#this collection was about flowers as a symbol of hope

[atenderofsycamoretrees]

Yanina Couture Fall 2022 Couture

Photos courtesy of Yanina Couture

#fashion #yanina couture #yanina #fall 2022 #couture #scopophobia #this collection was about flowers as a symbol of hope

[undreaming-fanfiction]

My brain refuses to sleep, so more drabbling! Probably modern-ish AU?

Steve makes a career for himself as a re-decorator (or de-decorator, as he loves to call himself). His clientele are those celebrities who rose to fame so quickly they have plenty of money, but they don't have time to make their houses feel like home. They just bought penthouses and mansions and now live in homes that are fancy, but they feel like hotels.

Steve is there to fix that.

One of his clients is the hard working rockstar Eddie Munson whose life path went from a trailer park to couch surfing to living with 4 people in a tiny apartment, then suddenly tours, hotels and boom! He has a house that looks like an IKEA prop.

He doesn't hide his distaste at the pristine condition of the place (yes, Eddie has a cleaner). "Oh god. A beige carpet?" he scoffs and he sounds so bitchy Eddie decides he likes him already.

He likes him even more when Steve puts on reading glasses. Damn.

Over coffee, they discuss what Eddie wants. Except Steve doesn't just...tell him. He doesn't give him any hints. He just keeps asking about Eddie's favorite colors, what movies he likes, does he have hobbies apart from music? Can Steve see some of the items that bring him comfort?

And Eddie's surprised. "Shouldn't you, like...be telling me what I'm supposed to want?" he asks the gorgeous man who almost wails when he sees the vase with fresh flowers ("This is the third place in a row that has this fugly thing! Is it like a status symbol? Uh, tasteless.").

And Steve just stares at him. "Uh, Mr. Munson?"

"Eddie."

Steve nods. "Eddie. Why should I have any say in what you want? If you ask me what's practical, easy to clean, what bounces off light well, that's another thing. But in matters of taste...you're the boss. You live here, I don't. (Pity, Eddie thinks) Now, let's change this place into somewhere you actually like staying, hm?"

They spend the whole afternoon talking. Eddie opens up about what he loved before the touring and expectations from his agent took that from him. He talks about the Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, fantasy in general, and Steve listens, makes tons of notes and asks questions that make Eddie's heart bleed, such as "and who is your favorite Lord of the Rings character?" and "you mentioned elves, dwarves, orcs, wizards...so what is your favorite group?" and "which DnD class would you be then? I guess a bard? Is that too obvious?". Now, Steve doesn't know much about these things, but learns quickly and works with the info he has.

They walk through the house again, with Steve making notes and wincing at transgressions against humanity or at least against his taste in things ("Oh ew. EW. Glossy finish on a kitchen counter? What is this, a future crime scene?") and Eddie feeling equally amused and curious. Eddie orders dinner for them, it goes something like:

"I don't know what would be appropriate, any preferences?"

"Eddie, there's no time or space when pizza is not appropriate."

"What about a funeral?"

"It puts fun in a funeral."

"Touché."

They follow up on a bunch more things. Steve notices Eddie fidgeting and asks him like the mindreader he is if perhaps the place is too clean for him. "Minimalism is what everyone's trying to push," Steve says, not without sympathy, "but it's not for everyone. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you seem like a person who'd love a more....personal, cluttered space."

And god, Eddie feels so seen. He tells Steve about all his favorite books and trinkets that he lost during a horrible earthquake in Indiana, so when he moved to the city it was just some clothes and his two guitars. Steve makes so many notes. "I've seen quite a lot of collectibles for your beloved trilogy," he says with a hint of a smile. "Is that something you'd like in your home?" Eddie can't nod any faster.

They talk about the budget (Eddie just scoffs at that, for the first time in his life money is not an issue), Eddie's absolute no go things ("No more vases, please! PLEASE. Also maybe the one room that can stay as it is is the studio, there's no decor"), if he has issues touching any materials, if he wants to keep any areas in the house neutral for visitors (he doesn't). Then finally, he asks Eddie if he wants to be more consulted or surprised.

And Eddie, tired and surprisingly relaxed from talking to Steve, just grins and says: "Surprise me, big boy."

Steve just smirks and makes one more note. "Oh, I will, Eddie."

...

Eddie goes on yet another tour for a couple of months, which is the ideal time for Steve to start working on the house.

Steve sometimes texts Eddie random choices, such as "Rohan or Gondor or both?" or "what's the best pub in the Middle Earth?" and Eddie usually trips over his feet trying to get to his phone after concerts to see if maybe he has another message from Steve. He learns bits and pieces about the man as well - he has a younger brother, Dustin, who is into the same stuff that Eddie is. Sometimes it goes like this:

STEVE: What's the best battle in the LotR movies?

EDDIE: The Ride of the Rohirrim, duh!

STEVE: Dustin says you're wrong, it's the last stand at the gates of Mordor.

EDDIE: The disrespect to king Théoden!

And finally, the big day comes. Eddie meets with Steve at the door. From the outside, the house still looks boring, but that's what they agreed on. At least for now.

But there's one notable difference and Eddie gasps when he sees it.

"I know we said no changes on the outside," said Steve sheepishly, "but I took the liberty to make one slight change."

Where the door used to be bland and white, it is now carved with silver etchings. It replicates the Doors of Durin. Eddie loves it.

Steve smiles at him. "Speak friend and enter, right? Dustin told me. Anyways, are you ready?"

Turns out, Eddie wasn't ready. Steve took all of the shiny and sterile surfaces and turned them into something beautiful.

The kitchen is now in warmer colors, brown and green, imitating the Green Dragon inn, plaque included.

Guest rooms have been changed, each to represent a group or a nation of the Middle Earth. Eddie thinks his uncle will love the Rohirrim one.

No more vases are to be seen, but Steve got potted plants ("almost immortal, as long as your housekeeper waters them once a week or so").

Eddie howls in laughter when he sees that Steve somehow managed to disguise all his security cameras as tiny eyes of Sauron.

The bathroom is inspired by the Rivendell, with soft tones and nods to Elvish architecture.

Eddie's bedroom resembles the Shire, with round shapes and homely motifs.

But Eddie's absolute favorite is the living room.

The only things that remain there that he bought are the massive TV and his stereo system with records. The rest though...

Gone is the ugly and sharp couch that looked like a geometry exercise. The new one is large and comfortable, with a couple of armchairs to finish the cozy feel. The coffee table and TV stand are more rough looking, with decorative ironwork. And then, around the room and on the walls...

"Oh wow," whispers Eddie and Steve beams at him.

There are collectibles and figurines that young Eddie Munson would have killed for. A replica of the Narsil hangs over the TV. It's cluttered but tasteful, still easy to clean, but Eddie always has something to touch, to play with.

And then he spots the bookcase and actually sobs. "What the fuck, Steve?" he asks, but there's no anger, just awe. "How did you know?"

The bookcase is full of Eddie's most beloved books, all that he told Steve about and more, but it's not just that. These aren't just pristine new prints - Steve managed to get both those and well-loved used copies. Most of them are the same editions that Eddie had before the earthquake. He runs his trembling finger over the back of the Hobbit and it feels like home.

"That was the hardest part," says Steve and leaves Eddie to rummage through the books, the old DnD guides and used comic books. "But I assumed you're sick of new and shiny. In fact, most of the collectibles are already used as well. They have some history. As for the books, uh..." He scratches his neck, embarrassed. "I will be honest, I don't read much. Dyslexia and some issues with the eyes, although audio books are making it more possible for me now. So I had to ask Dustin for help. We looked for editions published before the earthquake. I hope we got some of them right?"

Eddie just mutters "Sorry, I'm about to do something really unprofessional now" and pulls Steve into a bear hug. And Steve reciprocates.

"Fuck, this...this is everything," says Eddie into his shoulder. "How did you do this? Are you magic. You must be magic."

Steve grins. "I take it the surprise was a success then?"

Eddie finally pulls back. He would have loved to keep embracing Steve for a bit longer, but boundaries. "A total one. Wow. I mean. It's a lot, but so good. SO GOOD. How can I repay you?"

"You already paid me, Eddie."

"You know what I mean!" Eddie points and the books and apparently also a DVD collection he now owns. "This must have been so much more work than you normally do, no? I doubt every client has you memorize the members of the Fellowship."

"Not just that, but also why Sam is the best," Steve smiles at him and fuck. Eddie might be in love. "It was more than usual, but I loved it, Eddie. That's why I like my job so much, helping people find themselves again. You don't owe me anything. Although, if you're offering..."

"I'm listening."

Steve runs his fingers through that majestic hair. "So, I didn't tell Dustin that I was decorating the house for you, but he's a huge fan of your music. Like, massive, has every album, has been following your career from the start. And feel free to tell me it's too much, you are my client after all, but...he'd love to meet you. Over a pizza, maybe? The plain ham and cheese one you like so it doesn't have too many flavors?"

And Eddie melts. Because Steve still remembers his pizza choice from months ago, even though this definitely wasn't in his notes. He decides there and then that Steven Harrington is a national treasure.

"Sure, big boy," he smiles at Steve, and hopes he didn't imagine Steve leaning into the touch. "How about you invite him over for a movie night or something? With pizza of course."

It looks like Steve could kiss him, but he doesn't. Not yet. That only happens a week later, when they bump into each other in Eddie's kitchen when they scramble to make more popcorn for Dustin.

Steve stays the next night. And maybe a few after that. Always in a different themed bedroom.

They travel for work a lot, but when they are both in Chicago, they always meet in the Green Dragon kitchen, cuddle in the bed that would be far too large for a hobbit, and in the night, Eddie wraps himself around Steve and whispers: "My preciousssss."

And Steve can't really complain, because it's his fault that his boyfriend has re-discovered his dorkiness, so why would he mind?

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #stranger things drabble #steddie au #steddie fanfiction #dustin henderson #lotr steddie #ish #lord of the rings steddie #not proofread we die like Boromir MY BOY #ahem this got long #Steve the redorkifier Harrington #Eddie the reemerging dork Munson

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Mr Gaiman, I hope your day is going well.

I can't say I'm looking for anything other than the comfort of talking to someone I don't know, and I apologize that for some unknown reason you are the only 'wiser older being' I can think of other than God. I'm 16, and because of forces outside of my control, I don't know if i can continue living normally. My family is loving, I am safe in my home, I currently have it better than most of the people in my country, I am not suicidal, but I'm terribly scared. Every time I watch the news or see my parents/teachers talk to each other, I feel this unexplained sensation that my life is getting shorter and shorter.

Mr. gaiman, I feel like I'll never get to finish high school. I'll never get to visit my grandparents' old house since the town evacuated. My aunt and her family are still up in the north, they send us videos every time they see rockets in the sky, and I debate sending 'goodbye' and 'I love you' one more time just incase. I'm terrified for them, for the people under the rubbles of their homes, for the people in foreign places that still don't know if they'll live, for the kids with no parents, for parents with no kids. I remember being nervous to talk to my friends about what we'll do when we go to the army in a few years, but as long as we keep in touch we're sure we'll be alright. I remember what I wanted to be when I'll grow up, I wanted to move, get an apartment in Porto Fino or go to meet my uncles in Viana, and translate books.

