belt, undoing the loop.

“The fuck you doin’?”

“Trust me.” You unzip his fly, pulling him out of his boxers.

You could be sweet if you wanted. All sugar. It’s easier that way, but you won’t want it easy. You’ll make him fight you for it.

You work your hand over his cock with a sigh of contentment. Your thumb teases over the slit, rubbing precum over the head of his cock. He feels a spike of irritation at you for wasting even an ounce of his spunk on your hands. As if to apologize, you bow your head, running your tongue up the underside of his cock. You’ll have to do better than that. Licking up the sensitive skin of his frenulum, you tease your mouth around him, letting him twitch against your tongue.

“Ya’ gonna suck it or not?” He snaps, keeping his eyes locked on the road. He doesn’t need to look down to know that you’re smiling.

“Don’t be grumpy.” Your voice floats up from his lap. “I’m just taking my time. You’re just so pretty.”

Pretty? Anger rushes through him. Calling him that—thinking you can, thinking that there wouldn’t be any consequences. Who raised you? For all your pathetic staring, you haven’t even seen what’s in front of you. 

The lack of respect is sickening, making his balls feel heavy and tight. He needs to be down your throat, if only to shut you up. Give you something else to focus on. Every moment you’re near him, you’re signing yourself away. Doubling back, going over the contract in bubbly cursive.

You’re entirely unaware of how many marks you’re tallying up. Every swirl of your tongue sinks you deeper in debt. He wonders if you’d laugh if you knew just how many apologies you’re setting yourself up for.

With a hum, you take him into your mouth, swallowing your lips around his cock.

“Take it deep. Don’t you stop.”

A noise erupts from your mouth, but it’s garbled around his cock. He can’t tell, but he could have sworn that was a laugh.

He stops the truck abruptly, the movement thrusting him deeper into your mouth. You gag around him, a disgustingly wet noise at the back of your throat. With a wet pop, you pull your mouth off of his cock. The sudden loss of sensation draws a frustrated growl from his lips.

“Be careful.” Your lips are back on him. Mouthing kisses down his length, your nose bumps against his skin. “Don’t crash the car.”

“I’ve been drivin’ this truck for longer than—” You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and the sentence falters in his mouth.

He pictures you standing in the theater lobby. Confusion in your eyes, a slackness to your jaw. It’s odd and you’ll know it, right away. But you won’t do anything about it. You’ll second guess yourself. You think you’re so smart, don’t you? With that sweet little twist of your lips, batting your eyelashes at him, resting your hands on his shoulders. He wonders how long it’ll take for the confusion to lift. The realization settling over you, chilling you to the core.

You’ll look back at him and you’ll know.

A lifetime of mistakes all falling into place, your scream lost under the palm of his hand.

You should be fucked there. That’s how it should go.

He can’t wait. Not for anything, ever. Mama was always saying that. And with the wet clasp of your mouth around his cock, patience isn’t manageable. How could it be? You’ve taken up all of it, trapped it in your smile. He doesn’t have any more to give.

You bob your head up and down, resting your hands on his thigh. 

“Good girl.” He mutters. You moan and he clenches his jaw, tightening his hold in your hair. “Just like that, c’mon.”

You raise your head off his cock again and murmur out his name, and his grip on the steering wheel turns his knuckles white.

You better be enjoying saying it. Let it live in that slutty mouth of yours for a while. It’ll be off limits soon.

There’ll be other things to call him. Later. He can see several of them in his head, stacked fifty feet high in neon. He probably won’t even have to tell you which one he wants, you’ll come up with it on your own. It’ll bubble up in your little head and you’ll drool it out helplessly, stuffed full with cock. Makeup smeared down your cheeks, caked under your eyes. He’d like to see you when you’re trying to fold into yourself. When you’re trying desperately to be anything but pretty for him.

He’s ready to take the shiny veneer of this personality off. It’s slipping now, he can feel it. 

“Ain’tchu glad you met me?” He grunts out, his breaths coming out shallow.

You’re going to hate him soon enough, and he’ll be able to remind you that you didn’t before. That you can’t fool him into believing you don’t love his cock down your throat, that you don’t want his hands on you—he knows better, and you do too.

You moan your agreement against his cock. Glad, you’re fuckin’ glad. You’d better be.

He bucks up into your mouth when he cums, smacking his hand down on the steering wheel. You’re choking around him, making desperate little huffs through your nose. For your credit, you keep him in your mouth, tightening your lips around the base. He eases his foot off the accelerator, wetting his lips. 

The truck slows to a crawl as he pants, leaning into the steering wheel. He shudders when he feels your lips tug off his cock, swirling your tongue around the oversensitive head.

“We there yet?” You cough a bit, carefully tucking him back into his boxers.

“Christ, girl.” He whistles through his teeth, glancing over at you. “Actin’ like I didn’t just fuck ya’ throat.”

“You didn’t fuck me. I fucked you. And no one saw.” Wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand, you giggle.

“Little cocksucker.”

“You loved it.” You chirp smugly, winking at him. It takes everything in his resolve not to grab you by your hair and slam your forehead into the dashboard. He can’t get blood in his truck again. Shit’s unprofessional. And he’s nothing if not a stickler for appearances. There’s a way to do these things, and you’ve forced him to rewrite his script halfway through the scene. He’s almost impressed with your lack of morals.

He can only imagine how wet you must be, soaking through your jeans. With the way you were moaning around his cock, your pussy must be aching for it.

He should lay a fuckin’ towel down. Protect the goddamn seats—he can’t get your blood on the upholstery, and you know that. 

Tryin’ to leave your mark some other way, ain’tcha?

“Is this it?” You ask brightly, peering out the window.

“Yup.” He parks, turning to you. “Think you can do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Just gotta check on somethin’ with the truck. You wanna run into the shop and put this on the counter?” He grabs the chocolate box off the dashboard and stuffs it into the plastic bag. “Wouldn’t want it meltin’.”

“Sure.”

You hop out of the truck, looking at him expectantly.

“Go on, pretty thing. I’ll be right behind ya’.” 

As you push the door of his shop open, he stuffs your bra in the glove compartment. It’s cute. You won’t be needing it.

[crystalelemental]

My wife moderates a fanfiction forum, and informed me that is it Femslash February. We have no idea if this is something specific to a particular fandom, but I'm interpreting it as a general "post yuri." Can do, boss. I hope to have a few for the month, though admittedly life circumstances as they are, fewer have made any progress than I'd like. But, I did finish some. Starting with one for Little Goody Two Shoes, because at the end of the day, I just think Elise/Lebkuchen is cute.

I've mentioned before that, in the broad scope of the game, I think the sacrifice endings are more thematically resonant, while the happy endings can feel a bit off. These posts are a good summary of my general stance on the endings, and why they don't feel like they land as well. I do think the story does best with the sacrifice ending, and really sets up that this is what Elise would do.

That said, I'm currently in a state of enjoying the fluffy stuff, and I really like Lebkuchen, so I make a bit of an exception for Bells of Dawn. Not because I think it's doing anything better than the other two happy endings, it's purely personal preference. But I do think it's a bit...abrupt, and kinda too neat and tidy? I feel like Elise's life isn't going to change all that much, especially at first. Traveling costs money these girls do not have, and Elise's work history as it is, she's likely going to fall into the same odd jobs as before. Her decision to pick Leb over wealth, while a fluffy emotionally happy outcome, means she's still poor and breaking her back for minimal pay, and likely a bit miserable. I don't get into it as much, but Leb's kinda similar. Her whole deal is being kinda frustrated at how much the villagers take advantage, demanding her attention and support at all hours of the day while Father Hans is overly critical of everything she does that isn't perfect. But while she's leaving to escape that, Leb's also open about how she knows she's working herself sick for these people even as she hates it, and isn't making much effort to get away. As far as the canon ending goes, Leb's still at the church where Elise expected to find her; she'll stay where she hates being without intervention. Running off may eventually break that hold, but the first thing she's likely to encounter is that she's going to be quick to help people and burns herself out doing it because she won't directly push back. I don't think either start their journey happy.

So while I'm all for a satisfying ending, and wanted to write something I thought was cute for the two of them, I did want to give the impression that it's not all ideal. That both aren't entirely happy in their situation at first, but the difference is having each other. The main draw here is that Elise would put Lebkuchen's safety first to reach the good ending. It's not so much "I can forego the desire for riches," but rather "I can't put Leb in danger for it." If it wasn't for Leb's presence, I doubt she'd bat an eye about a demon contract for wealth.

This was also an attempt to be a little more...purposeful in what I'm writing? I dunno how it turned out, but I like to think it went okay. Hopefully you enjoy it, too.

[chainsofaether]

Does your character like their appearance/does it fill them with a sense of pride? Do they take full ownership over their body and engage in things like hair dye, body piercings, tattoos, etc? Or are they shier, whether due to outside expectations or their own dysmorphia?

A very basic picture for reference.

Nyxathe is pretty aware she is generally attractive and she makes effort to enhance that where she can. She uses makeup rather often, partly to draw attention to certain features but also to add a bit of color to her otherwise extremely pale skin. She's a bit of an oddity for someone that lives in Ul'dah though.

Very tall for a woman in Ul'dah considering most are Lalafel or Hyur. She also doesn't tan at all. She just burns if she spend to much time in the sun. Her eyes are pretty, if mismatched. Full lips, often painted in a pale red to add more color.

But without getting in to more detail as we trail down past her shoulders, yes she's proud. Though she might not admit it. Bragging isn't really her thing. But even without the admission it's easy enough to see that she spends time on her appearance, picks out clothes that flatter her shape rather then hide it. All that leads the suggestion of pride.

Of course few people are entirely narcissistic about their appearance. Does she really find her eyes attractive? After all the right is rather odd. That's closer to something she's learned to accept then outright have pride in. It's a unique aspect if nothing else though.

A small hit to her pride though is her memory of her mother. A small part of her thinks she doesn't quite live up to her beauty. While Nyx knows she's nothing to be ashamed off she does wish she was a bit more. Nyx forgets though that she hasn't actually seen her mother in more then half her life. Her memory is less reality and more a figment. Plus, just maybe, if she ate more she'd get what she wants. Put a little weight on girl. Stop hyperfocusing on experiments and enjoy a cupcake or something.

