#lily nam

[weakheroforever]

[ladyelainehilfur]

everyone shut up, it's the girlies

[just4notherd4ydre4mer]

WEAK HERO (indulgent hcs 1)

a/n: this is kinda embarassing. also this is short.

Edit: now how are y’all STILL finding this. 😭🙏… maybe I’ll come back.

characters: Ben Park (Humin Park), Eugene Gale (Juntae Seo), Lily Nam (Jeong-ah Nam)

warning(s): VERY self indulgent which means characters may be OOC.

status: not proof-read! (and never will be)

---

(why did my mind go blank the moment i started typing)

Ben would 100% be the type to accidentally confess to his crush. Would not know. Would not realize. His words go in and out of his own ears without a second thought. BUT, he would realize later on and frantically try to play it off.

Imagine big brother Eugene. powfehohgor plz... he'd be like the best older brother (at least in my mind). Need comfort for smth? Check. tried his best to understand you. Spilled smth that stains? Check. He's got you covered, already ran to the nearest drugstore or convenience store -- or maybe whatever what was in the house --and shows you a little hack he's learned one way or another. Uhh.. he'd be overprotective, but not in an overbearing way! He'd be so worried for you about everything, but also ultimately allows you to have fun and do what you want. Your happy? He's happy! He's a sweet cinnamon roll :)

Lily as a friend. best friend? (plz tell me someone remembers who she is. I love her sm). OK... so uh-- if you're ever sick and miss class. She will ALWAYS have notes ready for you to borrow. Even if it's not a really important class. She's also just a pleasant person to be around. Kind, but not a pushover. You getting picked on? Will indirectly confront them, probably just give an icy comment towards the perpetrators. But ofc, she doesn't want a physical conflict. She just wants to stand up for her friends. Might give you a pep talk abt standing up for yourself more often. OH, and other than kpop and stuff, she's 100% is into either magical girl shows or sanrio stuff. Has cute stickers on hand too.

end.

[weakherodiaries]

Weak Hero: Character Name Meanings (Korean): Part 5. Supporting Student Characters

The fifth set of the moodboards where I babyfy humanize them. The meanings are based on Hanja. Cross referenced against naming websites in Chinese and Japanese, Naver Hanja Dictionary, Pleco, Hanjadic, and Takobot apps.

Pt. 1 (Eunjang Gang + Pilyoung/Phillip) || Pt. 2 (The Union Executives) || Pt. 3 (The Union Members) || Pt. 4 (People from the Past)

[voidnoidoid]

even MORE stupid weak hero headcanons: WOMEN!!!!!

featuring mostly lily and Julia, with some Lala, and Eugene's aunt and the pool hall lady!

Lily is a member of her school's art club! How do you think she draws Gray so well?

Julia is a tsundere.

Lily is deceptively strong in a way that reflects her emotional and mental strength, also she could totally solo the entire Union including Donald if she wanted to. But she's too nice.

Julia listens to Paramore, and does emo makeup, to Lala's chagrin.

Eugene's aunt is close with her nephew and enjoys listening to him talk about his friends. She reminisces about her school days.

Julia has a motorcycle and is a really good rider.

Lily wears makeup to hide her freckles, but Julia thinks she's prettier with them exposed.

Lala is toxic af and keeps changing boyfriends so much that she became well known for being unstable. Also bc her personality SUCKS.

Lily and Julia met in middle school while Lily and Lala knew each other since elementary. Lala was always jealous of how Lily and Julia got along better and became closer.

The pool hall lady is fond of ben, Alex, Gerard, gray, Eugene etc bc she finds their antics amusing. She is aware that Ben and Alex find her attractive and sees them as younger brothers due to how much they show up there.

After the dropout gang karaoke incident, Lily and Julia started hanging out more. Lily invited Julia to a sleepover too. (Future fanfic idea???)

Weak Hero would be 100 eps shorter if we gave lily a gun.

Eugene's aunt specialised in treating cats. The weirdest animal she had to treat was an isopod.

Julia is a great singer, she would obliterate everyone in karaoke. She's shy about it though.