I remember it was the last few days of holiday vacation before it started, I remember it was still warm outside, and I still possessed the privilege to live.

Mr. gaiman, these days I'm learning that while I get to be luckier than most by simply being alive, I will always feel just one alarm sound away from sharing the same fate of my great-grandparents. From a young age I've seen black and white pictures of them, and so many others, and was told: 'they were here, they were alive, and you get to live the dream they died for'. I don't want to die on unfulfilled dreams.

I apologize for making you deal with this, but I want to be remembered by someone from outside who will get to live longer than me, or so I hope.

I'm 16 and a half. My brother just turned 11. I'm about to fail the test I have tomorrow. My tattoo just fully healed - the flowers symbolize undying love. I learned English on my own. I collect records with my dad. I study American history. I love your books. I bake when I feel down. I am alive. I if I die I hope it will be in a bomb shelter.

All I can wish you now is luck, good fortune, and the hope that you and your loved ones survive and that the world heals. I hope your generation helps heal the mess that previous generations have left you in.

[sandara-and-coco]

₊˚⊹⋆ Howdy there! It’s finally time for Sandrock's final release yay ₊˚⊹⋆

To celebrate this special occasion Sandara pulled off her jewelry making skills to prepare some unique rings for every sandrocker who wishes to propose to their soulmate ! So without further, here's a little story behind each design,

Qi - Sended an intriguing blueprint to Sandara with complex symbols and diagrams…He assured her that it meant something important to his soulmate so she craved the coded message in precious silver with care. Even if she didn’t get Qi special love language as usual she was sure his loved one would get it ;)

Owen - Our favorite bartender showed an intricate design to Sandara, a delicate pattern almost the same as his own parents' engagement ring. Like the gilding flowers on the cover of a fine book he wished to give his lover the beginning of the story they were about to write together in this life.

Fang - The swan holding a special meaning to him Fang requested Sandara to make his ring the shape of that gracious animal to seal his promise to love and cherish his dearest one forever.

Ernest - Came by with this big and expensive pearl that got a special meaning to him asking Sandara if she could add it to his ring. The pearl symbol of his loyalty and love was carefully placed on the gold ring, the initials of his name and his lover one engraved on the inside.

Pablo - He made a special request to Sandara in search of the most colorful metal they could find for his ring in which bismuth mineral was perfect! Showing how bright and full of all the colors of this world his love was for his chosen one.

Arvio - Insisting on getting the most fine materials Arvio asked for a special ring. He showed Sandara a rare sand flower from Baranarok symbolizing hope and renewal inspiring the shape of that jewel meant to bond him and his other half forever.

Miguel - Requested a rather simple but very elegant ring, made with pale gold with a single diamond to show the purity of his love for his chosen one.

Burgess - Asked for something extra special to convey all his will to live in happiness and kindness with his soulmate. The yellow diamond he chose shining in the center of his ring radiating like the sun all his love.

Pen - In secret Pen demanded the most powerful ring Sandara could make to give his special one great strength and power he’s all for. However he never delivered it himself…

Unsuur - While admiring his collection Unsuur couldn't choose which gem was more fitting so he brought them all to Sandara to make a special ring! (even adding a few shards Wilson lost to make the base of his special ring ;)

Justice - Wanted a pretty ring that still felt like him so Sandara took great care at bringing out Justice strong will and honesty toward his most precious one with this silver and copper ring.

Logan - The only one Sandara didn’t make because well Logan made it himself for his special one! On late hunt nights he sat by the fire and carefully carved this ring in bones with the will to give his loved one something he made with all his heart.

This isn’t much but I hope everyone will have much fun playing and living wonderful adventures with Sandrockers friendly as romantic ones ! As I used to study jewelry making it was very much fun to do and fitting hc that Sandara would make them for the town folks !

It’s been already one year that I have being in this fandom and so so grateful for everything it brought me and the wonderful people it allowed me to meet ♡

I’m currently working on the girl next and some custom ones for my fellow builders who helped me with the designs ◇

₊˚⊹⋆ Happy Sandrock day ! Wish you all the best and see you soon to continue this journey together ₊˚⊹⋆

#my time at sandrock #mtas #sandrock #bachelors rings #happy sandrock day! #mtas qi #mtas owen #mtas fang #mtas ernest #mtas pablo #mtas arvio #mtas miguel #mtas burgess #mtas pen #mtas unsuur #mtas justice #mtas logan #sandara quiting builder to become jewelry maker lol #I hope these silly rings will match your sandrock romance #I can’t wait to see all our ship sealed finally ~ #thank you for everything ♡ #rings project

[pyrpaw]

I heard your call and came to fulfill your wish

Hi, there! First time ordering here (I hope I do it right)

Reader: Neutral 👍

Type: Headcanons (Romantic)

Scenary: Romantic headcanons about a reader who gives flowers to his lover as a token of his love and appreciate (each flower has a romantic connotation)

With Jamil, Silver And Leona

ooo you asked perfectly! I'm not super well known on flower meanings so I'll just use basic ones probably, but provide the meaning (also sorry if I misunderstood anything)

(contents: established relationship, mentions of the reader and Jamil dating before the overblot,and the reader being present during Jamil's overblot, and just some badly done angst in Jamil and Leona's)

giving flowers <3

Jamil Viper

Daffodils,bright yellow petels and a bright green stem to accompany it, they symbolize new beginnings and peace, and occasionally, forgiveness

And god knows Jamil needs forgiveness

After his overblot he couldn't look you in the eyes, even if you were dating at the time, but despite all the events that he made you endure when in a blind rage, you were the first to forgive him

White daisies, the classic white petaled flower that fits well in hair, symbolizing loyalty, beauty, patience, and simplicity

Sounds just like Jamil huh?

Jamil would always try and accompany you when you went out, and anytime someone else would try to even talk to him, he'd ignore them and go straight to you

(could be his antisocial-ness as well, but still)

And I mean he has to be the most gorgeous man ever, long silky hair, smooth skin, dazzling eyes, the epitome of beauty

Along with his insane patience due to handling Kalim, he rarely ever snaps, and finally, the simplicity of life he oh so enjoys

so, with a simple bouquet and a guilt ridden boyfriend, you ventured off to Scarabia

After wandering around for awhile a student told you Jamil was in the kitchen, and once you walked in Jamil's head raised before a nervous expression filled his face as he looked away to focus on cooking

Without saying any words, you walked up and gave him the flowers and a kiss on the cheek before leaving the kitchen, leaving a stunned Jamil with flowers in his hands

Now, Jamil doesn't know the flowers meanings, but he does know that almost all flowers you give him are for a reason, so after the dorm had dinner he decided to look up the meanings, his face softening as he read the various meanings

And bam, a sudden ding from your phone, low and behold... your boyfriend finally texted you <3

Silver

Magnolia, large white petals forming a elegent shape, it represents nobility and perfection, who better fits these then Silver?

Silver, a honest and courageous knight, who always manages to sleep like a princess with perfect hair and (almost) perfect manners

Dandelion, a airy and puffy weed that symbolizes strength and resilience

Because who is it that always helps you no matter the toll it takes on him? Silver

It's always nice to hang out with your boyfriend, him taking a nap by a tree while you pick flowers nearby, carefully holding them as to not pull off any petels

You've noticed that the local wildlife that swarms around Silver has taken notice of your flower picking and giving tendencies, and have started to bring you little flowers to add into the bouquet

So, with a Dandelion, Magnolia, and various wildflowers collected by birds, you walked back to your sleeping boyfriend

You get up to him and decide to sit next to him, putting the flowers into his open palm and not wake him, opting to just silently sit and cloud gaze

Eventually he started to wake up, grabbing onto the flowers and looking over at them once his eyes opened, before looking back at you and putting his hand on your own

Does he know the meaning of the flowers? god knows, but he seems to get you your own with specific meanings, so you say he does

Leona Kingscholar

Iris, a beautifully purple flower that symbolizes royalty and respect

Because in your mind despite him not being in line for the throne, he's still a person to highly respect

Orange tulips, unique petals that face upwards, symbolizing understanding and appreciation

Because what Leona really needs is someone to not brush off his struggles and understand his difficulties

Ever since Leona's overblot and the whole school learning his true feelings and envy, he's had a hard time meeting with you, last minute panic and cancellation in the fear of being judged

So, you get him a lovely bouquet of Orange tulips and Irises, going through Savannaclaw to find your boyfriend, only to be told he's out napping somewhere, so the delivery of flowers lands on Ruggie

After Leona was awoken by Ruggie he received flowers and automatically knew who sent them, looking at the arrangements of flowers with a meaning he knows is true from you

Bouquet in hand, he gets up and ventures off to find you

So, here you are now, after getting a sudden text from Leona that he was coming to your dorm, you are now peacefully cuddling with your boyfriend

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #silver x reader #leona kingsholar x reader

[sycamorelibrary754]

The Afterglow

Summary: You finally visit Natasha’s grave a year after she passed away. You don’t know what you expected to find or feel when you get there, but you want to feel something. Maybe Yelena does too.

Pairings: Natasha x reader, Yelena x reader (Platonic)

Genre: Angst, Comfort

Word Count: 918 words

Warnings: Grief, mentions of death.

A/N: I can't believe today is finally here. I wasn't planning on writing anything today, but I was listening to Afterglow by Ed Sheeran, and this came out. Lyrics from Afterglow are italicized. Credit to the writers of WandaVision for the final line. I miss Natasha Romanoff.

October used to be your favorite month. A million colors of hazel, golden, and red. Natasha would do anything and everything to make the fall season special for you. Lighting your favorite apple cinnamon-scented candle, attempting homemade hot chocolate for you, even indulging you in wearing matching fall sweaters when she was most definitely not a fluffy sweater person. You were both love drunk.

But that was then and this was now. It had been a year. Three hundred and sixty-five days without her strength, her protection, her vulnerability, her love. Since Natasha’s death, you couldn’t bring yourself to visit her grave. It was only a symbolic resting place, after all. Her physical form lost to the dark depths of Vormir. An incapacitating fact you never let yourself think about. You knew the remaining team had made the journey to Ohio. Moreover, even if she didn’t want to admit it, you knew Yelena had quietly bought a small house in Ohio just to be close to her sister again.

You decided it was time. You didn’t know what you expected to find or feel when you got there, but at this point, you just wanted to feel something. You didn’t tell anyone you were going, not wanting to hear everyone’s opinions. She was your love, and you were hers. 

The flight was only a couple of hours, but it felt like a couple of days. Lost in your head and your memories that now reappear tinged with pain. You’re on autopilot in your mind, so you almost don’t notice when you pull up to an isolated dirt road and put the car in park. The fall leaves crunched under your boots as you made your way up the road, framed delicately by the surrounding trees. It was a pretty place, you admit to yourself. Simple, but beautiful. Just like Natasha would have wanted.

