#also praying that I have the correct meanings for these flowers

[midwinterrmemento]

Flower Language

➢ pairing: Leonardo x MC [Ikemen Vampire]

➢ word count: 1,413

⚠️ content warnings: None!

This is my entry for @ikemenlibrary's Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange, dedicated to @sunnyikemen! I have never written for Leo before, but I had a lot of fun with his character, and I hope that I did well enough to make for an enjoyable read at least! Happy belated Valentine's Day, Sunny, and here is some Leo fluff for you :)

Being around the most famous polymath in history, there was always a new surprise in store.

Leonardo da Vinci seemed to know everything about everything. Perhaps it was because of his endless knowledge, gathered over the course of centuries, or perhaps it was because of the air of ease that surrounded him—but it did not escape his notice how the newest resident of the manor seemed to gravitate toward him upon her unexpected arrival. 

He never denied her his company. At first, because he knew she was frightened and disoriented.

For a girl who had found herself transported into another time period in the blink of an eye, there was only uncertainty around every corner. Yet Leonardo's breezy personality and apparent ability to handle anything with minimal effort brought her security, as well as distraction. He knew this, and so he made it a note to help her throughout her time in the manor, keeping her mind off her troubles.

You're restless and wish to get out of the manor, cara mia? Well, then, let's take a day outside Paris. The French countryside is an equally worthy sight for a time traveler, and it'd be a shame not to have you visit. Hm? Where to? Well, it's no fun if I tell you all the details, now, is it? 

How to paint, you ask? Why, you wish to prove a point to Theo? Ha! Don't pay him too much mind, 'knabbeltje' is merely a term of endearment, I'm sure. But if you really wish to learn, then I am glad to be of service, morso mio. ...Hm, no, of course that's not the same as what Theo says. Would you accuse me of such a thing? 

So, you want to hear about Florence back in those days, then. I hope this isn't because of any gossip you heard from the noble Comte. ...Alright, alright. Come, sit. I suppose I ought to make an effort to salvage my good name, at least.

Days turned into weeks of trying to make himself available to her, helping her calm down and settle into her new life at the mansion. He had sworn to himself that was all it was. But as wary as he knew to be of the passage of time, somehow he found it creeping up on him again. Even after she was already well settled, he continually found himself at her side, as if naturally drawn there.

He didn't realize until too late, one afternoon when they were sitting out in the mansion's gardens together.

A certain flower had caught her eye—a yellow daisy—and Leonardo had commented, absentmindedly, "Ah, yes. Joy and friendship."

It was an innocent remark, accompanied by a little chuckle. It made sense to him that this should be the flower that struck her. He had come to associate her with such qualities, after all, because they were what she brought to him. Every little inconsequential story he shared with her, every time he allowed her to watch him paint and work, every time he whisked her out on some spontaneous excursion, it was often met with that look of intrigue, that little excited glimmer in her eyes. 

Yet he was somewhat surprised when his passive comment earned him that same look.

Humming to herself, her eyes scanned over the other flowers in the garden and came to rest on another. “And that one?” She nodded her head towards the flower in question.

“Which, the marigold?” 

She glanced back at him expectantly and nodded once more, seeming quite eager to hear his explanation. Leonardo, now acutely aware that he was being tested, smiled a little.

“Marigolds represent grief. Or the passage from one life to the next.”

“Really? But they seem so much brighter, warmer…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you doubting me, cara mia?”

And for that remark, he found himself rewarded with soft laughter. Despite himself, and despite everything he had assured himself about maintaining his distance, he could not help but feel his heart squeeze. Spending an idyllic afternoon wandering around the mansion’s garden, chatting among the flowers as they bloomed with the new season, it all felt so warm. 

“No, no…” She shook her head, still smiling. “It’s just unbelievable, that’s all…”

“So you are doubting me.” Leonardo tsked in faux disapproval, savoring the little back-and-forth of the moment. “Alright, now it’s a challenge, then. Ask me about another.”

Looking around again, she settled on a vibrant purple bud and pointed to it. 

“Ah, crocuses stand for young love,” he answered knowingly. “There is an old Greek legend that Crocus was a mortal lover of Hermes, and the god was so devastated when he died that he had him transformed into a flower. The red on the inside, there, is supposed to represent his blood.”

She seemed quite taken by the story as he explained. Ah, he would never tire of seeing that look on her face, when she was so absorbed in what he was saying, when he knew she was hanging on every word. But arguably, it was even better to watch her fluster when he concluded his tale with a triumphant smirk.

“Alright, don’t get too arrogant, now.” She pointed to another flower. “What about that one?”

“Sweetpea, gratitude.”

“And the lily?”

“Purity.”

“And the white camellia?”

“You’re adorable.”

For a moment, silence fell between them. Even the great polymath had his limits, and he did not realize what he was saying—or how it would be construed—until he glanced at her curiously and found her staring back at him.

Oh.

“No, I mean…” He coughed. “That… is what the flower means.”

She blinked. Quickly returning to her senses, she began to shake her head, as if to simply laugh off the misunderstanding. “Yes, right.”

For as much as he was inclined to laugh along with her, however, he found himself unable to do so. Once more he felt his heart squeeze in his chest—though this time, it was a more uncomfortable feeling. Uncomfortable in a familiar, sinking way.

“Well, anyway… I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you’ve studied flower language at some point as well. You’ve studied practically everything else,” she said, attempting to keep the mood light and teasing. “At times I wonder, is there anything you don’t know?”

Leonardo found himself staring at her a moment longer, somewhat troubled by that old feeling in his chest, and taken aback by the realization that he did, in fact, find her quite adorable. Not wanting to keep her waiting for a response, lest she start to suspect there was something on his mind, he sighed and managed a little smile.

“...Actually, cara mia… There are plenty of things I don’t know.”

With that, he reached over and carefully plucked one of the little flowers nearby. He tucked the flower behind her ear, grinning with satisfaction as he watched her demeanor brighten again. 

“Hm, that’s better.”

“That was a pink camellia, right?” She gazed back at him with that curious look he loved so much to see on her.

“Maybe so.”

An ambiguous response, as if he had simply chosen the flower at random, when they both knew that wasn’t the case.

“What does that one mean, then?”

Something in Leonardo’s grin became a bit more wistful. There was another beat of silence, and then, suddenly, he reached out and lightly ruffled her hair.

“...I concede defeat,” he said, after pretending to think for a moment. “I’ve forgotten.”

Laughing at his actions as she tried to fix her hair, she seemed quite pleased by the thought of having gotten one over on him. So pleased that—much to his relief—she let it drop, and did not question him any further about the flower’s meaning.

Leonardo watched her smiling, standing in the sun with a flower in her mussed-up hair, and studied her as though she were one of the wonders of the world. There was no longer any doubt in his mind as to what exactly this feeling was, weighing so heavily upon his heart. And there was no doubt that he had chosen the right flower to express it. 

Even if he could never say it to her face—his lovely Crocus, who had so miraculously appeared in his life across time and space, and who was bound to one day return to her own world beyond that door—he could not deny it.

This unspeakable feeling, represented by a pink camellia.

I long for you.

#also praying that I have the correct meanings for these flowers #I did some research but every source says something a little bit different ;-; #if there are any inaccuracies it was me and not leonardo lol #at any rate I really hope you enjoy!! it was a lot of fun to write for you!! #ikemen vampire #my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikevamp #ikevamp leonardo

[screeching-bunny]

may i request a yandere god/angel? The idea of something so pure..the one thing you have faith in is actually the thinkg keeping u trapped in their obsession bubble is so appealing to me. having no hope left anymore. just them <3

Yandere! God Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

🌟 Yandere! God embodies profound wisdom and possesses knowledge beyond mortal comprehension. They have a mysterious aura and speak in riddles, often challenging his followers to seek enlightenment and often confusing the hell out of them. He’s very unpredictable and playful. He finds joy in playful interactions and enjoys surprising their followers with unexpected twists while they worship him. He lives for drama and will one hundred percent mislead his followers.

🌟 Yandere! God is starstruck when he first sees you. He can’t believe that such a cutie is worshiping him and is such a devoted follower. Any prayer that you wish for, he immediately tries to make it become a reality. Since he’s an all powerful god, you can best believe that he will misuse his powers when it comes to you. What’s this? You met a cute guy at work and flirted with him? Well too bad he got struck by lightning five times and died on the spot. Truly unfortunately. He’ll do his best to isolate you from your friends and family. You’ll be so lost that the only thing you can do is just pray to him whenever you can. The thought of this has him kicking his feet up in the air and twirling his hair.

🌟 Yandere! God plans out exactly how and when you guys will finally meet in person. After watching you for many hours he wants this moment to be as perfect as possible. He makes sure to be as dramatic and extra as possible, revealing himself in a very flashy way. Some lightning here and there and some cool looking smoke for his entrance. One day your just praying to him and poof he’s out in front of you.

“WHAT THE— WHO ARE YOU?!?”

“Some people want to meet me, some people don’t believe me, and some people claim to be me. I am…?”

“OH MY GOSH YOU’RE BATMAN?!?!”

“Yes it is— WAIT NO!!!”

🌟 Yandere! God eventually stops speaking in riddles around you because of your inability to get the correct answer. It’s just the only way that he can communicate with you properly and have you understand what he’s saying. Don’t worry though he still loves you nonetheless even if you are a total airhead. He will, however, personally tutor you if it ever really comes down to it. He still speaks in riddles to everyone else but you.

🌟 Yandere! God enjoys watching you pray to him. You view him as someone to look up to and ask about life questions. He makes sure to manipulate you by giving you advice that causes you to become a social outcast to the rest of the world. Who needs friends or a lover when you have him? Whenever his servants hear him say these things to you they just side eye him. They don’t try to do anything about it though because there’s no stopping him when it comes to love.

🌟 Yandere! God uses his followers as entertainment. They’re like his own personal reality tv show that he can control whenever he wants. He loves dropping random things on them and watching them freak out about it. Do you remember the time when a bunch of archeologists dug up an ancient rock with diamonds around it? Yeah, that was his badly made art craft that he threw away years ago. Do you also remember that hurricane that nearly destroyed a country a few months ago? Yeah that was also him, he just accidentally sneezed in the wrong direction that day. His followers believe that anything he does has a meaning behind it. Those natural disasters that have been happening recently must be a test from him. When in reality it was just you messing around with the weather because you we bored.

🌟 Yandere! God would make a new flower and name it after you. His love for you is infinite and would like to spend all of eternity with you. When you first met him you thought that he was supposed to be a generous and pure being. It was because of this thought that you never really saw his advances towards you as romantic. You just brushed these thoughts off and thought you were crazy for even thinking this was. When he found out what you were thinking he nearly ripped his hair off.

🌟 Yandere! God uses the idea of enlightenment to forever trap you by his side. Ditch all the people that you once knew and live with him. This is the only way for you to reach your full potential. People are just vial and disgusting so just jump right into his arms. He’s honestly so good a gaslighting that you don’t even question him and just do exactly what he says. To him it’s almost comical but he couldn’t be prouder of you. If you ever tried to gaslight him it wouldn’t work. I mean you can’t out gaslight the original gaslighter. He was literally the blueprint.

🌟 Yandere! God is terrible at cooking. This is understandable because he is a god and doesn’t need to consume food in order to survive. You, however, do need it. He tries his best to cook food for you but whenever you eat his food you always get food poisoning and need to run to the toilet. He always looks so proud when handing you the dishes that he made that you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t want it. So you usually just suck it up and shove it right down your throat.

🌟 Yandere! God is aware that you are a mortal and will one day die. So he tries various ways to make you immortal whether you like it or not. The thought of you dying just pains him and he’d do anything to prevent it from happening. He would destroy and sacrifice the entire universe if it meant that you’d be safe with him. Being with him is so suffocating. He’s like a clingy dog that always bites for attention. There is honestly no quiet moment where you get to be alone in your own thoughts because he is always watching you.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #gn reader #yandere god

[killuagirly]

Yandere!Noah's Ark Circus[Separate] x Reader

Summary: Noah's Ark Circus members[Separate] seem to have a thing for you, but it only gets worse as you don't notice their obvious attempts to court you. What might they do in return?

Notes: I LITERALLY WAS SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS FOR NO REASON AT ALL. The idea for this was taken from this post, but slightly changed up to fit more general circumstances. [Also because this is Yandere yk] I tried to make sure they all had a lil' sum but writing for this many characters in one post obviously means less content per character. Hopefully I'll get around to the main characters too, like Ciel, Sebastian, and so on.

CW: Yandere, Obsessive tendencies, Possessiveness, Slight mentions of violence[nothing really bad], etc. Read at your own risk!!

═══════════ ☾ ═══════════

Joker

☆ The 'ringleader' has special tricks up his sleeve just for you. It really couldn't get more obvious to everyone around you when he's leaving gifts outside your tent that range from flowers to clothing and so much more. He'll make sure you acknowledge his tricks and jests during the announcing and performances by making silly inside jokes between the two of you during the show.

☆ Eventually he may start to notice patterns in your behavior when you take his romantic gestures lightly, as nothing more than two close friends. Experimenting to see if his assumptions were correct, he even went as far as kissing you on the cheek before wishing you goodnight after one of his shows.

☆ As he suspected, you only laughed it off and told him goodnight in return. He starts to wonder if the way you keep looking the other way is because you may already have eyes for someone. If even it may seem so, Joker keeps his cool and focuses on improving your view of him. No action will need to be taken if he can simply draw your attention away from other.

☆ If means necessary, he's not hesitant and will slowly push everyone away from you to worm his way into your heart. If it gets to the point where your unmindful habits could be taken as rejection, he may be the type to just outright tell you about his feelings for you. If you still brush it off as some kind of joke, I pray for you because this man will take it to no means end to make you understand his love for you.

Beast

☆ One of the most gorgeous women you'll ever meet, falling for you. Honestly, I'm jealous. Beast is the one who'll communicate her love for you through silent actions, no doubt about it. She'll be your shoulder to cry on, help you with any questions or concerns you have regarding the circus, and you can always come to her with outside troubles as well.

☆ Beast honestly would most likely get upset rather than offended once it hits her that you aren't receiving any of her hints in a romantic context. Maybe she was going about it the wrong way? No, you're just unaware of her feelings towards you. No worries, she can just lay it on a bit thicker so it's within your grasp. After that, how could her love for you still go unnoticed??

☆ If you still manage to get past her flirting however unbothered, she'll probably start looking for outside causes. Could it be that you've got your mind elsewhere? Beast might actually begin to grow self-conscious because of the situation, wondering if you could be judging her for 'flaunting' or 'showing off' her body feature due to her costume. She might even start thinking about changing her main performance outfit.

☆ She may also outright ask you about what you think of her choice of outfit or general body shape saying something along the lines of, "I'm only curious t' know what y' think." In the context that she believes you're thinking of another in a romantic sense however, Beast might get a little pushy with you making sure that you're out of the path of anyone who could be considered a threat.

Dagger

☆ Dagger is literally a whole other story once he's fallen for you. He's very outgoing and honest, not to mention he'll literally serve you compliments on a silver platter for completing even the simplest of tasks. You wore something new today, did your hair differently, got new pair of shoes? He's dying to tell you how great you look, showering you with love and affection.

☆ Is it even possible to stay oblivious to this boy's feelings? He's all over you all the time, craving your praise, attention, literally anything and everything he can get out of you. So how and why on earth would you not acknowledge his efforts to present his feelings for you? It definitely runs through his mind that you could genuinely not feel the same for him.

☆ Honestly, try getting him off of you once he's realized you aren't giving him the attention he wants anymore. Dagger isn't the type to act desperate, but it can surely come off that way at times. He'll even outright bring up this form of, "neglect," you've been giving him. I hope that he doesn't suspect anything between you and another member of the circus, because he'll do anything in his power to keep them away from you.

☆ Dagger often proposes that you both train together, help him out with his act, or even silly little things like eating at the same table together in order to draw you out of any situation involving someone he sees as undeserving of your attention, insisting that you come with. As persistent as he is, he does know his boundaries and won't take it too far, most of the time anyways.

Doll

☆ Doll is an awfully touchy person, and she isn't afraid of showing it. When she's not all dressed up with the main cast, she'll be out and about following you around left and right. This girl could talk for hours without getting bored and proves it when she's with you by literally talking your ear off. Not that you really mind, especially when she's coming up with some new ways to compliment you. Calling you, "alluring," and "incredibly skillful."

☆ She's also very expressive with you, not caring to hide much from you. You'll probably know about how she's a first-tier member long before the sharing secrets phase in a friendship. She also enjoys helping you in every way she can, teaching you tips, tricks, and everything she can about the circus since she's, "more experienced than y'!"

☆ Eventually she comes around to flirting with you shamelessly so, trying to catch your interest. "Lookin' great t'day love," and trust me, it doesn't stop there. Coming around to your disregardful mindset started annoying her though. She'll probably go to Snake or one of the other members in hopes of figuring out what she's doing wrong. "How can't they not see 'm 'n love with 'em?"