[2hoothoots]

So I was going through your blog (again) and found some of your stuff mentions fsau Raz having ADHD, as somebody with adhd I’m intrigued, may I have some of those headcanons (canons??) related to that? Also, I would give “a penny for your thoughts” but I’m out of pennies, so here’s various images of a drawing of ur blorbo I put next to my animals, note that a rock had to be added in one picture to keep him from flying away (BONUS: his now permanent place with the wifi guardian frog)

NOTHING brings me more joy than seeing physical drawings of these guys, like, out and about. in situations. thank you for this gift, and ALSO for the great ask because it's a perfect chance to ramble

so first of all, canon Raz having ADHD is very real to me. he's constantly fidgeting and moving around, getting distracted by sidequests and scavenger hunt objectives, always talking to himself out loud, gotta write everything down so he remembers it because there's so much to DO!, running away from home because his dad yelled at him one time and now Raz assumes he must hate him forever... i could go on, but i think there's a lot of room for interpretation there!

in my headcanon, he never got diagnosed as a kid. maybe there were some notes about it in his reports each year, sure - but a little hyperactivity and distractability never seemed to slow him down. he excelled in lessons and on missions, and when he was with his family their performances gave him something to focus that energy into. it was only really when he turned 18 and graduated to a full agent that the cracks started to show.

because there's a big difference between the responsibilities you have as a minor, and the responsibilities you have as an 18-year-old living away from home! one who's expected to cook and clean for themselves, and take care of adult life stuff, and also work the 9-to-5 office job he's just graduated into that involves sitting in front of a computer and write reports all day.

short-term, he found he could get himself to power through a deadline with energy drinks and psi-pops (a lot of psi-pops...)

long-term, something had to give. he was working himself to exhaustion, constantly stressed, swinging between days spent staring at his computer screen doing nothing and all-nighters desperately trying to finish his paperwork before the deadline. it just didn't make any sense to him. he'd finally started his job as a Psychonaut, he was living independently like he'd always dreamed, he'd gotten top surgery after planning it for so long. he should have everything he ever wanted. why wasn't he happy?

following a deep post-surgical depression, about a month before his 19th birthday Raz was living out of his car, couch-surfing or sleeping in his office. he got kicked out of his apartment after falling behind on bills and rent. it wasn't that he didn't have the money, it was all just too much for him to stay on top of.

he'd probably have stayed in that misery hole for a lot longer if Frazie hadn't marched into his life and demanded he let her help him move into a new place, or she was telling mom that he was homeless. together, they sorted through all of his possessions from the last place - everything that had been hastily shoved in his car, or tossed in a box in his office, piled in a heap that was giving him anxiety even looking at it.

things do get better for him from there.

when he eventually explains things to Hollis, she gently suggests that he should get a roommate. he ends up moving in with Phoebe, and they become pretty good friends after a couple months! something about having another person around to help do the chores and wash the dishes and share the space helps, even if it takes him a while to admit it.

he gets his ADHD diagnosis, and finding the exact right medication and dose is a journey he's still on years later - but they're a huge help in getting him to actually knuckle down and finish his work on time. and the whole thing ends up being a chance for him to take a step back and really think about what he wants to do with his life. he'd always assumed that being a Psychonaut was his dream, but he'd never really reckoned with what that dream would look like before.

in the end, he sticks with it, but also decides to follow Lili's example in branching out. he applies to study a part-time Bachelor's in Psychology on a remote course, and gets accepted. juggling missions and paperwork and study and relationships (because the whole thing made him realise he also wasn't setting aside any time for himself, and wow, dating is a thing) is a lot - but he manages to figure it out, day by day.

(Lili comes back to the Psychonauts after graduating. she and Raz have both changed a lot over those four years, but on their first mission together they hit it off like a house on fire - and the rest is history!)

[xiaoderyy]

CHOOSE ONE KPOP SONG :

[lilydally]

hbd to my favourite 🐬

[flower-of-the-desert]

strong girl nam soon ep3

Putting this under the cut because it's kind of salty. Dont read it if it's not your thing, please.

I'm starting to think kdrama land needs a writers strike too because this is the third show I'm watching in a few weeks where the plot is ????????? and the characters make dumb decisions for no damn reason. It is not that hard to make a coherent plot line?