A small collection of headstones comes into view as you wind your way up the path. Rays of light danced upon the ground. It didn’t take you long to spot her headstone. Right in the center of everything, just as she always was. The only one lovingly blanketed in flowers, teddy bears, and handwritten notes. Natasha Romanoff. Daughter. Sister. Avenger. 

You kneel in front of her headstone and run your hand over the cold stone. The only sounds are the distant chirping of the birds and the fluttering of the wind through the trees. So alone in love like the world had disappeared. For you it had. Your world had disappeared and was never coming back. You’re lost in a moment of solitary grief until a whistle cuts through the silence. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, not moving from your spot on the ground. 

“I stopped expecting her to whistle back a couple of months ago”, a Russian voice said as it reaches your ears. 

You stand up, not even bothering to look. You stare straight ahead as Yelena joins you in front of the headstone. “More people come to this place than you would think, considering how secluded it is”, Yelena says softly. I try to come a couple of times a week and clean up. Be with her, feel her. Wherever she is now.” 

You don’t speak, only nod. 

“I hoped you would come today. I thought about calling, but I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Honestly, I thought you were angry with me for not coming here sooner,” you finally respond. 

“I could never be. Who am I to tell you how to process losing the love of your life?” she said as you stare up at the trees.

“It’s strange, you know. It always felt like Natasha and I lived life in glowing color and now I’m just existing in black and white”, your voice trailing off.

“We used to chase fireflies in the backyard when we were small. Melina taught us that the glow came from the chemical process of bioluminescence,” Yelena recalled.

“Forever the scientist,” you sighed.

“It's taken me my entire life to realize that the glow I was really chasing all that time was hers”, the young widow said.

You finally look over at Yelena. Her eyes shone with the radiance of unshed tears. You reach for her hand and feel the coolness of her rings as your fingers intertwine. 

“I would give anything to have had more time with her. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make her proud”, she whispered.

“She was already proud of you, Yelena. She always will be”, you said with a shake in your voice. 

Now Yelena is the one who nods silently. 

“She loved you, y/n,” Yelena finally says after a moment of reflection. “You broke down the walls. Her entire life she believed love was for children. It wasn’t until you that she started to believe maybe love was for her too.”

“I loved her too… I always will,” tears started to flow silently down your cheeks.

“She burned so bright. We have to hold on to the afterglow. Forever.” Yelena declares as she squeezes your hand. 

That broke you. You embrace each other in a hug as you cry together. Neither of you have to say anything. The action spoke a thousand words. Words of grief, words of love. Everything you had been holding on to for the last year. At last, you finally felt something. What is grief, if not love persevering? 

#natasha romanoff x reader #yelena boleva x reader #black widow #mcu #the avengers #angst #grief #comfort #Spotify #natasha romanoff #yelena boleva

[hisui-dreamer]

honour to us all

Pairing: Silver x gn!reader

Synopsis: in which Silver meets the descendant of his childhood hero

Tags: reader is mulan's descendant, heritage talk, kinda accurate chinese history, fluff, can be platonic or romantic

Word count: 440

Notes: ok so i was stupid and accidentally deleted the original post so here:

from @saneruggiefan

hi!! Hope you’re doing well today

May I request Silver with a mulan descendant reader? Since Silver talked abt how he admires the hero of the east aka mulan in the Halloween event I thought he’d get along well with someone who’s descended from his favorite childhood hero

happy halloween! not really halloween related(?) but it was mentioned in the first halloween event hehe

from your earliest memories, the legends of your ancestor have been a constant presence in your life

you remember the eyes of your grandparents, their eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and reverence, as they recounted the tale of the brave daughter who so cherished her father, an old and weakened man, that she had committed a crime punishable by death, just to take her father's place in the army

and not only the bravery of doing so, but the decision she made to refuse any title and rewards gifted to her after the war, and simply a request of a steed for her to go home

your family has long treasured the legacy of such a figure, who brought immense honor to your name, and her values have been entrenched into your being

which is why it isn't much surprise that you got along quite well with silver, who often showed how much he respected his father, supposedly a fearsome general in Briar Valley

your schoolmates in NRC were often a bunch of rambunctious teenagers, so silver's calmness and respectful attitude was quite a breath of fresh air

though when he started talking about his childhood hero, you found yourself filled with pride that your ancestor's tales could reach even people in Briar Valley

once he learns your heritage, he would definitely deeply respect for you, asking you questions about the legend that has been lost to history

he loves when you show him some artefacts your family has protected for centuries, a sword gifted to her by the emperor, a treasured wooden hair comb with a orchid flower carved onto it, and even statues of a dragon believed to be the guardian spirit of the family

silver's eyes always glow with curiosity when you talk about the hero, and he even seems to be more awake and less likely to doze off

silver has a newfound appreciation and respect for your

Silver's eyes widened with wonder as you unveiled the artifacts from your family's collection. He ran his fingers gently over the comb, feeling its history in his hands.

"Wow," Silver breathes, his voice filled with reverence. "The detail on this comb is exquisite. The flower... you said this was a reference to her name?" At your nod, a soft smile graces his lips. "An orchid flower, a symbol of nobility and grace, just like the hero herself... This is amazing... I wish I could show it to my father..."

"I can't believe I have the honor of meeting a descendant of the legendary hero... It's an absolute privilege to learn more about her from you..." his words trail off as he succumbs to a gentle, peaceful slumber.

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland silver #silver #silver x reader

[khaire-traveler]

🦚 Subtle Hera Worship 🐄

Star-gazing and cloud-watching

Making flower crowns

Wearing outfits that make you feel confident

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Keeping a picture of her in your wallet

Wearing jewelry that reminds you of her

Wearing perfumes with bold yet sweet scents

Have a cow, peacock, or lioness stuffed animal

Having imagery of stars or lotus flowers around

Giving yourself compliments each day; pointing out one thing you like or love about yourself

Support women's rights or domestic abuse survivor organizations

Spend time with loved ones

Be kind to children; play them if offered

If you have a partner, send them a kind message or do something romantic together

Practice standing up for yourself; speak your mind and assert your personal boundaries

Do household chores; upkeep your living space

Take care of yourself emotionally and physically

Show support for any mothers in your life, especially new ones; help out when/if you can

Keep a self-love/self-care journal

Make yourself feel pretty/handsome/attractive; wear makeup, paint your nails, style your hair, wear your favorite outfits, etc.

Take a self-care bath or shower

Learn about astronomy; learn about the different myths behind constellations

Show compassion towards others, especially those who are hurting or in need

Showing compassion towards yourself, the same as you do for others

Prioritize your own well-being

Feed the local birds with bird seeds; bird-watching

Keep framed photos of loved ones; put photos of them on your wall, etc.

Eat pomegranate seeds

Have cow print items; own peacock feathers (been told these can be really cheap, actually!)

Give a kind gesture to a loved one; buying a gift, cooking a meal, baking pastries, etc.

Collect gold-colored items; golden ram horns are also a great symbol (maybe draw or paint this, since it's pretty niche)

Buy a bouquet of white flowers, whether for yourself or a loved one

Add honey to your tea, coffee, or other drink; a good drink to try is warm milk with honey and cinnamon mixed in (better than it sounds)

Start a skin/body care routine

-

I may add more down the line! For now, here's my list of discreet ways to worship Hera. Hope it helps, and take care! 🩵

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #hera deity #hera worship #deity worship #paganblr #pagan tips

[chaos-bites]

☀️ Subtle Baldr Worship 🌱

@broomsick helped a lot with this list!!!

Drink herbal tea or tea that you like; raise a glass to him!

Take an herbal or relaxing bath/shower

Grow your own herbs or produce

Collect flowers; press flowers; decorate with flowers; make a flower crown

Have a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Keep a picture of him in your wallet

Wear jewelry that reminds you of him

Have a stuffed animal of animals that you associate with summer; keep childhood stuffed animals or ones that comfort you

Have symbols of sunrises, sunsets, summer, flowers, citrusy fruits, or anything you consider beautiful around

Decorate using fairy lights or lanterns

Practice writing if you'd like (poetry, stories, etc.); read your old writing, and celebrate any improvements you notice!

Sketch or draw - any sort of creative expression

Practice forgiveness and compassion, especially towards yourself

Set time aside to relax and decompress

Take a walk/hike in nature/a forest, especially on a sunny day

Meditate or sit in the sunlight

Fall asleep/meditate to the sound of birds or ambient forest sounds

Eat fruit, especially citrus fruits

Nurture and express your wonder towards the world around you; let yourself view the world from the perspective of a child; find the beauty in every day things

Practice emotional regulation as well as feeling your feelings

Find healthy emotional outlets; drawing, boxing, dancing, singing, etc.

Cloud-watching and star-gazing

Camp in the forest; sit in nature for awhile

Listen to music that calms or comforts you

Spend time with loved ones or pets

Support humanitarian or environmental preservation organizations

Cook yourself a delicious meal

Cook a warm meal for someone in need

Donate clothes, food, blankets, hygiene kits, etc. to homeless shelters

Take care of yourself physically and emotionally

Exercise; get some movement throughout your day, even just stretching

Play with your pets

Engage with childhood media/activities

Keep a self-care/self-love journal

Keep a personal diary filled with both positives and negatives; sketch in it, add stickers to it, make it your own!

Make a list of things you enjoyed and things you disliked about the day at the end of it

Make your space comfortable for you; make it your own!

Hang your accomplishments, drawings/paintings, or creations on your walls

Celebrate your achievements, even the little ones

Dance to music you enjoy, especially if it makes you feel lively

Light a bonfire for him; sit alone or gather around it with loved ones

Make s'mores or similar treats on a summer night

Tell stories around a fire

Try new things; take risks, and go outside of your comfort zone; be spontaneous

Visit an amusement park, local fair, or local festivals; engage with celebration and fun!

Learn about the local flora and fauna

Learn about herbs and their different properties/usages, especially in a Norse/Viking context; try to use them in those ways

Clean trash in your neighborhood or environment; recycle if you can

Feed neighborhood birds, cats, dogs, etc.

Practice mindfulness; try meditation if you can

Try bird-watching or wildlife watching

Practice open-mindedness; try to comprise with others; agree to disagree

Honor your ancestors or passed loved ones; learn about your family history

-

I may add more later on! For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Baldr. I got a lot of help from @broomsick who is extremely knowledgeable on Baldr and other Norse gods. I recommend checking them out if you have any questions! Thank you, and I hope this post helps! 🧡

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#norse paganism #norse pagan #norse deities #paganblr #deity worship #pagan tips #baldr deity #baldr Worship #baldr #baldur #norse heathen

[alavestineneas]

Home

pairing: catohadley x fem!reder

summary: He doesn't know why her flower dress comes to mind—it's a contrast to the hard truth of reality. He lost a friend here, but Cato would need to learn how to lose much more if he wanted to get the hell out of here. And he does, no matter the price. warnings: canon-typical violence; mentions of meat (as in reader owns a butcher shop); trauma and poverty word count: 6k

author's note: hello beautiful people! In honour of my birthday, I am posting about this bad boy today. Hope you like it - it was such a fun thing to write! Enjoy!