☆ If it ever comes to a point where she believes that you may be in love with someone else, she will literally drive herself crazy about it. "Why don't they love m' like that, 'm I doin' somethin' wrong?" She'll pull you along, adamant that you spend more time with her instead of someone who's unimportant. Doll's jealousy is laid out on display for you, and she isn't shy about it either.

Wendy

☆ Spending time with you has become the highlight of her days, and she could go on and on about whatever is on her mind just relaxing and being with you. Wendy fawns over things like your choice in style, your makeup on that given day, honestly anything and everything that is noticeable about you. She's such a sweetheart, caring for you and making sure you've got everything you could ever need.

☆ Wendy is the yandere who might not even realize that her feelings towards you are considered romantic at first, taking her heart's increased pace as simply enjoying time spent with you as her friend. Once she does come to this realization, she's lovestruck and infatuated with you like no other. Honestly her change in behavior would probably be considered a bit concerning by the other members.

☆ If she actually starts flirting or making moves on you and you manage to overlook her signals, she'll automatically go into overthinking mode. It would go something along the lines of, "What 'f they don't find me attractive? D' they think 'f someone else 'ere 's prettier than me??" Peter would probably be the one to notice and calm her down.

☆ In the ensuing days, she'd probably get after anyone who got a little too close to you for her liking. Her main focus would be regaining your full attention, which much to her appeal, would probably be easy given her outgoing nature as your close friend. You can take my word for it when I say this girl isn't letting you go so easily, practically dragging you along with her just for some attention.

Peter

☆ Peter is a little ignorant when it comes to showing his love for you Trying to court you for him is like trying to survive falling into a volcano, it's seemingly impossible. Don't underestimate him though, he does try his hardest for you. If you ever need help with your act, he's there for you. Couldn't grab a bite to eat from the mess tent in time? He'll share with you, just keep your mouth shut about it or he might get embarrassed.

☆ For a while, Peter might be in denial about this little crush of his. After that stage passes however, he goes right into, 'If anyone at all ever hurt them I would take them out with my own two hands.' Not to mention he just might follow you around like a lost puppy, seeking out your attention. Though he'll never say it aloud, he does enjoy your when your attention is completely focused on him and him alone.

☆ Once he realizes that you aren't understanding his hints, - bypassing his love for you - he just gets straight up pissed. What is he doing wrong? Is it because of his condition that you might find him unattractive compared to other circus members?? Bless your soul, if you thought he was clingy before he's not letting go of you now, and anyone who tries to start up a conversation with you is rudely interrupted by a short blonde who isn't having it.

☆ Peter will go off at anyone who tries to speak with you even if it's simply an everyday conversation, no romantic ideals involved. He won't make it seem like the reasoning behind the way he's treating the lower-tier members is his jealousy and possessiveness over you, but some like Wendy might notice him having more sudden outbursts. He'll go as far as physically hurting someone over a harmless compliment about you. In his eyes, he should be the only one telling you such things.

Jumbo

☆ Jumbo's ways of attempting to court you seem the usual, showing off his strengths and starting small talk with you. He enjoys the simple things, like complimenting your skills whenever you do well during practice, or listening to how your day went. Whether you're feeling down in the dumps, or having a wonderful day, he's always there to listen and chat with you.

☆ The silence or calming atmosphere will put him at ease while he simply basks in your presence, even being near or just seeing you after a long day at the circus is enough to put a smile of his face. He cares a lot for you and your well-being, and simply can't imagine a world without you anymore. He may become aware of his feeling much later than he should, and once he does he begins noticing the other things too.

☆ Like how you simply turn your back when he's performing, of course you watch every now and then but you only pay attention to him as much as a good friend should. Jumbo probably starts realizing that you may not feel the same way for him as he does for you, which he simply takes notice of to try harder. Playing the harmonica for you, complimenting your tastes as often as he can, and so on.

☆ Eventually he understands that his efforts are going completely unnoticed in any kind of romantic sense. Could it be someone else has you wrapped around their finger or are you simply oblivious to his methods of courting you? Jumbo definitely seems like a gentle giant, so he probably won't hurt anyone even if they are testing their limits with you. Just a menacing glare from him and they'll know to back off, and he'll only even go that far if they're getting awfully touchy.

Snake

☆ Snake trying to court you is.. practically bound to go south. Well, from his view anyways. He just wants your love and attention, but he's much more closed off than most of the other members which makes it harder to get his feelings through to you. He may absent mindedly gravitate closer to you in public settings, but he still doesn't say very much to you in his own voice.

☆ He prefers to let his snakes talk for him, not often speaking to anyone himself. However, for you, he'll start slowly trying to start small conversations even if they only last moments. Sometimes he even watches you from afar while you're busy training with your act. When you notice him, maybe even flash him that pretty smile of yours, his cheeks will get all flushed and he'll scurry away.

☆ Snake is rather insecure about himself, so he automatically assumes the way you brush off his subtle attempts of flirting with you is because you couldn't be interested in him with his out of the ordinary looks. In addition to that, he's probably not all that offended or upset if you tend to shrug him off just taking it as if he's not good enough.

☆ Although, the other members[especially Doll] may end up offended on his behalf when noticing he the efforts he's putting in for you. He's trying his hardest, isn't he? Snake may be hesitant to step in if the cause of your disinterest in him is the fault of another who's caught your eye. Given his timid nature, I highly doubt he'd go to the extent of acting upon your disinterest in any way besides simply trying even harder for you.

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Masterlist

#KilluaGirly #Kuroshitsuji #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji: Book of Circus #Black Butler: Book of Circus #Book of circus #Book of Circus x Reader #Kuroshitsuji x Reader #Black Butler x Reader #Yandere Kuroshitsuji #Yandere #x Reader #Joker Kuroshitsuji #Yandere Joker Kuroshitsuji #Beast Kuroshitsuji #Yandere Beast Kuroshitsuji #Dagger Kuroshitsuji #Yandere Dagger Kuroshitsuji #Doll kuroshitsuji #Yandere Doll Kuroshitsuji #Wendy Kuroshitsuji #Yandere Wendy Kuroshitsuji #Peter Kuroshitsuji #Yandere Peter Kuroshitsuji #Jumbo Kuroshitsuji #Yandere Jumbo Kuroshitsuji #Snake Kuroshitsuji #Yandere Snake Kuroshitsuji

[praetorqueenreyna]

Tamlin is shocked (and a little scared) when his ex-girlfriend's sister stops by his flower shop. Featuring Florist!Tamlin and Tattoo Artist! Nesta.

For Tamlin Week Day 3: Flower Languages. Click here to read on AO3, or continue reading below!

@tamlinweek

“I have a question for you.”

Tamlin jumped and dropped his shears with an aggressive clank. He was trimming the ends of yesterday’s flowers, his headphones blaring Hozier as he focused on his task. He hadn’t even heard somebody enter his flower shop.

It took a second for him to place where he had seen the modestly-dressed woman before. It was Nesta, one of the three sisters that ran Archeron Tattoos next door. Immediately, Tamlin was on guard. A year prior he had had a disastrous relationship with another sister, Feyre, which had ended so badly he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had set his shop on fire. For months after, he had avoided even glancing at the door to the tattoo parlor. Things had settled down and Feyre even had a girlfriend now, but that didn’t stop her from giving him the stink eye whenever they crossed paths. He had been so busy deliberately not looking over there that he barely knew anything about the other two sisters.

“Um, yes?” he stuttered, aware that he had been staring blankly at her for way too long.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. She didn’t seem like she was here to murder him, but also didn’t seem like she was thrilled to be there. “I need reference photos for a piece I’m doing this weekend and can’t find any online. If you have the flowers here, I’d like to take some pictures.”

Tamlin could have pointed out that she didn’t actually ask him a question, but to be honest, Nesta was intimidating. She was almost as tall as he was and, though he outweighed her slim frame, she seemed like the kind of person capable of getting what she wanted. Besides, the request wasn’t unreasonable and there was nobody else in the shop right now.

“Sure. What flowers do you need?”

Nesta pulled out her phone and thumbed through it until she found the list. “Yellow hyacinth, foxglove, cowslip, marigold…” She rattled off about a dozen of the weirdest flower requests Tamlin had ever heard. He was used to people requesting orchids and roses, not wolfsbane. There was an awkward pause when she finished talking and was waiting for him to respond.

Tamlin cleared his throat. “I’m sure I have some of those. I’ll be honest, it’s a rather…unusual set of flowers.

“I’m aware. You know about florigraphy, correct?”

“Yeah. Flower languages.” As a florist, Tamlin had come to know the most common flowers used to convey meaning. Red roses for true love, white tulips for remembrance, etc.

“Exactly. My client just got out of a shitty relationship, and she wants a huge floral sleeve celebrating that. And instead of using flowers that represent love and peace and all that crap, she wants flowers that say ‘fuck you.’ Turning those negative experiences into something positive.”

Tamlin had never thought to use flowers to convey anger or spite, but he could see the appeal. He was certainly well versed in bad break ups. He led Nesta around the shop, pulling out the flowers from her list that he did have in stock. To his surprise, she asked for his opinion. They talked through each flower, Nesta taking pictures of them from every angle while Tamlin Googled its meaning. Nesta was extremely meticulous. She lined up the flowers next to each other, studying their color and shape against each other to make sure they’d make an aesthetically pleasing art piece. Many of the flowers with negative connotations were yellow, which she said didn’t tattoo as well. They finally settled on black dahlia (betrayal), narcissus (selfishness), and columbine (folly).

“I think I’ll frame them like this,” Nesta mused, placing the individual flowers on the table in an artful array. “With the praying mantis in the middle.”

“Why a praying mantis?”

“You know, that whole thing where the females rip off the males’ heads after they mate.” Nesta gave a devilish grin. “Very empowering.”

“That’s not true.”

The easy-going atmosphere that had developed between them collapsed. Nesta scowled. “What?”

Tamlin, who by now was wishing he had ever learned when to shut the fuck up, stammered, “It’s a myth, that praying mantises do that. A very common one, lots of people believe it!”

Apparently, his nervous explanation was pathetic enough to convince Nesta that he wasn’t trying to talk down to her. She tilted her head, appraising him with cool gray eyes, wordlessly waiting for him to continue.

“Well, um, the study where the females eat the males was done in a lab, and they were starving and stressed out. Afterwards, they were observed mating in the wild, and it doesn’t really happen.”

“So you’re telling me a bunch of people had to go out and watch bugs have sex?” Nesta asked in a deadpan voice.

“I guess? I don’t actually know all the details. It can’t be as weird as I’m making it sound, but—”

“Relax, I’m kidding,” Nesta grinned at his obvious discomfort. Tamlin noticed she had a dimple in her left cheek.

“Oh.” Although she didn’t seem like she was going to bite his head off anymore, Tamlin scrambled to find something to recover the conversation that he had derailed. “You could do a spider. For a lot of them, the females are way bigger and more powerful than the males. And the males have to bring them presents to avoid getting eaten.”

“Mhmm, I like that. Thanks.” Nesta paused in the doorway. “You know, you’re not as much of an asshole as I had thought.”

“Thank you?” There was barely enough time to comprehend what she had said, then she was gone.

Tamlin spent the rest of the day thinking about her. And Feyre. He had assumed that Feyre had told her sisters plenty of stories about how terrible he had been. Some of them would even have been true. He had spent the past year trying to forget one Archeron, only to fall headfirst into another. It was so stupid. They had talked for twenty minutes about flowers and she had smiled at him. Still, every time he entered or left his flower shop, he couldn’t help but glance in the doorway of the tattoo parlor, hoping for a glimpse of Nesta.

***********************************

That weekend, he was closing up the shop when he heard a knock on the door. He had already locked it and was busy sweeping, and he approached the door ready to politely tell the overeager flower buyer to fuck off. His irritation transformed into elation when he caught sight of Nesta through the glass. He hurried to unlock the door and usher the tattoo artist inside, along with the petite red-headed woman that accompanied her.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind us barging in,” Nesta said. Before Tamlin could say that she could barge wherever and whenever she wanted, she nodded towards the other woman. “This is Gwyn. I just finished up her sleeve. I told her how you helped me, and she wanted to come by and thank you in person. And show you the final piece.”

Gwyn was wearing a tank top, and one of her arms was a riot of color. Tamlin couldn’t see the details of the new tattoo under the saran wrap that currently covered it.

“Oh. Of course, you didn’t have to do that. I’m happy to help,” Tamlin replied, flustered. Gwyn was staring at him with big blue eyes. They were a little puffy, as if she had been crying, which Tamlin assumed was the result of getting a tattoo for hours upon hours. She was grinning though, clearly pleased with the completed work.

“Well, thank you still. I really appreciate it. Especially the bug info. I would have been so embarrassed to find out the mantis stuff after I had already gotten the tattoo.” She stepped forward and held out her arm. “Do you want to see it?”

“Sure, I’d love to.” Gwyn pinched the edge of the saran wrap between her fingers and peeled it off. The surface of the tattoo glistened with ointment, but it was still breathtaking. The flowers that he had Nesta had picked out absolutely glowed, bright bursts of red and purple and yellow and green against Gwyn’s pale skin. In the middle of the flowers was a black widow spider, glossy black with the distinctive red hourglass on her abdomen. It was an absolutely stunning piece of artwork.

“Wow,” Tamlin breathed. “It’s incredible.” He lightly touched Gwyn’s wrist to tilt her arm so he could see more of the tattoo, then realized what he had done. “Oh shit!” He jerked his hand away. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you without asking.”

Rather than being annoyed, Gwyn was blushing furiously. “It’s okay, you can touch.” Nesta snorted, and Gwyn shot her a look that Tamlin couldn’t interpret. “Just not on the ink. It still hurts.”

“I bet.” With his fingertips, he rotated Gwyn’s arm back and forth, taking in every little detail. “Amazing. Just amazing.” He let her arm go. “That guy doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Yeah, fuck him.” Nesta slung one arm around Gwyn’s shoulders, careful to avoid the new tattoo. “You should totally have gotten to kill and eat him.”

Gwyn giggled. “No argument here. I should get going, my roommate is probably out front waiting to pick me up. She waved bashfully at Tamlin. “Bye, it was nice to meet you. And thank you again for all the help.” With that, she slipped out the door. Nesta watched her leave with an amused smirk. It felt like there was an inside joke that Tamlin was missing out on.

“What are you laughing about?” he asked, feeling bold.

“Nothing. Just that you’re challenging Gwyn’s new resolution to swear off men forever.”

“What? Me?”

“Yes, you. Being all cute and respectful like a Victorian gentleman.”

Now Tamlin was the one blushing, his ears were practically on fire. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And the little wrist touch. I’m surprised she didn’t swoon directly into your arms.” Nesta grabbed Tamlin’s hand in a mock imitation of his own interaction with Gwyn. She was rougher than he had been, jerking him forward into her. She had missed his wrist and instead had her hand wrapped around his palm, a mistake he was grateful for, since hopefully she couldn’t feel his blood pounding.

“I didn’t…I wasn’t…” Tamlin’s head was a buzz of static. He couldn’t even breathe with Nesta right there. She was so pretty and so terrifying, which apparently was exactly what he found attractive.

“Relax, I’m messing with you.” She released him and stepped back. “Seriously, you’re a good guy. Stop by next door any time. I promise I’ll tell Feyre not to bite your head off.” With a cheeky wink she left, the bell on the door tinkling faintly behind her.

***********************************

He could do this. He was not going to chicken out, like the last three times he had tried. The cowardly part of his brain was screaming at him to turn back even as he locked the flower shop behind him, but he ignored it. For the first time since his breakup with Feyre, he entered Archeron Tattoos.

All three sisters were there. Feyre, thankfully, was working. She was bent over someone’s ankle, carefully sketching lines with her tattoo gun. There was a brief flash of regret, but nothing more. They were never meant to be, and they were both happier now. Feyre looked up when the door opened and did a double take. She took a few seconds to properly glare at him, then returned her attention back to her client. Tamlin exhaled in relief; a part of him had fully expected her to attack or yell at him.

Elain was behind the counter. She had revved up a formulaic greeting before she realized who he was, and cut herself off mid-sentence. Tamlin gave her a distracted wave, not wanting to get sidetracked. Nesta was in the shop, organizing bottles of colored ink. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Hey.”

She looked up, and smiled. “Hey.”

Tamlin looked around, painfully aware that Feyre and Elain could hear everything they said. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“Sure.” Nesta led him to the back of the tattoo shop, where they at least had a little more privacy. She turned to him and folded her arms. “What’s up?”

Tamlin had rehearsed the next part a million times. And instead of saying any of that, he pulled a flower out of his pocket and offered it to Nesta. “I brought this for you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Nesta carefully took the flower, which now had a crumpled stem and smashed leaves.

“It’s a pansy,” he explained. His mouth was inexplicably dry and his voice sounded weird in his ears. When they had been doing their florigraphy research together, they had run across the pansy on multiple sites with multiple meanings. One meaning had stuck out to him, and he hoped that Nesta had remembered it as well.

