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#after the rewrite obv

inkykeiji · 3 months

Note

I have a question about something I’ve kinda noticed on tumblr. When you write fics about a character like Dabi and then give him multiple different story lines and personalities and stuff, why don’t you just make an original character? I’ve kinda noticed that a lot of writers on here will write about a character but then make them pretty different from what they’re really like in the show/book and change some stuff about them, and it just makes me think if it would be easier to make up a new character at that point so that the writer could make them exactly what they want 🤔 idk if that makes sense I have trouble explaining myself sometimes lol

well i can’t speak for other writers, but for me personally (and i’ve said this before) i enjoy taking a character, breaking them down analytically to their core personality traits, characteristics, values and beliefs, and then throwing them (the character) in a new situation and exploring how i personally believe they’d act/behave/respond to that situation IF they were hypothetically in it. so touya-nii, for example, is how i personally interpret todoroki touya the character would be if he were a big step-brother in our universe (aka not in the my hero universe with all the quirks etc) within the specific narrative i’ve created for him. he retains all of dabi’s core traits and characteristics, and they manifest within how he behaves and interacts with the narrative. bmb dabi, for example, is how i personally believe dabi would act if he fell into true love with someone, etc etc etc.

i really enjoy doing this, because i love analyzing and interpreting my favourite characters in such a way and getting to throw them into situation after situation and explore how i believe they’d react, so that’s why i write so many AUs! it’s a lot of fun and a great creative exercise, and i think a lot of us enjoy getting to examine our favourite characters in this way/context/entirely without constraints and expressing our own unique interpretations of them! i hope this helps anon c: AUs definitely aren’t everyone’s cup of tea and that’s totally okay, but all fan fiction written follows the idea of the author expressing themselves and their thoughts and interpretations surrounding a character and/or an event, whether that’s within canon or not! <3

#for example;; recently for dabi's birthday i wrote him returning to his lover after his touya reveal #a narrative that follows after an in-canon event but something that obv did not happen IN CANON / in the canon storyline #and i think a decent chunk of fanfiction is like that—something inserted into canon or canon interpreted + explored through a different len #because otherwise you'd just be rewriting canon and adding nothing new/telling no story #a lot of in-canon fic follows the premise of 'what if [blank] happened in canon' or 'this is how i think [blank] would've happened in canon #AUs are the same way! just a larger scale and a new or partially new storyline #i hope that makes sense!!! <3 #have a lovely day anon and pls be safe #inky.bb #clari gets mail

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reinedeslys-central · 1 month

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more for this nico-dealing-after-blood-of-olympus fic:

it's just like his brain is somehow - offline. Not willing to help him string up the words to this sentence that's sitting on his tongue. The disrespect.

He's still got to power through, though, and now he's just been standing here at the table for a good ten seconds without saying anything, gods, Will must feel so awkward trying to politely ignore Nico standing behind him. What to say, what to say, need to provide a functional human first(-ish) impression on the conversation -

Will bends his head further over the book he's reading, which seems to have a diagram on it. He shifts his neck to look at it from another angle, just enough for Nico to see the page's title: "Cross-sections of the Circulatory System".

Oh, so - a biology textbook. Cool, cool, that makes sense, since Will's the head camp medic, so maybe -

Before he can stop himself, he blurts out - "The, uh, the medulla oblongata controls parasympathetic ventilation, like, coughing and sneezing and stuff." Or - is that even correct? Damn, what if Will's going to make fun of him for getting it wrong, maybe he should try another one -

"..The pancreas secretes sodium bicarbonate, lipase, protease, and amylase into the small intestine to help with digestion." There, that works for a conversation starter. Will should definitely know about that since he lectured Nico about his starch intake last week in the infirmary.

("I don't care if they're all carbs, di Angelo, at this point you just need to eat, I don't give a pegasus' ass whether it's all carbs and fats -" - which, whatever. )

It takes him a moment to realise Will hasn't said anything back. In fact, he's barely even moved, only enough to squint at his textbook from a new angle. Clearly the most self-aware guy in the room, this guy.

He tries again. Can't have people calling him un-persistent, or whatever.

"So, the, lumen of the vein is larger than the artery, right? Since they have thinner walls?" Oh, curse me. His own insults to that zoom around his brain like a sledgehammer on nectar. And for all his embarrassment, what does he get? Nothing. Solace is still sitting, thumbing through the pages like he hasn't heard anything.