The stones under his worn boots are changing quickly; they are coloured in all shades of grey, sometimes with funny black dots on their rounded bellies. Cato would stop and collect a few if it wasn't for the important task at hand: Mom sent him to the butcher's, letting him take the thinly metaled coins for the first time, which are now snugly stored in the pockets of his raggy coat. He has the order memorized; Mom always buys the same. Three pig legs for the soup, which are then added to the porridge she cooks, and two bottles of the cheapest milk on the counter. It's good for the bones in his body, she says, and Cato believes her. Soon, he will start school; he has to be strong to get the chance to try out for the academy.

The butcher's is just around the corner; it's the only shop in their block that is always open. And, although the signboard is already faded, it is still his favourite place to visit. The door opens with a creek, and a small bell over Cato's head sings its cheerful melody. He takes a few steps inside, the colourful counters greeting him with all kinds of meat and sausages. He reads the curved writing on each of the signs carefully, trying out the way the letters come together in words. The sound of rushed steps is the only thing that breaks his mesmerization. They are soon changed by the grunting of the wood chair on the old tiled floor, and then, finally, a head pops up from behind the stands.

''Good afternoon!'' A pair of curious eyes stare at him, a smile missing a few teeth serving as a second greeting. ''What can I do for you today?'' the girl asks, changing her cheerful demeanour to a more serious, business-like tone.

Cato straightens up, his fingers finding the coins. He is a grown-up now; no other four-year-old he knows is allowed to go to the butcher's by themselves. ''I am here to buy meat.''

The girl laughs, her hair shaking with her mirth.

Cato feels the redness creep to his ears—of course, he is here to buy meat; everyone does. ''Why are you behind there anyway?'' he mutters, crossing his hands in front of himself. He thinks the girl should stop now; it's really not nice to laugh at others.

''Grandpa went to trade for bread and left me as the captain here,'' the girl boasts.

''That's a shame.'' Partly because Cato liked Grandpa Marc—he always sneaked a few pieces of candy for him and his brothers at home—and partly because he didn't like the little know-it-all. ''I would like three pig legs and two bottles of the cheapest milk,'' he declares in one breath, careful not to mess up. He isn't sure he can take another wave of her laughter.

''Sure,'' the girl nods, packing the meat in a big brown bag. Cato patiently waits as she moves her chair to reach the milk shelves, stopping before them. ''Which one again?''

''Shirley's.''

The girl doesn't move; the flowers on the back of her dress are still facing him.

''Shirley's,'' he repeats a little louder. Cato feels silly again; he doesn't like the mean girl and the way she teases him. ''Are you stupid? The one with the blue cap is Shirley's.''

''Right,'' she finally grabs it, moving to the register. Her hands work quickly, wrapping the goods and putting them together. ''The meat is this much money, '' she scrambles the numbers on the piece of paper lying nearby, ''and milk is this much.''

Cato goes over the symbols, carefully counting the total in his head. ''Here,'' he says, reaching for the money. ''And you wrote the two here wrong—it should be facing the other way, like a swan.''

''Oh. Sorry about that. Is this with change?'' She points to the colourful coins on the wood.

''Don't you know how to count? You need to give me 50 cents in change.''

''I do!'' she argues, her hand slapping the counter. ''I was just, hm, testing you!''

''Sure. Then why are you giving me two dollars back now?'' Cato raises an eyebrow. Part of him wants to laugh at her, just like she did moments ago. But he doesn't. Instead, he swaps the coins for the right amount, giving her the money back. ''Here you go. All good.''

''Thank you! Have a nice day!''

Cato nods, grabbing the bag and exiting the shop with a light heart. He did what his mom asked him to; she will be very happy to know that. The air is warm, and the soft wind is hitting him right in the face. In no time, Cato is home; the door is never locked. He places the bag on the kitchen table; Mom will see it when she puts the baby to sleep. His third brother - the other two are sleeping on the big bed in the children's room. That used to be his, but now he is a big boy—he sleeps on the couch in the living room, right near the kitchen. He likes it here; the baby's crying is not as loud, and he can see Mom as often as he wants to when she cooks.

There's not much to do right now; it's the ''quiet hours'' in Hadley's house. Usually, Cato would go play outside at this time, but instead, he grabbed the big book from the kids' shelf. There, with big, red letters, are all of the alphabets and numbers. It was his favourite. Cato remembers how mom would sit with him on her lap, her soft finger circling every picture. ''This is one. Look, it has a tiny nose, just like you do! Here, give me your hand—that's one finger you have, little gentleman!''

Cato throws one last glance at the closed door to the parent's room—he decides that mom won't be mad at him if he plays not in front of the house for once—and grabs the book, leaving the still place. This time, he grabs a few of the prettiest rocks on his way—he builds bridges and castles with them in the small creek behind their house. The butcher's is still empty when he gets there; the girl sits on the tall chair, drawing on the paper.

''What are you drawing?'' Cato asks, trying to see, but the counter is too tall for him to reach.

The girl doesn't look surprised to see him here; it's like he never left in the first place. ''It's worms. Papa worm, mama worm, and little worm. They are having dinner.''

''What are they eating? Meat?''

''No,'' she said, shaking her head. ''Meat is expensive; they have no money. They're eating a dirt pie. Here,'' the girl climbs off the chair, sitting down on the floor instead. Cato sits down near her, looking over her shoulder. ''They have small plates and spoons.''

''My dad doesn't like pies. He likes potatoes more.'' Cato thinks meat is better than pies and potatoes, but he doesn't tell Dad that. The girl tells the truth: meat is expensive.

''Where is he? At work?''

''Yeah, at the factory.'' Most people work at the factory—that's what Cato's dad says. They go when it's dark outside and Cato is still sleeping, and they return when the clock shows all zeros. Then, his dad eats while his mom drinks tea, and they whisper about something. ''And yours?''

The girl shrugs. ''I don't have one. It's just Grandpa and me. What is this?'' She points to the book in Cato's hands, and he finally remembers why he came.

''That's my book. It has numbers. Do you want to see?''

The girl beside him nods, and Cato smiles. He opens the book and proudly shows off the beautiful pictures. The girl likes them; she listens carefully to what Cato has to say about each letter. He likes it when he doesn't laugh at him.

-

''Good morning, Grandpa Marc!'' Cato greets the man behind the counter, cutting up yet another piece of meat. It's early, but he already stands in the butcher's, his dad's old bag on his shoulder. They can't be late for the academy.

''I'm coming, I'm coming!'' YN shouts, biting into the apple in one of her hands and tucking in her shirt with the other. ''Bye, Pa, see you!''

They both passed the exam for the academy; only four people from their neighbourhood did. They got the chance only because they were ''exceptional'' students, the only four whose training was free for now. The debt will be paid by them volunteering or after the academy through their future salaries. Cato knows that no one is actually able to pay it off; he will volunteer as soon as possible. YN will go; they agreed to go in different years.

That's how it always was with them—they walked to the academy and home together, trained, and learned together. Cato helped Grandpa in the shop, and YN often looked after his brothers. It was the endless stream of jokes from everyone around—you never saw one without the other, not even on the rating board. That was until year nine.

''I decided I'm not going to sit with you at lunch,'' Cato tells the girl walking beside him on the dusty road.

YN doesn't answer right away; she watches her feet instead. ''Let me guess—you will be with the mayor's son and his pack?''

''As a matter of fact, yes. They are my friends, and they invited me to sit with them.'' It annoys him the tone she is using.

''They are not your friends, Cato. They only do that, so you will volunteer for them when the time comes.'' YN is angry; her hands on the straps of the backpack are tightly clenched.

''So what? I'm going to volunteer anyway, so why not sit with them? There is nothing to do here, and they are always hanging out at movies or something.''

''Oh, so that's what it is about.'' YN stops, turning to him. ''You want to be one of them now.''

''Of course, I fucking do!'' Cato exclaims. ''We are dirt poor, YN. I don't want to live all my life in this shithole.''

YN's face changes; her eyes look at him as if for the first time. ''This is home, Cato. This is where we belong.''

''I don't. And I will find a way out of here, and you can stay in this mud as much as you like, but I will not let you drag me down with you.''

She slaps him. The hit is heavy; they are both trained to take blows, but it stings him more than it should. Cato watches as YN leaves, her quick steps echoing on the empty street in the morning fog. He doesn't know why her flower dress comes to mind—it's a contrast to the hard truth of reality. He lost a friend here, but Cato would need to learn how to lose much more if he wanted to get the hell out of here. And he does, no matter the price.

-

YN can live without him as much as he does, she tells herself. She didn't decide to ruin the friendship, so she won't be the one to apologize, no matter how long the silence lasts. If he thinks that she will run back to him after four months of not talking, he is wrong. YN is fine; she still has two friends at the academy, she still has her grandpa and the beautiful sun above her head. It smiles at her every time she walks home alone, filling in the small gap in her chest with its golden rays. Her new companion.

What she doesn't expect is a group of people in front of the shop; they shout and argue, running around with ice and water in their hands. YN runs too; something happens. Fear rises in her stomach and travels to her throat when she sees the white coat of the doctor standing near the counter, a concerned expression on his face. ''I'm sorry,'' he tells her. YN clutches her bag, trying so hard not to cry as the crowd of familiar faces surrounds her.

He fell while trying to reach for the shelf, and a customer found him unconscious on the floor. Grandpa broke seven bones in his body and damaged his head. They are taking him to the hospital for, god knows, how long. The doctor places a hand on her shoulder; the cost of surgery is covered by the state, but she needs money for the medicine. They don't have any.

YN spends an hour crying into her pillow before pulling herself together—she is alone. It's not some stupid game they play—they pretend to win for years in the generated arenas in some big green boxes—it's life. The most brutal arena of all. So, she does what any fifteen-year-old would do—she washes her face with ice-cold water and grabs the keys from the shop. She has to speak with a few people.

-

The door to Hadley's home is never locked; nobody closes it in their neighbourhood, but YN still knocks out of respect. Cato opens it; she is surprised he is here and not with his new friends. He wants to say something, but YN has no time for him.

''Is your dad home?'' YN asks, trying to look over his shoulder.

Cato nods. ''Come in. Mom, it's YN.'' He shouts, closing the door behind her.

''Ah, YN. How is Grandpa Marc?'' She is cooking something—a big pot boiling with the best smell one could imagine.

The woman's concerned face stirs something in YN, so she fights the urge to cry and swallows her tears instead. ''Alive

''Come sit with us; we were just preparing to eat.''

YN wants nothing more than a plate of something warm, but she declines. She came here not to lessen the portion of someone; nobody here has money to make extra food. ''Thank you, but I need to speak with Mister Janus.''

''Spill it.'' Mr. Janus nods, standing up from the couch.

''Can we speak outside?'' YN asks, feeling a pair of blue eyes on her.

''Of course,'' Mister Janus shares a look with his wife before stepping outside. ''What happened, kid?''