How come her family's vast wealth and connections didnt manage to find Nam Soon in over 10 years when one random cop did it in 2 days? Her mother literally has the power to get information on a top secret government police force but the only thing she could do to find her missing kid is host a sport competition? It becomes even more stupid when according to them there were only FOUR missing people in Mongolia who fit Nam Soon's description. Hire a PI and have him go look around the place where she disappeared! Or something!

Also yes let's donate an obscene amount of money to a random organization after doing one (1) google search about it.

"If I mistreat someone else, then another person will mistreat Nam Soon" is all fine and dandy as a belief but I feel like it becomes useless and dangerous when you're talking about someone who is actively scamming you by faking being your daughter. If they try to do the whole omg she was just a poor thing down on her luck and now she wants to be part of a family uwu I will claw my fucking face off.

Random cop calls you to say he has your daughter but he wont take her to you because "she needs to rest" just what normal characters do in normal situations sure sure sure.

Slow-mo reunion in the middle of a fire - also another very normal reaction to have. Like ok. I get what they're going for BUT consider that you can have dramatic emotional moments WITHOUT making your characters dumb as hell.

The homeless couple plot line seems so tone deaf like they're trying to play it off as cutesy romcom-y moment at the end but it's not?

[damselettc]

this is a tag dump !! ( ignore. )

[weakheroforever]

ITS BACK !!! POLLS IN ONE HOUR 💌

[ladyelainehilfur]

people will treat girls with a crush on the MC in action webtoon like they're the scum of the earth smh

[loselily]

Cześć kochani tu Lily

Porozmawiamy dziś o skutkach i romantyzowaniu Any

Dlaczego taki temat?

Ostatnio dużo grup ludzi do nas dołącza. Niestety nie przez to że wyszukali nas w Internecie lub już trochę się odchudzają a przez tiktoka. Nie znając skutków myślą że jest tak kolorowo. Już na nie jednej grupie znalazłam się z przypadkami że ludzie nie byli świadomi nawet że są takie skutki uboczne co uważam za niedopuszczalne.

Skutki zniżania się wagi?

Może zacznijmy klasycznie.

1. Wypadają wam włosy. Nie mówię tu o kilku włosach na szczotce tylko wypadają wam garściami.

2. Występuje owłosienie na nogach rękach nieraz nawet twarzy. Dlaczego? Dlatego że nasz organizm chce się ocieplić zazwyczaj to tłuszcz robi za ocieplenie nas a jak go nie ma w takiej ilości organizm robi nam owłosienie jako formę ochrony

3. Macie dobry metabolizm? To po jakimś czasie nie będziecie go mieć. Metabolizm spowalnia się wraz z schudnięciem a tak właściwie głodówkami.

4. To chyba znane brak miesiączki co w przyszłości może doprowadzić że będziecie bez płodne

5. Nie macie odpowiednich witamin więc często będziecie odczuwać zmęczenie, kości zaczną was boleć i nieraz będą pojawiały się pryszcze (nie u każdego ale nieraz się to pojawia)

6. Omdlenia

Romantyzowanie?

Zacznę głodówkę to przecież takie fajne szybko schudnę.

Otóż nie, często jest jednak tak że głodówki są przerywane zaczynamy się objadać. I mimo że schudliśmy i tak przytyjemy to jest tzw efekt jojo.

Szczerze większość ludzi których poznałam tak naprawdę po czasie ma dość ale Tumblr i ana tak im weszły do umysłu że nie umieją już przestać bo znają każdą kalorie zamiast jedzenia widzą cyferki codziennie rano biegną na wagę obliczając ile schudli. A jak będzie większa liczba to zaczynamy ćwiczyć.

Dużo ludzi chce też aby schudnąć z nadwagi do normalniej. Nie w Anie. Po czasie mimo że na początku będą obrzydzały was zdjęcia kości zaczniecie je lubić nie będziecie dążyć do normalnej wagi . BA jak pojawi się normalna będziecie nad tym ubolewać bo mieliście np. Niedowagę a po czasie chcecie wygłodzenie.

Dużo nowych „motylków” uważa że 1000 kcal jest to dużo otóż to też głodówka nic wam nie da to jak będziecie głodować i później żreć z 3000 przez binge.