As for the second question, Not really. One she likes her stark white hair. Not that she doesn't look good in other colors and styles. Plus the white makes taking on any color extremely easy.

But have you ear tired to dye your foot plus long ears without getting the dye in them? It's something of a nightmare. She can do it but it's extremely time consuming. Plus she has another problem. Thanks to her messed up aether her hair grows at rapid rate. So any dye job would be obvious if she didn't reapply almost daily. Which also means long hair styles are a must if she doesn't want questions.

So dying her hair is largely off the table. The ears present another problem though. They are extremely sensitive. She does not like random people touching them. She really doesn't like the degree of pain they experience. So ear piercings aren't really her thing.

The rest of her body is untouched too though not for any particular reason beyond she's content with her appearance. She could probably be convinced to try some piercing elsewhere. Or one day she'll find a piece of jewelry she'd really like to wear.

Tattoo are another topic entirely though. Nyxathe has some skill in Alchemy so she can make her own grimoire. But this has put the thought in her head of applying magical symbols to her skin. She knows some tradition of magic go that route and she's curious of the benefits. She's been considering a nontoxic, but highly conductive ink she could use. A lot of grimoire ink isn't really appropriate for the body though all of it is Aetherically conductive.

So one day she'll turn herself in to a canvas. One that she gets someone to stain with geometric patterns.

But no, not shy. She's comfortable up to just straight up striping down in front of people if it's more expedient, the situation is more important then modesty. They can look if they want, just no touching without asking.

Thank you Sea for the ask! I hadn't really thought about piercings that much in regards to Nyx. Give her magic ones and she'll put get pierced immediately though. Now I have to sit here and think what she thinks about piercings and tattoos on other people. First thought, hot. Well see if that's really her thought though.

[thelemoncoffee]

space fae au shit? what ho?

yeah i got bored and kinda played with Shuichi's species a bit for funsies. it's not much different than it was originally, but there are some changes to the guy. i also got kinda better-ish at drawing skeletons (not really- don't take that as anatomically correct it's so bad please)

anywho here's some stuff about his species' anatomy

they're from a Desert-Savannah-like planet, and thus they evolved to have snowshoe-like flat feet to better handle standing atop loose sand and stones 24/7. the flatness also helps with sensing small vibrations beneath the sand

their claws are designed primarily to dig, as their primary food source is bugs that burrow beneath the sands and stones. they aren't as hard as Terran animal claws are thought, rather they're flexible enough to curl almost like fingers (more restricted but sill flexible)

The species is primarily bipedal, but are fully capable of walking on all fours thanks to their actually smooth transition to bipedalisim (unlike humans). as pups they start out as quadrupedal instead of crawling around due to this, and learn to stand up later in life

they have two tails- kinda. their Primary tail does exactly what tails are suppose to do- assist with balance. their secondary tails or "false tails" are actually more like if an arm and a tail fused together.

false tails have all the flexibility of a normal tail, but have a hand like appendage at the end that acts like a claw machine claw. the false tail hand is relaxed when closed tight, and opening the claws on it tenses the muscles- much like a sloth. they use the False tail for two things: one- hanging upside down from trees, and two- crushing bugs with extra hard shells. mates also like to intertwine false tails as a form of love expression, and parents sometimes use them like leashes to make sure their pups don't run off like fools and get lost

their necks are very flexible and can twist in some pretty odd ways, they developed like this partially as a way to survey their surroundings (looking around in tight spaces, or while hanging from a tree), and partially to help with wiggling their way into bug nests without having to move their whole body.

whiskers are their weather predictors, they're super sensitive to changes in the atmosphere and temperatures. if it's too hot for the whiskers it's too hot to be outside, and if they feel weird there's probably a storm brewing.

their teeth are mostly flat except for four very sharp canines at the very front, the flat teeth are for grinding bugs and plants, and the canines are for both breaking into hard skinned fruit and self defense. they could defiantly take a chunk out of an attacker if need be with those vampire fangs

tongues are probably the simplest thing here; they have anteater-like tongues, they're super flexible and their spit is kinda sweet to help lure and grab up bugs

their ears are super duper sensitive particularly to feeling, while their hearing is very good, they're even better at picking up small differences in vibrations. it was initially developed to help with bug hunting, but they now use it to tell the difference between emotional tones in their trill language

because they often would dig tunnels both to hunt for bugs and as hidey-holes from predator attacks they evolved their horns to naturally** grow in a way that allows them to tell if a hole it too small. ie: if the horns don't fit, neither will the rest of them- so don't try it. they were also once used for dominance battles, but doing so in modern day is seen as childish and sometimes barbaric.

**while they naturally grow like this, once the species became sapient and started to become obsessed with their appearances, they quickly took to purposefully altering their horns with manipulative molds for purely aesthetic reasons. Shuichi's are so short because he's been conditioned to see them as an attention grabbing accessory and nothing more, and he doesn't want attention on himself so he files them down as far as he can.

yea that's alot more witting than i intended! whoops! there's more about this species, their culture, cities, and biology but this is all the diagram covers and this post does not need to be any longer

[ninlilwinds]

hello! I'm new to your blog so uh yea hi :D

this is my first time doing a request so I'm kinda nervous hehe not to mention I'm very new to Tumblr as well

I really like your writing style and wanted to see how you'd work with my request(if you want to ofc you can just ignore me if you'd like)

so I'm wondering how would the Genshin men react with a child!Koala(from One Piece)-like fem!Reader?(or gn if you're comfier with that)

in case you don't watch One Piece or forgot(because know I did, it's been a while), Koala as a child was enslaved and due to fear she'd smile no matter what even when she's injured

if possible with Diluc, Zhongli, Dainsleif, Alhaitham, Tighnari, Ayato and Thoma? and anyone else you'd want to add? I tried finding your rules or do's and don'ts post but I can't find it sorry if I broke any or if there's too many characters

sorry for the long message ><

Fem!Child!Reader x Genshin Men: Smile Through the Pain

Hello! Thank you so much for choosing me to do this request, I'm honored. I personally have not watched One Piece, but I looked up some more about Koala's personality. It became more of a reader cope with troubles by smiling, I hope you don't mind. Anyways, I am not very familiar with Alhaitham's character, so I decided to take him out (I hope that's not too inconvenient). As well as since this was platonic (given the reader is a child), I placed Ayato and Thoma in the same one (also hope you don't mind)

Characters" Diluc, Dainsleif, Thoma & Ayato, Zhongli, Tighnari

Summary: Fem! Child reader that is like Koala from One Piece (Reader is female and a child)

“Mr. Diluc!” Your bright smile caught the young man’s attention, as it usually would. He would return your smile with a faint one, so as to not offend your little heart. When he studied your body further, his smile faded. 

“(Y/n), where have all these scratches come from?” He knelt down to meet your level, inspecting some bloody scratches you had on your arm. 

Your smile never wavered, your eyes never became glossy, and he found that to be very odd. For someone normal your age, they would’ve been sobbing and complaining about how it hurts. You simply smiled, holding an empty bowl, “I was feeding some kitties. A dog came and scared them, so they scratched and bit me."He noticed the bowl trembling in your hands, it must have spooked you. 

Diluc picked you up, careful to not hurt any of your wounds, “Let’s get those patched up.” He grabbed the bowl he assumed you gave something to the cats with and placed it on his desk. He put you up on the counter and looked for his first aid kit, “Are you sure you’re ok, (Y/n)?” 

You nodded, and smiled. If Diluc didn't know any better, he would say you’re taking this better than he was, but he was perceptive and could tell your obvious discomfort.

As he pressed some disinfectant to the scratches you flinched, your eyes widening slightly at the abrupt pain but then you caught Diluc looking at you and smiled, “Can we play hide and go seek later?” 

“Once we have you all patched up, we can go play hide and seek.” He nodded and finished patching you up. 

You immediately jumped down running to the door and using it open, “You count first!” you ran out into the vineyard to your usual hiding spot, one Diluc pretended he didn’t already find as he slowly counted to 20. 

He knew of your past. All the hate, scorn and hardships you had endured despite your young age. Yet, you always seemed to remain happy and bright. But he knew your smile meant more than just that. He admired your bravery, and wanted to make you smile for real one day. 

Dainslef was walking down a dark cave, trying to track down a lead he had received about a defiled statue. He was on edge, every noise caused him to stop and study it. He heard some footsteps running towards him, and he turned around, about to draw his weapon when he saw your tiny face peak from behind a rock. 

He frowned. What was a child doing in here? He knelt down and beckoned you over, still ready to fight in case this was some sort of trap. You smiled and ran over. 

Dainslef didn’t like how this looked. Your clothes were ripped and dirty, along with your face that had dirt smudged all over. 

Your hair was sticking out in all places and your body was all battered and bruised, “What are you doing here, little one?” he smoothed your hair down with his hand as you shrugged with a smile, “I was taken and left here, I dunno why.” 

He was saddened by this, another abandoned soul in this cruel world. The archons didn’t care about these things, why would they? 

He eased a little and picked you up, “Where are your parents?”

“Dead.” you said, grabbing his shoulder for extra support.

He frowned and decided this was more important than his mission. 

As he took you out he noticed you kept smiling. Even after he had to fight some smiles, or when you tripped and fell, or when you didn’t have any food or drink for several hours before he found shelter, not once did you stop smiling or humming a happy tune. 

Dainslef knew this went deeper than just a plain smile. 

As he got to know you better during your travels (he wasn’t about to leave a poor defenseless kid alone), he started to find out the why’s of your smiling and positive attitude, and he found himself emphasizing with you a bit. You actually brought joy to his life, and he wished he had done the same. 

You flinched as a boy around your age threw a g

lass of hot tea at you, “You freak! Stop smiling! You're so creepy!” 

You continued to smile as you grabbed a napkin and cleaned yourself up, “That hurt a little, please don’t throw something that hot around, it’s dangerous.” 

Thoma had been cleaning the entrance when he heard the boy yell at you. He dropped his broom and ran towards the voices.

A few months ago, his master, Ayato, had found you wandering around Inazuma with no home or shelter. He decided he had plenty of space and allowed you to stay  with them. Ever since then, Thoma and Ayato had been working together to help raise you. Your smile always warmed their heart, and they tried their best to never upset you (although they’d find it hard to distinguish against. 

When Thoma arrived he saw Ayato was already making his way towards the commotion. 