So much for Reyna making his promise to try having friends, and so much for Solace dumping out on him for pushing people away. If he's going to ignore him, and not even tell him why like - like someone who'd promised to be honest with him, then he can just catch up with his textbook in private and not have to deal with Nico's awkward conversation starters or help in the infirmary again.

Fuck it. He stomps away, shaking out his fringe and angrily pressing his thumb into the indent of his initials in his sword's hilt.

No need to let anyone think the Fates are playing favourites, because clearly Nico's in a league of his own with them. Even better, they must love him so much, because right at that moment, when he's suddenly, too irrationally angry to think about where he's going, he trips over a side table and goes careening headfirst into the shelf by the window.

Ah, merde.

"Hey, are you al- wait, Nico? What are you doing here, man? You okay?"

...And of course that's what finally makes Solace wake up from his biology-induced lotus casino haze.

As Solace bounds over, ostensibly to do his whole why-aren't-you-taking-care-of-yourself-better-nico-listen-to-me-I'm-a-doctor-so-I-know-best-and-you-don't routine, Nico resists the urge to melt into the wall, literally. Why did he tell Reyna he'd try making friends? Look where it gets him. Why, of all people, did he have to say he'd try hanging out with Solace of all people when Reyna demanded he give her some actual names to back up his promises?

- ..stupidi ragazzi carini con i loro stupidi sorrisi e le loro stupide lamentele e la loro mancanza di consapevolezza spaziale perché los tre Moirai sono così per me, mamma? perché, dei, perché....

Solace hauls him up halfway into his arms and starts asking him random questions, like:

"What's your name?" Rude, didn't he just call Nico from across the room?

"Okay, okay, cool, I deserved that one, can you tell me what day it is?" How is Nico supposed to answer that. He barely knows what day it is on a good day, he just follows camp schedule through osmosis most of the time, asking random campers what the strategies for the next capture the flag game are to get a gauge on how far away it is -

"Shit, c'mon man, help me out here, what were you looking for in the library anyway? I didn't know you were the reading type - " Which, again, rude? Does Nico not look like the reading type? Is it the black and silver? Does he not look smart enough or something? Hazel's a literal whiz, and Solace knows that, so it can't be a Hades thing.

"Come on, Nico, talk to me. You know why you came to the library, right? Can you at least tell me that?"

To talk to you, dumbass! Because you're ignoring me! Like I'm only worth your time when I'm a patient!

But it's not like he can just say that, because that would be weird. Joy of joys, Solace is getting even closer now, what the hell is going on?

"Uh - listen, don't freak out, maybe I'm freaking out, it's okay, stay calm, I'm calm, I literally do this every day, uh, can you just look straight at me, di Angelo? Need to get a good look at your eyes, figure out how bad we're dealin' here -" and he starts leaning in even closer what the literal fuck -

Is this Nico's punishment for insulting the Fates? Because, damn.

Also, because Nico's brain loves him, it abandons him once more in his time of need, forcing him to let out the weirdest squeak he's absolutely going to deny he ever made. He feels his cheeks warm, and jerks an inch away in a weird full-body shake like Frank sometimes does after returning to his human form.

Gods, what a nightmare. He lifts his hands up to cover his burning face and discreetly look for the nearest shadow when he notices Solace's ashen face, freezing.

Before he can get a real, human word out, Solace is suddenly stepping forward and cradling the back of Nico's head in a ridiculously warm hand while the other cards through his hair.

What the fuck. What the absolute fuck. He would say it feels like his soul is leaving his body if he didn't already know exactly how that felt. His eyes go wide as he wheezes, trying to stammer out a demand for Solace to fucking explain himself, taking liberties with his person -

Solace steps back, clearly confused. "No huge bumps, alright.. maybe shock?" His eyes widen again, as if he's just now noticing the state he's left Nico in.

"Shit, shit, it looks like shock, dilated pupils, difficulty breathing, hold on, di Angelo, let's get you to the infirmary - " Uh, absolutely not? 'Di Angelo' has had enough of the infirmary for a lifetime, grazie mille, Dr. Solace. There isn't even anything wrong with him this time! He's not the one asking weird questions and doing weird things this time.

Without any further thought, he turns around and starts fighting his way out of Solace's grip. If his favourite doctor's shocked cursing is anything to go by, it's the first time a patient's actively tried to escape his tender mercies.