To samo się tyczy z zaglądaniem komuś do talerza i posty typu „moja przyjaciółka dziś zjadła całą czekoladową babeczkę i kinger kanapkę a popiła to cola nie zero! Jak tak można!” Można bo to są ZDROWI ludzie.

Mam nadzieję że osoby które trafiły tu przez tiktoka i romantyzują to przeczytają ten post i jeszcze raz się zastanowią nad wejściem do naszej społeczności ja teraz z wami się żegnam do następnego postu kochani buziaczki

[theophan-o]

Kozak-bandurzysta. Козак-бандурист

Witaj Bohun, radam ci serdeńko, zagrasz nam dziś na bandurze!

Let's look at Him, this time playing one from his two "real" instruments: BANDURA, the Ukrainian Cossack folk instrument, for the first time recorded in a historical source in the mid-15th century. Just imagine, when Bohun played his bandura, the Cossack-bandurist's tradition was already c. 200 years old!

*The instrument's form here is rather modern (19th century) and the ornament is not entirely historically accurate, but I couldn't stop myself from giving Bohun a bandura adorned with lilies:-)

[whimsimille]

A PETAL FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

Seo Moonjo x reader!

"Do you think these would be nice for her?" With fear in his gaze resonating off the ivory petals of the catchfly arrangement, Kim Nam Shik inquired while watching your deft fingers skillfully loop a satin ribbon around its right side. "You've always had such a knack for choosing just the right flowers."

A laugh fluttered out vacant and hollow as an abandoned mansion, bouncing off the walls as his fingers entertained themselves by drumming on a rusty iron handcuff dangling from his belt—ironically just a showpiece since all he patrolled were cloud-swathed streets of this labyrinth city and secret trysts with the mayor's wife and his compatriot in his district.

Unfaithfulness gnawed at him like a lurking creature in the dark, and you saw it right under his alluring mask. Nestled within Pocheon's slender streets filled with traditional Hanok houses, secrets were as fleeting as glimpses of dawn through the lingering mist. Whispers moved through the town like waves in the Soyang River, skimming over private conversations beneath the massive shadow of Gwanak Mountain. The whispers carried stories of temple bells chiming and daggers flying at Nam Shik, the picture-perfect husband and devoted police officer, who was now painted in two sobering hues.

Silent storytellers of treachery, white catchflies were charmingly cunning. An undebated tradition insulated meaning into ribbons – tie it on the left; confess someone's treachery; tie it to the right; concede to self-betrayal.

Apology replacing anger stirred within you as you observed Nam Shik wallow in unease, a stark contrast against his modest wife back home, who only saw his effusive smiles and confidence often splattered across local papers for saving the day.

"Officer Kim," you began, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the room, "Have you thought about writing her a note?"

A puzzled look stamped itself across his features. "A note?"

"Exactly," you responded, reaching within your counter to pull out a charming, cream-colored piece of stationary. Your shop’s logo sat elegantly embossed on the top right - a subtle explosion of lily-of-the-valley blooms - something you doodled as a kid for your mom's old shop; she got her wings early and left the responsibilities to you. A memory turned into an emblem, now stamped onto every love letter that left your store.

"Maybe a sincere declaration," you proposed, offering him the card. "Something that conveys her significance to you. It could pair wonderfully with the flowers."

Accepting it, he nodded. "Sounds good, Y/N. I'll do that."

After all, why not let him expose his treachery to his wife while feigning his love with an offering of flowers, whose symbolism he was blissfully unaware of?

Like the hammer of a blacksmith shaping iron, your heart pounded against your ribs. A dark, twisted humor that had you on the edge, a gnawing cynicism that had you contemplating whether to equip him with a pen for his confession or a shovel for his own grave.

"Pardon my curiosity, Officer Kim," you began, brushing the petals of a nearby rose with your fingers. "But I've heard things. Things about the mayor's wife. She's a beautiful woman, isn't she? As beautiful as these roses, perhaps?"

Nam Shik's eyes flickered with surprise, and his grip tightened around the stationery. His jaw tightened and sweat beads formed on his forehead.

A moment of silence passed before he managed a response.

"Where did you hear that?"

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, you know how it is in Pocheon. The wind carries whispers. Even the flowers here have stories to tell."