Ayato tapped the kid’s shoulder as Thoma picked youtube inspecting the severity of your burns. 

“Little kid, I suggest you don’t mess with Miss (Y/n) again. She is a permanent guest of mine in this residence and you work under me. I’m aware your training is not over yet, so let me give you a small lesson, don’t be rude to guests.” The kid was trembling as the two men looked at him. 

“Are you ok (Y/n)?” Thoma asked, carrying you towards the kitchen to run the burn under cold water, 

“I’m ok!” You smiled and let him work on the burns. 

Ayato entered the room shortly after and checked teh wounds himself and apologized on his staff's behalf, “Their young age is no excuse for this.” 

You smiled and hugged them both, “I’m fine, really. Anyways I have to get back to training with Ayaka!” you hopped down and ran off. 

Ayato and Thoma looked at each other. It’s not that they agreed with the kid about your smile being creepy or unnerving, but it was certainly unusual. They didn’t press about your past and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but it seemed they’d have to sit you down for a talk soon to be able to help you. 

“Good work, (Y/n).” Zhongli praised your work. He was teaching you calligraphy and noted that Your brush strokes had improved greatly. Your smile widened and you continued to carefully copy the sentence that he had written down for you to practice. 

Zhongli still remembered the first day he found you. It had been a cloudy day as you stepped in, with a small pouch filled with some mora and a few fake wooden coins. You placed the money on the counter, “I need one funeral, please.” 

Zhongli found this quite distressing. Why was this young child smiling up at him asking for a funeral? Who had died? How had they died? 

He leaned over, “And who is this funeral for?” 

“A squirrel I made friends with got shot by a hunter.” You said, your smile never leaving. At first Zhongli found this to be quite disturbing. 

As he continued to study you, he noticed your clothes were worn out and tattered and you had small little scars decorating your skin. He frowned, “I see. Well we will give you a first customer discount, it’s on the house.” He slid the pouch of money back towards you and you picked it up again. 

“Really?” Your smile widened, “Yay!” 

During the small funeral ceremony Zhongli held with you, He noticed you never stopped smiling, not once. Even when the body was buried and you said goodbye. 

As time went on, Zhongli noticed it was a bad habit of yours to simply smile. Your ordinary smile soon became what anyone would consider a normal facial expression, but Zhongli knew it hid a world of pain. 

You had been in the forest rangers for a while (as an unofficial apprentice) and worked alongside Tighnari. Due to all the time you spent together, he considered you something akin to family. 

You worked alongside him and your smiles and overall joyful nature always reenergized him when he was feeling overwhelmed with work. 

“Here, try this.” Tignari held up a new juice concoction towards you. He had been learning how to make different flavors and try to find your favorite one as a sort of pass time.

You brought the vail to your lips and took a sip and then laughed, “It’s too bitter, ‘nari!” 

He frowned, “But i only used sweet ingredients.” he frowned and tried it himself and shuddered. It was very bitter. He thought it was due to the activating chemical he used to enhance the flavors. 

“You’re right it is very bitter.” He dumped the contents into a safe container to be disposed of properly later. You smiled and as you looked at him work, “You can go outside and play. I’m sure this must be quite boring.”

You shook your head, “I want to stay here.” you had found comfort in Tighnari, feeling safe with him around. Your smile was a little more genuine when around him. 

Tighnari finished his formula and began working, giving you orders on what he needed you to do as he went on to include you during the process. 

“Done. Try it now.” He handed you the vail after making sure it wasn’t poisonous. 

You took a sip and nodded, “Perfect!” 

He tried it himself and smiled, “I agree.” 

Tighnari had researched your past, and he had noted how your smile never wavered and how hard you worked. He had introduced you to Collie, knowing your pasts were just a bit similar, and made sure to always have your needs met. He was going to make sure you never had to go through something like that during your life again. He’d make sure to keep you smiling. 

[tuttle-4077]

Greetings! So....the PBAs seemed a little off this year. I find it strange how Abracadabra managed to pull in TEN of them while several other authors whom entered multiple pieces won nothing whatsoever. I find that rather odd, especially when half of the awards were gold. Never seen that before in my many years in this fandom. A few of my friends (all of whom won multiple awards) agree with me that the contest seemed a bit...shall we say, rigged....in her favor. I have nothing against her personally, of course. This isn't an attack. And I don't write or draw, myself, so I have no skin in this game. And I have nothing against her personally either. Yet I thought it would be best to bring this matter to the comittee's attention, in the hopes that the contest remain fair for everyone.

Hi. Thanks for reaching out with your concerns.

First, let me explain a little about how the PBAs work in general, and then I'll address your more specific concerns about Abracadebra's wins.

Over the years, several committees have hosted the PBAs. I have been on the committee since 2018 (with a break in 2019 because I just had a baby!) . The rules for the Awards have evolved over the years for many reasons: the number and types of stories written, the voice of the people (ie, slash being included in the main story categories), ideas brought forward by new members of the committee, etc. And changes have come simply as a result of the committee learning how to run such a big project. (The PBAs aren't necessarily difficult to host, but it is a big undertaking!) Categories have also been added or dropped based on the number of stories that were eligible, as well as the amount of work a particular committee wanted to put it (I, personally, hated gathering and tallying all the quotes and asked to end the category.)

One of the rules that was implemented several years ago was that a story had to receive at least two nominations in order to move forward to the voting round. The reason for that was to whittle down the amount of stories a voter had to read. This rule is especially important for years when there is a big crop of stories. A lot of people skip the nomination round simply because there are so many stories and it's daunting! Usually 70-90% (sometimes even 100%) of stories receive at least 1 nomination. When there are 200 stories in a year that's still 140-180 stories in the voting round. With the 2+ nomination rule, the percentage of stories that make it through to the voting round is between 50-60% (although in some categories, it can be higher). This makes it a lot easier on the voters to read the stories and cast their ballots.

Another rule (which I believe has held for many, many years) is that, in order to nominate a story for THE BEST STORY OF THE YEAR, it also had to appear elsewhere in the story category nominations. The reasoning behind this is that, if it truly is the best story, then it should, logically, at least appear in one other category. The rule also applies to the voting round. I've voice my opinion on the subject here (tl;dr I like the rule for nomination round, but not particularly the voting round.)

One other thing we changed (although it is not necessarily a rule), is that we no longer automatically include stories from AO3. That platform is not as straightforward with when a story is complete, or whether it's complete at all! It was too much work for the committee to comb through the whole site, trying to pick out completed stories for the year and determine whether they were crossovers, slash, responses to challenges, etc. So, this year (and I believe last) we asked that AO3 writers submit their own stories for consideration in the PBAs.

Now, as to your specific concern about Abracadebra's wins.

First, consider the nomination round. The nomination round determines which stories make it through to the voting round. We advertise the nomination round on FFN, tumblr, and AO3, but the majority of the nominators are from FFN (remember, the PBAs were FFN specific until a few years ago, so our stalwart participants are there). Why would this affect who gets nominated? A couple of reasons:

A lot of folks on FFN are pretty loyal to the platform, particularly in the HH fandom. AO3 is a little more wild. And even though the stories on AO3 are posted as competitors, we cannot provide convenient links on the FFN forums. It's one thing to post one link on the FFN forums, with the weird spacing and parenthesis, like we do in order to direct people to the PBA website (where all the stories are linked), it's another to do it for each participating AO3 story (it's frustrating to the person posting it, and the person who has to copy it). So, a lot of people just don't visit those stories. Is that fair? Maybe not, but it's just the way it is. So why does this matter? Well, FFNers reluctance to venture to AO3 mean that a lot of the stories on that platform don't receive even 1 nomination, let alone the 2 needed to advance to the voting round.

FFNers tend to have their favourite authors and will read pretty much anything that author puts out the moment it's put out. So, if a nominator is short on time, they may just refer back to a story they've previously read when it first came out, rather than scramble to read everything that is eligible.

So that's why an author from FFN in general may receive more nominations, as opposed to an author from AO3. As to Abracadebra specifically, well,

Abracadebra is very active on the forums. She posts general items, but she also hosts Reviewathons and other events for the fandom to participate in.

Abracadebra is an avid reviewer. The kind of reviewer who is encouraging, but also honest.

Abracadebra is a beta reader for many new HH authors as well as the seasoned ones.

Why does that matter? Well, fair or not, sometimes the PBAs boil down to a popularity contest. All elections do. If you have a connection with someone, or have developed a friendship or warm feelings towards someone, you're more likely to view their work favourably. If you have two equally good works and you can only choose one, how are you going to decide which one to choose? For me, personally, I tend to go with the work created by a person I am more familiar with. Again, is that fair? Maybe not, but, again, that's just human nature. We're not objective creatures.

But, there are reasons why someone (even not an FFN denizen) may nominate (and vote for) one of Abracadebra's works.

Abracadebra is just a good writer. She is, after all, a journalist in real life. A seasoned journalist. You don't last long in that game if you can't write.

Abracadebra's stories tend to focus on the more popular characters. Let's face it, Newkirk is, by far, the most popular character for a lot of people. Some readers just aren't interested in reading a story that doesn't feature Newkirk. Or, again, if they're in a time crunch, they'll focus their reading energies on a Newkirk story, rather than a story that focuses on someone else.

So, there are some reasons why Abracadebra's works moved on to the nomination round and perhaps why some other works didn't.

The same reasonings above apply to the voting round, but to be more specific on that round,

This year, 60 stories made it through to the voting round. 5 were Abracadebra's (8.33% of the total stories in the voting round.) That doesn't seem like a big percentage, but it is more than any other author had in the voting round, so automatically that increases her chances of winning.

Two of her stories were nominated as THE BEST STORY OF 2023. If someone wanted to vote for her story as THE BEST OF, they also had to vote for it elsewhere on their ballot. This isn't usually a problem- most people just do that automatically because, again, if a story is good enough to be on THE BEST OF list, it's probably good enough to earn their vote in another category even without the rule. I think only two people had to correct their ballot because they voted for a BEST OF story that didn't appear elsewhere. One favoured Abracadebra's story, and the other dropped her story from their THE BEST OF vote entirely because they didn't want to change their other votes. (Again, I have my own thoughts on this rule for the voting round, but it is what it is).

As to the high number of gold wins, remember, three of those five wins were ties. And, the other gold wins (where there were no ties) were won by a tiny sliver. It was a tight race, but the chips fall where they fall.