YN takes some air inside her lungs. ''Is there a place for me at the factory for the night shifts?'' The man opens his mouth to argue, but YN is quicker. ''I know I am young, but I am strong from all the training, and I know a lot of useful things. I can reach where most men can't, and I will do anything you ask me to, I promise.''

Mister Janus sighed. ''I know you are good, but what about the academy? Night shift is six to six; you won't have time to get enough sleep and do the homework.''

''I quit the academy.''

''What?'' Mister Janus's face changes. ''YN, why? It's the only chance for you to survive.''

''Work is the only way for me to survive. Poverty and an empty stomach will kill me much faster than some games. I need the job, Mister Janus, please. If you don't give it to me, I will look for it elsewhere.''

The man thinks, his forehead creased with worry. ''Fine, kid. But be careful—get enough rest and don't push yourself too hard. We are here to help if you need us to.''

''Thank you, thank you so much!'' YN smiles, a few tears escaping her eyes. She hugs the man tightly, a glimmer of hope finally appearing. ''Thank you, Mister Janus; I will not let you down!''

Mistes Janus smiles back, patting her back. ''Go before it gets too dark; I'll see you tomorrow at five thirty.''

He watches as YN turns the corner of the street before returning to the warmth of his house. How much do these kids have to endure in this world?

-

YN didn't push herself too hard; she simply did what she was supposed to do. At six, she returned to the shop after the shift at the factory—butcher's opened at eight—so she had two hours to wash the dirt and sweat away with the old basin and a little warm water from the kettle and to master something edible on the stove. When that was done, she would dissect the meat and check the dates on milk bottles; the soon-gone bad would go to the sale section, and the new ones took their place. Then, the doors of the butcher's opened—people still needed to eat, and YN wasn't about to let them starve because of her own ''tiredness.''

The heaviest flow was in the morning, with the shop becoming quieter in the afternoon—that's when she took most of her sleep in, resting her head on the wooden counter and closing her eyes for a second. Oftentimes, customers would find her like this—they gently shook her shoulder and woke her up before ordering. Each time, YN felt shame creep to her cheeks, but each time, no one said a word to her; they just smiled, thanked her, and left the shop with a big brown bag in her hands.

That's how the rest of the year passed, with it becoming slightly easier when Grandpa was finally discharged from the hospital. His right arm didn't move like it used to, and it was hard for him to walk, but it was still better to have someone home to return to. Besides, he insisted on still serving the customers, so YN had an opportunity to sleep in her own bed for a few hours before a new portion of cut meat was delivered.

That's what she thought about standing in the main square in a crowd of children—how much meat she needed to cut before her shift. Grandpa was also here; some man had to hold him up so he wouldn't fall from being on his legs for too long, but he could at least enjoy the fresh air, which YN was grateful about.

The reaping was going quickly; the girl named was from the academy, so they didn't have to go through all that volunteering. YN didn't know her personally, but she saw her a couple of times; she was good with knives. As for the boys, it didn't go as smoothly—some poor eleven-year-old's name was called out, and he burst out crying on the spot.

''I volunteer!'' the voice boomed through the street, and YN turned with everyone to see who it was, although, in her head, she knew the answer.

Cato. He walked to the stage calmly, his legs conquering the steps in no time. He looked determined and happy, but YN knew better—that's what they taught them to present. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. Killers. She hears distant cries from the crowd behind her—it's probably Miss Hadley. YN clenches her jaw, her teeth grinding together until her head rings. It isn't the time for her to break.

-

Cato can't bear to watch his mother's puffy face as she clenches her arms around him, whispering something like a prayer into his chest. His father is silent, a lonely tear escaping his eye as he holds Cato's youngest brother closer. The twins are also here; both of them are at the academy, so they have a faint idea of what he is doing. They tell him he will win because of how big he is, and that will be very easy. Cato smiles at them reassuringly—if only it were that easy.

''Dad,'' he nods in the direction of his crying mother.

''Come on, darling, you will upset him before the games,'' his father tells her, carefully pulling her way and placing a hand on Cato's shoulder. ''Stay strong, my boy. We will all be rooting for you every second you are in that arena; don't forget that.''

''Thank you, dad. Boys,'' he watches as twins show each other away, trying to get to bed first. He hugs them both; he has two hands for a reason. ''Behave and don't bother mom too much, or I'll have to kick your ass once I get back,'' he whispers into their heads.

The youngest one waves goodbye, blowing him a kiss. Cato smiles, watching his family leave the room. He wants to remember this moment forever, to put it in his pocket, and to never let it go. He knows why he is doing this—for them to have a better chance at life, for his father to finally have a day off, and for his mom to have new pots she secretly gazed at when she thought he wasn't looking.

''Hadley. Seven minutes.'' The peacekeeper announces, opening the door once more, even though Cato doesn't expect anyone else. Well, he hoped she would come—he really wanted her to—but he believed she never would. YN is not the type. Still, she is here. Closing the door behind her, in a simple blue jumpsuit and a nice scarf around her head.

''Hi,'' she nods. ''I came to say goodbye.''

Cato's heart skips a beat—those words hit harder than seeing himself on the big screens, with a tribute written under them. Soon, he may be dead; she will watch him on her small TV in the living room.

YN speaks quickly, almost in a rush. ''I know we don't speak anymore, but I know how you fight—you are capable of winning more than everyone else out there. Please, just don't think too much about what you are doing; just do it, okay?''

''Yeah, I'll try.'' He finds it weird that she doesn't want him to think, but Cato doesn't question why—she does know him better than anyone, having been training for a lot of years side by side.

''You have to return; your family needs you.''

''Don't worry too much about them; we already got the money for my volunteering from the mayor. They will be fine; dad can still work, and twins could help out. You have enough on your shoulders as it is. How is Grandpa Marc?''

''Better. He can't move like he used to and still needs help with walking and eating, but other than that, it's good. Although he is devastated that I didn't let him handle the meat, you should've seen how he tried to sneak a few knives at night.''

Cato's lips turn into a smile. ''That does sound like him.''

''Oh, I almost forgot. Here,'' YN rumbles in her pockets before taking a few pieces of candy out. ''We thought you should have a few.''

''You are kidding me? Lucky-talkies? I haven't had one in ages!''

YN laughs at his excitement, carefully placing the sweets in his hand. ''I know. They are as hard as they used to be; don't chip your tooth; it'll look bad at the promotion.''

Cato chuckles, pocketing the candy before his mentors have a chance to take it away. ''Thanks, YN. For everything.''

''I'll give you as much as you want if you don't die in there. Just try to stay alive, okay?''

''Easier said than done. But I'll try.''

YN smiles. Their time is up. The peacekeeper opens the door for her, his gun tangling dangerously around his neck. She doesn't turn around as she exits; her walk is steady. Cato thinks that he caught her shoulders shaking, but it could be just a twist of his tired brain.

-

The days after that are agony. YN doesn't know if it was her tiredness that finally caught her in a narrow corner or the grim reality of her life—it was definitely both. Even her favourite silent friend didn't cheer her up like it used to—the sun shone almost violently, burning her skin and leaving her body dizzy. The rotten cycle was now worsened by the non-stopping playing of what seemed to be a thousand screens, with stomach-curling screams echoing from time to time. They were everywhere—at the shop and their small flat above it, on the main square she passed each day, and, what was worse, they were at the factory, where she couldn't pretend to watch even for a second.

The work she does is heavy—carving the stones on the machinery bigger than her; her muscles were constantly aching, begging for a break. The suit she wore was too tight and too hot, and the annoying voice of the announcer blared through the speakers, stealing the air in her lungs. YN wanted nothing but to make it stop—for the world to go silent and still, even if just for a moment. But wonders didn't happen with people like her, so she continued to work, pushing herself through her gritted teeth.

''Welcome, welcome to what seems to be the last day in this beautiful arena!'' The blue-haired man spoke, his accent making YN's head hurt even more. ''To remind our dear viewers all across the Panem, here is a small recap from my colleague and sometimes friend, Claudius.''

''Thank you, Caesar. We are left with only three tributes on day eighteen—the first, of course, being Cato from District 2. His strategy has proved efficient so far; no doubt, he is one of the best contestants we've seen in a long time. And then, much to my surprise, a pair of tributes from District 12 are still in the games—their love story truly captivated the audience. Let's see what this day, or should we say night, brings us today and who will have the odds in their favour in the end.''

YN doesn't react to their comments; it feels wrong to compare herself to the kids out there, being selfish enough to think she deserves a break. She should be counting her lucky stars; it isn't her there, going through the bodies of the competitors one by one. Cato received body armour from the sponsors; that was good. He also lost his district partner; YN remembers her now; she was in his ''new'' friend group. She feels sorry for the girl; her death was awful, and her screaming Cato's name will forever be engraved in YN's memory.

''Aha, here he is! Our gladiator from District 2—he is running from—what's that?—wolves! Look at that speed—he surely is a good runner!''

YN turns her attention to the giant screen—surely enough, Cato is running from some monstrous creatures. He is bloodied; his skin is covered in bruises. YN prays it all will stop soon and he will get home safe. He doesn't even flinch when the arrow shot by twelve hits his chest; he just keeps running towards the Cornucopia.

''Please,'' YN whispers. He can't die, not when he has survived for so long.

''Look at them—all of the tributes managed to get on the Cornucopia just in time! Oh, here is a clever move from Cato's side: having Peeta in a headlock is a classic move. Now, he is sort of a ''human shield''. Brilliant!''

"Go on, shoot.'' Cato's voice booms through the speakers, sending shivers down YN's back. She missed hearing his voice, but it didn't even sound like him anymore. Like a stranger talking from the inside of what looked like her friend. '' And we both go down, and you win. Go on. I'm dead, anyway! I always was, right? I didn't know that until now. Isn't that what they want, huh?''

What the fuck was he doing? YN's mind raced—why won't he just kill him and get it over with? She doesn't notice how her hands begin to shake and how everyone else in the room seems to be eyeing her.

''No! I can still do this. I can still do this. One more kill. It's the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my district. Not that it matters."

''Kill him! For fuck's sake, just kill him!'' YN stands up, her nerves getting the best of her. Her voice echoes—she didn't mean to say it out loud.

''No talking!'' The peacekeeper in front of her shouts, his hand steady on the gun.

YN turns to face him slowly. Who was he to tell her to shut up when it was her friend who was dying right before her eyes? She feels her hands clench into fists; she will be able to take him down in a fight, maybe even kill him. YN was willing to try, at least.

''She won't talk no more,'' one of the older men in the group mutters, his voice bitter. ''Sit down, child.''

YN wants to argue, wants to scream or run until the bullet catches up to her, but she doesn't. What use would her dead body be to her grandpa? So she sits down, biting her cheek until her mouth fills with a familiar iron taste. Everything she wants to say, she tastes in her throat instead.

''Wait, can we zoom in on here?'' One of the announcers asks. ''Here, yes, what exactly are they staring at? It fell from Cato's pocket, right?''