“You occupy my thoughts,” she murmured. She smiled that dimple smile that left Tamlin weak in the knees. “You’re cute.”

“Oh good, you remembered,” was all that came out of his mouth.

“I did.” She laughed and tucked the pansy behind her ear. “Tamlin, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Yes. Yes. Definitely.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at six.” She lifted herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips, then darted past him. Tamlin stood there, stunned, waiting to wake up.

On his way out the door, he stopped. “Bye, Feyre,” he said loudly.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you. Asshole,” she said in reply.

It wasn’t great. But it was a start.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin #pro tamlin #neslin #nesta archeron #tamlin/nesta #tamlin/nesta archeron #tamlin week #tamlinweek #tamlinweek2024 #tamlin week 2024 #fanfic #my fic #THE PARTY CONTINUES

[hindahoney]

I saw your post about how your non Jewish friends won’t show support, and I know we’ve never spoken but-

How do I show support besides just spreading awareness? Do you have any suggestions?

[Said in good faith, I want to be able to support the community I wish to become part of even if I’m not very far on my journey. Please correct me if I’m ignorant :>]

Here is another good organization.

It also means a lot to us to just show up to a vigil or your nearby synagogue and tell the people there you stand with them. We need to hear it. Most of us feel like no one cares about us. You don't have to bring flowers or food or anything but just showing up and showing your support means more than you will ever know. At shul the other night a woman came in during services and said "I am so sorry. I'm thinking of your people. I'm praying for you all." And that almost made me cry.

#jumblr #judaism #jewish #frumblr #jewblr #j tag #jew tag #jewish stuff #donation

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Changes afoot

Day 3 prompts: Family | Loyalty

For: @silmarillionepistolary

Rating: General Audience

Characters: Maedhros, Fingon, Nerdanel, Maglor

Epistolary format: Journal entries and letters

Themes: Soft | Fluff | Hints of Russingon

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 2.2k words

Summary: Fingon writes to Maedhros telling him to expect a visitor. A feast is held in honor of this guest, and both Maedhros and Maglor write their observations of what takes place before and after it begins. Maedhros later writes to his mother about their new guest, and his fears about his father.

A/n: OC name meaning

Indilien, wife of Maglor - Indil (Lily) | ien (suf. feminine ending; feminine patronymic).

This is also available on AO3

Letter from Findekáno to Nelyafinwë

249th day of Y.T. 1492.—

Beloved,—

I trust I have not wounded you by my delay in sending this letter, for my tasks have been many of late. Father cloisters himself often with my uncle, talking, but I fear such talk will bear little fruit. My uncle has grown weary of the many quarrels between your father and mine; he wants no part in them, and I am beginning to think he is wise to keep away. My mother, however, is afraid. She believes this all portends to some dark and terrible doom that is yet to reveal itself, but my father does his best to comfort her, saying all will be well in the end. Perhaps he is right, but my mother’s words weigh heavily on my thoughts. What if she is correct and my father is wrong? What if there is something dark and dreadful hiding in the shadows, biding its time until it is ready to consume us all? I try not to think too much about such matters, and I will write no more on them. Morgoth’s lies have already poisoned what we once had, and I will not give him the power to taint what we have slowly begun to rebuild. 

The cherry trees are in full bloom. My mother’s garden is aflame with brilliant little white flowers. Soon, that white will give way to crimson fruit. Do you remember, my love, how we would lie beneath those flowers while the others were away? How we admired the stars and talked and laughed and loved each other without a care in this world? I still go to those trees and lie beneath their laden branches. I think of your hand over mine, your lips warm against my own. I try to make myself content with the memories of you and me, but I find it is not enough for me. I will try anyway and bear up as much as I can until your father is released from his exile and I can take you into my arms again.

Yours in all things,

Finno.”

P.S.—My love, pray do not allow your heart to grow troubled when you find this letter being borne to you on swift wings. A change is afoot, and whether it is for good or bad, I cannot say. A visitor rides for Formenos even as I write this letter, and you will see them standing before the gates of the great keep your family calls home soon enough.

Letter from Nelyafinwë to Findekáno

251st day of Y.T. 1491.—

Beloved,—

I am not wounded in the least, my love, by the delay in your last letter. You are your father’s oldest, his heir. You cannot shirk your duties toward your family; it is something I understand. I must confess, your forewarning has roused my curiosity as to who this visitor might be, but I will not press you for more on their identity. We will learn of it soon enough, and we have room enough to spare in Formenos for a great many people. I hope my father will be pleased with this intrusion into our lives. Few things bring him joy now, save for us and the hallowed jewels. Forgive me for not writing more on this score. Fëanáro is my father after all, and he would not think highly if I revealed too much of his struggles to you.

I, too, think of the blissful moments you and I spent beneath the branches of those cherry trees. Sometimes, I sit by the window of my bedchamber and look at the sky and the many stars that adorn it. I think of the stars you and I would try to name whenever we caught sight of one we had not seen before. Then I wonder if you are looking at the heavens at the exact same moment as I am and if you are looking at the same stars as I am. I feel your absence so keenly, my love. I cannot rest or eat, or set my eyes on any task; you are a constant in my thoughts. I will try to endure our separation as much as I can until this dreadful exile is over and we can see each other again. Pray do not allow yourself to be troubled by talk of dark portends and signs of doom. Morgoth’s treachery has been exposed, and we are whole and well. Once we are reunited, I intend to show you that you had no cause for fear.

Written by the hand of he who loves you,

Nelyo.

Maitimo Nelyafinwë’s journal

258th day of Y.T. 1491— Just as my beloved wrote in his letter,a visitor rode up to the gates when Telperion reached his greatest bloom. It was grandfather, no less. He decided to come to Formenos and live with us after father sent him word of its completion. Other members of his household, his steward and household guard, and other servants mostly came with him.

Father was delighted. “Our family is now complete again!” He cried and embraced his father, our king. “Just as it should be! Come, my lord. Come with me, and I will take you to your chambers, so you can rest.”

Grandfather was just as pleased, though I thought it all rather strange. He left his queen and their children in Tirion and followed my father into exile. True, his other children were all grown and they were no longer elflings in need of a father’s guiding hand, but it still left a strange taste in my mouth to see grandfather leaving his other family behind so easily. And it must have wounded Uncle Arakáno to see my grandfather choose my own father yet again. Still, I kept my own counsel; now was neither the time nor the place for such questions. It would darken everyone’s mood—my father’s chief of all. Nevertheless, I will still listen to what they say; perhaps I will hear something useful.

Father commanded that we have a great feast in honor of grandfather’s arrival. There would be fine wine and delicate pastries, roasted deer and boar, and even fish caught from a nearby lake. Káno and his bride will sing and play the harp for us. Our little songbird and his wife, the Lady Indilien, ensconce themselves in their chambers, composing music and a series of verses in honor of the occasion. Once, I stopped by the door to listen. Káno was singing, and his lady strummed the harp for him while he did so. What I heard moved my heart in a way I could not imagine. My brother truly is the most gifted among minstrels—he is an elf who could rival the Vala ómar himself. 

His skill with the sword also improves. I teach him as much as I can; one never knows when one will need the use of one, now that Morgoth has escaped and returned to Endorë. During the first mingling of the lights, we make our way to the sparring yard before our other brothers have even opened their eyes, and engage in swordplay. Lady Indilien often joins us, but only to watch. My sister-by-marriage has little interest in hunting and fighting; music and singing are her greatest delights. She keeps herself content by sitting on the side and cheering for her husband. Káno made a wise choice, I think, by taking the lady to be his wife. She is patient and uncommonly kind, traits my brother desires greatly. I pray their marriage will be a happy one and that no misfortune darkens their doors. Now I must set aside my quill and ink. The hour of the feast is almost at hand, and I must prepare myself for it. 

Makalaurë Kanafinwë’s journal

259th day of Y.T. 1491— The feast was splendid. Everyone dressed in their finest robes, and even Tyelko conducted himself in a manner befitting a lord of high birth and rank for once. The cooks surprised us all by setting a tasty table. There were rich stews, soft bread, and fresh fruit, as well as meat and mead and wine for anyone who desired them. Father said little. It displeased him to hear that my uncle Arakáno now rules Tirion as its regent, for it was supposed to be him ruling in grandfather's stead, not his half-brother. Nevertheless, his mood revived not long after. Grandfather joining us in exile cheered him in no small measure. Perhaps he thinks that this is yet another victory over my uncle, another sign of how he will be first in grandfather’s eyes even when he is in exile, even after he threatened my uncle’s life. I like it not. Strife within our family grows day by day, and I fear it bodes ill for us all. My lady urges me to take no part in the quarrels of others. Alas! If only I could do such a thing. Fëanáro is my father. He is my father, and I love him just as much as I love my mother. I must, however, hold onto the hope that he will free himself of his anger and resentments and that our family can be whole again once this dreary exile of ours is at an end. Now I must go. There is something father wishes to show all of us. 

Letter from Nelyafinwë to Nerdanel

261st day of Y.T. 1491.— 

Beloved mother,—

We were told of uncle Arakáno’s change of station. Pray offer him felicitations on my behalf, and tell him I wish him nothing but success.

Mother, you will be pleased to hear that grandfather arrived safely and that all is well with him. There was a splendid feast. Káno sang for us, as did Lady Indilien. You should have heard them. They sounded so sweet together. Everyone cheered and asked them to sing and play for us again. The day after the feast, father took us to the cave that was found during the building of Formenos, and threw open high, iron doors to reveal a great vault. 

“After toiling many a day, it is now finished,” he declared with a great flourish, and he led us inside. Father had labored over the vault in secret, and none of us witnessed its transformation until he opened the doors for us. I wish I could write more on its many aspects, but father forbade us from doing so. Forgive me for saying this, mother, but father’s sense of mistrust has deepened even more. He bid Lady Indilien to wait outside while he brought forth the silmarils. Káno was ill at ease with this, for father’s wish sounded more like an order and less like a kindly appeal one would make to another. Still, he held his tongue, perhaps for his lady’s sake. Lady Indilien, however, did not seem to be offended by father’s command. 

“It is quite all right, my love,” she said, squeezing Káno's hand. “I am content to wait outside.”

After she took her leave of us, father revealed the hallowed jewels. They were as glorious as always, and their radiance was a wonder to behold.

“My greatest work,” father said, lifting them one by one for us to admire. Each jewel glittered like they possessed the light of a thousand stars, and their light shone like gold and then silver, and they bewitched us all with their beauty. “They must be guarded at all times, for never again shall I make anything to match their likeness and glory.”

We admired them one final time before father returned them to their secret chamber. The vault felt strangely darker in their absence, and the air grew a little colder. Then father rejoined us, and we departed.

Write to me when you can, mother. I long to hear more from you and of the great city I once called home.

Your son,

Nelyo.  

Letter from Nerdanel to Nelyafinwë

263rd day of Y.T. 1491.—

My son.—

The days seem to last longer here in Tirion. Perhaps it is because I am here, and you are all in Formenos. I miss you all so very much, but it heartens me to know your father is not alone, and you are all with him.

I rejoice to hear that Lord Finwë is safe and that his journey was without trouble. I have also passed on your kind words to your uncle; it lightened his heart to hear them. His task is not an easy one; the lies and false counsels of Lord Morgoth hold sway over many hearts, and discontent is still strong. We help him as much as we can to ease the many burdens that have been placed on his shoulders.

Queen Indis has taken her place as one of my students, and she is proving herself to be an apt pupil. We spend many wonderful hours together, and I am pleased to claim her as a friend.

As for your father, pray do not take his actions and disposition to heart. Lord Morgoth’s lies brought about a profound change in many who gave an ear to his false counsels, your father most of all. Perhaps, with him no longer under the influence of Lord Morgoth’s words, your father’s nature will return to its former self. I will write to your brother and I will counsel him as best as I can. I am also glad Káno has Lady Indilien, and I am glad you can call her sister. Listen to her, my son, and take care of your father. Write to me about anything that troubles you, and I will do what I can to aid you even from afar.

Your loving mother,

Nerdanel

#silmarillionepistolary #epistolary #fingon #maedhros #maglor #nerdanel #fëanor #the silmarillion #the silm fanfiction

[myriadium]

If you can't read the notes, I'll write them here:

terrible eyesight

shoulder length hair (naturally black)

modern hanfu (w/ pockets!)

roots growing in

1 mole below right eye

flower hairclip (gifted by jo)

Chan Lee's appearance in the original show pissed me off; the writers went crazy with the stereotypes (Trope Bingo), I half expected them to make a dog eating joke in the show. Also the way her name is so similar to Chun-Li? Her name is so unnatural and I think I'm gonna go crazy if I talk about it any more.

Anyway here is her character info: Chansheng Li, she/her, 20, pan, 5'2'', chinese.

Since her Bakugan is based off of the Asura in Buddhism, I think it'd be cool if she was Buddhist. I have yet to do research on the Buddhism religion so I won't say anything about that right now.

I know I mentioned martial arts as a negative for Chan, but I really really want Shun and Chan to fight, so I'm gonna have her know martial arts, but I'll have to do the research to make it a well fleshed out character trait, rather than a nebulous "she knows kung fu" kinda trait. Imma have her know Southern Praying Mantis style, which you might also know as Toph Bei Fong's bending style in Avatar: the Last Airbender. I also don't know anything about martial arts, but mark my words, Shun and Chan will fight!

I haven't given much thought on her job but someone who becomes one of the top international players probably don't have a life, so I'm making her a trust fund baby who spends her free time playing Bakugan and gardening.

SO! I've decided to do some more research and rework her character. Chan wears a qi pao in the original show, which is mostly to accentuate her curves. Sexism in Bakugan strikes again. I prefer hanfus anyway, so because I want to maintain the modern and traditional vibe, she's getting a plain button up with a hanfu dress. I wanted to give her a flower motif, and I had initially decided on a peony, but since her surname, 李, means plum, I might change into a plum blossom.

I stole the outfit wholesale from this amazing photo:

Speaking of her name, buckle up because I spent way too long nitpicking different characters for her name.

Chan's name is Chansheng Li. Written as 李婵胜, pronounced lǐ chán shèng (In Chinese, the surname is said first).

李 is a very common surname. I think Li is a more common romanization of the character in mainland China, while Lee used in places that don't really abide by pinyin rules (in Canto speaking places you can also write her name as 李嬋勝). So if you write Chansheng Lee it is also correct!

婵 (chán) is what's known as a "meaningless bound form", which means it doesn't mean a specific word by itself, only when it's paired with other characters. The sign on the left, 女, means girl, so this character is very feminine, and anyone reading this name would know that she's a girl. General vibes mean "graceful" or "lovely".

胜 (shèng) means victory. It's quite a masculine name, but paired with 婵 it provides a nice balance, I think. Due to this, just by hearing her name, you would have no idea that Chan is a woman.

婵胜 (chán shèng) sounds like 常胜 (cháng shèng), which loosely translates to "often suceeds". Chinese parents like naming kids like good luck charms, so I think this is a realistic thing to name Chan.

A fun side note, I had originally considered 嫦 (cháng), which is the same first character as the Chinese moon goddess Chang'e (嫦娥). Funnily enough, 胜 (shèng)'s left character, 月, means moon! Additionally, 嫦's right character, 常, also means "often", which is what I used in the previous point!

With a name as long as Chansheng, some people might shorten it and call her Chan, but I remember the original show only referring her with her full name, and also Chan sounds kinda weird on its own. As such, I will refer to her as Chan, but realistically the characters would call her her full given name.

I'd also like to add a disclaimer that, even though I did my best with research, I'm not very connected to Chinese culture, so please let me know if any of these things are inaccurate (I would love to see sources as well lmao)! Also note that China is a very diverse place, so do not take my characterization of Chan as a representation of the whole country!!

#bakugan #chan lee

[wren-kitchens]

lilacs and poppies (ch. 1)

this has been a wip for like two weeks now and I just finished it now so you’re getting this at 20 to 1 in the am because I wanna post it now 

basically this’ll be chapter one of god knows how many I can actually be able to finish, but it’s basically just a scarian flower shop au because i’m Normal about them  (i’ll tag as #lilacs and poppies  cause i have no idea how many millions of flower shop aus there are on this site lol)

it’s also very gay so yeah 

“well, hello there!” scar says, hearing the bell above the door jingle. he wheels over to the counter. “welcome to scar’s flower emporium! how can I help you-“ he looks up at the person who’s just entered and feels his heart skip a beat. “-today..?”

the man who is walking up to the counter may just be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. he’s fiddling with the cuffs of his red sweater as he reaches scar.

“hey, i’m grian. I run the new records shop next door.” he gestures to the wall on the right hand side. “it opens in about a week.”

“oh, in that case, welcome!” scar beams, hoping his face isn’t too noticeably red. “I might have to visit it myself. so, are you here to say hello, or are you looking for something?”