Now, you said you had never seen one person win so many gold awards before. Well, because I am a crazy person who likes data and numbers, I went through all the PBA gold winners for all the years the PBAs have been running. First I tallied how many gold awards each person won. Then I counted how many theoretical golds there were supposed to be (basically assumed that each category would have 1 gold award) and then I counted how many actual gold awards there were (considering ties within categories). Here is what I found:

In 2003 EJ McFall won 30% of the 'theoretical' gold awards, and 18.5% of the actual gold awards

In 2004 Patti and Marg won 33% of the gold awards (there were no ties)

In 2004 EM Siefert also won 33% of the gold awards

In 2005 Patti and Marg won 36% of the theoretical and 31% of the actual gold awards

In 2006 Jeff Evans won 33% of the gold awards

In 2007 Jeff Evans won 41% of the theoretical and 29 of the actual gold awards

In 2008 Tuttle4077 (yours truly) won 54% of the theoretical and 50% of the actual gold awards (note, this was my first year in the fandom and I didn't even nominate or vote in the PBAs, never mind being on the committee!)

In 2009 Jennaya won 28% of the theoretical and 26% of the actual gold awards

In 2010 snooky won 33% of the theoretical and 31% of the actual gold awards

In 2011 dust on the wind won 30% of the theoretical and 26% of the actual gold awards

In 2012 Sgt. Moffit won 30% of the theoretical and 28% of the actual gold awards

In 2013 Sgt. Moffit won 38% of the theoretical and 32% of the actual gold awards

In 2019 Abracadebra won 38% of the theoretical and 33% of the actual gold awards

In 2020 Abracadebra won 32% of the theoretical and 24% of the actual gold awards

In 2021 Abracadebra won 36% of the theoretical and 25% of the actual awards

And in 2024 (the year you have misgivings over) Abracadebra won 35% of the theoretical and 28% of the actual awards

(Omitted years didn't have great disparities between gold winners)

Note, I don't think Abracadebra was on the committee the first year she won an award and that was her highest win percentage.

So, what do all these numbers tell me? Well, it tells me that it's not unusual for a gold winner to receive ~30% of the the gold awards, like Abracadebra did this year. When a story is popular, it's popular. When an author is popular, they're popular.

I want to add that Abracadebra is an amazing person to have in our fandom. She never votes for her own works. She always tries to encourage new writers and is amazing at leaving reviews. People like her. People like her stories. And, all added up, it doesn't strike me as odd that she wins plenty of Papa Bear Awards, gold or otherwise.

I hope all this has helped clear up your concerns and misgivings. As long as I have been on the PBA committee, I have observed a stellar effort to be impartial and objective. We often bend over backwards to make things as fair (but also as manageable for the committee and the voters) as possible. It feels great to win an award, but I have never seen anyone on the committee try to rig things in their favour. We rejoice over any and all of the winners, whether we personally voted for their stories or not. We love that our fandom is robust and diverse. The PBAs is a great fandom tradition and I, personally, would never do anything to jeopardize it; so if I saw something sketchy, I would say something. I think you only have to look towards the efforts that Abracadebra and I have put towards the fandom in general to know that's true.

One more thing to wrap this up:

The committee is open to everyone. We extend invitations to everyone to get involved. However, it usually falls on The Same 'Ten' People to keep it going. If someone were to pop up and say "hey, I want to run the PBAs this year!" before PBA season started, any of the current committee members would say "Great! We'll stay on board if you'd like, but if you want to be the lead, go for it and we're happy to just offer advice and guidance!" But that never happens. When the year is fast approaching its close, no one new takes up the baton. Perhaps one day the STP may decide they don't want to go through the effort and the PBAs will fade away.

If my explanations here have done nothing to quell your suspicions, perhaps you, Anonymous, would like to join the committee next year. Post on the FFN forum (FFN still being the home of the PBAs) that you would like to join/lead the charge. We'd love to have you.

Cheers to you, Anonymous. And if anyone else has any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to ask. I'll try to address them the best I can.

[wheeboo]

caught in bloom, caught on you | xu minghao

SYNOPSIS. in which you find yourself becoming a regular𑁋or perhaps more than that𑁋at minghao's flower shop. PAIRING. florist!xu minghao x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, a pinch of angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers WARNINGS. hao basically falls in love at first sight HAHA, mild cursing, implied that yn lost someone close to them, a lot of yearning n pining, kissing WORD COUNT. 8.3k

notes: wheeboo is NOT in their short-ish fic era anymore and is in their long-ish fic era rn 😭 anyway,, i didnt have a title for the fic until hao posted his song on his birthday so... I hope u all enjoy?? this might be one of my faves haha

Minghao likes these kinds of days.

Thin, irregular shapes of cotton drift lazily across the endless blue embrace of the skies. The afternoon sun carries warmth in its hands that he could feel right through the glass windows of his flower shop. It's almost as if the season of summer itself is breathing through his shop, softly encouraging his little garden to reach for the light.

Minghao runs his slender fingers through the cool edges of a hydrangea, its soft petals a deep shade of prismarine.

Ever since he was younger, his mother had told him that flowers weren't just things to be cared for. They were companions, your friends if you'd let them be, each blooming with all different kinds of personalities.

He likes how the flowers didn't ask for much; they simply needed patience and care, and in return, they gave him a sense of peace that he couldn't find anywhere else.

The sudden chime of the bell pulls him from his thoughts. He straightens up, wiping his hands on the apron tied loosely around his waist, and glances toward the door.

The figure the walks through the door is unfamiliar, yet it's easy to catch the way the sunlight highlights the edges of your silhouette, almost like a halo as you step inside the shop. For a moment, Minghao is simply taken aback by the quiet grace of your entrance, the way the afternoon light seems to favour you.

Your gaze circles around the shop, taking in the rows of flowers with a soft curiosity. There's some sort of quiet hesitation in your movements when you take a few more tentative steps inside, as if you're trying to find the right place to be in this space, just as much as you're trying to find the right flower.

Minghao finds himself clearing his throat, drawing a polite smile across his lips and catching your attention right away.

"Good afternoon," he greets calmly. "Can I help you with something today?"

You glance up at him, a slight surprise in your eyes before they soften.

"Hi, um... Yeah, I was actually looking to see if I could buy some flowers. The shop I went to before closed down, so I've been searching for a new place. It was a bit of a drive." Then you hesitate briefly, before continuing, "I'm not sure what to look for exactly, but something for a first date would be nice."

Minghao's heart stirs a bit disappointingly at that, though he quickly suppresses the feeling away. After all, it's just flowers, and you're simply here to buy them for someone else.

He nods thoughtfully, giving a soft, understanding look.

"Ah, well. Congratulations first of all on the date," he says calmly, though the nerves itches his fingers. "A first date is always special, isn't it?"

"They are," You reply sheepishly, and the hint of a blush to your cheeks nearly resembles the colour of the roses displayed near the window.

"Is there a specific kind of vibe you're going for?" Minghao asks. "I can help you pick something that feels right."

You pause for a moment, eyes lingering on a beautifully-painted vase. "Hmm, I think... something romantic, but not too traditional, if that makes sense? Not something too cliché, you know, but I also want it to feel special."

Minghao simply hums in response, his mind sifting through the variety of options he could think of. There's this odd sense of responsibility within him to make your choice is beyond perfect.

"Roses are always a classic," he begins. "but they're quite conventional, so..."

He can sense you following closely to him as he walks toward another part of the shop.

"These are tulips," Minghao explains, gesturing to a row of soft, voluminous blooms in shades of pale pink and coral. "They're not commonly picked like roses, but there's a nice charm about it. They're meant to represent long-lasting love."

You take a good look of the flowers, and you're amazed by how bright they appear.

"Wow, they're so beautiful." Then you take a small glance up at Minghao, before back down at the flowers. "You must really take care of these flowers to make them look this vibrant."

"I try my best," he mutters quietly, watching as you continue to take in their beauty. "Each flower has its own needs, but with patience, they show their beauty. Much like people, I suppose."

Your eyes flicker back up at him, and for a moment, there's a quiet stillness between you, as if the space between you two is holding its breath. Then you let out a warm, somewhat nervous chuckle.

"I think I understand," You say, taking a step closer towards the tulips  and carefully running a finger over its petals. "It's about giving them space to grow, right? Not forcing them to be something they're not."

There's something about the way you speak, something thoughtful, almost as if you also understand the language of patience he's grown so accustomed to.

"Exactly." He smiles faintly. "That's what I like about flowers𑁋they don't rush. They just exist, and somehow, they slowly become what they're meant to be."

You lift your gaze to meet his, and in your eyes, Minghao sees something more than just curiosity. There's a softness there, a sincerity that draws him in. At his sides, he feels his fingers twitch slightly, but he quickly smooths his hands down his apron.

It's strange how a simple conversation about flowers can make him feel so... connected to someone.

"I think these are perfect," You tell him, eyes brightening with confidence.

A wave of satisfaction washes over Minghao, who nods in agreement.

"Would you like me to wrap them up for you?" he asks.

"That would be great, thank you," You respond with that cute grin of yours𑁋it seems more relaxed now. The thought makes his heart flutter.

Minghao begins to wrap the delicate stems with some brown wrapping paper, carefully arranging them so they're secure. As he ties a ribbon around the bouquet, he can't help but sneak up a glance at you. You're wandering around the shop with your hands clasped in front of you, looking at the other arrangements on display, and he smiles to himself.

He finishes the bouquet and smooths out any remaining creases with his fingertips. When you make your way back over to him, he offers it to you.

"Do you want to write your name on a gift tag?" Minghao asks, holding up a small card and a pen. He doesn’t know why his heart's beating faster𑁋perhaps it's the subtle hopefulness in his voice that will make your name linger longer, even after you leave.

You glance at the pen in his hand, considering it for a moment before nodding.

"Sure, I'd love to," You tell him with a faint smile, snatching the pen from his grasp, giving it a quick click before writing something down, the tip of your tongue just barely peeking out in concentration.

When you finish, you hand the card back to him. He takes it from you carefully, inspecting your neat, intricate handwriting. It's simple, yet there's a certain elegance to it it. Minghao reads it under his breath: For someone special, who I hope feels the same - Y/N.