His lips pressed into a thin line, the confusion in his eyes replaced with a stormy unease. He reached into his pocket, his fingers curling around the familiar shape of a cigarette box. But before he could pull it out, your hand shot out to stop him. His eyes snapped towards you, wide with surprise.

"Officer Kim," you stated, pointing at the 'No Smoking Inside' sign hanging by the entrance. "My shop, my rules."

He stowed the box back into his pocket, an awkward chuckle escaping his lips. "Right, my apologies." He muttered, glancing nervously at the bouquet of catchflies.

Your smirk was fleeting, disappearing as soon as it appeared. Didn't he know? A flower shop was no place for burning bridges or harboring secrets.

The patter of rain against the roof rose to an imposing drone, while a perfume of fresh blossoms perfumed the room- subtle but omnipresent.

Just then, Nam Shik broke the silence. "I... I should get going. The rain is getting heavier, and the streets will turn muddy. I need to get home, put my baby daughter to sleep."

"Officer Kim," you interjected, halting his movements just as his hand was about to reach his worn-out wallet. "No need for payment; it's on the house."

"What? Why?"

You smiled, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "Consider it a gift, a token of appreciation from your local florist. You've been one of my regulars for quite some time now."

Nam Shik seemed taken aback but didn't protest. He merely nodded, a faint smile of gratitude tugging at the corner of his lips.

"But," you added, tapping your fingers lightly on the counter, "there's a small condition attached."

Curiosity flickering in his eyes, he tilted his head like a mutt.

"I want to know how your wife reacts to the bouquet. Consider it... professional curiosity. I enjoy knowing that my flowers bring joy to people.”

Less aware of your stoicism, Nam Shik chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Sure, I can do that."

"Oh, and one more thing. Please ask Mrs. Ji-An to visit me after one of your patrols! I'd love to chat with her over a cup of tea. She has such interesting stories, doesn't she? Last time, she told me about her gardening adventures. I wonder if she's added any new plants to her collection!"

Visibly stiffened at your casual mention of Ji-An, his other affair, his eyes snapped up to meet yours. For a split second, you saw a flicker of surprise, fear, or guilt in them, but it disappeared just as quickly. Trying to gather himself, he cleared his throat.

"Ah, Mrs. Ji-An... Yes, I'll make sure to pass on your message," he stammered, avoiding your gaze. The confident, composed officer was nowhere in sight. In his place was a man caught in the headlights, his secrets laid bare.

With a deep breath, he stepped out into the rain. The chime of bells hanging by the entrance rang out, their melody mingling with the pitter-patter of raindrops on the pavement. He pulled up his collar to shield himself from the cold wind that whistled past him, heading towards his home nearby.

Quaint, winding streets of Pocheon, slick with the day's rain, lay deserted except for the occasional silhouette hurrying past under the shelter of large, colorful umbrellas or huddling in the welcoming warmth of doorways. Nam Shik, in his rain-slicked uniform, must have felt like a specter weaving through the shadows. Every step he took echoed like an admission of guilt, and every glance he cast around felt like an acknowledgement of being watched by unseen, knowing eyes.

Now, all that was left was to wait and see what he would do with the truth.

A faint smile tugs at your lips, thinking about how you bent the truth to expose him, using flowers as your weapon against him. It wasn't exactly honorable, but sometimes deception deserves to be called out in the open.

As you continue tidying up, you hum faintly under your breath, humming one of those old village songs about unfaithful husbands and cuckolded wives seeking revenge through poisoned desserts or cursed needles sewn into their lovers' clothes. A soft chuckle escapes your lips at the thought.

Glancing at the antique clock hanging on the wall, you noticed that the hands had swept past midnight. Despite the late hour, you still had a few more customers who would come in, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the shop's lights, to buy flowers for their loved ones or just to brighten up their homes.

Your hands traced the petals of a pink peony, feeling their velvety softness under your fingers as you murmured reassuringly to them.

After a few minutes, the  door chimed again, its familiar metallic jingle echoing through the quiet of the shop.

"Good evening," you called out, not yet looking up from the flowers that occupied your attention. Your fingers danced over the petals, snipping away the dried leaves with a careful precision that only years of practice could offer.