“I was looking for some advice?” grian says. “y’see, I wasn’t too sure about what would look good as decor in the interior, and one look in here tells me you’re pretty skilled in that area.”

scar raises an eyebrow, but can’t help grinning. “i’m flattered.” he says.

“I was hoping, if it isn’t too much to ask, if you could pop by and suggest some ways I can liven it up? you’ve done it beautifully in here.” grian says, looking around.

“well, it’s a sunday, so i’m closing early. I can probably come by at around three if you’d like.” scar says, praying grian doesn’t see how much he’s blushing.

grian’s smile broadens. “it’s a date.” he says cheerily, and if scar wasn’t already flustered enough by that comment, he adds, “oh, also, which flowers would you recommend?”

“for- for your store?” scar asks.

“just in general.” grian shrugs. “like, your favourite flowers.”

“oh, uhm.” scar is definitely bright pink now. “we-well my favourite flowers are lilacs and poppies.”

“awesome, thank you.” grian smiles, before turning and walking out of the shop, the bell tinkling.

once grian is out of sight, scar buries his face in his hands. okay, no, this is fine. he can manage a pretty guy next door. even if the guy in question is as charismatic as he (usually) is and is incredibly good at making innocent statements sound romantic. it’s fine.

the bell jingles again, and scar nearly jumps out of his skin. luckily, though, it isn’t grian.

“oh, mumbo, thank god.” he breathes.

“hey, what’s up?” mumbo asks.

“you would not believe the ordeal i’ve just endured.” scar says, wheeling out from behind the counter. “honestly, I should get a medal or something for it.”

“what happened?” mumbo is grinning, which is not the correct response.

“have- have you seen that man?” scar points to the wall connecting his and grian’s shops. “the one who owns the record store?”

“yeah, he and I are friends.” mumbo says. “why?”

“you’re what?!” scar exclaims. it comes out slightly squeaky. “you mean to tell me you’re friends with the most beautiful man on earth and you never thought to tell me?!”

mumbo blinks. then his grin widens. “oh, I see. so, you’ve just met him?”

“yes!” scar says. “and he- you won’t believe what he said to me. he said that he liked my decorating, so i’m going to his store at three to help him, and when I suggested it, he said ‘it’s a date’!”

mumbo does not seem to realise how dire of a situation he’s in. “isn’t that just a thing people say?”

“well I might have thought that too, if he didn’t immediately follow up with asking me what my favourite flowers are!” scar says. “I mean, how am I meant to cope when someone that pretty says that?”

“so.. the issue here is that you’re crushing, incredibly hard, on someone you’ve just met.” mumbo says.

“yes!” scar says. “and that he seems to be doing everything in his power to send me to an early grave via a gay panic induced heart attack.”

“you’ve had one conversation with him.” mumbo deadpans.

“exactly! if i’m this bad after barely exchanging a few sentences with him, I might actually implode if have to hold a proper conversation.” scar says. “and that’d be incredibly embarrassing.” he adds.

“I mean, you’ve only interacted with him once, so how have you already fallen for him?” mumbo asks.

“well, I wouldn’t say fallen for him.” scar flusters. “more.. crushing. relatively hopelessly.”

“whatever it is, you’ve barely met him.” mumbo says. “and like, i’m not saying he’s bad, cause he isn’t, but I just don’t get how you can start liking someone so fast.”

“i’m a weak man, mumbo.” scar grins. “he’s handsome, charismatic and likes flowers. I was doomed from the start. i’m jealous that you get to be his friend.”

mumbo laughs. “so, what, you want me to be an inside spy?”

scar snaps his fingers. “exactly!”

“no, that was a joke-“

“nope, too late, i’ve already said yes.” scar interrupts. “so, what-“

scar is in turn interrupted by the jingling of the bell.

“hi, sorry to bother- oh, hey mumbo.” it’s grian.

mumbo grins, and scar shoots him a glare before turning to smile at grian.

“hi grian.” mumbo says.

“you know scar?” grian asks. good to know he does know scar’s name.

“yeah, have done for a while now.” mumbo is doing a very poor job of being understated. he keeps smirking at grian then at scar. scar wants to hit him. “same with grian.”

“that’s a coincidence.” scar chuckles. “who’d have thought we’d have neighbouring shops as well?”

“not me.” mumbo grins. grian hits him not-so-subtly with the back of his hand. huh.

“anyway, what brings you back here?” scar asks grian.

“ah, I was going to ask for something but I seem to have completely forgotten what!” grian laughs. “sorry to trouble you.”

“oh, not at all.” scar smiles. he can tell grian is lying, but he’s not going to ask. “it’s been relatively slow today anyway, it’s no bother.” especially if I get to see you.

“d’you mind if I steal mumbo away for a minute?” grian asks.

“I do not.” scar says breezily.

“um-“ mumbo starts. grian grabs his wrist and pulls him out the shop, pausing to wave over his shoulder before the door closes.

scar smiles to himself. he has got to learn what grian’s favourite flowers are.

#lilacs and poppies #scarian #scarian fic #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #desert duo #dessert duo #flower shop au

[gabriellerudessa]

Arrival Celebration

I finished typing at 2 in the morning for Brazilians. Then things happened and I couldn't post it.

Now I can! Happy Arrival Celebration, Vyn Fandom, and Happy New Year to everybody else! Be with my watercolor and soft fanfic Prophetess x Tharaêl (almost 3k words, it was supposed to be short! *cries*)

This happens around nine months after the Rhalata questline, with Tharaêl and Arelyel already having found their way around each other. Hopefully I'll manage to write a longfic about these in detail lol (I started. Let's see were I go lol)

Anyway, hope you all like it! Cheers!

EDIT 5 Jan 2023: At my desktop, thank God. Corrected some typos and spacing and the wording of a phrase I hadn't noticed was weird. (posting this on my phone was crazy) You can read it on AO3 now if you prefer too.

Also, because of AO3, Titles! The one I choose comes from a line from the song "Taste" by Sleeping at Last.

(I almost named it Ricochet after the Starset song because it came up on my playlist as I started thinking of a title but TOO SAD)

What Light Tastes Like

The wood creaked and groaned and the wind howled outside the cave, sometimes overpowering her humming; still, the fire remained steady, illuminating the camp and her work, hands flying through the embroidery in progress.

She had to finish that night.

Barring a crippling injury, she would reach Ark the next day and it wouldn’t do for the gift to not be ready. Or she to lose for the second time the Arrival festivities. She was late enough as it was reaching the city on Arrival Day instead of before.

Cassiopeia, Sirius’ mother and a grandchildren of endraleans, would’ve had pulled her ears if Arelyel was late for Arrival in any of her ten years before the woman’s death.

Or finishing a gift so late.

As Arelyel understood now, gift giving wasn’t really a part of the Arrival Celebrations in Enderal, but she had loved the tradition that Cassiopeia had made a part of their lives. A spiced wine for Jespar, a treatise about the Order’s history for Calia, a scarf for Esme, even a dagger for Arantheal and herbs treatise for Yuslan… And some carefully chosen gifts for Constantine and Lishari and Sirius, buried by the side of a well-traveled path to be found by someone in need  –all dead, Sirius at the year before, but she had been unable to do the proper rite Cassiopeia had taught at the first Arrival she had spent in Enderal.

Only Tharaêl’s gift wasn’t ready. It took her ages to think properly of something, and obviously she had decided it should be something handmade.

It would make Cassiopeia proud. Arelyel had eight years when Sirius’ mother took her in, and for ten years had taught Arelyel so much – cook and sew and embroider and another dozen things from a gentler craft that Father had kept away from her hands.

Don’t. Think. About. Him.

A needle pinprick kept her in the present. She briefly stuck the finger in her mouth, just enough so blood wouldn’t mar the fabric.

In the lull of the work, she reached the bowl of wild berried and edible flowers she had gathered earlier with the other hand. Two lonely berries waited her.

Damn it, she had finished it already.

Sighing and praying for speed, Arelyel eat the last berries and went back to the embroidery.

-----------------

Tharaêl threw a look at the scroll by the table at the door side, shook his head, and went back to mixing the meat stew.

The invitation had arrived one week ago.

Arelyel had been gone already two weeks before it, three now, resolving things fuck-knows where.

He was worried, a little bit, it was unusual for her to be away so long at a time and last one she had returned… Almost as bad as when he had started living with her. He didn’t want a repeat. The worst was that he had no way of truly reaching and warning her about the Arrival Celebration at the Sun Temple she, as the Prophetess, should go.

As it was, night was falling already, meaning such Celebration was starting, together with the festivities at the market.

Maybe she had forgotten it was Arrival Day. Not that surprising if she got stuck at a sunless place for days, as it was prone to happen.

Maybe it was better this way. The invitation said “scarlet garments”, and the only red clothes Arelyel owned were the Order’s uniform. He had seen then once, months ago, when he helped her clean the house, at the bottom of a chest.

The door burst open, bringing with it a biting cold and some snowflakes. And Arelyel, armored robe dripping water and snow and bits of ice covering it in places.

“Malphas’ balls, when Ark got this cold?!” Tharaêl left the stew to close the door as Arelyel put her bursting backpack down, teeth chattering and skin cold-burnt.

“It was worse yesterday.” He locked the door, worry melting into contentment at her return.

“How?” Stiff fingers fought to unclasp her soaked cloak from the armor, and Tharaêl approached to help.

“Snowstorm. It let down during the night, but all day it kept snowing on and off like this.” The cloak fell heavily to the ground, and Arelyel groaned at the loss of weight.

“Oh. Hope it doesn’t get worse again. Thank you. Help me with the rest? My fingers really aren’t helping.”

Tharaêl hummed an agreement and threw a look at such fingers and their fingerless gloves as he started at another buckle of her armor. Pale, nails purple-ish. He hoped it was just superficial.

The both of them made quick work of divesting Arelyel from the armored robes, and soon the woman was standing in the middle of the room only in the shirt and leather pants she used under it all, thankfully mostly dry.

And then she hugged him, as she had for almost six months now.

The first three months she always asked if she could before, and always retreated if the answer was no. Then he said she didn’t need to ask anymore; she still let her arms loose so he could leave if he so wished, and only when he hugged back did she tighten them.

Tharaêl almost immediately put his arms around her shoulders tight and pressed her cold cheek against his clothed chest. There hadn’t been a hug he hadn’t returned – he didn’t want to relinquish it now that he had a taste. Also, with how many weeks she could be away, it wasn’t as if he got that many hugs.

“I missed you.” She whispered after a moment, arms around his middle tightening, and both of them relaxed, breaths deepening.

“… Me too.” He admitted after a moment, heartbeat too fast for some seconds. He was sure she could hear it, specially as she burrowed deeper in the hug, no space between them. Tharaêl felt as if they were trying to swallow each other.

Minutes passed, inside only the sounds of their breaths and of the fire in the hearth, outside hurrahs and happy screams as the night completely fell and the Arrival festivities started around the city.

But in between them, there was just an intimate and comfortable silence, and he felt a deep contentment, almost happiness, as the hug comforted and warmed them.

The screams outside had already dimmed when Arelyel retreated a little to look at him. He felt her hands, chastely at his sides, their recovered heat scorching through the fabric.

He didn’t know exactly what to do with his hands, not with her still so close. He never knew. In the end, he kept them at her elbows, half of him tempted to reinitiate the hug and keep it for days.

“What did I miss? Besides the beginning of the festivities, you know.”

“Well…” The question brought his thoughts back to the celebration at the Sun Temple that should’ve had just started. He looked over to the rolled parchment. “You were invited for the festivities of the Arrival at the Sun Temple. It must have started around now.” Tharaêl pressed his lips, a smile tugging at them at how her shoulders dropped. “You also must wear red for it.” Her shoulders tensed. “And something representing the Crimson Star.”

“I had to be the Prophetess and an Arcanist of the Order.” She mumbled, closing her eyes and breathing heavily through her nose. “Tealor will have my skin. When did the invite arrived?”

“One week ago.”

She blinked, then scoffed and rolled her eyes. Hard.

“I was at Duneville at the time and they knew because they sent me there and not even a note mentioning that maybe I should come back earlier.”

“Will you try to go?”

Arelyel pressed her lips, eyebrows tight in though, and let go of him, crossing her arms. Tharaêl let his hand fall, closing them in fists. He wanted her answer to be “no”. The invitation was clearly just for Arelyel, and he didn’t want to remain alone, not when she was in Ark.

“… I don’t know. I don’t even know if I have proper clothes. I’ll… Clean myself and decide.”

As she heaved the backpack on a shoulder and caught the rolled invitations, Tharaêl rolled her words and her voice over and over in his head. Something in the news about the invitation had subdued her happiness at being back, and he didn’t know what.

-------------

Arelyel faced her reflection, fingers dancing over the embroideries of the dress’ bodice.

The only red clothes she owned were the Order’s uniform. They had been used once, as she gained them, then forgotten in one of her chests, and it showed: they had been made for an Arelyel still too thin and scraggly of the months as a clandestine at a ship and then of living in the woods as she found her way through Enderal. The months after it, eating well and fighting and walking all over the country, had put back all the muscle and fat she had lost, and now she was once again the plump and rounded figure she always had been since her teenage years.

And even if the uniform still fit…

She would never use it again. It had been difficult already and she couldn't use it again.

Red was her mother’s and sister’s colors. They were always using it, beautiful in its vibrancy, and while Arelyel did use it as a kid, she always preferred the purples and lilacs.

Now, just the thought of dressing in red made her stomach roll and her vision darken at the edges. They were using red that day…

Pressing her eyes closed, she inspired deeply, the fragrance of the meat stew playing with her senses and making her stomach rumble with hunger. Back in the present.

Eyes open once more, she drank in the dress again and repeating to herself not red.

And it wasn’t.

Long, cotton outside and lined inside in wool, it was blessedly warm. And its wine-red color was deep enough to be almost purple. Just occasionally the light shone in the fabric just right and showed strands of red.

It should work.

She didn’t want to go to the Celebration.

Maybe she shouldn’t.

It wasn’t as if she had skirted around the final preparations for the market and caught glimpses of the food there. She was almost sure it would better than anything at the Sun Temple, as always – not because the food at the Sun Temple was bad, but because it would be almost exclusively for the nobles and rich, and months at the Nobles Quarter had taught Arelyel that she very much preferred the food of the common people. Tealor wouldn’t be happy, but when was he?

Still reflecting on going for the market, she raised her short cloak from the bed. Her eyes danced over the slightly irregular sewing against the dark-purple woolen fabric lined inside with fur, and her fingers danced over the red embroidery along the front, hundreds of tiny twelve-pointed stars spread out in a falling pattern, the string bright and eye-catching.

It was an almost exact replica of the one Cassiopeia had given her at her first Arrival in Sirius’ house. The original had been sadly lost in the civil war.

The woman had been faithful and devote. Had said that the stars where to remember Arelyel that, the same way Malphas had guided his followers, He had guided Arelyel to Cassiopeia and Sirius when she needed.

Even with her new knowledge, Areyel couldn’t bear the thought of the remade cloak not having the stars.

She threw the cloak over her shoulders and used a simple golden brooch to hold it together.

A last look in the mirror. A new reading of the invitation.

She would go to the market. There, Tharaêl could come – he had failed to mention that the invitation didn’t extend to company, otherwise she would have said from moment one that she wouldn’t go.

Better.

-------------

Arelyel came back down twenty minutes later, dressed in a deep wine-red dress, almost purple, and with short cloak reaching her wrist over it, light-brown hair down. The colors warmed her skin and even harmonized with the burn scar covering her chin.

Tharaêl forced himself to not stop breathing.

Why? It wasn’t as if she dressed that differently on a day to day basis.

Still, something… She was beautiful, but in that moment, somehow, she looked even more.

Deep in his chest, he felt it, and swallowed. A tiny bit of jealousy, that others would be able to look at her like that for the rest of the night, while he would have just this glimpse, this crumb.

Dressed like that, there was no way she wasn’t going to the Sun Temple, were he hadn’t been invited.

It was Arrival Day. Living in the Undercity, he had never celebrated it, barely acknowledged its existence. But after nine months under the sun… He had started to hope, before the invitation, that he would spend it at her side.

“… Hope you have fun and to like the food.” Tharaêl managed to say, voice steadier than he felt.

Arelyel stopped by the dinner table, fingers playing with the cloak’s hem.

“I won’t go to the Sun Temple Celebration, but to the market one.” A pause, licking lips. “Will you come with me, Tharaêl? I think the food there will be amazing.”

Warmth spread inside him, both from her own invitation, and from the sound of his name on her lips; every time she did it, it was like that, full of warmth and softness.

More hours beside her. That was everything he wanted.

“I’ll just get my cloak.”

Which he did. And then Arelyel was holding his wrist and looking better at such cloak.

“It is too threadbare, Tharaêl, it won’t keep you warm. Wait a second.”

She flew up the stars, then flew down, carrying a leather packet and pushing it towards him, eyes low.