'''Well, Claudius, it looks like a candy wrap to me. The real question is: why does Cato have one in the first place? He didn't strike me as a big sweets fan. ''

''Well, whatever it is, it seems to have changed his mind—look at how masterfully he throws Peeta down, like a feather! Oh, and now he is lurching for the girl on fire!''

A loud snap is heard through the speakers, and the girl falls, lifeless. YN covers her face with her hands, the dirt from them leaving a mark on her sweaty face. A choir of relieved exhales rings through the room.

''Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have our 75th victor!''

- 

It's hard, the first thing Cato realizes. Being here, breathing in the air that feels like spikes inside his lungs—everything was supposed to be easy, but it's so far from that. They have a nice house now; it has a room for each of his brothers, and even twins don't have to share anymore. His dad doesn't work; it's not fitting for victor's family to do so, so he takes up gardening instead. If a few years ago Cato heard that his father would ramble about how badly roses had grown on this soil, he would've checked himself into a mental asylum.

He isn't very loved in the Capitol, but his mentors said it was for the best. Cato believes them, but it stings a little. He wanted glory but got disgusted instead. It was not a fair trade, but at least his debt is paid, as is his brothers'. Money could buy a lot of things, just like he predicted, but it couldn't buy him peace. Cato has nothing ahead of him; he can't study like his peers do, can't work, can't live, and pretend it didn't happen. It very much did—when he closes his eyes, he can still smell the blood on his hands.

That's why he is here instead of Victor's village, eating ice cream on the empty main square in the warm evening. It's funny to think how he wanted to try it, collecting the money his father let him have for almost a year before ordering his first chocolate scoop. It was the tastiest thing he had ever eaten; now, it tasted just like every other one.

He hears the nearing footsteps—the people are returning from the day shift in the factories. Cato nods to a few of them—old neighbours, parents of classmates, or dad's friends. The men are all different—short and tall, ginger, blond and brunette—but they all bear the same expression that Capitoleers called ''a district 2 glare'' once. Cato used to get angry when he heard it, but now his face is no different—the word is a heavy thing to endure.

His eyes drift to the only person looking up and not on the road ahead—of course, it's YN. She thinks about something only she and the sun know, her steps mirroring those of the people ahead. One of the men notices him watching; he gently shoves her shoulder, whispering something in her ear before pointing in the direction of his seat. Suddenly, Cato wants to hide the ice cream in his hand and run away, but he doesn't.

''Enjoying your victory, Mister Hadley?'' Her voice is loud and filled with teasing, and a few men snicker at them.

Cato isn't angry; he deserves it, quite frankly. ''Always was known for the sweet tooth,'' he shrugs. ''As a matter of fact, are you free any time soon?'' He asks when the crowd is far enough away.

YN raises an eyebrow at him. ''Why is that? You know I work.''

''I was hoping you and your grandpa could come by sometime. Mom is awfully lonely, and the boys would love to see you, too.''

She nods. ''I am free on Sunday, but Grandpa is still a little shy about eating in front of people.''

''I'll ask mom to cook a soup then—it's better?'' He would cook the damn soup himself if it meant seeing her for longer than five minutes. If it meant not being alone in that house, that reeked of the arena.

''Yes, I think we can do that. What about 12? We could be a little late with all that walking.''

''Thank you; it's perfect.''

YN smiles at him. For the first time since he won, someone smiled at him. Cato smiles back, although he is sure it comes out more as a grin. YN doesn't notice or pretends to do so.

- 

''Oh, come in! Janus, come right down; the guests are here!''

YN and her grandpa are greeted with Miss Hadley's voice, her warm hands wrapping first around her, and then the older man. YN smiles; she missed just sitting down for a meal without having to worry about how much money she was going to need for the next one. The boys have grown. They shout, each trying to be the first to show her their own rooms and the cool things they have. YN tries not to get lost in the maze of toys, balls, books, and a thousand other different things, while Grandpa talks with Mr. Janus.

When the boys start to embark on what feels like a fifth circle around the house, Miss Hadley puts an end to it. ''That's enough! YN, darling, come sit here—what would you like to eat?''

The table is full of different things. There are so many that they could eat for a few weeks and be full. YN doesn't think she saw that many vegetables and fruits in her life. She asks for what everyone is having and is happy to have her plate full. Grandpa also seems to be enjoying himself; he insists on wearing his best shirt for the occasion and now listens attentively to what the twins have to say. They make a good team, YN thinks—twins finally found free ears that are not yet tired of them, and there is nothing that Grandpa loves more than a good story.

When the dinner is over, YN speaks, talking to Miss Hadley beside her. ''Thank you for the invitation; your house is just lovely.''

''Cato made us clean every corner of it before you came—I didn't even have time to play outside!'' The youngest boy whines, pouting slightly.

YN chuckles as she watches colour gather at Cato's ears, his eyes glued to the dish in front of him. ''Well, it was definitely worth it—I had the most marvelous time with you here. And the food was delicious! But I am afraid we have to go; Grandpa should walk when it's still light outside.''

''We will take you home,'' Cato announces, nodding to the twins to put on their shoes. They do so happily, grabbing them and their jackets before Grandpa has a chance to stand up and stick to his side like glue.

The evening is pleasant; the wind is quite chilly, but Cato doesn't mind. The only sound on the street is twins arguing over who will help Grandpa Marc with his cane for the next two minutes.

''Thank you for coming,'' he says, looking at the woman walking beside him.

''Of course. We had a good time, - I hope you did too. How's life been? We haven't talked in a while.''

''Good,'' Cato lies. ''And yours?''

''Better. Since your dad quit, I got the day shift; it pays better, and I can finally get rid of those horrible dark circles.''

Cato nods. ''I've been thinking a lot about our past these days, especially our childhood. It feels like a lifetime ago.''

''Things change,'' YN shrugs. ''We've grown and become different people since then. I would've never imagined working at the factory, but here I am. And you win the games—that was your dream.''

''Don't you miss it? How easy were things back then?''

YN smiles. ''They never were easy, I think; we just couldn't understand them properly. Besides, not much changed, if you think about it.''

''Maybe not for you.''

''Why?'' YN turns to look at him.

Cato swallows. ''YN, they made me different. The games, all those kills—they changed me.''

''You did what you had to survive. It doesn't matter now that you are here.''

''You think I don't notice how people tiptoe around me now? How can Mom stand to look at me for more than a minute? How do boys try to avoid me at all costs? And dad—he doesn't even speak to me! ''

YN is silent. Cato curses in his mind—he shouldn't have said that. He takes a deep breath. ''I'm sorry. It just feels weird. It's like I don't have a home to return to and can't get into a new one. Just hanging there, mid-air.''

''When Grandpa was in the hospital, that's how it felt. I was too young to be alone, but there was no choice but to watch as everything I once loved fell into ruins. I was supposed to be going to movies, partying, and sneaking out, not juggling the bills from medication and the shop. But life decided otherwise. So, I built my own home within myself—one that nothing could tear down or take away.''

''I don't think there is anything left to build on. I'm not like you; everything anyone sees when they look at me is a monster .''

''I don't.'' YN stops. ''I see the boy who brought me a pretty big book with pictures so I could give the change correctly; I see a man who volunteered for his family to have a chance at a better life. I see you, real you, not the role mentors or Capitol made you play. Just Cato.''

''Can I hug you?'' His voice is barely above a whisper.

YN doesn't answer - she just takes a step closer into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

''I'm sorry; I am so sorry for everything I've done," Cato mutters, his hands trembling as he holds onto YN tightly. ''I should've said it sooner. ''

''It doesn't matter now. We survived this; we are still here, you and I.''

Cato nods; his tears mix with hers, pooling in patches on his shirt. They are different—children who were forced to grow up too early in a world that wasn't for them. ''I think I never lost it—my home. It was always here, with you, on this street. Isn't it funny? All those years of searching, only to return here, where we truly belong?''

''The butcher's, you mean? If you wanted more candy, you could've just asked,'' YN smiles, whipping away her red eyes.

-

''Fucking finally,'' an aged voice mutters from behind the corner.

''Grandpa Marc!'' the twins turn to him, surprised.

The old man just smiles, his wrinkled face appearing younger with joy. ''Don't tell YN I said that. She'll never let me live it down."

The twins giggle, their happy laughter echoing on the street. A few moments later, Grandpa Marc joins in, his breathy laugh adding to the chorus. It's not the first time the street leading to the butcher's was woken up by sounds of joy, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last.

#imagine #hunger games #character x you #cato hunger games #cato hadley #cato x reader #cato hadley x reader #cato hadley fanfiction #the hunger games #district two #childhood friends to lovers #au #love this pookie so much #careers #thg cato

[nolsaesthetic]

~Aziraphale~ Headcanons

Doesn't like it when Crowley yells at their plants

Embodiment of religious trauma

Has read smut before, doesn't care for it but finds people expressing love beautiful

Makes sure the south downs cottage has a garden when house hunting

Has a book on flower language and correlates it to the flowers given to Crowley

The one that decorates the cottage

Learned the gavvot only in hopes to one day dance with Crowley and kiss at the end

Enjoys silent togetherness. Just being in the same room as Crowley is relaxing, no need to talk

Keeps in touch with Maggie and Nina through monthly tea time

He is actually very okay with his body, with no insecurities. What others may see as flaws he sees as human, he likes them

Mainly listens to classical music, but lofi is also a good favorite

When female presenting: sundresses. Need I say more?

Loves to show affection once past any awkward phase, but has NO IDEA how to handle receiving it

Doesn't enjoy drinking unless it's with Crowley. It would make them too vulnerable

Has an innate need to protect the things and those he cares about

Is easily overwhelmed by too many people talking at once

Has a whole collection of bow ties for different events

Relies on Crowley emotionally a lot more than they let on. Heaven has just taught them not to express vulnerability to people

Loves to symbolize things and find deeper meanings in them

You can not tell me he hasn't read Sherlock Holmes a billion times

Is the wedding planner for Maggie and Nina

That's all I have for now. If you all have any more, I'd love to hear them! ♡

#good-omens #ineffable idiots #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #south downs cottage #good omens headcanons #aziraphale #crowley #maggie

[pepperonidk]

hi! If your requests are still open I would like to request Joshua (or any other member) getting you a puppy for valentines and turns out you get him the same thing 😁 thank you!

puppy love

pairing: joshua hong x gn!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: none! (but also i've never owned a dog bc my whole family is allergic so do not come for me about what i think getting a dog is like i do not know) a/n: PLEASE I'M SO SORRY I'M NOT IGNORING THIS 😭 it just took a while for me to do bc of school and job applications this was such a cute idea (i hope you don't mind i tweaked it a little bit) <3333

It was supposed to be the anniversary gift of a lifetime. A symbolic representation of his hopes and dreams for your relationship -- dreams of a family, joy, and laughter filling the halls of your shared home. It was the perfect idea, until...

"I'm so sorry, sir," the assistant at the front apologized with a timid smile, clearly expecting an explosive reaction from her customer. "Someone came in and adopted him just this morning."