It was only when the silence stretched on, unanswered, did you glance up to meet the newcomer's gaze. Framed by the dim street lights outside, a tall and lean man stood tall in the doorway.

Raindrops clung to his hair, dripping onto the floor with soft plinks against the tile. Wearing a black turtleneck shirt and neatly rimmed glasses, he looked even more out of place in the little flower shop. His hands were tucked behind his back, but even from where you stood, you could smell the sharp, unmistakable scent of iron in the air. Crimson stains dotted his cheek, a stark contrast against his pale skin.

It didn't take long for you to realize that he wasn't from around here. The way he looked around the shop, his gaze lingering on the neatly arranged flowers, the old paintings that adorned the walls, and the antique clock that ticked softly in the corner - it was as if he were a ghost, silently watching the world around him.

Your grip on the scissors tightened imperceptibly at the sight of him.

"Can I help you?"

There was a pause before he responded, his voice carrying an unfamiliar lilt that you recognized immediately - he was from Seoul. "I was just passing by. I saw the lights on and... well, I've always had a soft spot for flowers."

"Oh, I see. Well, make yourself at home. My store stays open till late because some customers work odd hours and want to surprise their loved ones. What brings you to Pocheon so late at night?"

Apparently unaffected by your nudging, he shrugged. "I am an artist," he said simply, his gaze shifting over to the stainless steel pen poking out of your apron pocket. "And I'm here in search of inspiration."

"Inspiration..." you echoed, narrowing your eyes slightly. Something felt off about this man and his words. But then again, you had seen stranger characters come into your shop before—people seeking solace in flowers for all sorts of reasons. You couldn't help but wonder what kind of thing he was after.

“Perhaps you'd like to purchase a bouquet? Flowers often serve as muses for artists. I could recommend some known for their symbolism in art.”

"Oh, no… Maybe something for... a masterpiece I left behind?" He asked softly, his voice rough and low. It was clear he hadn't spoken much recently, like an old wound that never quite healed.

“Of course! I can help with that," you offered enthusiastically, setting aside the steel scissors you were holding onto the counter. "What kind of flowers were you looking for? Something bold and fiery like red tulips or something more delicate and whimsical like baby's breath?" You spoke as you led him deeper into the shop, where more fragrant blossoms hung overhead from strings connecting them to the ceiling hooks. Serenity gently swayed downward as if dancing in silent waltzes under the music only you could hear.

"I don't know. I  haven't seen flowers like these in so long... They're beautiful.” He paused, a fleeting smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "They remind me of someone very special."

Intrigued by his words and the emotion behind them, you found yourself more curious. "May I ask," you began, your hands skillfully arranging an unfinished bouquet of vibrant sunflowers as you spoke, "what kind of art do you specialize in?"

Fastening the stems with a golden ribbon, you turned to him, awaiting his response.

“Oh… I break things. Dissect them, mold them into something new. I take the broken, the shattered, and make them whole again.

His words struck a chord, leaving you with a sense of unease that slowly crept up on you. But you pushed it away, shifting your focus back to his words.

"That's... an interesting way to describe art. A unique perspective indeed."

He chuckled. "Art is a reflection of the artist," he explained. "Art is about transformation. About taking something ordinary and turning it into something extraordinary."

"That's true. Just like how a seed transforms into a beautiful flower?”

"Yes, exactly like that," he agreed, his eyes lighting up with a spark of understanding.

From then on, the conversation flowed naturally, your earlier anxiety dissipating as you talked about art, flowers, travel, and even his classical music love. What had at first made you uneasy seemed strangely reassuring in his presence. Your store felt brighter and cozier with him in it, even at this late hour.

Abruptly, the room reverberated with a tremendous crash.

Turning towards the sound, you saw a beautifully crafted vase, adorned with intricate carvings of peonies, that had been perilously perched on the edge of the counter, now lying shattered on the floor. Its pieces glistened like scattered jewels on the polished oak floor.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized quickly, looking genuinely mortified. "I didn't mean to ... "

"It's alright," you reassured him, already moving to clean up the mess with a small broom from under the counter. "Accidents happen. That's why they're called accidents.”

As you bent down to pick up the pieces, you suddenly felt a cold, metallic pressure against your throat, making you drop everything you were holding. You froze, the realization of what was happening washing over you like a wave of icy water.