Heartbeat fast, Tharaêl caught the packet and opened it. A neckline became visible, a gold amethyst brooch caught in thick dark blue-gray fabric.

He pinched the neckline in his hand and pulled. A cloak unrolled from the leather, inside lined in thick fur, fabric with the subtle gleam of magic, hundreds of tiny twelve-pointed stars embroidered at the front, a reflection of Arelyel’s own cloak. At a glance, it should just cover his hands.

Tears burned in his eyes. He had seen Arelyel sewing and enchanting the one she was using. It was obvious that the gifted one was also her job.

She had done so much for him, and now this.

“… It is beautiful.” His voice threatened to fail, but it kept on.

Arelyel smiled, eyes raising finally to his, and Tharaêl hoped his face managed to show just a glimpse of his own emotion to her.

He made a move to put the cloak, and Arelyel’s hand touched his.

“… Can I help you with it?”

Tharaêl’s voice disappeared, throat seemingly closed, and he needed long moments to be able to nod.

Arelyel stepped closer, pulling the cloak from his hands softly, and licked her lips.

“Can you lower a little, please?” she whispered, and Tharaêl leaned toward her in a mock reverence so she could reach his shoulders.

Their noses almost touched. He could see all the details of her face, all the different hues in her brown-eyes, all the marks of the cold at her cheeks, all the grooves of the burn scar, all the plumpness and natural red color of her lips. He breathed in, and the smell of lavender from her soaps enveloped his senses.

Arelyel threw the cloak over his shoulders, arm around his neck for a moment. He wished it was for more than a moment.

“You can straighten.” Another whisper, and he mourned the distance as he did as he was told.

Lastly, she fiddled with the brooch for some moments, then fixed the fabric over his shoulders… He wondered what exactly she saw at that moment, if a friend, or as someone… Worth of the same wonder and enchantment and whoever knew what else.

“How does it feel?” she asked, finally, bringing him back from his musings, and Tharaêl moved his arms.

“Comfortable, warm… Perfect.”

She smiled, and took hold of his wrist.

“Then it is time to go. Many foods to taste.”

As she pulled him towards the door, Tharaêl just laughed softly.

-----------------

The moment they were outside – snow and cold, but no wind –, Arelyel passed her arm around Tharaêl’s own, pressing their bodies close together and muttering about the “bloody cold” and that she hoped the market would be warmer.

Tharaêl laughed, then pulled the hood’s cloak over her head before doing the same with his.

As they walked towards the market and its merry sounds, he kept his eyes ahead, preoccupied with the patches of frozen snow around the city. He looked briefly to see Arelyel, her cheek pressed tightly against his shoulder, but not enough to caught her own glances at him – full o wonder, and enchantment, and who knows what else.

#enderal #arrival celebration #enderal forgotten stories #watercolor #Tharaêl #tharael #prophetess #vynblr #vyn #sureai #edit: I made so many typos at the first typing #Hope to have gotten them all #Also thought of a TITLE damn it :D #Song inspired obviously even if not the song I heard while painting and writing

[pinkiewitchcraft]

✨Veiling:✨

I find veiling to be a very beautiful thing. It is mystical, magical, and can mean so many different things.

I’ve been starting to veil very recently, and it has honestly changed my life so much. I love placing scarves of various different colors on my head, and placing little flowers and headbands on top of them to make them look, and feel even more beautiful.

Now, first things first, however, you do not have to be religious to veil, nor do you have to be modest to do so either. And anyone who tries to tell you that you need to be religious, and that you need to cover up your body in order to veil “properly” should be ignored and criticized.

This is your practice, and if you’re not claiming to be part of any religion where there are strict rules when it comes to clothing, then they need to keep their mouth shut.

Again, you do not have to dress modestly at all to veil. There are no rules when it comes to veiling. You can very much wear a tank top with a plunging neckline, and short-shorts, and still veil. You can wear regular clothes, especially revealing clothes, because that is your right, and that is your craft.

And if you wish to dress modestly, go right ahead.

This is your body. It is a beautiful temple, and you have every right to treat it as such. It is allowed to look however you wish.

There is no “correct way” to veil.

You also do not have to veil all the time. You can veil whenever you wish. I personally veil sometimes.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

✨ There are also many other reasons to veil besides modesty:

• Protection

• Connecting with your spirituality

• Correspondences (for example, the color yellow can mean happiness and hope, so you pick out a yellow scarf for veiling, and carry that energy with you for as long as you desire.)

• Comfort

• Grounding, Centering

• Just because

I personally veil for the first five reasons.

I also LOVE dressing up like an old, ancient wizard clothed in thick robes when I veil because it makes me feel very mystical and protected and just…

✨✨✨ bearded wizard energy ✨✨✨

It is not mandatory for me, however. It is simply a preference. And whenever I wish to dress any other type of way, I do so gladly.

Another thing. Adding little accessories that you’ve prayed over, or enchanted with your energy and intent is SO WONDERFUL!!! It magnifies your practice even more and makes everything feel so much more special!!!

Of course, you don’t have to do that, however, it is merely an option. Though for me, personally, it is extremely important.

Now, onto the type of veils.

Anything can be a veil. YES. ANYTHING. It doesn’t matter what some random person says. That is how they see their own craft. That is how they feel personally, and it has absolutely nothing to do with you. And if they try to insist that you’re doing your own personal craft “wrong”, ignore them.

It doesn’t have to be a long scarf that goes down your back. It can also be a bandana, a beanie, a sun-hat, a bonnet, a durag, a cap, a headband, literally anything that you wish to place onto your head. That is your veil.

Veiling is a very personal practice that should fit you and your life, not anyone else’s. Live your life how you desire. Always.

#witchcraft #beauty #pink witch #witch veiling #veiling

[wayfinders-farm]

[Day 0]-Part 2 (Part 1)

[You flip the page over]

Wellll it’s been a few hours… and uh, I’ve found a few things I need to write about NOW.

So after the last page, I went out. Without any leads and just more questions, I was kinda dejected and really confused. I decided to check where the farm was supposed to be again, and still no luck. But as I was heading back, I almost missed the shadow coming out of the bushes...

I found my dogＴ▽ＴOr technically, my grandmother's dog, Chamomile. But I've been calling him Chomby since I was a child. He's been here longer than I have, which makes him about 14 years old. But he's holding strong! I'm also glad he's here with me 'cause he's an intelligent dog, (you won't believe how much he helped me during my early days on the farm) and I think he recognizes that something's up.

So when he started leading me towards the area he came out of I followed him closely. It led me to a narrow, insignificant opening in the trees; a vortex of brambles descending further into the forest. When Chomby pushed through, a swarm of butterflies escaped out of the gap. When I peeked through, I saw a trail of vibrant flowers leading further down.

Look, it’s probably basic survival knowledge that you shouldn’t go into any mysterious woods, especially after I wrote a whole paragraph about how supernatural this place is, even if your old childhood dog can. But... I trust dogs. And curiosity. Plus, how could I not go there?? For all I know, this was the valley TELLING me to go there.

Soooo after praying that I wasn't going to get eaten, murdered, or in any variety killed in a forest where my body sure wasn't going to get found, I followed down the path...

And-I don’t really know how to describe the place. But it’s the kind of place you’d see in a cliche fairytale. There seemed to be rolling pastures cluttered with all sorts of greenery. In the distance, I could see a whole forest. With just that look, this land seemed MASSIVE. I assume it even connects all the way down to the ocean.

So, it was really weird I had never seen it connected to anywhere in the valley before, or even had anyone mention ‘the big giant meadows we have,' but I figured it was just part of the spontaneous new locations. So I wasn't too worried. But when I looked-it just wasn't on any maps online.

At this point, I was KINDA suspicious my phone might just be broken, so I rushed back around the house (sorry Chomby,) and found an old map my grandmother use to own. Her map was just like my phone's. But... scribbled over were directions heading the same way as the fields.

Sooo of COURSE I followed the directions to make sure I was correct (very hesitantly, alright?) but, (just to make SURE) I also followed the path through the land. Chomby followed me, but he seemed very calm about it.

There was some disorderly meadows, a bridge over a river, a whole quarry, but most notably was a neverending field of grass. The map pointed behind some blades which grass which brought me to…

A shrine… grandma’s shrine. And this time, there’s no note.

Honestly, I have no idea what this means, or if something important used to be here, but... I think this is where the farm used to be, at least in this world. And for some reason, it was hidden...

Huh.

But back to the main topic... I have no idea what is going on, but I strongly suspect it has something to do with this Valley's bizarre magic, and I have more than enough reasons to find out. There's nothing more for me to do but stick around and explore these familiar and foreign locations.

I suppose I have to build the farm from the ground up again... eck. At least Chomby is here again.

Now I think about it-does anyone even know I’m here?? Uh it’s getting kind of late night, but maybe if I dash into town I’ll be able to see someone before everything closes up?? I guess that means I'll have to leave this here! I'll try to write down anything unusual that happens, so long as I don't forget this journal.

[The entry ends here]

(Bonus Part)

#sdv #stardew valley #wayfinders #sdv farmer #comic #art #artists on tumblr

[rabidnonbinary]

gave myself the weird challenge of trying to see if i could type out the entirety of the mind electric by miracle musical from memory, it’s under the cut if you’d like to see how well i did.

key for stuff you’ll see throughout the song / post:

(??) means i wrote something i am unsure of if it’s correct from memory

(bolded words in parentheses) is the correct replacement for what i wrote

italic means i am marking what i got wrong, and the bolded parentheses that follow are the correct lyrics i should’ve written

{this only appears once} but just acts as what is sung in the background, only added it in for that one part just for fun i guess

“quotations” aren’t corrections or pointing out what’s wrong, just marks things in the song that could be seen as statements, mainly did it for fun.

[this also only appears once] but marks a line that i wrote from memory which should be entirely omitted / ignored as it is not in the actual song.

-

think of these thoughts as limitless lights (light)

exposing growing (closing) circuitry of fright

think of each thought that’s (??) (moment) holding this breath

as death minute in decimal

-

resident minor, how do you plead?

we’ll need your testimony on the stand.

solemnly swear to tell the (whole) truth,

so help you son now raise your right hand.

-

father your honor may i explain

my brain has claimed it’s glory over me

i’ve a good heart albeit insane,

“condemn him to the infirmary”

-

all mine towers crumble down

the flowers gasping under rubble

shrieking in the hall of lull

thy journey (??) (genius) sates a thirst for trouble

-

scattering sparks of thought energy

deliver me and carry me away!

“here in my kingdom i am your lord

i order you to cower and pray.”

-

nuns commence incanting as the

lightning strikes mine temples thus

electrifying my chamber (mine chambers) wholly

scorching down (out) thine sovereignty

and (so)

spiraling down thy majesty (??) i plead of thee, (i beg of thee)

have mercy on me,

“i was just a boy you see,”

“i plead of thee have mercy on me!” (have sympathy for me!)

-

see how the serfs work the ground {see how they fall}

and they give it all they’ve got

and you give it all you’ve got (and they give it all they’ve got)

and you give it all you’ve got, ‘til you’re down

ha ha ha ha

see how the brain plays around

and you fall inside a hole you couldn’t see

and you fall inside a hole you couldn’t see [entirely omit this verse]

and you fall inside a hole,

inside a

some

one

help

me!

understand what’s going on inside my mind;

doctor i can’t tell if i’m not me!

-

with the growing day (??) (when it grows bright)

the particles start to marvel

having made it through the night!

never they ponder whether electric,

calming if you look at it right!

#rn’s rambles #the mind electric #miracle musical #hawaii part ii

[gucciwins]

Are you Angel?

Harry gets hurt while on the job and Y/N gets a phone call she was not prepared for.

Word count: 7413

A/N: hello friends, it's been a while :) this is a continuation to my story Trouble Follows. You don't have to read but it will give you an insight of how Y/N and Harry met. I am thrilled to share more of firefighter harry with you. I adore him and I hope you do as well.

please do let me know what you thought of the story and please reblog! <333

Warnings: angst, breakups, hospitals

A firefighter will always run into a burning building with not a hint of hesitation. All their focus is on saving the people stuck inside.

Running towards trouble is second nature to them.

She knew that.

She also knew what it meant to date a firefighter.

The unreliable hours, the non-frequent communication, the many failed dinner dates. The twenty-four hours shifts when he would then arrive home to just sleep.

Harry had begun to give her a constant comfort that he would eventually come home and climb into bed behind her. He would then gently nuzzle his face in her neck, taking in her sweet honey scent. In contrast, she took in the woody ashy smell that seems to be permanently stained on him.

So trust her when she said she knew what she was in for when Harry asked her to be his girlfriend.

Four months in, she knew she would be here for a long time, maybe forever, if life would allow it.

She was sure; she knew what to expect.

But she didn't, not until she got the call.

The call that would shatter her heart.

The call that would lead her to be sitting in this uncomfortable, ugly brown hospital chair, holding tightly onto his ashy hand. As she prayed on and on to a God, she no longer held close but wished for Harry they were real and would bring Harry back to her.

Y/N prayed for Harry to finally open his eyes and give her a reassuring smile that he would be okay.

That they would be okay.

Until then, she'll wait.

Harry being Lieutenant allowed him to have a consistent schedule. That did not mean there weren't days where he had to pull a double shift or stay back to finish paperwork; he let it pile up.

The one day that was Y/N's was Sunday.

She got him an entire day to lay in bed together and eat all the baked goods she baked for him to try. It was becoming their day. Everyone at the station knew Harry could not be disturbed on Sundays unless it was the end of the world, and even then, they'd have to pry him away from Y/N.

He feels safe in her arms. Harry had never felt that before. Sure, he was surrounded by his firehouse family, but he had never felt so loved in two arms as if she could take all his problems and stresses away. Still, she did exactly that when she would flash him her gorgeous smile and hold her arms open for him to fall into at the end of every day.

Harry knows he's never felt this way, and he won't ever take it for granted.

This Sunday will be different, and she feels it as soon as she wakes up because, in her queen-sized bed, she's alone. No arms wrapped around her waist; no head tucked into her necks as he places soft open kisses to wake her from her sleep gently.

Already, she knows this is going to be a bad day. She feels it in her bones. Having been around trouble for so long, she knows the difference between good and bad. The feelings she has made her want to find Harry and pull him back into bed where she can keep him safe.

Y/N gets out of bed, throwing the warm sheets off her body going to the bathroom to do her morning skin routine, wanting to feel refreshed for when Harry breaks the news; he's going to leave her alone on their day. She knows him well enough; he's cooking her breakfast to make up for leaving her so early in the morning.

She walks out of her bathroom, going straight to her closet and taking out the first sweater she saw. It's a baby blue color and stitched on the left side on top of her heart is: "love me please?" It's Harry's favorite sweater of hers because it's an oversized sweater that fits him well. The only reason she has it back is that he wanted her to wash it and wear it until it got her smell again. Y/N kissed him silly when he told her that, plus she loves that it smells like him now.

Y/N takes one look at her unmade bed and walks away, knowing she's going to crawl back in after Harry leaves her. She walks out and, from the hallway, can hear Harry humming away. If she's honest, she doesn't recognize the song. As she has come to learn, Harry has an interesting taste in music; he has basically heard every song ever to exist. It's a reason they are so good at Four Clovers Thursday Trivia night. She dominates pop culture and films, and Harry takes on music. She's also better at history than him. Their friends love trivia night because their winning always gets them free drinks. It's something she looks forward to each week.

"Morning, H," Y/N says as she approaches him from behind and wraps her arms around his waist. Harry smiles, instantly feeling warm with her arms around him.

"Morning, firebug. Sleep well?"

She mumbles a no, causing Harry to laugh, and she feels it vibrate through her.

"Awe, upset I wasn't wrapped around you." He teases. "I'm making up to you by making breakfast."

She pulls away, spotting blackberries on the counter. "Sure, Jan."

Harry can hear the change in her tone and knows she's still goofing off with him but knows she's upset.

"Angel, come sit. Coffee is ready."

She shakes her head but makes her way over to the chair he pulled out for her. "No coffee. I'll be going back to bed soon." Y/N waits to see if he'll correct her, but he doesn't.

"I'm sorry." He begins.

"No apologies."

"Please let me. I'm leaving you on our day." He pouts.

"As much as I don't want you to go, I'm sure they need you more than I do."

Harry frowns, "I hope you'll never stop needing me." He whispers against her lips before closing the gap. Y/N hums against his soft lips allowing herself to get lost in the moment; she loves his kisses, soft and gentle just as he is despite what his sharp eyes might have one believe.

Harry pulls away after pressing one final kiss on her pouted lips. "I'm sorry I have to go to work, but I know for certain that I can meet you for a late lunch."

"Lunch?" She repeats, arms wrapped around his waist, hoping he was serious with his offer.

He hums. "Yes, 2:30, that bistro with that avocado dressing you like for your sandwich."

"It's a date." She grins, laying her head on his chest letting him hold her tight. He unwraps his arms, letting her go.

"I've got to get going, firebug, but I'll see you later."