Scratch that. Solace's arms tighten around his waist and the ensuing scuffle makes it clear this is not his first time. Shit, Nico might actually lose this one.

"Sunoffa- Nico! I'm trying to help, calm down!" Like hell you are, Solace. Let me the fuck go (so I can run away and wallow with the nymphs) and maybe then we'll talk.

He redoubles his efforts while pivoting to avoid the lamp on the table next to them.

"You fucking menace," Solace hisses, and if that hidden loss of cool makes Nico grin, well, what's a skull scarf for. Not every day you get to make Sir Doctor Extraordinaire stop being all sunshiney for a day.

Solace finally growls and stops fighting him. "Alright, you win! Hey, can't you stop aggravating your injuries for once?" Which. Wait, what injury? Nico's in perfect health!

"- and like, wartime's one thing, normal camp is another. Do you seriously not respect your body at all? Come on, you haven't even argued it! D'you seriously hate the infirmary that much? Are we a joke to you? You haven't even said anything since you hit your head and - " Nico lets the rest of Will's rant fly over him as he stills, and his mind goes, oh. Oh, this is hilarious. Okay, well, all he's gotta do to correct Will's little misconception is to say something then, right?

He opens up his mouth to cut Will off when he lands on his burning blue eyes and realises, belatedly, that Will's warm arms are still ever-so-gently and firmly cradling his waist, curling around the coarse fabric of his Camp Half-Blood tee.

As his brain goes offline for the the third and hopefully final time, Nico bemoans his existence and prepares himself to blurt out:

"The kidneys are where erythrocytes go to die."

Oh, Dei miei. That's not even right. "Well, no, I mean, the kidneys are where erythropoietin is produced, when the medulla oblongata detects a lack of oxygen in the body, which stimulates the growth of more red blood cells in the bone marrow..."

At least Will's shut up now, which is great. Nico can already feel the headache brewing from his ranting. Instead of backing off, however, Will absentmindedly adjusts his grip on Nico's waist and cocks his head to the side.

"...Did you come to the library to ask me to help you with your biology homework? Because, and I really mean no offense, buddy, but I kinda thought you were a year-round camper. Where'd you find the time to study AP Bio?"

Nico gives up and melts to the floor, ignoring Will's cries to groan and repeatedly thunk his head into the thankfully carpeted floor. This is how Nico dies. He prays for his father to open up the ground and bring him down to the palace for a visit. Will's still struggling to pull him up off the floor (if he's going to chase after him, he can deal with having to catch him, damnit), but only one thought is playing through Nico's mind.

Oh, I'm never going to live this one down, am I?

same fic different scene 0 - prologue-ish

#why is writing so hard #I did not expect to struggle so hard w this scene when I watched it in my head for hours #nico di angelo #riordanverse #pjo fic #worldbuilding my beloved #toying with a chb fic about nico and grief and what three days in the infirmary actually looks like #plus my healthy nico agenda and a healthy dose of solangelo obv #tbh I really don't like this scene hopefully it'll smooth out by the time I'm doing a rewrite #will solace #feel free to correct me with the italian it's literally all g translate and a bunch of dictionary work #nico honey hE'S TRYING TO DO A CONCUSSION CHECK ON YOU #STAY STILL YOU WORM #ayo not me bringing the italicised oh in so quickly #writing process #would y'all help me choose a fic title if I asked?#wow why is this so long #when the characters start doing their own thing and you're just along for the ride #nico is THE drama king #nico WOULD be the type to wear a fedora/beanie and a skull scarf #and hair ties after his hair grows out #skinny jeans & band tees & combat boots & converse and a literal sword + chains getup with a literal skull motif baked in #You Cannot Change My Mind #hoodie kid but also bomber jacket guy #you know it #they're teenagers your honour #Let Them Be Dumb #nico you utter menace I love you #will you oblivious powerhouse you're the best #nico di angelo trying to make friends

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claymoresword · 14 days

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I Choose Her | Epilogue

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: time jump, smut, porn very little plot, draco & y/n , kid fic coded, y/n & hermione endgame obv

Note: Hi, so this is an epilogue in theory but i think what it ended up being is just an open ended conclusion. Which doesn't sound promising, but it also just means that there will more for me to expand on (for side chapters) so it's exciting! The main series is now concluded but i am nowhere near done with writing Hermione x Y/n within this particular universe that I've cultivated. Long story short: more to come!