Y/N, he repeats in his mind.

"I'll finish it up for you now," he says, placing the card with the bouquet. He arranges the flowers once more, making sure everything is perfect before handing it to you.

You find yourself fishing into your bag for your wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

Minghao hesitates for a moment, his fingers hovering over the register, but there's something about the way your features soften and how your eyes meet his that makes him pause.

"It's on the house."

You stop your hands, peering back up at him with a surprised look. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Of course," he assures calmly. "It's the least I can do."

You just blink at him a few times, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

"Thank you," You let out sheepishly as you take the bouquet in your hands, the ribbon slipping through your fingers as you carefully adjust it. There's a split second that passes where you sneak a glance at the nametag on his chest. "I really appreciate it. I'm sure they'll love them."

Something in his chest tightens at that𑁋they'll love them. Minghao tries not to overthink it, tries to ignore the brief twinge of something unsettling in his chest.

But you're smiling, so he smiles back.

"I hope so," he replies gently, and with a polite bow of his head, he adds, "I'm sure they'll appreciate the thought behind it."

As you walk towards the exit, you take a final look around the shop, eyes lingering on the shelves of flowers, before turning back to Minghao.

"I'll be sure to come back," You say brightly, and the way the afternoon sunlight pours down all around you in the doorway makes you appear almost angelic. "Thank you for everything."

"I'll be here," Minghao responds, offering a small, timid wave of his hand. "Take care."

The chime of the bell above the door announces your departure, and a sigh leaves him.

It's just flowers, he tells himself again. Just flowers.

And flowers𑁋like people𑁋don't rush.

Minghao finds himself wiping away some spilled soil on the counter, the soft hum of piano music drifting throughout the quiet flower shop. He had just gotten done cleaning up after a busy morning of rearranging a few displays around the shop to tie into the slow seasonal changes that were beginning to take shape outside.

The shift from the warm tones of summer to the cool shades of autumn had arrived, bringing a new, fresh palette for him to play with. Chrysanthemums, petunias, dahlias, and marigolds were beginning to make their way into the shop, taking their place next to the peonies and roses that had been so meticulously cared for.

When the last bits of soil are wiped away, Minghao steps back to admire the beauty of the shop around him, he takes in a deep inhale, letting in the earthy scent of the fresh blooms fill his lungs.

After storing away a few extra vases in the backroom, the chime of the door hits his ears, and Minghao finds himself straightening back up to greet whoever had come inside.

When looks up, however, he freezes for a moment. He catches you standing in the doorway, and Minghao has to blink a few times to make sure his mind wasn't playing any tricks on him.

"Hi, again," You're the first to greet this time, and then that grin spreads across your face once again, one that seems all-too familiar.

Minghao leans against the counter. "Back so soon?"

"I was just in the area, couldn't help myself, you know..." You drawl with a playful shrug. "I actually just officially moved into the city just last week, hopefully to be closer for this new job and well... The drive here isn't as long as before."

Minghao smiles softly. It's an unexpected but pleasant surprise for you to admit all that to him, and for some reason, it makes him feel a little lighter.

"That's great," he responds, pushing himself off the counter as he straightens up. "I imagine that must be a relief. How do you like it so far?"

You step further into the shop, your eyes eagerly scanning the new arrangements he's set up.

"It's been great, actually," You say with a relieved look. "Life has been... good, honestly. I think the city suits me. It's different, but in a positive way, and I'm already surrounded by a lot of nice people."

This warm and genuine feeling tugs at Minghao's lips as he listens to you, adjusting the stems of a vase full of a plethora of zinnias.

"I'm assuming that date from before went well then?"

His words makes the smile on your face flicker, and the change is subtle but noticeable enough for Minghao to catch it, even when he's not directly looking at you. You shift your weight between your two feet, and the way you glance around the shop seems almost like you're trying to distract yourself from something.

"The date didn't go well at all, actually."

Minghao's fingertips pause on the cold surface of the vase, brows furrowing in a bit of surprise.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he apologises gently, regretting for the sudden change in mood. "I didn't mean to bring up anything uncomfortable."

You let out a small, rueful chuckle, shaking your head. "No, no, it's okay. Really."

The air seems to thicken a little. You could only stand and watch for a few long moments as Minghao moves gracefully around, tending to all the flowers with his usual care.

After a long pause, you finally break the silence.

"It was good at first, I think, then it just became... awkward. Like really awkward. I thought I had everything planned out𑁋good place, nice flowers, all that jazz... but I guess it just didn't click. I think we both kind of felt it." You feel your shoulders deflate in a pit of defeat, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you run a hand through your hair. "I don't know why I just rambled all that. Sorry about that."

Minghao doesn't say anything at first, simply giving you some space, but he feels his heart tighten in his chest. He casts his eyes on you, also unsure why you're telling him this or why it feels important to him, but he knows it's a moment of vulnerability𑁋a rare one𑁋and he wants to handle it with care.

"No need to say sorry," he reaffirms, tone soothing. "Sometimes things don't go as expected, and that's okay. It doesn't mean it wasn't meaningful."

You glance towards him, catching the sincerity dripping down from his words. It catches you by surprise at how almost... comfortable it feels to be open right now, with him. The atmosphere here doesn't demand anything of you.

"As people, we try so hard to make things go right that we forget to just... let them unfold naturally," he says softly, as if thinking aloud. "I think sometimes things don't work out because we're not ready for them yet, or maybe they're not the right kind of flower at the right time. You can spend so much time trying to arrange them, placing them in the perfect spot, hoping they'll just fit… but sometimes they don't. And that's okay."

You can't help but quirk a playful lip at that, but you can't resist the way his words appear to tug right at your heartstrings. "Are you comparing me to a flower?"

"Not just you, no," Minghao replies amusedly. "But I think you could be. A flower, I mean. You're just someone who's figuring out what kind you want to be."

The thought about being a flower𑁋in another life, perhaps𑁋is a bit silly. But you also wonder about other things too𑁋if you're being treated with the same care and attention that Minghao gives to his flowers, or if you're wilting like one that hasn't found the right light yet. And as you gaze around the shop, taking in the beauty of the blooms around you, you find yourself smiling.

"I think I'd like to try and take care of a flower," You announce, determination weaving around your voice and words. "I'm not sure if I'd be good at it, but I'd like to try."

Minghao crosses his arms together, letting out a thoughtful hum while studying you for a few seconds. "I think you'd do well."

For some reason, those few words were enough to send heat crawling up your body and into your face.

"Thank you," You breathe out sheepishly, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards. "Can you give me a few recommendations?"

Minghao just nods. "Sure."

From there, he leads you toward a small display near the front of the shop where a few different pots and seedlings are carefully arranged. He describes a few of them to you. You're immediately drawn to the passion dripping from his tone, and the way he appears to light up when he speaks.

"These might be a good start," he suggests, gesturing to a small seedling. "Marigolds are pretty low maintenance. They need light, of course, but they're easy to grow and care for."

You take a moment to study over the baby plant with sweet curiosity.

"I think I'll start with these, then," You say, glancing back at Minghao. "Something easy."

Minghao's eyes don't stray away from how you admire the tiny plant, how you cradle the pot in your hands to take a closer look at it as if you're already imagining yourself taking care of it.

"Taking care of them can be a good reminder to take care of yourself too," he points out. "They need patience, consistency… and a little bit of trust, just like people do."

You look up at him, a smile tugging at your lips once more, feeling something warm bloom in your chest. His words settle into you in a way that's hard to describe, but they feel right𑁋like they're exactly what you need to hear.

"That's true," You reply, the weight of the sentiment settling comfortably within you. "I guess I could use a reminder like that."

"Shall I wrap it up for you?" he offers.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

After mulling over some options, he chooses the perfect wrapping paper and adds a small note about caring for marigolds. You watch him, mesmerised by the ease in his movements, the care he pours into something so simple. For a moment, you forget about all the bustling noise outside the shop, and all that exists is Minghao and the flowers, his flowers.

As Minghao ties the final knot around the marigold pot, he hands it to you, and his fingertips briefly brush against yours.

"Thank you," You tell him softly. "For everything, really. It's very calming in here."

Minghao's smile widens, almost like he's heard those same words before, and perhaps he has; maybe many people find themselves drawn to his calm presence and the haven he's created in this little shop.

There's a strange warmth that spreads throughout your chest as you cradle the small plant in your hands. "I'll be sure to take good care of it."

A few moments of comfortable silence pass as you both stand there, your eyes drifting around the shop to take in the palette of autumn that colours the space. Yet it's almost instinctive in the way your gaze finds Minghao.

"I hope you won't mind me coming back, you know... to make sure I'm doing a good job with this little one." You gesture to the plant in your hands, a playful tone to your words.

Minghao chuckles, a sound as gentle as the petals surrounding him. "Of course. I'll be here."

"Do you mind if I take another look around with the place? It looks great, by the way."

"Take all the time you need."

And for the first time in a long while, Minghao felt like he wasn't just waiting for the next flower to bloom.

He was blooming, too.

"Do you have a favourite flower?"

The question rests upon Minghao's shoulders while he waters a cluster of orchids in the back corner of the shop. You're hovering near him, aimlessly trudging your fingertips over, but instead lets the question settle in between the quiet moments.

"I imagine it's hard to pick as a florist, right?" You let out a meek laugh. "It's kind of like asking a painter to pick their favourite colour."

The corners of Minghao's lips curl up slightly, his eyes fixed on the glistening leaves under the faint droplets of water. You can tell he's contemplating the question from the quiet hums leaving his mouth, and for some reason, you find comfort in his patience.

"Not exactly," he says after a pause, his voice steady, thoughtful. "A painter might have a favourite colour, but they don't use it all the time. It's about balance. Knowing when to bring it forward and when to hold it back."

"Ah, so you do have a favourite flower," You tease lightly, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. "You just don't want to admit it."

The brief touch seems to linger in the air, a soft warmth that you both let pass without acknowledging. Minghao gently sets the watering can down and looks at you for a moment, his gaze a little deeper than before.

"In China, we have a lot of flowers that hold meaning," Minghao continues. "It's hard to pick one specifically, but... I've been liking the liánhuā lately𑁋the lotus. It grows in muddy water and blooms above the surface, even despite those circumstances. It also represents purity, resilience, and growth."