"Stay safe, Styles." She tells him as she does every time he leaves.

"Try my best, angel."

With that, he slips his beat-up white Vans with lilac laces and walks out the door; it shuts it behind him. Just as Y/N steps towards it to lock up, it opens back up, startling her. Harry steps back in, and before she can question him, he places both faces on the side of her face and kisses her breathless. Y/N is quick to react, allowing their lips to move in perfect harmony, not as smooth but perfect, nonetheless.

"I--" Harry begins before he clears his throat. "I'll miss you, angel."

Y/N feels the heat rush to her cheeks because, for a moment, she thought he'd say another three words. "And I'll miss you, H. Now get out of here; I don't need you showing up late to our lunch date."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display, hugging her before walking out a skip in his step. She peaks her head out, making sure he gets in the car safely before he drives off. He sits there for a moment, and she knows he is letting his Bluetooth connect as he waits for his drive-to-work playlist titled "it's time" to start playing. He takes a look at his mirrors before backing out and driving. That's when Y/N closes and locks the door.

Time to go back to bed for a few more hours; what else is there to do on a Sunday when she's left alone.

Harry genuinely did not want to go to work today, but it's not like he could say no to his Chief. His Chief was never one to call in favor unless it was an emergency. He didn't ask, knowing he'd get the full story Monday, but for now, he gets on his pants, t-shirt, and boots and hopes there are no fires today.

The only thing is that Harry isn't used to working with the B-shift, sure he knows everyone's name and a little of their lives, but they aren't his usual team. He shakes that off because he knows he would do anything to help a team member and knows they would do the same in return.

Harry is lost in thought, wondering what Y/N was going to do today. He knows she planned to take him to a butterfly pavilion today even told him the outfit she had planned out for it. A pair of jeans that had flowers embroidered all over something she added, saying she thought they looked a bit plain, pairing it with a pastel pink top. Harry was surprised with her style after meeting her various times in different outfits. He was surprised at how soft she dressed in pastels. She may have a bold personality, but her fashion was delicate and warm. It was a nice balance.

He nearly runs into Carols as he made his way to his office, too busy thinking of the girl he left at home. "Sorry, bud."

"No problem, Harry. Surprised to see you here," Carols tells him, everyone knowing Sunday was Harry's day off.

"Chief had something come up and asked me to come in. I should be out of here by eight tonight if we're lucky."

Carlos smiles, "with you around, we usually are."

Harry chuckles, telling him he'll be in his office if he needs anything. He looks around his desk and sighs at how much has piled up already.

Might as well get ahead.

It's a few hours when Harry realizes the house is quiet. He peaks around the window and figures they are all in the common room. It's only one, and thankfully there have been no calls, and if it continues, then he will make it to lunch with his angel.

He shoots her a text.

Angel

13:24 PM

I miss you. Counting down the minutes until I get to see you xxx

Harry clicks send and smiles down at his phone. 2:30 couldn't come fast enough.

As he gets up to stretch and go for a snack in the kitchen, he takes a deep breath because as confident as he may seem, he isn't around the second shift. They don't know him so well, and Harry ultimately is shy. He may be able to hide it, but he has small quicks that others pick up on. Something he knows Y/N spotted quickly, like when he toes his foot into the ground or when he begins to chip at his nails, and Y/N's favorite is when he moves his hands behind his back and sways side to side. She finds it endearing, but others might not think it's leadership material.

He walks into the lounge to cross to the kitchen when a few heads turn to him, but before they can say a word, the alarm rings, and Harry is literally saved by the bell.

Not a second to waste, everyone heads over to the rig and quickly suits up. Harry is Lieutenant meaning he's in charge of the scene today, seeing as their captain and Chief aren't here today. Harry respects all the firefighters and knows this will go well if everyone carries out their job.

It's a factory fire, and as soon as they arrive, Harry can see it's burning fast. He's not sure how many people are there, but he calls in for reinforcements knowing they will need all the manpower they can get.

"This is House 102; please send more units available. The factory fire is burning at a faster rate than we can control. My team is going in now. There are five people unaccounted for; the left side of the building is clear." Harry speaks into his two-way radio.

"Carlos," the young firefighter jogs over, eyes on Harry, no longer staring at the roaring fire. "You're going in with Baz. Stay close and don't go up the second floor; you need to be quick in and out."

"Who's going with you, Lieutenant?" Carlos asks, clearly worried.

"Jameson and Rey are coming with me; stay safe, and if anything happens, just radio in."

"You got it!" Harry pats his shoulder and walks off towards the two waiting men.

Harry knows the men well, he trained them when they came into the house, but they preferred B-shift instead of being with him. One spot was available, and he knew they didn't want to be separated. Rey and Jameson have been dating for two years, but that's a secret only very few know. It's not prohibited, but if it gets more serious, one will have to relocate to a new station. They simply aren't ready for that, and indeed Harry would be sad not to have them around the house or hearing their stories. It just adds a more considerable risk because, at the end of the day, the job is first.

Rey walks towards the entrance with Harry following right behind. Jameson, a few feet back, calling out for anyone in there that needs help.

"Fire department, call out." Echoes out as much as it can as the fire begins to roar louder.

The heat gets worse the further they walk in; they turn right at the edge of a desk labeled "Torres."

"H, there!" Rey shouts, rushing over to a man knocked unconscious and had heavy storage struck over his legs, pinning him down. Harry and Jameson run over, assessing the man before making any sudden moves.

Jameson finds a pulse, weak but there. He gets the extra mask over the man's face hoping it'll wake him up soon.

"On the count of three, we lift," Harry tells the two men standing to a stand as the others do the same.

They nod. "One, two, three." They grunt in unison, pushing the container to a standing position. Harry looks over the man's legs and is thankful there is no blood, but there will be swelling and bruises. "Right, Rey, take him out. We'll keep searching."

Rey nods, lifting the man over his shoulder as he was trained to do, and rushes out of the burning building. Harry and Jameson have just learned a new area when the radio comes on. "Lieutenant Styles, it's Carlos. We found two men; only one remains unaccounted for."

Harry nods. "Got it, no one comes back in. We'll be out soon."

He now leads the way, making his way towards a stairway. There's no fire here, but it's moving faster, and smoke is thick. Whoever is in here might not last much longer without oxygen.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts, voice firm.

"Here.." a whisper is heard, both Harry and Jameson freeze. Once more, "here" is yelled but sounds muffled.

Harry looks around, not seeing anything but fire, and fears the structure will collapse soon. Just as he was about to yell again, he sees a can knocked, and a man hidden under a black rag is seen. Jameson rushes over, helping the man sit up. He's older, well into his sixties. He doesn't look too well; he has a few scapes.

"Right, we need to head out," Jameson tells Harry, helping the man stand up who is fighting consciousness.

"This is Lieutenant Styles; on our way out found the last man. Have paramedics on standby."

"Got it, Styles. Get out quick."

Jameson and Harry get the man up and head to exit. Harry can see the light of day and knows he will be late for lunch, but thankful Y/N is understanding and very forgiving. He'll make it up to her by buying dessert.

Just as they almost reach the door, a piece of dry wood comes falling down, separating Harry and Jameson; luckily, it did not hit them, but now Harry has to find a new way out. It's not looking good.

"Harry," Jameson looks panicked, but Harry stays calm.

"Get him out, now," Harry tells him, looking in every direction for what to do.

"No, I won't-" Harry cuts him off.

"Jameson, get this man out. He needs medical attention. That's an order." Voice full of authority with no room to argue.

Jameson nods and heads out. "I'm coming back for you."

Harry chuckles. He sees a small path, but it'd be a more extended way out. He debates what to do. He could wait, but the longer he stays, the quicker this building is beginning to collapse.

It takes him two seconds to decide to go right and find a new route out instead of staying put. He walks and only gets hotter as the fire begins to surround him. He's good at not panicking, always thinks better under pressure, but this is getting intense. Harry climbs over a crate and bends low to go through this tight space. He sees the exit, it's still a bit away, but he knows he is in the clear.

That's when he hears a big explosion knocking him forward. His oxygen masks flys off, landing a few feet away. As Harry reaches his hand out to get it, he's pulled back. He looks behind and sees he's stuck. There are crates stacked on top of him. The air is thick of smoke, and with no oxygen, it seems like the fire will soon enough engulf him.

Shit.

He's really in trouble now.

Harry presses his radio, holding it, hoping it's still working. "This is Harry," He coughs. "I'm trapped under a few crates. I can't reach my ask. I'm west of the building."

"Harry, hold on. We're going in." Harry hears Jameson reply, but he's fading quickly.

He shakes his head. "Can't go to sleep, but this smoke is too thick to actually see anything, let alone for his team to find him.

"Tell…" He coughs again, and this time doesn't stop for what feels like five minutes but is only a few seconds. "Tell angel, I'm sorry."

A voice comes over the speaker, but Harry's eyelids are fluttering shut, the weight of the crates is too much, and the smoke only gets deeper in his lungs if he keeps speaking.

Harry welcomes the darkness as he sees the one person he was supposed to meet for lunch. She's holding an outstretched hand for him to take and who is he to ever say no to her.

Real or not, he goes to her, and soon enough, he falls unconscious, not feeling when his team lifts him out and puts him in the back of an ambulance.

Y/N decided to show up a bit earlier for their lunch date, putting in their order early, wanting to maximize all their time together. She wouldn't see him until late that night, and honestly, she wasn't a fan of being separated on her favorite day of the week.

She sits on a bench right outside, both sandwiches wrapped tucked away in a brown paper bag and a lemonade sitting next to her untouched. It was his favorite, too sweet in her opinion. Still, Harry loved it, especially since he wasn't one to indulge in sweets unless they were hers.

Knowing Harry could be running late, she pulls out a book from her orange tote bag that Harry gifted to her. The book was Beach Read, Frankie recommended it to her then gave her the book saying she needed to read more romance books and not just poetry and nonfiction books. She actually enjoyed it, which surprised her, but even if she didn't, she's too invested to not find out the ending.

She was just starting chapter five when she feels too much time has passed and glances down at her phone.

2:55

25 minutes late isn't bad or unusual even; she decides to put the book away and keep an eye out for him. Usually, when he keeps her waiting, he makes up for it with a long kiss that never fails to take her breath away; she's excited about it now.

Time seems to go slower when she just sits waiting. She debates beginning to eat her sandwich when her stomach starts to growl. It's low, but she would feel bad if she began to eat, and that's when he shows up. She settles for waiting and instead takes a drink of the sweet lemonade.

As Y/N sits waiting for Harry, her phone begins to ring and displays an unknown number but the city's area code. Every bone in her body tells her to prepare for the worst but hopes she's paranoid.

She takes a deep breath before answering and bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Hello, are you angel?" A deep voice man asks.

"It's Y/N. Actually, can I ask who's calling?" She's holding her breath; only one person calls her angel.

"I'm calling on behalf of Lieutenant Harry Styles. Harry has been in an accident and was taken to the hospital. He asked us to call an angel on his way to the hospital. We assumed you were one of his emergency contacts."

Y/N feels her hands begin to shake. "What hospital?"

The man on the phone rattles the information, and she lets it all sink in. He hangs up, and she sits there waiting on the bench for her date that will not be showing up.

Her phone rings again, she answers without looking at the caller.

"Y/N," she recognized the voice; it's Mitch, and if he's calling, then it must be true.

"Mitch," she whispers, not recognizing her own voice. It's shaky, tears beginning to well up.

"Where are you?"

"At the bistro a street down from the station." She replies, hoping he's coming for her.

"I'm close; we'll pick you up and go see him, darling." She nods but remembers he can't see her.

Y/N isn't sure why she's not crying. She feels the tears, but it's like they are stuck; her heart hurts, and she knows that says enough. "We were supposed to meet for lunch. I got worried when he didn't show up, but I didn't think--" he interrupts her.

"Harry is going to be fine, trust me. He's okay, and he needs us there."

Y/N doesn't reply because she sees him pulling in. Mitch is in the passenger seat, Sarah is driving. She doesn't say a word as she swings open the door and settles in the back.

She sets her hands in her lap; she can feel herself trembling. She can feel herself breaking because she won't know if he's okay until she sees him. Mitch can say he's fine, but she needs to see for herself.

Sarah and Mitch share a concerned look; Y/N doesn't notice her eyes looking out the window.

"Y/N?" Mitch begins, voice full of concern. "Do you- are you okay to go see him?"

"Of course." She replies quickly. "He needs me; well, I hope he does."

"Course he needs you. Needs his angel by his side." Sarah tells her calmly, wanting to see her smile, but it doesn't work because only Harry should be calling her that. She shouldn't be on her way to see him in a hospital bed. She should have seen him next to her on that bench as he ate his sandwich and gave her kiss and kiss as she told him stories.

They are silent the rest of the way. Sarah pulls into an empty parking space, and she rushes after Mitch, who seems to know exactly where Harry is as he rushes past the front desk. The only thing that slows them down is waiting for the elevator; she gladly would have taken the stairs if Mitch didn't tell her that he's on the sixth floor. Instead, she waits impatiently for the old elevator that will take her to see her love.

He is going to be okay. He has to be okay. Y/N keeps those thoughts running through her head as Mitch and Sarah guide her to room 613.

Mitch walks in first, holding the door open, Sarah places a comforting hand on her back, and Y/N feels supported and loved, but nothing prepares her for what she is about to walk into.

The constant beep of Harry's heart monitor is the only thing that can be heard in his private room. The beep is steady; it makes her let out a deep breath. The monitor already calming her down, she approaches slowly as if he'd wake if she'd walk any faster.

She sits in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed and pulls it as close as she can.

Y/N just stares at him, taking it all in. He looks like he's resting peacefully like he should originally have been when they started this day together. His curls are disheveled, his face dirty with smoke stains and a few gauzes wrapped around his arms. She can't see much else but knows he's got a road of recovery still ahead of him.

"Hi, Harry," she whispers, her hand slowly reaching under the white sheet to grab hold of his right hand. "I'm right here, okay. Take your time waking up; there's no rush. Just know that I'm not going anywhere."

She pauses, hoping for a reply even though she knows she won't get one. "We can also discuss how I'm sort of one of your emergency contacts."

Y/N presses her lips to his hand. "Need you to wake up, want to see those Rapunzal eyes." She sits back, not removing her hand from his. Sarah has not taken her eyes off of her, Sarah might feel like she might blow up soon, but being at his side, she has begun to feel better.

"Harry, we're here for you. The whole team is outside in the lobby, probably why they sent us to the floor with the biggest waiting area. Even young Carlos is out there, saying you gave them a scare but really hopes you never pick up another B-shift again." Mitch sniffles before stepping out of the room. Sarah walks over to where he was standing.

"Hey Harold, it's trivia night in a few days, and kind of counting on you to get us those free drinks." Sarah chuckles. "It's been a while since we've been in the hospital. I think it was when I made you all donate blood for that ambulance competition. Fun times, now you rest and get better. The good thing is you have the best nurse looking out for you." Sarah glances at Y/N, sending her a small smile.

Y/N sits back in her chair as Sarah sits in one by the window. She knows she's in for a long afternoon and an even longer night.

Harry's head is throbbing.

He's not sure why. The last he remembers is leaving Y/N's house to go for his shift at the station.

They were meeting for lunch; he's sure she wouldn't let him drink any alcohol on the job.

Harry slowly opens his eyes and is blinded by the bright light. He sees a photo of the sunset right in front of him, and a tv hung up; if he's not mistaken, he's in a hospital room, primarily due to being in an uncomfortable bed. The oxygen mask over his face is also a dead giveaway he was in an accident.

He looks around, and he sees he is not alone. His angel is sleeping, a tight grip on his right hand; she looks exhausted. Mitch walks in just as Harry was about to wake her. Y/N mumbles and sits up, pulling her hand away from his to rub the sleep away. Harry wants to tell her to stop knowing how much it actually irritates her eyes, especially when she tubs a little harsher than usual.

"Were you able to find tea, Mitch?" Y/N asks, looking over at him.

"Sarah's bringing it over." Mitch's gaze never turns to her staying on Harry; this confuses Y/N and turns back around in her seat to look at a resting Harry but instead finds his eyes on her.

"Harry!" Y/N scoots forward, grasps his hand in hers. "You're awake. Mitch, the nurse, please."

Harry raises his free hand to take off the mask. He wants to speak, but this won't allow him. "No, love. Got to keep it on."

Harry's eyes close, then flutter open. He stares at Y/N, his eyes kind but defiant. He takes the mask off, coughing a bit; it makes Y/N feel nauseous, knowing he's not doing so well.

"I think you need to keep it on, Harry." She says, "the nurse needs to see it when she comes in soon."

"Hey, angel," he says in a raspy voice. It sounds like he's in pain when he talks.

"Yes?" She asks.

"I'm sorry for scaring you."

Y/N shrugs, "no big deal. I wasn't even scared."

Harry smiles, showering her his dimples since she last saw him this morning. He begins to laugh but stops when it causes him to cough. Y/N lets him settle down before bending down to gently kiss him.