Joshua sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That's alright," he assured her. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who thought he was adorable." He could almost see the weight lift off the worker's shoulders as he chuckled sheepishly at his own comment.

As he walked out the door, his own anxieties began to fill his head. Maybe if I had gotten here just a little bit earlier... No. That wouldn't have worked because I had to go pick up flowers, and we had that early breakfast reservation... I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

Joshua had intended on surprising you with a puppy, building up to it with subtle hints throughout the last few weeks. Suggesting dog movies during movie night, asking about your childhood dog, even going so far as to play Bluey on the TV when you got home and then pretending to be clueless as to who put it on. (He had learned in his psychology class from college that subliminal messaging works wonders).

But, clearly life had other plans.

As he walked back home, he passed a gift shop that was just opening up. He had noticed it for a few weeks now, and had even talked to the shop owner who was working outside a few days ago, so he decided to go in and check it out.

"Joshua!" the shopkeeper greeted him warmly as the door chimed behind Joshua. The store was an eclectic collection of various knick-knacks and trinkets, all lined up tightly on the shelves in colorful array.

"Hey," Joshua returned. "Nice place you got here."

The shopkeeper grinned happily in response as he made his way toward where Joshua was standing, fiddling with a music box. "Thanks," he beamed. "Is there anything you're looking for in particular today?"

Joshua let out a sigh. "Yeah, it's me and my partner's anniversary today. I wanted to get them a puppy, but someone adopted him before I could."

The shopkeeper nodded in acknowledgement. "I see," he hummed. "Well, if you're interested, we have a selection of stuffed animals, and quite a few are dogs. It's not the real thing, but maybe you can consider it a placeholder?"

Upon considering this alternative, Joshua perked up quite a bit. "That's actually a great idea," he remarked. "Lead the way?"

The shelves were lined with various colors and textures of stuffed animals, and lo and behold, there was one of a Jack Russel Terrier, the same dog he wanted to bring home earlier today. He eagerly handed it to the shopkeeper for checkout and walked out of the store with a skip in his step.

However, before he could unlock the apartment door, he could hear hushed voices from the other side. One was definitely yours, but the other... was not.

"Shh, you have to keep it down, he'll be here any minute now," your voice nagged.

Before he could let the intrusive thoughts intrude, he opted instead to unlock the door, to find you sitting by the kitchen island, on the floor with your hands suspiciously behind your back.

"Hey...?" Joshua called tenatively with a questioning look.

"Hey yourself!" You called a little bit louder to cover up the sound of something... squeaking?

As he walked closer to you, he could also hear the soft pitter patter of footsteps behind your back, despite your attempts to hide them.

"Is that..." Joshua began, his eyes widening.

"Surprise?" You replied sheepishly as you moved your hands away from your back, finally allowing him to see the excited Jack Russell Terrier who was itching to see his familiar face.

Joshua couldn't hide his excitement as he sat down in front of you, letting the puppy crawl onto his lap. "How did you even know?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, you're not very subtle," you replied smugly. "You've been dropping hints for the last month that you want a puppy. I noticed." Joshua laughed and leaned over to press a kiss against your cheek.

"Did you now?" He teased as you nodded in response. So his plan did work, just not the way he thought it would. "How lucky am I that the love of my life is not only insanely hot, but insanely smart too?" He wiggled his eyebrows at you, causing you to chuckle in response.

"I'd say pretty damn lucky," you replied as the puppy ran back and forth between the two of you, clearly excited to be part of this small family.

"I'd say so too. Happy anniversary."

#caratwritersclub #seventeenweeklyarticle #joshua hong #joshua hong x reader #joshua x reader #seventeen fluff #joshua hong fluff #joshua fluff #seventeen × reader #seventeen angst #seventeen imagine #ioshua honq imagine #svt ioshua #seventeen joshua fluff #hong jisoo #hong jisoo x reader

[snowmist-hashira]

Idk if anyone has asked this yet but since Muichiro likes to do origami can you do short fic where reader learns to make origami flowers for him as a gift and muichiro really likes it and asks her to teach him how to make them?

Smth like these^ you dont have to ofc! I just think it’s super cute:)

[Chapter title: Hearts in Origami]

[Requested] Muichiro Tokitou x Reader

Wattpad:(One shots) Tokito Twins x Reader Archive:Kimetsu No Yaiba: Tokitou Twins x Reader Details: ♠ Information ♠ Master list: ♠ Muichirou Tokitou ♠ Word count: 758

Artist: Mos [Mosskmt]

Link: Twitter

I'd like to extend my apologies because I'm feeling a bit drained and unable to fulfill any requests at the moment. However, I plan to still stick to my schedule and aim to fulfill at least one request per week. Tags: @aeolia18 / @demonslayeranimex / @thornrosekaori / @xaeoism / @cascadingleaves / @mistymxxn / @unofficialmuilover / @sakurasunkiss / @yuichiroleftarm (Scheduled)

Y/n, always practical and conscious of spending, sat at her desk one sunny afternoon, pondering over the idea of gifting Muichiro something special. She knew he loved origami, and she wanted to show her affection in a way that resonated with his interests.

She stared at the vibrant blossoms blooming in her neighbor's garden through the window, she couldn't help but think about the ephemeral nature of flowers. They were undeniably beautiful and a quintessential symbol of love and romance, but Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that they were a fleeting luxury. She believed in making investments that lasted, that could be cherished for years to come.

Still, she understood the sentimental value behind giving and receiving flowers. There was something undeniably romantic about a bouquet, the way it spoke volumes without a single word. But Y/n was determined to find a compromise that aligned with her practical nature.

With a soft smile, she remembered Muichiro's passion for origami. He was an artist when it came to folding paper into intricate shapes and patterns. That's when inspiration struck. She decided that instead of buying a traditional bouquet, she would create one herself out of colorful paper.

Y/n was determined to create a meaningful and lasting gift for Muichiro. She spent hours watching online tutorials and practicing her paper-folding skills, slowly but surely improving her origami techniques.

Y/n carefully selected a variety of vibrant, high-quality origami paper. Each sheet held the promise of turning into a beautiful flower. She set up her workspace, folding and shaping each piece of paper with precision and care.

As she continued to fold and shape the paper, her thoughts were filled with the joy she imagined Muichiro would feel when he received her handmade bouquet.

The bouquet slowly took shape, with delicate paper roses, lilies, and daisies blooming before her. Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her creation, knowing that every fold represented her love and dedication to Muichiro.

Finally, after hours of meticulous work, Y/n completed her origami bouquet. It was a stunning masterpiece, a vibrant and delicate collection of paper flowers, each petal and leaf intricately folded and assembled that radiated beauty and love.

Y/n knew that her handmade gift might not last forever like real flowers, but it held a different kind of longevity. With a smile that radiated both pride and anticipation, Y/n approached Muichiro.

"Here!" She said, extending the origami bouquet towards him. The paper flowers, each crafted with a different color that represented the diversity of petals in a garden, were neatly arranged. She had put her heart and soul into making it, and she hoped that Muichiro would see the love and effort she had poured into every fold.

Muichiro's eyes widened in surprise as he accepted the bouquet from her. He held it delicately in his hands, as if it were the most fragile and precious thing in the world. His minty orbs, usually calm and composed, were filled with wonder as they examined the intricate origami creation.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of nervousness as she watched him. She had poured her heart into this gift, and she wanted it to mean as much to him as it did to her. Her words tumbled out in a rush; her voice filled with anxious excitement. "Do you like it? I'm sorry, I wanted to give you something memorable, and I just didn't want to buy something and give it to you like that, I-"

Before Y/n could continue her rambling, Muichiro interrupted her with a soft, heartfelt response. "I love it," he said, his fingers gently tracing the intricate paper folds of the bouquet.

“Thank you, Y/n.” His fond expression conveyed more than words ever could. It was a look of appreciation, of understanding, and of deep affection.

Muichiro's curiosity was piqued, and he couldn't help but be fascinated by the intricate origami bouquet that Y/n had created. The colorful paper flowers had captured his attention, but what intrigued him even more was the person behind this thoughtful gift.

"Can you teach me how you created it?" Muichiro asked, his gaze transitioning from the masterpiece in his hands to Y/n, who stood before him with a mix of excitement and surprise.

Y/n's eyes lit up with delight at his request. She hadn't expected Muichiro to show such a keen interest in her craft, and the idea of sharing her passion with him filled her with joy.

"Of course!" she replied enthusiastically. "I'd be more than happy to teach you."

#muichiro x y/n #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #fanfiction #muichiro x reader #muichiro tokito #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #one shot #female reader #x reader #requested #fluff #heartwarming #kny x reader #kny x you #anime x reader #demon slayer x reader #anime x y/n #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x you #kny muichiro #muichiro x you #kimetsu muichiro #kny x y/n #mist hashira #kimetsu no yaiba hashira #kny hashira #request

[ad-hawkeye]

someone translated part of the artem birthday pv we are definitely getting dad face reveal finally:

“To be precise, that day was a proof I had prepared.At that time, I wanted to ask... whether I had grown up to be what he expected.I am worthy of my parents' pride, at least... I didn't disappoint them.”

HELLO! HI ANON. i am going to use this ask as a means of collecting all of my Birthday Artem thoughts, AND talking about that translation/his dad!

first of all, the lily and morning glories are interesting bc i'm so used to looking into flower symbolism when it comes to lbc. so this is a fun change. lilies represent innocence, purity, and rebirth. morning glories represent affection, love, and the beauty of the dawn.

i'm quite surprised to see artem associated with the lily. while he's idealistic and good intentioned, i wouldn't call him innocent, pure, or associate any sort of major life changes to a "rebirth" within him. though it shows up in BOTH card arts, so i have a feeling these themes may be relevant! especially since we see a Young Artem in the first one.

the morning glories are a bit more self explanatory, especially in an otome game.

second of all, his outfit in the first card art reminds me of a graduation gown. do i think it is one? probably not. but it's obvious artem is receiving SOME kind of law related achievement, with the stained glass and the trophy/gift.

third of all, the dialogue you sent. it's.. it's kinda sad? i'm not getting my hopes up because tot has a way of downplaying any sort of issues regarding artem's parents. but. "i wanted to ask if i grew up as he expected"? "at least i didn't disappoint them"? ... man. rly hoping we get some interesting info about his dad at least.

as a side, personal note. i'm hardcore missing rosa in the second art... sobs... bring her BACK i miss my daughter!!

#asks #anon #tears of themis #tot spoilers #cn spoilers #artem wing

[stranded-labyrinth]

i was going to start this as a joke, but you know what? i'm serious about it now.

yes, i am going to ask you to imagine Will and Hannibal playing Minecraft together.

it gets brought up in a session by Hannibal, who has it on his tablet since another patient kept talking about it, and he figured he would take a closer look to understand what they were telling him. he immediately sees it as an opportunity, a calm thought experiment that couldn't be taken as manipulation.

and so, he asks Will to create a world with him, asking the question, "In a world where you could do just about anything, free of real world consequences, what would you do?"