Eitherway, hope you enjoy this one ;)

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @brocoliisscared @aki-ham @theheartwants-what-itwants

Hermione turns towards the commotion in the living room, standing from her seat abruptly with her voice raised.

“Hugo! Give Scorpius a turn or I will shut that entire thing off, this is my final warning.” She asserts as the children bickered amongst themselves– fighting over the Playstation controller.

“Yes mother..” Your son mumbles, begrudgingly passing the controller over to his friend.

You lift the rim of the mug you are clutching up to your lips, masking your amusement at the display– your son has never taken to the idea of sharing; even with his own sister.

As anticipated, your attempt proves fruitless when you are caught on the receiving end of Hermione's narrowed gaze.

“Don't you dare laugh, he takes after you.” Hermione remarks as she pokes at your stomach, and your expression instinctively contorts in mock offense.

You soon turn to Draco and his wife, who remain sat across from you.

“Do you hear the way she speaks to me?” You retaliate in jest, earning a light slap to the arm from Hermione.

Astoria does grace you with a laugh, whether forced or not, you accept it as a small triumph.

Draco remains impartial, quickly redirecting the conversation.

“I've never understood those things” He gestures to the game console, and then the television it is attached to.

“I mean, when Y/n and I were their age we actually spent time outside.” Draco adds and you can't contain a scoff.

“Right, and you tormented me.” You contend, not allowing your best friend the chance to rewrite history simply to impress his wife.

“Did not.” Draco denies regardless.

You feel Hermione’s hand glide across your shoulders, causing them to relax involuntarily. Soon her fingers are delicately toying with your ear. A habit she had picked up over the years– one constantly reassuring, in an odd way.

“You were a nightmare.” You insist, leaning back in your chair, and Draco possesses enough cheek to appear affronted.

“I was a delight.” He claims defensively. This time it is Hermione who scoffs, and you allow yourself a smirk of satisfaction.

It is now two against one.

Astoria chuckles once more, hiding a smile behind her hand as she glances between you and your wife.

“Darling, I do find that hard to believe.. you seem to forget that we went to the same school, and Hogwarts was never immune to gossip.” She coos, turning to her husband, and Draco redirects his attention to her.

“Oh, now you're ganging up on me too?” He accuses, and you watch as Astoria smooths her hand across Draco's chest, up to the collar of his shirt. Without saying much else, she kisses him, and that quickly puts an end to the debate at hand.

You clear your throat, shifting in your seat as the couple escalated in their displays of affection.

You turn to Hermione, and she gives you a similar look in return, eventually nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck, an effort to escape the discomfort.

“I would say it's time for dessert but it appears they've already started.” Your quip, a whisper only for Hermione's ears.

Your wife stifles her laughter against your shoulder, glacing at the couple again, who remain in a full lip lock, oblivious to the world around them.

“Do you think they'd notice if you and I just got up and left right now?” Hermione asks, and you grin. Feeling inspired and overcome with the want to feel her mouth against your own.

“Probably not,” You respond, now leaning in to kiss her. Lightly at first, but as your hand slips around her waist, Hermione’s mouth opens wider, inviting your tongue.

You pull an involuntary moan out of her, causing your own smile to form mid kiss. Hermione breathes in sharply at the realization, before feebly shoving you away with her palm against your chest.

She is flushed, her chest heaving. Even after all the years of marriage; you'll never tire from watching this gorgeous woman blush.

Hermione averts her gaze, as if overwhelmed by your stare, and your smile only widens.

“I'll go fetch the cake.” Your wife says suddenly, her hand falls from your shoulder as she rises from her seat.

You can only watch as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Your own heart, pounding.

Seventeen years since you first met, and yet your pull towards Hermione remained formidable; your bond, unbreakable.

Seventeen years.

Your smile remains as you go to take another large swig from your mug. Draco and his wife have since stopped kissing, now instead whispering in secrecy to each other.

You roll your eyes, beginning to forget the point of inviting them today.

“Boys, dessert!” You bark, easily capturing Scorpious and Hugo's attention.

Now your son and his friend race towards the dinner table, disovering something new to squabble about.

Soon, Hermione emerges from the kitchen, a large lemon cake in one hand a stack of plates in another.

You then turn around in your seat to address your daughter. She had been a few paces away, sitting quietly by the window. Her nose in her book, as she often is. “Darling, do you want any cake?”