"Now, let that hold you over, and put the mask pack on."

Harry nods. "Anything for you, my angel."

It's a half-hour before the doctor comes in, and by that time, Harry had fallen back asleep, only just waking up a few minutes before the man walked through the door. Mitch alerted everyone outside he was awake and doing good.

Dr. Vazquez walked white coat open, displaying a purple button-up and a bright yellow tie. It puts a smile on Y/N's face.

"Hello, Mr. Styles. Glad you're awake."

"Me too, Doc. Nice tie."

Dr. Vaquez smiles, looking down at himself, "Thank you, my wife picks out my tie every morning before she heads off to work."

"Lucky man," Harry tells him.

"That I am." Dr. Vazquez replies. "You've got a mild concussion, nothing serious, but you are allowed to sleep while you're here. We've got a good team looking out for you. You've got a few burns, but those will heal nicely if properly cared for. A few deep bruises on your leg and one on your rib cage, no blood clots. It will hurt to walk for a few days."

"Nothing too bad, then," Harry sighs, relaxing in bed.

"I've looked at your charts, and it looks like you will be making a full recovery and should be back on the job in three or four weeks. In the meantime, you will need to stay overnight and keep taking in oxygen. I see the nurse changed your mask. Please don't remove this one." Harry nods. "Any questions?"

Harry shakes his head no, "Not at the moment."

"Alright, I'll be off then. I'll come to see you tomorrow midday, and we'll talk about going home. I hear you have a waiting room full of people dying to see; just be aware that visiting hours end at nine, but if you're kind to Nurse Lucy, she'll be lenient to ten."

"Thank you, Dr. Vazquez." Mitch and Y/N say in unison as the man exits the room.

"That's the quietest I've ever seen you, firebug." Harry teases.

"You hush." She lightly pats his arm.

Mitch laughs, "going to go tell them you're allowed, visitors."

Y/N and Harry sit in silence. He can tell she has something on her mind, a slight frown on her face. He wonders if it's about him if she won't be able to handle dating someone who can be hurt by the job. Harry honestly does not want to lose her.

"I'm going to step out," Y/N tells him, looking down at their joined hands, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," Harry sighs.

"You've got lots of people waiting to see you and roughly have an hour to see them all. I'll be close by." She leans down, presses a kiss to his cheek, and walks out before he can reach out to stop her.

She steps out while a few members of his team come in to see him offering her a smile as she passes them. As much as she didn't want to leave him, she needed a moment away, and he needed a moment with his family.

God, Y/N has never felt so scared, and now a minute alone, everything is beginning to set in. She has no idea where the restroom is, and the next thing she knows, she's running into someone, but it seems they recognize her because they say her name, and the next thing she knows, she's crying, sinking to the floor. She feels arms wrap around her.

Shushes in her ear, brushing the ends of her hair. It's calming, but she needs to let all the tears she's been holding in.

"Y/N," she can now recognize the voice as Sarah's, "I'm going to help you stand and sit you in the chair.

Y/N feels herself nod.

She begins taking deep breaths, never letting Sarah pull her hand away. It is the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I got her some water." Y/N hears Frankie whisper handing it to Sarah before taking the seat to the left of her.

"I'm okay," she repeats. "I'm okay."

"Y/N," Sarah begins.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetie." Frankie brushes her hair back.

"I'm supposed to be strong; I have to be strong to do this to stand by his side," Y/N tells them, beginning to let her emotions out.

"No one is expecting you not to cry."

"Bu-" Sarah interrupts her.

"No. stop. Accidents happen, and so do injuries. It's okay to be scared and hurt."

"I want to be strong for him." She whispers.

"You are. You never left his side; you talked to him. You're crying now because you care."

She wipes her eyes with her sweater sleeves. "I love him, and I was so scared that when I got the call, I'd never get to tell Harry."

"Then you tell him as soon as you walk back into his room."

"Thank you."

"Nothing to thank, I care about you, and I know Harry would be grateful to know you're not alone. You've always got us. Now let's grab something to eat, and we'll come back in an hour once all of them go home."

She chuckles. "Alright."

"Text me where you're sitting. I'll pop in to see Harry, then meet you."

"You don't have to," Y/N tells Frankie because she knows she is just as concerned about her friend.

"Are you kidding me? You're my friend first, always."

Sarah and Y/N walk down to the cafeteria. She knows she isn't okay but is feeling better, finally letting emotion out. It was only a matter of time before she let the dam break; she's just happy it was not in front of Harry.

The girls sit in the cafeteria munching on snacks for well over an hour. Mitch sends them a message letting them know all the crew has left and it's time to say goodbye for the night. Frankie wishes her goodnight downstairs with promises to come to see her tomorrow and bring her a change of clothes.

"Let's walk you back," Sarah tells her, linking their arms together.

"Do you think he'll know?" Sarah takes a good look at her and grimaces. "I'll just say I tripped, and it made me cry." Y/N jokes.

"I don't think he'll believe that."

"Yeah, me either." The girls walk out of the elevator as their laughter dies down.

They settle in silence as they make their way to his room, Sarah holding her hand leading the way. Mitch is in the chair she was in for so many hours before waiting for him to wake up. Mitch hears their footsteps and turns his head, but Harry is frowning, looking out the window at the dark sky.

Y/N doesn't know what to say, but one look at him has her heart filling up with relief; he's okay.

He's fine, and he gets to go home soon, and she gets to love him all she wants.

Harry turns his head as she steps forward. "Angel," he breathes out.

It makes her eyes well up with tears again. "I love you," she just lets it out, as if she's told Harry this every day as if she never went a moment not saying it.

"Oh my angel," Harry begins to cry, feeling overwhelmed and incredibly happy. His angel loves him, and although this isn't a perfect day, the moment is.

Mitch and Sarah sneak out quietly, shutting the door behind them to give them their privacy.

"I love you so much. Please come here." Harry replies, voice shaky.

In the next second, she's moving forward, pulling the chair as close as she can as he grabs her hands, squeezing them tightly. She leans down and presses her lips to his chapped pink lips. They move gently, pouring all their love and fears into the kiss. Telling each other that the worst is over and they are together, and they are fine. Y/N pulls back, knowing she can't kiss him as long as she'd like due to his sensitive lungs.

"Harry, I love you, and I was so scared I'd never get to say it."

"I'm sorry, angel; I never wanted you to get a call like this, at least not before talking about it."

"Me either," She sniffles, no longer able to control her tears, "but it happened, and I'm just happy you're okay."

"I'm okay," he repeats. She smiles, taking one of her hands out of his hold to wipe his tears away; Harry can't help but lean his head into her gentle touch. "I'm okay because my angel is always looking after me.

"Harry."

"It's true. I've never been luckier and safer since you came into my life." She smiles. "But there's something we have to talk about." He continues, and by the tone of his voice, it's going to be serious.

"Are you okay?"

"What? I'm fine. You're the one in a hospital bed." Her tone is defensive.

"There's something wrong. I can see it."

Y/n sighs, taking a deep breath. She takes her hand out of his hold.

Harry is quick to mask his hurt.

"I don't like that you're hurt. I hate that we aren't at home in the kitchen dancing around to your Sunday playlist as I bake you a new treat." She says in a rush.

"Hey, love, relax," he says and gestures for her to move in closer. She does so, allowing him to take hold of her hands with a firm grip this time.

"You're upset because I got hurt?" She nods in reply to his question. It's stupid because, of course, he's going to get hurt; it'd be naive to think he wouldn't in his job.

"It's part of the job." He says simply. It's something he wants her to accept and remember. She thinks back to a month into dating when he told her about his ex-girlfriend and how she couldn't handle the unknown of the job each day he left her. Y/N thought she'd be fine, but she loves him, and losing him would be something she could never recover from.

"I know. It's just not easy to see." Her voice was quiet and defeated.

"What do we do?" Harry asks, and Y/N freezes; she can feel her heart beating in her ears.

What do we do?

"What do you mean?" She can feel her hands begin to shake.

"This can happen again." He gestures to him in the hospital bed.

"I know." She says softly.

"Is this something you can handle or not?" He asks very direct. She knows this might not be the first time he's had the conversation, but she just told him she loved him, and he's questioning her. She's allowed to feel this way, but it doesn't mean she can't handle it.

"Y/N," he begins, "I'm incredibly happy with you. I see you and me together for a long time. You're it for me, but this job is my life."

"I know," she repeats. "I would never ask you to give up your job."

Harry stares at her; heartbreak passes through his eyes. "Are you asking me to give you up?

She shakes her and begs for the tears not to fall, but it's no use. She feels them falling and can't wipe them as Harry has a hold of her hands.

"Harry, I love you." He frowns as if fearing the worst. "I love you, and I'd rather love you every moment I have you than let you go now and never know what could have been."

"Oh, thank god." Harry lets out a deep breath. She giggles. "I'm sorry we couldn't have this conversation earlier; honestly, I feared if I brought it up, you could possibly break up with me, and I selfishly wanted to have you longer."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, not if it's up to me. Seeing you laid up is hard but knowing I get to be there for you makes up for it. Also helps that I'm a nurse."

"That it does."

Y/n grins at Harry, leaning in to kiss him, short and sweet for now. Each kiss never fails to make her heart race, and due to Harry's heart monitor, she knows it does the same to him. They sit in silence, staring at each other as Harry traces small shapes against Y/N's cheeks, loving the feeling of her in his hand. Especially when she lets out a soft giggle when he hits a sensitive spot.

"Move in with me," Y/N blurts out after a while of silence.

It shocks Harry. "What?"

"Until you're better. That way, I can be your in-home nurse."

"Only until I'm better?" She nods. "So, you'll give me the boot after." Harry teases.

Y/N can feel her cheeks warming up but pushes through, "Only if you're a bad patient."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display for her, always for her. "Okay, I can be good and naughty only when you ask."

"Harry!" She gasps.

He throws his head back, laughing.

"God, I'm so lucky to love you." His words warm her heart, and she promises to tell him every day from now on.

"Now get up here and cuddle me. I got Mitch to cue up Netflix."

"Are you sure?" She stands slipping her shoes off, knowing he won't be taking no for an answer.

"Going to deprive an injured man of what he wants most?"

"Guess not."

"Good."

Y/N crawls on and lays on his side, carefully resting her head on his chest. Harry presses kiss after kiss for his comfort, knowing he will be okay and has his favorite person by his side. She chooses Legally Blonde knowing it's Harry's comfort movie as much as he tries to deny it.

For an unusual start to their Sunday, it ends right; together in bed, a hospital bed but nonetheless a bed, together arms wrapped tight around each other.

Y/N might not have liked that Harry got hurt, but he's okay, and he will recover.

That's all she could ever ask for.

thank you so much for reading!

please send me a message of what you thought or if you'd like to see more firefighter harry

I adore you. take care xx

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles ou #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #firefighter!harry #harry fanfic #harry fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #my writing

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Bye bye

Word count: 1592

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Platonic!Yelena x gn!reader (past Natasha x reader)

Warning: Talking about death (let me know if I need to add any)

Request: Sooo this is platonic relationship of reader and yelena (like sisters) and this is a long one😭 After Nat's death you (also) visit her grave daily, then one day you heard a whistle (which is Yelena but you didn't know her yet) before approaching Nat's tomb and u thought it's just a bird so u responded since you always do that to make Nat smile when she whistles at the compound (and maybe they talk abt how kind nat was but they still both don't know that r is in a relationship with nat and yelena is like a sister to natasha )...and Yelena gave you a ride and played Bye Bye Miss American Pie and r just started crying silently and told her how Nat used to play it on their car rides and how often Natasha talks abt how her little sister (which is again Yelena) loves the song and that's when she realized that it was yelena (maybe yelena also talks abt how nat smiles when she mentions ur name during their time saving the widows)

Summary: You meet Yelena at Natasha's grave.

A/n: I cried while writing this so thank you anon for your beautiful request. I hope I did it justice because I love the idea so much but honestly I was really tired when I wrote this so I'm just praying that it's not complete trash. I hope you all enjoy and I promise there will be soft!nat fluff soon to make up for this.

You nod to the driver as you get off the bus at the last stop and begin your daily walk along the gravel road. It would be easier to drive but it doesn’t feel right. Natasha always hated driving places and avoided it if she could. She liked the anonymous feeling that came with blending into crowds of civilians and not being recognized. You never understood why until she was gone and this was the only way you could avoid the serious talks about seeing a therapist and the pitying looks. The only thing you can never avoid is your grief and the guilt at her death even though you know it’s not her fault and she would never want you to blame yourself.

Emotions are weakness. Natasha had taught you that in the beginning and stuck to it until you convinced her to break her own rule and start a relationship. You can see now that she was right because in the end your relationship with her has weakened you to the point where you don’t know how you could possibly move on. But as with everything Natasha made emotions her strength. Her sacrifice for the lives of half the universe came from her love for everyone she has ever considered family.

As you get close to the patch of grass where her grave is you hear a whistle, the whistle Natasha always used to use. You don’t even think about it, you automatically respond and watch as a woman that looks to be around your age stands up from a crouching position at the side of Natasha’s grave and stares at you. You don’t know who she is or why she’s here but you’re immediately at ease around her. She has added to the flowers you left on Natasha’s grave and she knew her whistle so you know she means no harm. And not just anyone could find this place, you made sure of that.

“You brought her favourites.” you say to the woman.

“What?”

“The flowers,” you tell her, “they were her favourites.”

“Yes.”

Perhaps the silence after the woman’s answer should be awkward but it’s not. It feels natural as your eyes both turn towards the grave taking in the only memorial for the hero. You hate how her name got erased in how everybody was brought back. Tony deserved to be known as a hero and you miss him too but everybody focused on him and forgot about the fact that without Natasha they never would have accomplished anything. She was the only reason the avengers didn’t fall apart after the blip and the world forgot. But you know that this is the way Natasha would have liked it and for that reason alone you will never publicly correct anyone who forgets to give her the credit she deserves.

“Thank you for taking care of her grave.”

“Of course. I visit every day.”

“This is my first time,” the woman admits, “it took me a while to figure out that she died and it took even longer to find out where she was buried.”

“I didn’t know she died at first either. I was so confused as to what happened and why I was back and then so excited to see her but she was gone.” you tell the woman. You don’t know why you feel compelled to talk to her but you feel like she is someone you can share this with.

“I never got to say a proper goodbye.”

“Neither did I.”

You watch as a single tear drips down the woman’s face and she sniffles and brushes it away. She is much stronger than you the first time you came. It depends on the day now, whether you cry or not but the first time you visited you collapsed on the ground in front of the headstone sobbing and didn’t leave until it was already dark. But perhaps the woman had been here for longer than you assumed and had already gotten that out of the way.

“Do you want a ride?” she asks suddenly after she recomposes herself.

“What?”

“You can say no, but I don’t see your car anywhere.”

“I didn’t bring one.” you say. “I’m going back to the city, is that where you’re going?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know where I’m going. So yes I might as well if you are going to take me up on my offer.”

You think for a moment. On one hand you probably should not get in the car with a stranger who’s name you don’t even know. But on the other you have a gut feeling you can trust her and Natasha would trust her too. So adding in the fact that your will to live isn’t exactly super high right now you decide it should be fine.

“Sure.”

She nods in acknowledgement of your agreement and you both turn back towards Natasha’s grave for a moment, saying a silent goodbye before making your way over to her car. You like how quiet she is and how she doesn’t disturb your peace. She continues to stay silent as she starts to drive but you notice her hands fumbling with a cd as she slides it into the player. Even as the first notes of the song start you feel tears well up in your eyes. By the time you get to the chorus tears are pouring down your cheeks. Choking over the words you start to sing softly and the woman joins in.

“So bye-bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye

Singin' "This'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die"

You both continue crying and singing softly until the end of the song. Swiping the tears away as it ends. The lump in your throat lasts a minute as you try to speak and break the silence that has now become too much.

“She used to sing that to me all the time,” you tell women, “said it reminded her of her sister.”

As you say the words ‘her sister’ it’s like a light flips on in your brain and you take a moment to carefully study the woman beside you. Her hair is blonde and her features are soft but most importantly she bears a striking resemblance to the one photo Natasha had of her sister from when they were kids.

“You’re her sister.”

“Yes.” Yelena responds. “And you are Y/n?”

“I am.”

Yelena sniffles as she gives a slight chuckle. “She wouldn’t stop talking about you the last time I saw her. It was annoying and I told her to shut up but she wouldn’t. She loved you so much.”

You feel a new batch of tears spring to your eyes but you force yourself to blink them away. “She talked about you all the time too. She never forgave herself for what happened to you but you should have seen how happy she was to have found you again.”

“I wish she was here to see us again. Do you think she knows that we won? That everyone came back?”

You shake your head. “I wish I knew the answer to that but I don’t, I think about it every day. I like to think she does. But when she died she had no idea.”

“Why did it have to be her?”

“It didn’t.”