"Art is also about destruction," he murmured, his voice devoid of the warmth it held just moments ago as he made your back meet his chest. Finally, you noticed how his nails were caked with dirt and blood, how he smelled of nicotine and something predatory, and most alarmingly, the warm liquid oozing out of his waist - he was bleeding. "About breaking something beautiful to create something even more beautiful.”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You had always known that the beauty of flowers often hid thorns beneath, but you had never expected to find those thorns so close to home.

Looking around for anything that could be used as a weapon or defense, you noticed that the scissors were too far away, but there was a small knife on the counter for snipping off dry leaves. You prayed he couldn't make out the faint sheen of sweat on your forehead or the tremble in your hands as you tried to think of a way to reach it.

“Nah ah… Don't even think about it, pretty flower.”

You unconsciously swallowed as the cold metal pressed tighter against your throat. Your heart beat faster, and your breath hitched in your chest. You slowly raised your eyes to meet him, seeing the depths of deafness and satisfaction reflected in his gaze. What had seemed like a mysterious stranger moments before was suddenly a threat, possibly even a killer.

"Please..." you whispered, trying to plead with him. "You don't have to do this."

But he didn't listen. Instead, a deep hiss escaped from between his teeth as he pulled you closer to him, his fingers digging into your skin. You could feel the sharp edge of the blade that had somehow snuck into his hand; it was cold and unyielding. It cut through your flesh like a jagged knife, tearing through silk. The pain was immediate and intense, but you barely registered it.

Outside, the rumbling of thunder could be heard growing louder as the rain fell harder on the rooftop above you.

"Why are you doing this?" You managed to croak out before another bloody cough burst from your lips staining the front of your lavender apron.

Stars danced in front of your eyes as you struggled for air. As the sound of your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, the room appeared to spin around you, amplifying until it drowned out all other noises.

All around you, the flowers seemed to wilt under the sudden darkness - their petals curling in on themselves as if they too were wilting under the pressure of impending doom. How ironic it was; you had chosen flowers for their symbolism of life and new beginnings, yet here you were, dying in your own store that you had hoped would bring joy to people's lives.

Try as you might, fighting back was impossible—every movement you made just made things worse. It was like swimming against a powerful current.

Through the shop's window, you caught sight of a small man with an oversized, rain-soaked coat. He looked like a drug addict, his eyes darting around nervously as he held a gun in his shaking hands. Every feature on his face was masked by the dim streetlights, save for his eyes, which were wide with desperation. He was trudging down the streets, his boots splashing in the puddles as he seemed to search for something—or someone.

"Help! Please—" Your plea was cut short as the man landed a punch on your stomach, effectively silencing your screams.

"Quiet, darling," he warned in a dangerously low voice. "Believe it or not, I'm the safer option here."

Without another word, he began pulling you towards the back of the shop. His steps were measured and deliberate, carefully avoiding the shards of the shattered vase. Your heart thumped against your chest as he guided you towards the hidden room—a tiny space your mother had fashioned for you to rest during long shifts.

"Why are we going here?" You managed to ask, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound steady. "How did you know about this place?"

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the antique doodle hanging by the door, the one that showcased you and your mother running from a big shadowy figure. “I need a place to hide," he finally said, his tone strangely matter-of-fact. "And you're going to help me."

A wave of memories washed over you as you stepped into the hidden room. This small space, tucked away from the rest of the world, was your sanctuary. It was where you and your mother would curl up together after a long day, whispering stories and sharing secrets. It was where you would retreat when your father came home too drunk, too lost in his own sorrows and inner demons.

The room was filled with remnants of your past—a tiny bed covered in faded floral sheets, a worn-out teddy bear sitting on a wooden chair, and the old radio that would softly play your mother's favorite songs. The walls, painted a soothing shade of lavender, were adorned with old photos and drawings. And in the corner, a small wooden chest filled with your mother's keepsakes—letters, trinkets, and an old locket that held a photo of you as a baby.

"Where is the key?" He demanded, his voice echoing off the four walls of the room.

"In the top drawer, under the counter.”

He retrieved the key and locked the door, the click of the lock echoing ominously in the room. The man then turned to you, his eyes scanning the room before landing on the small cot in the corner.

"Sit down," He ordered, pointing towards the cot with a bloody hand. The dim light from the solitary bulb hanging overhead casting an eerie glow on his pale skin, making the blood look black. “And don't even think about trying to be funny, honey. I have a gun here too.” He nodded towards a dark shape peeking out from his pocket. It was a small gun, but deadly in the wrong hands. “You're quite the beauty, and it would be a tragic waste to paint this room with your blood, but don't think that I will even blink. I could give your lips and those eyes a better purpose. A place in my art gallery.”

Your heart pounded in your chest like a wild drum, but you snarled back at him, teeth bared like a cornered animal. “You're no fucking artist, motherfucker. You're a monster.”

His laugh was a low, chilling sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Oh, no, no, darling! Of course I am. Don't you understand the beauty of my craft?” He kneeled in front of you, the knife in his hand glinting in the dim light as he traced patterns on the bare skin of your legs. You flinched at the cold touch, but refused to show any fear. “Do you want to know the best thing about masterpieces, jagiya? Sometimes, past creations turn into chasing specters, hungrily hunting back.”

Despite the blood he was losing, he seemed unfazed, a devil wreathed in human skin. His eyes gleamed with a perverse delight as he continued his torment. It appeared as though he was a deformed Dionysus, intoxicated by his own dark pleasure.

Gathering your strength for the inevitable fight, you forcefully swallowed. "This is not something you can get away with."

“Oh, jagi… I always do.”

Before you could react, he reached out, his hand cradling your face. His fingers were cold against your skin, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a chillingly tender caress.  “You are a beautiful flower, aren't you?”

With his eyes grazing your tear-streaked face, he drew slightly away. “Tears don't suit you, darling.” Raising his hand to remove them with the back of his hand, he spoke.

All of a sudden, he leaned in once more, gently kissing your cheek with his lips. Although the touch caused your skin to crawl, you held your breath to prevent him from getting a kick out of watching you writhe. His lips trailed down your cheek, stopping at the corner of your mouth. “Such a pretty mouth,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a mocking caress.

Then, without warning, he struck. The blunt end of his gun connected with the side of your head with a sickening thud, sending you sprawling onto the floor.

Knowing that you would be at his mercy if you blacked out at this point, you struggled to stay conscious even as your vision became blurry and pain erupted behind your eyes.

With his face just inches from yours, he knelt beside you. “Sleep tight, darling.” Before getting up and leaving you by yourself in the tiny room, he gave you one last kiss on the forehead.

[stealeroflemons]

eah thingy #29 because my brain has been creatively dead for a while and I'm going to force myself to try before I go back in my study hole for graduation

This is mainly going to be what I think the eah characters sound like/who they sound like when they sing/voices I associate with them when I'm writing them (I know these won't perfectly match up with their VA's but let me have my fun)

Melody Piper - Phoebe Bridgers

Sparrow Hood - Tyler Joseph

Raven Queen - Chappell Roan

Meeshell Mermaid - AURORA

Briar Beauty - Julianna Joy

Faybelle Thorn - Halsey

Ashlynn Ella - Lizzy McAlpine

Hunter Huntsman - Michael Cera

Dexter Charming - Alec Benjamin

Darling Charming - Allie X

Daring Charming - Peter McPoland

Apple White - Melanie Martinez

Blondie Lockes - Britney Spears

Cerise Hood - Hayley Kiyoko

Ramona Badwolf - Bishop Briggs

Kitty Cheshire - Suki Waterhouse

Maddie Hatter - Paris Paloma

Lizzie Hearts - MARINA

Alistair Wonderland - Niall Horan

Bunny Blanc - Ethel Cain

Cedar Wood - Laufey

Chase Redford - Eric Nam

Courtly Jester - K.Flay

Holly O'Hair - Lily Kershaw

Poppy O'Hair - Orla Gartland

Ginger Breadhouse - Hailee Steinfeld

Duchess Swan - Tessa Violet

Farrah Goodfairy - Au/Ra

C.A. Cupid - Madds Buckley

Hopper Croakington II - Ricky Montgomery

Justine Dancer - Sabrina Claudio

Rosabella Beauty - Chloe Ament