You tilt your head as you take in his words. You already knew yourself that you didn't know much about flowers, but there's a certain curiosity that washes over you from how Minghao speaks so fondly about them. Even something as simple as a flower has layers of meaning for him.

"That's really beautiful, I..." You trail off, trying to find the right words. "I've always looked at things really surface-level, you know, like I've always found daisies beautiful because they're so simple and bright, but I never really thought much about their deeper meanings. It's kind of like... I never thought about why I liked them. It's just easy to see them and appreciate them, I guess."

Minghao blinks at you, before lowering his gaze down to the floor. "Daisies suit you."

You turn to him, dazed. "Really?"

Minghao takes a contemplative pause. "Well, they're not only... beautiful to look at, but they brighten up any space they're in."

You feel your feet seep into the floor, sinking deeper as your cheeks warm, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were standing next to him. And it's the way he acts like he didn't fucking say anything out of the ordinary almost makes you lose it.

"Are you flirting with me right now?"

However, Minghao doesn't seem fazed by the question. Instead, his lips twitch into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and then a few seconds later, your phone rings.

Minghao just offers you a little wave of his soil-painted hand. "Have fun at work, Y/N."

"Minghao! Can you teach me how to wrap these flowers?"

Minghao casts his attention up from displaying a new set of hyacinths, catching you behind the counter with a bouquet in your hands, along with a small old lady on the other side with a cheerful grin.

There's a subtle tug at the corners of his mouth when he hears you holler for him again, and he brushes his hands against his apron, before marching his way toward you. He steps up to you, taking the flowers from your hand while you beam happily towards the old lady.

"What's the occasion for the flowers, ma'am?" You ask curiously. Th elderly woman lets out a soft laugh, resting her wrinkled hands on the counter.

"It's for my grandson! He's graduating from high school today. Time flies by, doesn't it?"

"Wow, that's such a milestone! Congratulations to him," You exclaim enthusiastically, softly clapping your hands together as Minghao deftly arranges the flowers within the wrapping paper, before sliding it over to you.

He leans in a bit more, almost too close you feel the way his arm brushes against yours and the way his breath fans against your skin.

"Fold the edges like this," Minghao instructs softly, his hands hovering right over yours. "Make sure the paper covers the stems. Too much pressure could break them; too loose could make them fall apart."

You watch as his hands follow yours while you nervously, yet carefully trace the frail edge of the paper, showing you how to make each fold with a care that's almost tender. His close proximity sends strange flutters to your stomach, but you do your best to ignore it.

"Okay, like this?" You question, pulling the paper slightly tighter around the bouquet.

Minghao hums approvingly, letting you hold the flowers while he circles a ribbon around it with ease. His hands brush against yours as he neatly ties it, and the two of you pull back to watch how it delicately falls over the bouquet.

The old lady glances between the two of you with a knowing smile.

"The two of you make such a cute couple! Do you run the shop together?"

You feel your face fire up at that, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Then you instinctively glance over at Minghao, who surprisingly doesn't seem as flustered as you are.

"Oh, um, we're not𑁋"

"They like to help out here once in a while," Minghao adds in smoothly, though you aren't sure if that entirely helps or not. However you know what he's saying is true, because whenever your break for work comes or on your free time, you find yourself naturally walking towards the flower shop to help out at times.

The lady just beams up even more, scooping up the bouquet in her grasp. "Well, it's nice to see young faces working together! You two sure do have a lot of chemistry."

You offer a wave of your hand. "I hope your grandson enjoys the flowers. Congratulations to him once again!"

With that, the old woman offers a small wink before turning to head out of the shop. "Thank you, dear! Take care, both of you." Her delighted steps echo off the walls as she exits the shop.

The shop grows quiet again. You let out a sigh, cracking your knuckles as you turn to Minghao, who was already wiping over the surface of the counter, making quick work of putting things back in order, and for some reason, it still doesn't wipe away the pit of awkwardness you're feeling. You wonder if he feels the same too.

"So," Minghao starts, still continuing to clean without batting a glance at you. "You're taking over my shop, it seems."

You let out a haughty scoff. "I just wanted to try wrapping some flowers for someone. Don't let it get to your head."

Minghao only chuckles lightly, though he keeps his focus on the counter, yet you could only focus on him. You can't help but admire the way his hair falls effortlessly over his forehead, the slight endearing tilt of his head as he works, and how his movements are so meticulously unique to only him. There's a certain aura he exudes that makes you feel strangely at peace, a magic that only seems to reside within the walls of the shop.

"Why didn't you say no?" You suddenly ask, the question slipping out before you could shut your mouth.

Minghao pauses mid-swipe, looking back up at you. "Say no to what?"

"To, uh... the lady back there," You stammer, feeling the heat creep back at your neck. "About us, you know... being a couple."

Minghao remains silent as he tosses the dirty wipe away. For a moment, he seems to be contemplating something𑁋whether the question, the idea, or something more.

Then he just simply shrugs. "I guess I didn't mind it," he replies lowly, and meets your eyes warily. "Does it bother you?"

Your mind goes completely blank at his question. Does it bother you? The simple truth is that you didn't expect him to answer so casually. You were expecting him to probably correct her humbly, in all honesty. After all, it was just a passing comment from a lady who didn't mean any harm behind it.

But... does it bother you?

"No, it... it doesn't bother me. Really," You respond after a pause, voice coming out a bit forced. Your heart is beating super fast right now. "I guess I just didn't expect you to go along with it since we're not𑁋"

"𑁋not a couple," Minghao finishes for you. "I know."

You feel like you're melting into a pile of goo, your thoughts scattering like ants running out of their pile.

"I'm sorry, I'm overthinking," You mumble out, trying to brush everything off with an airy laugh.

Minghao shakes his head. "I should be sorry. I made you uncomfortable."

"You-You didn't, trust me!" You wave your hands dismissively, albeit a bit dramatic. "I was just caught off-guard and didn't know how to respond."

This seems to relax Minghao's shoulders a bit, but not entirely.

"Okay," he says, and his voice is as light as a  wisp getting caught in the wind. "But you'd tell me if you were uncomfortable, right?"

You give him an easy nod, maybe even confident. "I would. I promise. And you'd... tell me too?"

Minghao meets your eyes with a steady gaze, his expression soft but thoughtful. For a moment, there's a subtle shift in the air, and you can feel the weight of his words before he speaks again.

"Yeah," he answers firmly, sincerely. "I would."

When you open your mouth to speak again, your phone dings in your pocket. You squint your eyes to read over the message in your notifications, before closing up your phone.

"My meeting got cancelled." Then you blink up towards Minghao, as if trying to convey an unspoken question to him.

As if the answer wasn't already obvious, Minghao gives you a small, almost teasing smile.

"I don't mind the company," he tells you, then quirks up a brow. "Unless you do."

"I don't mind either," I like being in this place... with you. "Not at all."

Flowers bloom when the time is right. And you don't mind waiting for it.

When a flower dies, there's a certain routine that comes after it. Trim away the wilted petals, dispose of the stems, recycle them as compost, and plant the next set of blooms.

Minghao hates seeing flowers die.

The sound of crumbling petals tie a knot in his chest, the stillness that follows afterwards is almost deafening. But he knows it's an inevitable part of life. Every flower has its chance to bloom and thrive, and eventually, it will fade.

The flowers don't belong to him, after all𑁋they are simply passing through his care briefly before going to someone else or withering away, like everything else in life. Minghao knows it's unnecessary to hold onto these flowers so tightly, but after being surrounded by them his entire life, it's merely impossible to let go.

The bell chimes as he's composting a few camellias that had sadly wilted, and he gazes up to find a gust of snow following your footsteps as you step inside. A large, black fluffy coat hugs your body and a scarf is wrapped snugly around your neck. However this time, Minghao doesn't notice any ounce of a smile to your face.

He sets the compost bin down and wipes his hands on his apron.

"Y/N?"

There's a very subtle twitch to your expression when he calls out your name.

"Hey," You croak out, voice a bit strained. "Um... is it fine if I buy some flowers?"

Minghao feels something in his chest clench at your tone, but he pushes the feeling away with his usual calm composure, masking away any concern simmering on the surface.

"Sure," he replies, focusing on the shadows that plague over your features. "Is there anything specific you're looking for?"

Your eyes drift away from to look around the flower shop, taking note of the bright, usual blooms that surround you, yet none of them appear are what you're looking for.

"Do you have, um..." You feel like you're already going to regret this. "...anything for a funeral?"

The words float in the air between you both. Minghao's expression falters for just a moment, the calmness that he usually carries slipping as his eyes soften toward you.

"Of course," he says softly. "I have a few options."

With that, he leads you to a particular spot in the shop, where it houses all sorts of flowers with muted colours𑁋white roses and lilies, pale chrysanthemums, and pink and purple orchids all arranged neatly. Minghao watches as you gaze over each flower, but he doesn't speak yet, simply allowing you the moment to breathe.

"These are the traditional flowers for a funeral," he explains finally. "White roses for remembrance, lilies for peace, chrysanthemums for mourning, and orchids for everlasting love."

Minghao has picked flowers for funerals before. He's also seen people hold onto flowers that are long past their bloom, clinging to them as if their presence alone could bring someone back. He's been there too.

It's bit a different when it's you though, and he doesn't exactly know how to explain it.

You plod slowly throughout the display, picking up a stem here and there, but each time, you set it back down as if it didn't feel right. But when you come across the orchids, you linger a little longer on them, tenderly caressing the petals as if you were scared to break them.

"I think I'll choose these ones. The orchids," You murmur, picking up a few stems and showing it to him.

Minghao just nods, taking the ones from your hands and grabbing a few more to finish the rest of the bouquet, moving with careful precision.

"I'll handle the rest, don't worry," he assures you as he gracefully works to arrange the orchids.

None of you choose to say anything more, only letting the diffident silence stretch. For some reason, the shop feels a little more cooler, the air heavier than usual. The only sound is the rustling of Minghao's hands moving carefully over the flowers, the quiet snap of a stem as he trims it with his shears. Outside, the snow continues to fall.

Minghao doesn't press for any details, yet even in the quiet, you have a feeling that he knows. Maybe that's why he's just letting his hands speak for him.

"Here you go." He offers you a neat bouquet of pale lavender orchids.

You step up to him to retrieve it from his grasp, bringing it close to your chest. "Thank you."

Minghao knows he shouldn't let his feelings get in the way, but as he takes note of the slight glassiness to your eyes and small tremble of your hands holding the bouquet, he isn't sure how much longer he can hold it in. He feels guilty when he lets his eyes drift down to your lips for a second, before averting it back up quickly.

The smile you give him is nothing short of fragile, faint, but it's there. And then, with a sudden leap, you find yourself leaning into Minghao's embrace without thinking, wrapping your arms around his body as if he was the only thing in the world that was preventing you from falling down. And in a way, he is.

His arms catch you instinctively, gentle yet steady, embracing around you like flowers petals folding inward for protection. His warmth seeps into you as if he were the sun reaching a flower in the early hours of dawn, and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, encouraging you to press closer into his warmth.

You don't cry𑁋not entirely. A single tear slips past your lashes, landing silently against his shoulder. He feels it, but he doesn't move, doesn't say anything, and just lets you... be.

"I'm sorry," You mumble into his shoulder. "I didn't mean to𑁋"

"Don't be," Minghao interrupts softly. "It's okay."

You pull away for a moment to look up at him. He's still holding you. His hands have fallen down to your sides, resting there as if he's held you like this before. The way you're looking at him has Minghao nearly forgetting how to breathe; it nearly urges to him to lean down and close the distance between the two of you.

His gaze lingers on your lips, and for a split second, Minghao almost allows himself to follow the instinct to lean in.

But then he stops himself.

He's not sure what this is, what the right thing to do is. His thoughts are tangled mess of roots𑁋he's always been careful with holding himself back, with promising to wait, yet something about the way you look at him makes it feel like the only right thing to do is to give in.

But he can't. Not yet. Not when you're so fragile and baring yourself raw to him.

Yet he sees the way your eyes flutter at him, the way a crease of question forms in between your brows as if you're also unsure of what this moment is, but there's a longing there too. It's almost pleading. And you lean in a little more towards him.

"Y/N," he breathes out your name, and it's the first time you ever heard his voice shake like that. "We... We shouldn't."

You don't say anything at first, your eyes searching his face like you're trying to read something. You open your mouth, close it, and then, with a slight exhale, you step back, only a little, but enough to let the cool air seep in between you.

"I'm sorry, I..." You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, letting out a sniffle. "Fuck, I'm sorry..."

Minghao feels his chest tighten. "It's okay𑁋"

"I-I just wanted to feel something for a moment, you know? Everything is such a mess right now and the first person I thought of was you, because I like... the way you make me feel. I like it way more than I should. And that... that it's okay if you don't feel that way too."

Minghao's heart stutters at that, and perhaps the world even pauses too. All words that want to leave him become stuck in his throat, because he knows deep down𑁋from as far back as the moment you walked into the flower shop𑁋that he's felt the same way for far too long.

So, he settles with taking one hand from your side and slowly reaching up to trace your warm cheek with his thumb, his touch delicate as if he's afraid he might cause your petals to fall down. He brushes away a lingering tear that had been drying up on your skin and lets his hand stay there.

"You... deserve way more than just comfort in a moment like this," Minghao starts quietly. "But you're grieving right now, and I don't want to take advantage of that. I don't want to just be someone who's here for a moment, because... you mean so much to me more than that."

Your lips form into a tight, thin line, and you flicker your gaze towards the floor, the heaviness in the air still weighing down on your shoulders.

"Minghao..."

"And if I act on what I feel, it wouldn't be fair to you," Minghao continues, voice trembling slightly as he speaks. "I want it to be because you know what you want. And if you ever give me that chance, I promise I'll be here for you. Not just now, not just in this moment, but... for everything. When you're ready; when you're healed; when it feels right, I'll be here𑁋I always have been."

There's a lump in your throat that you swallow down. For a while, you could only simply stand there, feeling as if you're teetering on the edge of something you can't quite reach. But even as you stand in this stillness, there's something in his words that echoes off the walls of your mind𑁋it's understanding, and it's care, and it feels like a promise.

"I... I know. I just... I'm sorry for putting all this on you. I think I need space to... heal and think." Then you look back up at him, wonder tainting your features. "Will you wait for me?"

The question feels a bit silly to ask, and it makes Minghao's features soften as he looks at you, a warmth in his chest that spreads like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a cold morning.

"I've already been waiting for you," he says, almost cheekily, and it seems to lighten the moment a little. "I haven't planned on stopping anytime soon."

The chuckle that leaves you isn't forced; in fact, it's quite relieving. It feels like the start of something, and Minghao feels a flicker of hope at the sound.

You reluctantly separate yourself away from him, cradling the bouquet of orchids to your chest, and let out an exhale you hardly realise you were holding in.

"I'll be okay, you know," You tell him, even if it's a bit of lie, or half the truth. You can't tell which.

Minghao glances down to your hands, as if you're holding a piece of your heart wrapped up within the petals, before back up to your eyes.

"I know," is all he says.

The world doesn't stop for grief, but it's okay to pause for a little while.

Minghao wonders if flowers ever feel the same bittersweet pull when their petals fall𑁋the ache of letting go, but the quiet hope of something new taking root.

You haven't stepped foot in the flower shop in a while. At least, not as often as you used to come.

The absence is especially daunting, and Minghao can't help but feel it every time the bell chimes and it isn't you that walks through the door. On rare occasion you'd swing by to say hello during your breaks at work and sometimes, a pretty, shy smile from you before you disappear back into the world outside.

It's strange how easily your presence had come to be a part of the rhythm of his days. He used to wonder how someone like you would be drawn to the boring stillness of a flower shop. But now the place feels more emptier than before you came into his life, the petals around him somehow less vibrant, the air colder, even when the sun streams through the windows.

He tries not to dwell on it, but he can't help the nagging feeling that maybe you've drifted away, maybe things have changed. Maybe he was just a moment for you. And now, that moment has passed.

So he simply spends his days in the shop, moving between shelves of blossoms and arranging bouquets, but his thoughts always return to you. To the quiet moments when your voice would fill the space between the flowers, to the way you cared and tended the blooms even when you had no reason to.

It makes him think that if flowers could speak for us, then what might they say about you? Would they say you were someone who saw beauty in the smallest things? Minghao often found himself wishing that flowers could speak just so he can hear what they would say about you.

But flowers don't speak, of course. They just bloom and stretch toward the light, growing in places where they are tended to, and even in those that have been forgotten.

Maybe that's what Minghao was𑁋a forgotten flower of his own waiting to be seen, to be noticed.

Luckily, he was able to distract himself a bit today with a few deliveries for a couple of upcoming weddings and a new arrangement for the store he was preparing to do in the next few days, along with piles of orders for days. But it still wasn't enough.

As he flips the sign on the window to display Closed, he fumbles for his keys to lock the door. However, the sound of the bell rings through the shop, stopping him mid-motion. Minghao lifts a brow up, not expecting for anyone to show up right as he's about to close up.

And when he looks up, he freezes.

"I'm not late, aren't I?"

It's you.

The way your voice comes out all shaky like you're out of breath, yet soft has Minghao feeling as if he's sinking into quicksand. The sight of you standing at the doorway is a dream he never dares to wake up from.

"You're not," Minghao manages to say, somehow. "You're just in time."

Your lips tug into a small, relieved smile, and it's enough to make the air feel lighter in the shop. You take a few hesitant steps so that you're fully inside, letting the door shut behind you with a faint click. You take in the familiar, fresh scent of all the blooms and greenery around you, and it hits you in the heart just how much you've missed this place.

"I had, uh… a late shift at work," You explain unsurely. "so I thought about stopping by, but I wasn't sure if you'd still be here."

Minghao just shakes his head, watching as you brush your fingertips over some lilies and baby's breaths that were displayed on a small table near the window. Gosh, he'd do anything to flat out say how much he missed you, how much he'd been thinking about you, but he doesn't.

"Have you been busy?" You ask him.

"A little," he responds. "but manageable, I would say."

"Ah… that's good," You mumble, voice trailing off as you start to make your way in his direction, catching eye on a particular bouquet sitting on the counter behind him. "No-show again?"

Minghao lets out a sigh, and he feels you following behind as he walks towards the counter. He picks up the bouquet in his hand, letting his gaze fall over it.

"Mhm," he hums. "But it's alright, really. Happens more often than you think."

You quirk a brow as your eyes roam over the bouquet, and a particular, almost knowing look stretches across your lips.

"That's funny," You huff, taking the bouquet from his grasp. It held a colourful variety of hydrangeas. "It looks a lot like an order I placed a few days ago."

Minghao's heart skips a beat as he watches you carefully examine the bouquet, his breath caught in his throat.

"This… was yours?" he questions in surprise.

"Yeah, I…" You bite your lips sheepishly. "It was sort of an impulsive thing, I guess."

Minghao only continues to watch as you admire the bouquet, caressing over the delicate wrapping paper and the all-too familiar bow that he would tie all of his other arrangements.

"Impulsive, huh?" Minghao teases lightly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Well, you certainly picked a good one."

You look up at him, a small, tentative smile forming on your face. "I guess I just wanted to get something special. For someone."

Minghao feels his heart sink at that, a flutter of hope and uncertainty colliding in his chest. Someone.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words get caught in his throat, unsure if it's his place to ask, or if he even wants to hear the answer.

"I see," he says instead, trying to keep his tone relaxed, though there's a hint of sadness to his voice that he silently hopes you don't notice.

You take note of his unreadable expression, over the way his eyes appear downcast and a subtle tension to his posture.

However, this doesn't make you stop from gripping the bouquet tighter in your grasp, and then in the next moment, you're stepping closer and offering it over to him.

"I hope you like them," You state, holding out the bouquet thing as if was the most natural thing in the world.

Minghao glances at the bouquet quizzically, the same one he had just been holding, then back at you. His face shifts between a million different expressions𑁋confusion, surprise, hope, and everything in between𑁋before the tension in his chest eases just slightly as he finally registers what you're doing.

He's a florist, for crying out loud. He's usually the one to be giving flowers to people. Never in his years of practically living in the shop has anyone offered flowers to him. The gesture is practically foreign, yet in this moment, it feels so right.

His fingers graze against yours as he hesitantly takes it from your hands, but you don’t fully let go. Instead, you cover his hand with yours, warmth spreading between you as you gently press your palm against his. His heart is beating in his throat, in his ears, everywhere in his body, and he wonders if you can feel it too.

"I missed you," You declare softly, yet a pinch of urgency behind your words. "I missed you so fucking much."

His chest tightens, and it's as if the weight of everything crushes him in the best possible way. All the time he had spent wondering if you had forgotten about him, if maybe you had moved on, it all melts away in an instant. Because you're here. And you're saying everything he's been craving to hear.

And gosh, does he want to kiss you right now.

This time, Minghao doesn't waste a second. He brings a hand up to cradle the side of your neck as he presses his lips to yours. It's perhaps a bit desperate first, making him swallow down a faint sigh you let out but it quickly settles into something softer, deeper, like two people who've been waiting for this moment for far too long.

He can feel the slight tremble in your breath as your lips move against his, and he pulls back slightly, just to make sure you were still with him.

Minghao lets his thumb lightly caress over your cheek as if trying to memorise the feeling of your skin under his touch, as if he'd been starved for this closeness.

"I missed you too," he whispers, a breath away from your lips. "The flowers did too."

A light, airy chuckle escapes from you. "Oh, did they?"

"Of course," Minghao murmurs, his lips curling upwards against your skin. "They've been waiting for you to come back."

"Well, I better not keep them waiting anymore then, right?" You jest playfully, leaning in back once again.

Minghao doesn't hesitate to meet you halfway. "Nope," he says firmly against your mouth. "I think they've waited long enough."

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[mi4011mariaperera]

Scene 1 - Completed

26/05/2024

Hi everyone, today early morning I completed all the frames required for scene 1.

I've actually made a bit of a change to the final frames compared to the story board frame. I was thinking, since I want Nakamura to be the center of attention, it would be best not to show the couple's face. These 2 characters are completely irrelevant to the story. They have been placed there by me for a cool transition effect and also to show the idea of a crowd in the park where Nakamura's sketching.

I've also made a change to clothing for the time saving factor. The lady in the story board has a pleated skirt and the gentleman is wearing a strip office shirt. I decided to draw the skirt without pleated because the leg movements for the lady looked quite odd...So I made the design into a long body-hugging skirt. I got rid of the stripes for the gentleman because it was taking up too much time to do. I had to be quick with this one.

For the whole purpose of having the audience only focus on Nakamura and also for the time saving factor for drawing, I find this decision suitable.

Now, let's discuss the work in progress

I made use of this story board artwork for coloring the couple

Like I've mentioned in one of my previous posts, I studied screen shots of a video I recorded and drew all of this on Krita. I color picked from the story board frame and added it to the official frame drawings.

These are the frames for scene 1 I completed on Krita

These are the final frames I created on Photoshop

I used all the frames in scene 2 for the background to add some subtle animation in the background and it also easily creates a flow to the scene 2 transition.

My initial thought process was to use 'frame 1' from scene 2 as the entire background.

But it'll look awkward when she suddenly moves in the next scene...

So, I decided to one by one add in all the frames to make the animation look smoother.

That's al for this post. I'll be posting my 'scene 7' frames and then.... IT'S TIME TO EDITTTT!!!!!! I've been dying to start editing! So, I'm excited and a little nervous as well. Hope the end result will look amazing <3

[enigmaincrimson]

Hm...

Considering how often she gets passed around, she's likely staying with one of her aunts. Said aunt is always working, so Evelyn has way too much free time to herself.

If the school had a magical girl club, Evelyn would be in it. Odds are that she'd probably connect with Hiiragi Utena first for that reason.

However, her interest in Magical girls is more... technical, like a scientist observing a wild animal and wondering how they work. She's definitely stalking the local magical girls and taking notes.

If someone were to visit her apartment, they'd find her room is full of drawings, models, and other things she made as references for her research. There's a clear assortment of detailed statuettes she made of various magical girls she's seen on display. Maybe a little too detailed.

While how she made such a thing is unclear (Although if the rumors about her family are true, it would explain things.), she mostly made AMP as a sort of ongoing project, both to mask her true nature, and allow her to build a working study.

Considering how AMP performs magical girl transformations, Magia Rouge might as well be an entirely different person. Although what she'd call herself while "untransformed" in that form is still WIP.

Magia Rouge's default appearance and uniform are based on the Tres Magia uniforms, but with intentional differences. Although you probably would have to have seen her a few times and be paying attention to notice. (Evelyn also has a few models of Magia Rouge in her room.)

I'm still debating what Magia Rouge's La Verita form looks like... even if Magia Rouge's design is based on the concept of aggressive camouflage.

While she usually prefers to aid civilians and fight any monsters that pop up and quickly leaves the seen once the job is done, any magical girl that intentionally crosses Magia Rouge's path would find she has something of an instinct to "test" anyone that catches her interest. Also, she can pretty much send back anything they can dish out at her.

If anyone was keeping track, they'd probably notice that Magia Rouge seems to be evolving... with her being more capable with every encounter... and in some cases... during an encounter. (To be fair, there's more going on, but that might be a long while before that comes up.)

She does have a sadistic streak, but it's more... analytical... She likes to push her opponents, seeing how far they are willing to go and what their potential might be. Of course, she can go wild if she's enjoying the looks of fear and panic as her target's world collapses all around them.

A detail that will likely come up rather quickly if they get to know her more personally... is that she's illusion blind. She can sense that something is supposed to be there, but well... Trans-Magia looks rather different to her than it would anyone else as the Recognition Inhibition doesn't do anything with her. Admittedly, considering what it's actually like living with that ability, she tends to keep that to herself.

As for why "Violagia" exists... There's a few reasons off the top of my head. One, she felt like she needed a mascot to be more like the other magical girls she's seen. Two, it masks who is really in charge by putting the blame on someone else. Three, it would be easier to recruit more potential people into her squad if they really thought her operation was like the other magical girl teams. Forth, it also works as a way to make the point to other factions that she's already been "recruited" among other reasons.

The transformation items spawned by AMP are diamond shaped, to compliment the Heart and Star shaped transformation items used by Tres Magia and Enormeeta.

Grey was picked out for Violagia because well... she wanted to leave some hints that she's a neutral party, but she personally feels like it looks more like a funny beige. (I haven't exactly settled on what the mascot interface looks like... outside of them not being white, black, and having diamond patterns where the hearts/stars would be)

If Evelyn did start recruiting for AMP, the magical girls running under the system would quickly overtake the territory lost from the Lord's Legion's magical girl hunts... as AMP users are much, much harder to kill. Like... they just kind of respawn if you kill them as it's not actually their real body.

But I'm going off topic here.

Knowing Evelyn, she'd likely befriend Utena Hiiragi first over a mutual interest in magical girls... she might even make her a few figurines as a present. If she meets the others in Utena's little group, it's probably through Utena.

Evelyn is definitely on both Vatz and Venalatia's social media accounts. She was probably stalking Venalatia hoping to collect some data on mascots when Utena was recruited. (She hadn't observed the recruitment process before and wasn't entirely sure if she wasn't seeing things, so Utena's misfortune was Evelyn's breakthrough. She'd likely apologize to her over not saying anything later.)

While she had been observing the Tres-Magia since she transferred to the school, she didn't get a legitimate confirmation that her observations were correct until Magia Baiser's debut. Also, it should be noted that she filmed the entire thing... but like everything else she does, she likely won't point that out unless she trusts them enough to share the info. (I mean, without proper evidence, even if she could see the truth, they might as well be cosplayers.)

Let's just say... the trio's sore butts the following school day kind of confirmed she wasn't seeing things. Although she'd keep that to herself until she feels like it. Admittedly, she was feeling like watching Tres Magia fight was getting kind of boring, so it was a fresh change.

Odds are that she might "adopt" Korisu later... I mean not actual adoption, more like Evelyn doesn't have any siblings of her own and they're more alike than you'd think.

To be fair, I wouldn't be surprised if Kiwi and Evelyn don't get along well at first. Although I'm not entirely sure if it's because Magia Rouge will more than eagerly open fire if fired upon.

and... I've kind of ran out of steam.

[egittae]

“It sort of does that, yes.”

The duo stood before the tunnel’s entrance, a lack of torches leading into a plunge into almost total darkness save for the odd glow emanating from what stood at the very end of the corridor. An arch of rock not too unlike many others found around the Abyss, its pillars scratched with runes and sigils of magic that no one seemed to be able to decipher, much less tell where it could be from. At the center of it sat a waving, pulsating spiral of blues, purples and greens, every now and then disturbed like the surface of a lake. Even to someone not magically inclined as Lambert, the aura of the corridor was uncomfortably strong, the intensity increasing the closer one approached the archway.

Lambert never paid it much mind. It was the unspoken rule of the Abyss- to never look too much into something much less pry on it, unless it is an aggressive threat. The professor knew it was there, but since these tunnels were rather hidden away and had almost no foot traffic there wasn’t exactly much danger to take into consideration. “No abyssian would do something as foolish as wandering into a corridor such as this one and approaching that oddity. Even the children know better than to walk into tunnels where the Abysskeeper does not patrol.”

“If anyone walked through that portal of sorts…either they must be some thrill-seeking adventurer who could use some more self preservation, or they are simply stupid.” A pause. “Which is why it is up to us to go in there and fetch them back, I suppose.” A mildly exasperated sigh left his lips. His students weren’t that troublesome, Lambert didn’t need to watch over them like a mother goose. Most were adults as well. But…this was within the Abyss, and so as part of the Ashen Wolves it is naturally kind of his responsibility to ensure all is peaceful, safe and well.

He also just doesn’t want any of his students taking over this damned task, which is why he picked Matthias to go with him. Naturally.

“It is not like we have much of a choice…it will be further problems for us if that horde of men show up here to tear this hallway down as it would draw far too much unwanted attention to our side. Let us be as quick about it as possible.” Lambert turned to face his companion. “I have requested an Abysskeeper to keep watch and not allow anyone to come into this area until we are done with our investigation. He may also serve as our potential rescuer if anything goes particularly wrong.”

The rescue method had been nothing more but a red ribbon tied to rocks, one on each end. One rock sat there while the other was thrown through the portal, serving as a thread that would mark their escape.

In theory. 

“Come on, my friend. Sally forth-”

“...don’t say anything.”

BIG BOB-OMB ON THE SUMMIT

closed starter for @cielenruine