“I know and I hate that.”

You and Yelena sit in silence at your answer because it is the truth. You have thought about it over and over but in no scenario did Natasha come out alive simply because she cared too much to let another person die.

Yelena continues to drive and the trees and grass turn into subdivisions which turn into neighbourhoods which turn into highrises and still neither of you speak. There is nothing much left to say.

“You can drop me off here.” you tell her as you get close to your shitty apartment building. You don’t feel like being dropped off directly there, you need a moment to walk and cool off.

“Okay.”

She pulls off onto a side street and you clamber out. You both look at each other awkwardly.

“Don’t be a stranger.” you tell her.

“I won’t.”

“You can come over now if you want.”

“No thank you, I will but I need…” she trails off and you’re relieved at her answer because you also need time to process.

“I get it and you know where to find me when you’re ready.”

“I will.” she says, then pauses like she’s going to stop speaking before continuing. “I think Natasha would be glad that we have met.”

The lump in your throat returns. “I think so too. Take care Yelena.”

“You too Y/n.”

You both give each other one last nod before Yelena drives off. You stand in place and watch her go, lost in thought. You never expected to see her and it was a pleasant but emotional surprise. You almost dread talking to her again because the more you know about Natasha the more you miss her. But she is the only one who can truly understand you. Even Clint can’t because although he misses Natasha he has his family whereas you are alone. You can never move on from her and you don’t want to and you think Yelena can understand that. She’s right, Natasha would be happy you met.

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow

[miyagihawk]

for hawk

lover of mine - 5sos

it's a selfship anthem, bby!

the lyrics make so much sense

i love 5sos!!!! ty for the request :)

lover of mine | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

warnings: cursing, i think that’s it?

summary: based on lover of mine by 5sos <3

Lover of mine

Maybe we'll take some time

Kaleidoscope mind

Gets in the way

Your relationship with Hawk was more complicated than most.

You had to be patient with him. His mind was like a kaleidoscope; his thoughts were in intricate patterns that you could never comprehend. It amazed you, but it also frustrated you when you couldn’t understand him.

And when it seemed like you finally did understand, he would shift into new colors and you’d have to start all over again.

“I just- I don’t get you, Hawk! Why are you always lying to me?” you said loudly, already feeling exhausted from the argument.

“I’m not! You just never believe me!” he turned it on you. Like always.

You looked at him with a hard stare and crossed your arms. “Did you or did you not break Demetri’s arm?” you asked in a calmer, but still threatening tone.

You already knew the answer; everyone was talking about what happened in the laser tag room. But here Hawk was, denying it. You just couldn’t grasp why he hid so much from you.

When he stayed silent with his gaze not meeting yours, you sat on your bed with an exasperated sigh.“We should take a break,” you interrupted the quiet atmosphere, looking up at where your boyfriend stood in front of you.

“What?” Hawk finally met your eyes with a hurt expression.

You patted the spot on the bed next to you, and he sat reluctantly. “I’m just tired. We need a break Hawk.”

“We don’t need a break,” he protested quietly, and the subtle sadness in his voice was enough to make your heart pang with hurt.

Hope and I pray

Darling, that you will stay

Butterfly lies

Chase them away

He was scared. Even through all the countless arguments and lies, you never left. Now you were suggesting a break, and Hawk knows from seeing other relationships that they always just end in an actual break up.

In a weird way, you did want to scare him. Because he would never change if you didn’t. You hated the idea of a break, but maybe Hawk would finally stop lying to you if you showed him you were serious.

“It’s not a breakup,” you assured, because you knew what he was thinking. For once. “We just need time apart for a little bit. To think.”

“About what?” he asked defensively, starting to raise his voice again.

“You and I. We’re quite toxic, you know?” you contrasted his volume in a lighter tone, making his face relax and his lips turn up a bit.

His small smile dropped suddenly, replaced by an anxious expression. “Don’t leave me Y/N.”

Your heart dropped at his words, and you wanted to wrap your arms around him. To tell him you’d never leave and that it was all okay. But it wasn’t all okay.

You grabbed his hand instead, “You’re my best friend. I love you. But I need this, okay? We both do. Just some time to figure out how we can fix... us.”

“I can fix it now, we don’t need to take a break. Please. I’ll never lie to you again. I just- I hate disappointing you,” he pleaded, tightening his hand around yours, and you wanted to give in.

But you knew that letting this go on, this never ending cycle, would only end with the both of you in a huge crash and burn.

“You said that last time,” you gave him a sad smile. “Let’s just figure our shit out, and then come back better for each other. We need this Hawk.”

-

6 months later

Things didn’t end so well after your break with Hawk. After spending some time apart, you two were just never close again.

None of you planned for it to happen; you just drifted away from each other. And neither of you exactly established when the “break” would be over.

So for the next few months, you passed each other in the halls without any acknowledgment of the other’s existence. Of course you missed him, but not being with him just became the new normal. And you accepted it and pushed your feelings aside.

“So you’ll meet us there? You sure you don’t want the limo to pick you up?” your friend Cara asked from across the lunch table.

“Yeah don’t worry about me, Jesse’s picking me up,” you replied, making the rest of your friends wiggle their eyebrows teasingly.

“What happened to prom with the girls, Y/N? I thought we established no boyfriends during prom season,” Cara pouted playfully, and you elbowed her in the ribs.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He just asked me to prom and that’s it,” you corrected.

Your other friend jumped in, “And why not? Jesse is so cute.”

As she asked, your eyes trailed away from your friends and towards a certain someone with loud red hair, sitting across the room with his karate posse.

Your group noticed your lack of attention and turned to see what you were looking at. They sighed in unison, making you bring your focus back to them.

“He’s why, isn’t he?” Cara gave you an understanding smile and rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s okay. Just have fun tonight.”

You only nodded, giving your kind friends a soft smile of appreciation.

As much as you tried to convince yourself that you’ve moved on fully, the boy with a kaleidoscope mind would always have a place in your heart.

-

Where is he?

You paced around your living room anxiously, checking your phone for what seemed like the millionth time in the past hour.

You scrolled through the numerous texts you’ve sent, contemplating if you should send another one. Calling him wasn’t even an option; it went straight to voicemail everytime.

After an hour and a half, you gave up waiting and hoping that your prom date would show up. You flopped down onto the couch despairingly, replying to worried texts from your friends.

‘I’m not going to make it, just don’t worry about me. Have fun my loves.’ you typed, throwing your phone onto the floor right after.

You didn’t want to ask them to pick you up and ruin their night, and you were honestly too drained from being stood up to call an Uber.

So prom night ended up with you spread out on the couch with your outfit that you’ve planned out months ago, eating out of a carton of rocky road ice cream.

Honestly, it could’ve been worse. You could’ve been spending the night with an absolute jerk named Jesse. (a/n: so sorry if ur name is jesse lmao)

In the middle of your rom com movie marathon, an abrupt knock at the front door made you sit up from your pathetic, ice cream eating position on the sofa.

Immediately, you turned off the TV and tiptoed towards the door. You silently grabbed the baseball bat next to it, while squinting to see through the peephole.

Your stomach immediately dropped when you saw him.

Clad in a black suit, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

Shifting on his feet and chewing on his lip nervously, as he waited for you to open the door.

The boy you didn’t know you needed to see until now.

What is he doing here?

You covered your mouth in shock as you ran to the mirror to check if you had chocolate stains around your mouth. You smoothed down your hair and straightened out your dress in a frenzy, before unlocking the door with a deep breath in.

“Hawk?” you tried to act surprised, which wasn’t hard because your heart was racing.

He took a second to look at you in your wasted prom attire, and he was locked in a trance for a second before he snapped out of it. “Oh... uh, these are for you,” he held out the flowers to you and you took them with a smile.

“Wow, I love them. Thank you,” you brought them up to your nose for a whiff of your favorite floral scent. “So, what are you doing here?” you asked awkwardly.

“Oh crap, sorry, do you want to come in?” you said before he would answer, and you opened the door wider so he could step inside.

Hawk looked around the room where he’s been countless times, and he frowned at the sight of 13 Going On 30 paused on the screen with half melted ice cream on the coffee table. That movie plus the sweet dessert was your absolute comfort pairing, and it made him sad that you needed it.

“Cara texted me, and I was worried,” he finally spoke, answering your earlier question. You suddenly felt embarrassed as you placed the bouquet in a vase. You didn’t want to be pitied. Especially by your ex-boyfriend.

“I’m fine,” you said bluntly, busying yourself with the flowers so that you wouldn’t have to face him. You hadn’t talked to him since the night you suggested the break, and you already felt too exhausted from tonight’s events to even talk about it with him. “It’s better that I didn’t go to prom with that dick.”

Hawk chuckled at your remark, and you felt more at ease. The tension between you was thicker than an iceberg, and you didn’t know if you could handle it.

“So did you leave? Or are you just dressed up like that for me?” you smiled, sitting down on the couch where he followed.

He laughed again, lightening the mood even more. “I was there, but you know, Cara told me about what happened and... I just felt like I needed to come. It was lame though. The whole thing is just dancing. And I don’t dance,” Hawk explained, and you found yourself smiling at the thought of him caring about you. “But I know how excited you were about prom, so I thought I’d bring it to you. Some romantic shit like that.”

Your eyebrows raised at “romantic shit”, but you decided not to say anything about it. Although, it did make your cheeks heat up and you hoped he didn’t notice. “That’s really sweet Hawk. Thank you. Really,” you placed your hand on top of his, but you recoiled awkwardly because it felt too intimate, given the circumstances.

You cleared your throat, “So... since you’re bringing prom to me, does that mean I get a dance?” you got up and stood in front of him with your arms playfully crossed.

Hawk squinted his blue eyes at you, crossing his arms as well, “I don’t dance, remember?”

“For me you will, right? Or I could just, you know, dance by myself. It’s already been such a great night for me,” you teased, walking away from him towards a clear space in the living room.

He groaned from behind you and got up to follow, making you cheer happily. “For you I will,” he stated under his breath, releasing dozens of butterflies in your stomach.

Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

You turned on your Dad’s old record player, where a slow, jazzy, 60s vinyl was spinning. You almost wanted to change it because it felt too romantic, but Hawk was already waiting behind you and you were scared he would change his mind.

The rush his presence gave you made you boldly put your hands on his shoulders, and he stiffly placed his own on the curve of your waist. Your hands were locked at the nape of his neck; his hold on you was light as if you were fragile china.

You forgot how intoxicating it felt to be this close to him, and you wondered how you went so long without that feeling.

The both of you swayed to the smooth melodies of Nina Simone with interlocked eyes, and with every second his hands on your hips became more relaxed. You rested your head on his chest, pulling him closer.

For a song or two, none of you said anything; there was just an unspoken appreciation of each other’s presence. After 6 months without him, you needed this.

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

“I should’ve never let you go,” Hawk whispered close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I was the one who wanted the break. It’s my fault,” you opposed, lifting your head up from his chest to look up at him.

He raised one of his hands to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and it brought a warm smile to your face. “But I didn’t chase after you,” his lips turned down into a frown.

You put your hands on the sides of his face while you two continued to sway to the staticky vinyl. “Maybe it’s both of our faults,” you laughed lightly, touching his soft skin.

“It’s me Y/N. I’m the one who lied to you throughout the whole relationship. I’m so sorry,” Hawk looked down at you with glossy eyes. “I’ve done so much fucked up shit. But you’re the only thing I got right. I hate myself for ruining it too.”

Your felt yourself melt at his confession. “It’s not ruined,” you disputed. “You aren’t perfect and I’m not either. I shouldn’t have given up on us. I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes in peace as your hands ran through his bright hair. It was down from its usual style, giving him a softer look.

“Maybe we both messed up. But I’m never giving you away again Y/N. I won’t make that mistake. I love you,” the boy you’ve missed for months admitted, saying everything you wanted to hear.

You kissed him in reply.

a/n: ah idk if i like this but i hope u do, i feel like my writings are getting repetitive im having bad writers block (as u can tell by how slow im doing requests)

#cobra kai #eli moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk imagine #hawk x reader #cobrakai

[marshmallowprotection]

Okay so correct me if I’m wrong but Saeran when he was a kid, Saeran got himself, V, Rika and Saeyoung these little bookmarks that had a type of flower as the cover. I think the one MC is given (by a believer in charge of lost&found) had geranium flowers on it and it was Saeyoung’s.

I forgot what, Saeran’s, V’s and Rika’s were (I think Rika’s were Daffodils and Saeran was Forget-Me-Nots?)

I know this is a long intro, but basically I know all those flowers have meanings to all their characters. And i wanted to hear your analysis on them + I also want to know what flowers you think the other RFA members would have and why 🤔

OH BOY. EVERYONE KNOWS I’M ALWAYS READY TO SHARE MY FEELINGS ON FLORIOGRAPHY. 

Geranium can be a wish for good health, hope that you pray that the other person will someday feel better and find peace. It makes sense that that is for Saeyoung because this is about his brother. Saeran was a young and sickly child for such a very long time, and this was a gift that said, we pray for you and you will grow to be a bigger flower in due time. You will not wilt and you will grow until you blossom into something that is lovely. It’s a hope to live long and not feel like the end is on the cusp of your heels. His concern is never for himself. It's his brother.

Rhododendron can be a sign of optimism, the hope that you have that the future ahead will be great. It makes sense that that was gifted to Saeyoung because he is the one that hinges on the hope that one day, he can save his brother and be sure that they are both free from their chains that have kept them down. This is a gift that says, never lose hope in yourself and those that you love when it feels like the end of coming. Believe in somethin and never let anyone take that away from you. 

Narcissus means rebirth and renewal because it’s one of the earliest bulbs to sprout. We all know the story. Unable to look away from the water, Narcissus grew tired, fell into the stream, and drowned. Rika’s suicide is implied to be her falling from the edge of a cliffside and falling into the water down below. It’s their way of symbolism her final rebirth into someone finally relishing in her cruelty and devil to it’s fullest form. It’s loss and gain. It’s ups and downs. That feels so very true to her character. 

Another popular story in mythology, Rhodanthe was someone so beautiful that people wouldn’t leave her alone. They were always at her heels and begging for her love. She turned them all down and grew so tired of them that she retreated and ran away to the Temple of Diana. Those suitors just wouldn’t quit, though, and because of that Diana decided to turn Rhodanthe in a rose and all of the suitors into the thorns of the flower. The implication here is that V and Rika are twisted together in a dangerous path, but it’s hard to tell who is the rose and who is the thorns here. Interesting.

As for the rest of the RFA, check out my thoughts and opinions on flowers for everyone below! 

Jaehee is... well, when I think of her, I actually think of Ferns. I think about what they stand for and what mean to someone like Jaehee. One of the most popular meanings that I can think here is confidence... shelter... and intrigue. You’re the person that inspires Jaehee to believe in herself, and she risks a chance that she may not have if it wasn’t for you. She blooms into herself and becomes this steady tower that cannot topple, much like the leaves of a fern. You give her the warmth and home that she needs to believe in herself. I think that says a lot of her strength and her love. 

Yoosung is... well, I think his love is true, pure, and sweet. I think the way he’s believed in himself stems from how he believes in you. You believed in him, and he was able to believe in himself because of that. He has faith in you. You have helped him find himself again after all this time. You gave him a chance to see the man that he wanted to be. He is loyal to you, he has faith in you, and this is a passion that none can ever match up to. For me, Yoosung is like a bundle of soft daisies because he has such a passionate love that feels like falling in love for the first time.

Zen reads to me like Primrose. He’s a romantic at heart and I know that you’d probably assume that I would pick something like red roses because that’s the traditional and classic romantic flower that exists universally. But the reason why I choose this is because it’s about passion. It’s about desire and about a love in which that is so true that you cannot live without the other person. Primroses are usually meant to say, “I can’t be without you”, and I think when it comes to Zen, he’s very honest that he loves you and as long as you’re in his heart, he knows that he can do anything... even hold love that transcends universes, if you play that April Fools DLC, y’know what I mean. 

Jumin is steadfast. His love is strong. He believes in it like he wants to believe in the good in this world. His love doesn’t fade. It’s given like trust... he needs time to bloom and blossom and once he does, his flower never withers. With that in mind, I would give him Wisteria. I see him drawn with it often and there’s really a strong reason for that. Wisteria is a plant that endures. It’s able to last and live no matter what happens to it... but if left alone and uncared for, it can become an intrusive climbing vine that has nothing to help it stay healthy. Your love saves him and keeps him grounded. 

If you want a bonus! I can tell you that I feel like Vanderwood’s flower would be Orchid. It’s a refined flower that often finds itself given to those that are lovely in their own way and has a style and aura that seems to be hard to explain but you know that it’s classic and perhaps, vintage. It’s kind of like a fine wine that has been stashed away for a few decades that’s reached peak flavor. Vanderwood is the wildcard that you wouldn’t expect to be a flower like this, maybe you might have expected Monkhood? But, giving them a flower that just says “BEWARE ME” feels too rude. 

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