Will, of course, takes to fishing and collecting tamed wolves. that was to be expected. it was also to be expected, if difficult to watch, when he cried after one of his wolves burned to death in lava.

Hannibal soon finds himself building their home, since Will would often forget that he does actually need to try to survive in this game. Will gets caught up in other tasks, collecting raw materials for the two.

Will smacks him away when Hannibal tries to take down the dirt hut Will built. it would seem Will was rather sentimental about many things in this game.

Hannibal is entertained that Will seems reluctant to slaughter any of the farm animals they've procured in-game, even for the sake of food. Hannibal, of course, takes up the butchering, and most of the food-based crafting recipes. he almost constantly asks about Will's hunger bar.

Hannibal knew by then that people often did horrid things in this game, tormenting villagers, spawning loads of animals into a confined space, etc. he wondered what acts of cruelty Will would eventually do in this game. it becomes difficult to imagine, though, when Hannibal's in-game character gets smacked by Will for even accidentally hitting an innocent creature.

Will exclusively slays the monsters the game has to offer. he finds he has a difficult time killing Endermen unless necessary (as in, he accidentally looked one in the eye and they rushed at him immediately), as he's become rather fond of them. they hate eye contact as much as he does.

eventually, Hannibal has built the two a beautiful home, as decorated as he could make it. Will thought it was hilarious how luxurious Hannibal had insisted on making it, as though he couldn't even thrive in a video game without living in a mansion. he does find himself a bit flattered that Hannibal took the time to try to mesh the two's tastes as best as he could, even in a game.

the little world went quiet when Will was away in the BSCHI.

during a session with Bedelia, Hannibal admits to still feeding the little tamed wolves Will loved so much. Will wanted his real dogs taken care of, he would want these ones cared for as well.

when Will returns home, Hannibal logs on, wondering if Will went to his virtual happy place. the virtual happy place they'd made together.

Hannibal finds the entire manor he'd built aflame, most of the blocks long vanished after burning away. a distance away, Will's wolves are safely kept in a dirt hut that's been there since the first day.

he logs off, acknowledging the message. "the light of friendship won't touch us for a million years," Will had said to him before. he does wonder what Will is going to do with the little world.

Hannibal finds himself checking back on the world daily, and discovers no change. he decides to place a single poppy flower where the manor used to be, a flower that he knows to symbolize consolation, remembrance, death, and hope for a peaceful future.

a week later, the day that's always meant to be Will's session with him, Hannibal opens his tablet to find that the world has been deleted.

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #stranded-writing

[strawberrysins]

Flowers (Alastor x fem!reader)

Warnings: Female reader, feelings of inadequacy, insecurity, and FLUFF. SO MUCH FLUFF.

(A/N: So uhhhh, this is late. the worst part is that I wrote this months ago, I just completely forgot about it. Sorry this is so late, I didn't remember that I had written this Valentine's Day oneshot until I was looking through my drafts. Anway, I hope you enjoy it!)

Valentine's day. The day to hold your loved ones close and tell them how much you care for them. Alastor always thought of this as a stupid holiday that corporations probably came up with just to make their consumers feel like they have to spend excessive amounts of money just to prove how much they love each other. Plus, he found the idea of having a day to show your beloved how much they meant to you silly. Shouldn’t you do that every day? The whole concept seemed off to him.

That was until he fell for you. He still didn’t like the corporations part, but having an excuse just to throw gifts and hugs and everything amazing at you for a whole day? You didn’t have to tell him twice! Plus, he knew you liked the holiday, with your cheerful and frankly adorable personality and all. But of course, being the “heartless” man he was, he had never bought anybody a valentine’s day gift. Meaning, that when the day drew near, he had no clue what to get you. He could always ask Charlie, but he was a little embarrassed too. The feared Radio Demon asking what to get his girlfriend for valentine’s day? Preposterous! He was honestly, a little terrified to ask Angel, knowing he would get a less-than-savory response. Vaggie would know, but she and him weren’t exactly on the best of terms. And the others probably wouldn’t know any more than him. Honestly, the only person he would feel comfortable asking a more intimate question, such as this, would be you. But obviously, he couldn’t do that. So, he resorted to the next best thing, spying! He and his shadows lurked in dark corners and allies as they watched the common people of hell collect things to gift to their lovers. He noted the most common things, such as sweets, stuffed animals, and jewelry. He also saw a lot of red and pink, along with hearts. Unfortunately for him, not the actual organ, but the heart symbol. If he could just rip out someone’s heart to give to you, that would be much simpler! But of course, nothing was that easy. 

The one thing that he noticed every demon had though, was flowers of some sort. Almost always roses. This was a problem for him. He knew you adored flowers, and he would LOVE to see your face light up as he handed you some of your favorites. But, he was cursed with wilting any flower he came close to. This power was never a problem, in fact, he found it quite amusing, until now. He couldn’t give you a wilted flower. He knew that. He thought that he would be very appreciative of one, should he be gifted it, but he knew that you wouldn’t. You and him just found flowers beautiful in different ways. Giving you fake flowers almost seemed insulting. And he didn’t want them to be delivered straight to you, because then he would never get to see your reaction. Plus, he wants to make sure every gift you receive is perfect, and he can’t inspect the flowers to make sure they are, so he would be left at the mercy of the person arranging them. He couldn’t even watch from afar, as sometimes even looking at them was enough to completely drain them of all their life and color. He loathed the idea of seeing your precious smile fall after seeing your beautiful flowers die right in front of your eyes. So what was he to do? 

He was panicking about this for the three days leading up to valentines day. A valentines day gift simply wasn’t complete without flowers it seemed. But he physically couldn’t hand you them, or even look at them. But a man HAD to give a woman flowers that befit her beauty. But he simply couldn’t. But he would sooner be caught playing modern video games than giving you a subpar gift for valentines day. He was really starting to freak out about this! So, he came to only one conclusion. He would simply have to give your more of all the other stuff to make up for it!

He spent the whole day before finding the most extravagant and beautiful gifts for you. Only the best of gifts for the best of women! The finest and most expensive chocolates in all of hell? Absolutely. The most lavish jewelry made with all your favorite gemstones? Obviously! A teddy bear bigger than you? Definitely. Only the best. He even replaced the bow tie it had on with one that matches his. He wanted everything to be perfect. He even made reservations at the nicest restaurant on this side of the pentagram. It is usually impossible to get reservations so last minute, but with some convincing, he was able to work miracles! Usually, he would want to make you dinner, but he will be so busy spoiling you tomorrow, that he won’t have the time. It’s fine, you eat his cooking almost every day. Soon, he found that he was running out of places to hide all this stuff in the hotel. No Matter, he would just have to make space in his pocket dimension.

Finally, it was late, almost midnight. Soon, the special day would come, and everything will be perfect for you. A whole day just to give you gifts and to snuggle you. He was over the moon. He was just a tad bit worried that even the extensive amount of gifts he bought you, won't replace the lack of romantic flowers. Every woman dreams of being gifted her favorite flowers by her love, and he couldn’t give that to you. This was one of the many reasons he just didn’t deserve you. He nervously looked up from his desk, and to the pile of things on the other side of the room. It had everything someone could buy for the holiday, perfumes, dresses, cards, The only thing missing was flowers. The one thing he wanted to give you the most. The most romantic thing he could do for you was to give you a beautiful red rose on the most romantic day of the year. And he couldn’t. 

He felt his smile shrink a bit, and decided to go back to focus on what he was currently working on. A love poem for you. He had never written poetry. Never even tried. But he heard it was another romantic practice, and decided he could give it a try. It was much more challenging than he expected. How could one articulate such complicated and indescribable feelings through written words? He crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it in the trash can by his desk, which was full of more failed pieces. Just as he reaches to grab another piece, he hears a light knock at his office door. In the blink of an eye, his shadow dove through the small crack under the door and came back to Alastor to tell him who it was. To Alastor’s delight, it was you! 

He jumped up from his chair and hurriedly made his way over to the door. He carefully opened it as little as possible for him to slide out and greet you. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. He has never done that before. He always politely opened to door for you to come in, or if he was really busy just shouted for you to let yourself in. You have never seen him just squeeze his way out to try to hide the sight of his office from you. 

“How may I help you, my darling?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, a gesture you always found utterly adorable.

“Well I came here to wish you a happy Valentine's day,” you stop for a second as a few nearby clocks start chiming, signaling it was now midnight. “But now I am more interested in what you are trying to hide from me in there” You lean to the side a bit and peer around him to the door, only for your vision to be blocked again as he stepped in front of you. You were honestly a little concerned. He had been kind of ignoring you these past few days, and now he is trying to hide something from you. Although, you would be lying if you said you didn’t have the slightest idea. You caught a glimpse of Niffty shoving some bright pink boxes behind a bookshelf while muttering about how Alaster ought to give her a raise.

You turn to look back up at him, deciding to give him a more stern look. You were going with the ‘mother scolding her child who obviously broke something and is lying about it’ approach. Crossing your arms and tapping your foot, you never stopped looking directly into his eyes, waiting for his response. 

Alastor could feel your eyes pierce directly through him and into his soul. You could read him like a book. He started to nervously look around, avoiding eye contact and starting to desperately come up with an excuse. He could technically give you your gifts now, but he wanted to wait until you woke up in the morning, like what was proper. 

This whole scene would look absolutely ridiculous to anybody walking by. A horrifying being of darkness and destruction getting treated like a misbehaving toddler by someone half their size. 

“Well my dear, you see, I was, well,” He finally looked you in the eyes, after coming up with a sufficient topic changer. “Well my dear, I think we should be paying more attention to the fact that you are still awake. And at this ungodly hour of the night! Ridiculous! We must get you straight to bed.” He grabs your arm and starts hurriedly leading you to your room. 

You were awake this late because you had only just finished with his gifts, but you couldn’t tell him that. So instead you went with, 

“Well, I just couldn’t sleep without you. Where have you been all week? I miss you.” 

Meanwhile, Alastor can’t tell you where HE’S been, so all he can do is try to switch to conversation back to you. 

You guys just go back and forth until you are in your room, getting dressed in your nightwear. You eventually break and just give up with your attempted interrogation. 

“You know what? Whatever! You keep your secrets you vile, evil man!” You said the last part with an obvious tone of sarcasm, so he doesn’t accidentally take it to heart. Alastor let out a small sigh of relief, knowing that you would finally stop trying to tear into him, and he could stop trying to do the same to you. He really didn’t care what you were doing. You are always up this late on your phone. He tiredly climbed into bed where you happily joined him. You cuddled up close to his side as he carefully wrapped his arms around you. You tilted your head up slightly and placed a soft kiss on his lips, which he graciously returned. 

Perhaps he isn’t perfect, and maybe he doesn’t deserve you, but he has you. He has you and he knows you love him, and he loves you, more than anything else. You two love each other, and that is all you need. Not flowers, not poems, not gifts, or any material object. Just with each other, you two can be happy. 

P.S. you totally got him some wilted flowers and spent a long LONG time trying to convince him the next day that flowers weren’t actually that important.

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #radio demon #the radio demon #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader