#imagining damien hearing his beloved out in the woods

[autisticempathydaemon]

For the RedactedAudio match-ups!

I pondered over whether I should send my own request (I'm sure you have plenty of these already and I didn't want to add more to the workload- for a lack of a better word) but I love the love and care you give for previous entries and it just seems so fun to play along! Please take all the time you need, there's no rush at all ><

Lizzy McAlpine's "Doomsday" has been playing nonstop for the past month, but I've always been obsessed with Will Wood's "Well, Better Than the Alternative"! My fav part of the lyrics: "Baby could you play along with me? / Baby would that be alright with you? / And when we find out what's wrong with me / Could you tell me how I'm right for you?" This is the kind of song suitable for both lighthearted jamming and brooding self-reflection while staring at the ceiling at ungodly hours, yknow?

For the Enneagram type, I just did the test recently and I got type 4? I found the descriptor "Inward Exlorer" extremely suiting! Also, in case it helps, my MBTI is INFJ^^

I had several childhood friends, the one I talked to the most was a faceless boy my age with glasses and messy hair who's crazy about the concept of martyrdom. I'm trying to write him into my story these days!

I happen to adore my name for the meaning behind it. My initials are literally A.R.T., and, fun fact, I'm currently the only person with my last name in my region, haha. But yknow, names carry weight to them, and I find the weight of mine a bit cumbersome at times, so that might be a cause for change somewhere far in the future. Maybe changing it to Ara, or Nadine? Because the meanings are so pretty ^^

My current fav audio vid is the "finally hearing from your your long distance lover again"! What can I say? Anton is my beloved and he gives off so much comfort and I root (haha get it) for his happiness!

Speaking of platonic attraction, it's gotta be Hux and Damien. As a college student myself, how wonderful it would be to have them with me to go through endless study sessions and just to hang out? If I get to write fate beforehand, I'd have them and Camelopardalis be my childhood friends. Imagine that!

I don't exactly have a gas station drink combo(?) but I always order carrot-orange juice if I see it on the menu. My siblings look at me weird whenever I do, but it's really good!

Uh, what else is there... I've been told I'm the older sister type, or the mom friend? I grow tomatoes and bird eye chillies alongside roses of various colors on my family's front yard, and one of my life ambitions is to own a house with big enough land to grow fruit trees- I solemnly swore to my mom and her mom that I'd plant lemon and orange trees if I could make that happen, because they love the smell of citrus. I write; mostly short stories, and I've published a number of anthologies, but I'm working on finishing the first draft for my first novel.

Oh goodness this is becoming so long already. Thank you for taking your time to read this! I'm looking forward for your verdict, haha ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Ooh, this was an incredibly easy one to assign! There’s a lot of little and big factors that went into my decision, but the kicker is that a big, lovely family home wouldn’t be complete without a David Shaw to help take care of it.

Type Fours and INFJ’s are so lovely and creative, generally very attuned to their inner sphere of thoughts and emotions. I think that pairs well with David, who went through the character development of needing that openness to draw him out into the open, honest, affectionate man he is today. Your being the mom friend also pairs well since he’s the dad friend, and the two of you could lend each other support in case you neglect your needs in favor of others.

Speaking of “mom and dad”, I love to think of the huge, beautiful house and garden the two of you would cultivate! It’d be so homey and comfortable, the perfect place for pack parties, the sort of space where every member knows they’re welcome. Not to mention, those fruit trees would be the envy of Dahlia; you and David would make sure of it. Those would be the most bountiful trees and most beautiful garden you could ever imagine.

Song:

Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents/ Homes in the South of France/ Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters/ And teach them how to dance/ Let's get rich and build our house on a mountain/ Making everybody look like ants/ From way up there, you and I, you and I

I love the vibes of this song for you guys! Even if it’s not what I think his music taste would be (dad rock), it’s sweet, it’s fun, it’s cozy. It’s perfect summer day, laying in the grass and dandelions and roses music. It’s a duet that he would never think of not chiming in along with you.

Runner-Ups:

Lasko could also strike me as an INFJ, so I think the two of you would make this lovely, introverted pair. Plus, a writer and a professor- that’s objectively cute. Milo is also a good runner up, because frankly, that boy strikes me as a momma’s boy, so he would adore the way you talk about your mom and grandma. You also have that shared dream of owning a nice house and home, so there’s that too.

note: I like the cut of your jib- roses and tomatoes AND Birds Eye chilis? The best kind? You’ve got taste /gen

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[imustspeakmyheart]

The Night Once Ruled My Imagination is so lovely and such a cute premise! If you're looking for prompts I think it might be interesting to see a story from one member of the Bouquet's perspective, looking at the others and thinking about how they interact: example: Damien loving how Arum and Rilla bring out each other's scientific enthusiasm or Rilla appreciating how Arum brings out a different side of Damien, or any combo- maybe even some quickly resolved jealousy haha

Thank you for these requests and sorry they took a while!! Fic is under the cut and posted on AO3 here.

The soft sounds of rain pattering against the window and the scratching of a quill against parchment were the only sounds in the little bubble that was Rilla’s hut, secluded as it was from the hustle and bustle of the Second Citadel. Damien liked the ambient quiet. Especially when writing a new poem -he’d been particularly fond of ballads as of late- he liked to be away from too much external stimulus; it was distracting, jumbling words in his head, or making him mess up the metre of a phrase.

Rilla’s hut was perfect, often filled with the sounds of her humming, moving about and arranging her various pots of ingredients, all of which came together like a unique melody. He was hearing some of those noises now, the clinking of vials and pans along with the muted muttering of his two most beloved people in the world. Damien smiled, penned another few words and allowed himself to get lost in the calm of composing.

That was, until he heard something smash against a counter, which startled him enough to track an ugly stripe through his work as his body twitched.  The voices from Rilla’s kitchen raised their volume in argument.

“Saints above.” Damien muttered, looking at his parchment in slight annoyance. There were small blots of ink that had splattered over the page too, but nothing that made it illegible. He raised his head then, looking at the doorway that lead to the kitchen.

The very kitchen that Damien, with a unanimous vote from both is loves, had been banned from when they decided they would try to bake something together, because they both knew Damien was a disaster at anything that involved cooking.

He made a valiant effort to get back to his poem, knowing that Rilla and Arum deserved their space together, even if it involved a possible argument, but eventually the pent up curiosity got the better of him. When the sound of Arum’s rattling carried from the kitchen, loud enough to be heard by Damien, he carefully put his quill down and got up. It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peak to check whether everything was okay. After all, what sort of knight would he be if he simply ignored such clear signs of distress.

Attempting stealth, he padded through the small living room and into the hallway that led to the kitchen area. As he got closer, Rilla and Arum’s voices got louder and they appeared to not be arguing anymore. Arum’s rattle still sounded, but it didn’t have the particular inflection that pointed to him being annoyed. Rather, Damien thought, it sounded closer to the warmth of his affectionate purring.

When he reached the open doorway of the kitchen he was careful to stay on his side of the threshold. Rilla and Arum stood close together, huddled in the small space in front of the counter. Two of Arum’s hands were occupied with holding ingredients, while his other two were knuckle-deep in a ball of dough. He was looking at Rilla, his head cocked and eyes squinting in that headstrong way Damien knew so well. Rilla for her part had her arms crossed with her hip leaning against the counter staring Arum down, one brow raised in defiance.

“I still think you should be measuring ingredients, baking is a delicate process. It’s science!” Rilla said, her lips pursed. Damien watched as Arum wordlessly put one of the jars down, opened the other one and stuck his finger into it. When he lifted his finger out, fluid was sticking to his claw, lazily dripping its way down the length of it. He dripped some of it onto the dough, never once breaking eye contact with Rilla, who visibly balked at the display. The rattling was back, low and amused. Arum’s lower arms started to knead the fluid into the dough.

“I know how much I need of each ingredient, Amaryllis dear. Call it instinct, experience, the will of the universe, maybe even magic, but it has never led me or my kind astray.”

Damien had to stifle a chuckle, not wanting to butt into the clearly playful argument and content to simply observe.

“But-”

“Why don’t you also make something then, with your science, and we will have our Honeysuckle decide which is better when we’re done? Is that an amendable solution?” Arum was smiling now, his eyes blinking slowly out of their squint. He’d set the pot down and reached his hand out to gently brush a stray hair behind Rilla’s ear. Rilla looked at the dough on the counter doubtfully, then back up to Arum.

“Game on, then.” She said, a confident twist to her lips as she pushed onto her tiptoes clearly asking for a kiss. Arum bent down, allowing Rilla to press her lips softly to his scaly mouth. The rhythm of the rain mingled together with the pleased sound of Arum’s rattles and it was perhaps the most lovely harmony of sounds Damien had ever heard, perhaps only to be made better by Rilla’s singing.

Arum straightened up and stilled the arms working on the dough. “I had a head start, why don’t I allow you to catch up?”

“Oh, how gracious of you my humble Lord Arum.” Rilla rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling.

Then Rilla set to work, setting up her ingredients, occasionally asking Arum to grab something for her from a high shelf, or asking him to hold something since his “four arms were clearly an advantage, you know.” They fell into an easy rhythm together, even in the small space that Rilla’s kitchen allowed them. Damien leaned his shoulder against the wall and watched them work.

It was remarkable really, seeing the two of them together. All the clutter in Damien’s thoughts vanished as he focused on them, delighting in the little ways they interacted that pointed to their easy intimacy. More remarkable still was just how far he’d come in this relationship and how it made him feel. Months ago his hackles might have raised at his loves doing something that didn’t involve him in the slightest, familiar anxiety nestling in his chest and making him worry that they did not want him there because they despised him.

Now all it did was make him proud.

Rilla was listing everything she was doing, methodically laying out her ingredients, measuring them and adding them all together in order of how it should be done. She was telling Arum her process, partly to show him how she thought the process should be, but also because finally she had someone who understood her when she talked so theoretically. It did not make Damien feel jealous anymore, knowing that he couldn’t understand things like this, while Arum could.

Meanwhile, Arum was doing little things to try and distract Rilla, tapping against her waist with his tail to startle her just a smidge, or seeing Rilla look away and sliding one of her ingredients over to his side of the counter. Every time, Rilla would swat at him playfully and tell him off, the amusement clear in her voice. The smile on Damien’s face was almost painful, but it was that or laugh out loud and give himself away. He wanted to keep looking at them in secret for just a little while longer.

Eventually, Rilla began humming a song as she worked and Damien had a hard time controlling the singular emotion that was overflowing inside his chest. He loved them so much, it was simply too much for his body to contain sometimes. His hands were itching for a pen and he had words in his mind that spoke of companionship, hummed melodies and small kitchens during a rainstorm. Moving back to his quill and parchment would mean leaving the scene in front of him, however, which he was less thrilled about, so he stayed put.

Physically clutching at his chest with one hand and pressing his lips firmly together, Damien continued to watch them. He tried as well as he could to formulate his emotions into verse in his mind so he was less tempted to burst into the room and take both of his loves into this arms. Phrases danced their way through his thoughts while Rilla absentmindedly bumped her shoulder into Arum, not hard, just a small touch that showed the gravity that pulled them together as naturally as celestial bodies.

It occurred to him that he rarely saw this, just the two of them together. Of course, Damien was familiar with how they acted around each other by now, when they were all together. He knew how he was with each of them separately, too, how they felt different and made him a better person in their own unique ways. He supposed he never really considered that Rilla and Arum would also have that, a relationship that was all them, beautiful and precious and theirs.

Rilla and Arum were still speaking to each other, but the conversation went over Damien’s head partly because he was too busy calming his over-eager heart with haphazardly constructed metaphors that twisted together into something resembling a poem. The other part of it was that the pair had devolved into a heated discussion over how to best get a pie or some such evenly heated and their talk about different possible methods of oven construction and heating patterns of coal and wood were simply too much for Damien to grasp.  

It was then that Arum twisted his head too far Damien’s way in an exaggerated motion of rolling his eyes and saw the knight leaning in the doorway. He cocked his head and just blinked at him for a second, before his face split into a smile.

“Seems like we have an audience, Amaryllis. A knight has snuck into our midst.”

Rilla, who’d been busy enough with mixing something to not have noticed Arum turning his head, now looked up and twisted around to look at Damien. It was quite the comical sight actually, Arum’s claws caked with dough and Rilla’s face dusted slightly with some kind of flour where it had blown up from the mixing bowl.

“A knight I distinctly remember we banned from the kitchen.” Rilla said, not sounding annoyed in the slightest as she put the mixing bowl down and took a step toward Damien. He raised his hands up in surrender and smiled sheepishly.

“I haven’t once set foot in your kitchen sanctuary, I wouldn’t dare.” Then Rilla was rubbing her nose against Damien’s, undoubtedly getting some flour on his face. He laughed, taking Rilla by the shoulders and pushing himself backward away from the onslaught. He heard Arum’s warm chuckle, amused by the two of them.

“Alright, alright. Message received, I’ll leave you two to your baking, tragically bereft of my company. You were simply too fascinating not to watch” He intoned his words as if reciting his more dramatic poetry, hanging his head in mock sadness though he was smiling widely. Rilla leaned up to kiss him once, patted him on the cheek turned back to her mixing.

“We’ll let you know when we’re done, Damien. We’re in need of a judge.”

Arum briefly walked up to Damien too, keeping his dough-covered hands carefully away from him as he leaned in close to press his mouth to Damien’s crown, blowing some air from his nose to playfully ruffle Damien’s hair. “She thinks she can win, too. Adorable.” Arum whispered close to Damien’s ear, making him shiver just the slightest. Then Arum turned back too, concentrating on his work again with his tail swishing behind him contentedly.

With that, Damien padded back into the cozy living room, surrounded by the homely sounds of his two loves baking for him. Or rather, baking in competition, but Damien was fine with that. They’d gifted him with another poem after all, which occupied his time until finally his two flowers emerged from the kitchen again.

In the end, Damien naturally loved both of the things they’d baked, which had been frustrating for Arum and Rilla, but what else could Damien have said? He was equally biased in two ways, after all.