“Yes, please.” Rose replies simply, without looking up.

Your daughter; truly every bit like her mother. In both temperament, and appearance. Blessed with Hermione's rich curly hair and her gentle eyes. She's assertive as much as she is kind.

Your heart soars everytime you look at her, yet you are also overcome with the urge to weep all the same, for reasons unbeknownst to you.

Perhaps it was the cost of unconditional love, the price every parent had to pay. An impending burden that you could only do so much to ignore.

The fact is your daughter will not remain pristine and unspoiled forever. Life frowns upon innocence, it is bound to be stripped away from her; a violent and inescapable fate.

Change is a torturous and ugly thing, it is a challenge everyone must endure, no matter what you try to tell yourself.

“What's wrong?” Hermione's concern pulls you out your thoughts, you feel her hand grasping your arm.

You force yourself to smile, shaking your head dismissively. Now aware of Draco and Astoria's quizzical eyes on you.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.” You assure, resuming your position next to her at the table.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You let out a breath of relief as Hugo finally slips into a slumber in your arms. You gently lift him to lay your son on his bed properly, subsequently draping the covers over him.

Shutting the book in your hand, you set it down on his nightstand, wary not to make too much noise.

“Goodnight, sweet boy.” You utter quietly, threading your fingers through his hair before placing a tender kiss upon his forehead.

Your son remains asleep as you exit his bedroom and gently shut the door behind you.

You roll your shoulders as you start down the stairs, stifling a groan at the ache.

However, any feelings of discomfort dissipate once you catch sight of Hermione, standing by the sink, still busy with the dishes.

“Do you need my help?” You offer as you step through the kitchen, rolling up your sleeves in preparation.

Hermione throws you a quick glance before replying. “No, thank you, I'm almost done.” Your wife says as she rinses the final traces of soap off a plate before propping it onto the drying rack.

Your stare soon turns incredulous as you approach your wife.

“I don't understand– you'd get the dishes done twice as quickly if you used your wand.. you won't even have to stand by the sink to do that.”

You remark, now standing close enough to Hermione that you can smell the familiar and welcomed scent of her hair.

“I prefer to wash them the normal way, I suppose I'm just used to it.” She explains and you let out a huff.

You needed no more proof that your wife is indeed, muggle-born.

“So odd.” You tease in return, Hermione lets out a breathless chuckle as you wrap your arms around her torso.

Your breasts pressing up against her back as you embrace her tightly from behind.

You observed as Hermione washed all traces of dish soap off her hands before turning off the faucet.

“Is Hugo asleep?” Your wife asks, and you nod. You hear the subtle way her breath catches in her throat as you kiss her neck.

“He did put up a brave fight, but he's out.” You quip.

Hermione’s chuckle morphs into a proper gasp as you slipped your hand underneath her shirt, cupping her breast, her nipple quickly growing hard from your touch.

Your wife merely leans further into you, allowing you better access to her neck.

“I don't think I got the chance to tell you how gorgeous you looked today.. I liked the dress.” You admit, nipping lightly at the column of her throat.

Hermione lets out a satisfied hum, pressing her rear harder against your groin, as she reaches back, her hand finds the nape of your neck. “I had a feeling you'd enjoy it.”

“Well, I did. You always look beautiful.” You state, expertly kneading her other breast, drawing a breathless moan from your wife; one that drives you half-mad with need.

“Fuck, you're perfect.” You praise her again, lips still brushing against her neck.

You swiftly shift your hand lower, unlacing her pajama bottoms, she lets you do so, quietly, for a moment.

“Even now? Even after how much my body has changed from bearing our children?” Hermione asks.

Ever since the birth of your son, insecurity has polluted her– and you find it entirely unwarranted.

Hermione is flawless, she deserves to feel beautiful and you aim to remind her of it everyday.

“Especially now.” You persist, finally slipping your hand inside her underwear.

Hermione lets out a louder moan as you boldly palm her heat, feeling how wet she is already.

She whimpers as your finger prods at her entrance. Your wife grips a fistful of your hair, her other hand firmly on the edge of the sink to steady herself.

“The children–” Hermione pants, her voice strained with arousal. Her words of concern do not match the way she is grinding against your hand ever so slightly.

“–are sound asleep in their beds.” You assure, finally entering with another finger.

Hermione’s hips buck against your touch as you are now knuckle deep inside of her. Broken gasps of pleasure is all she can manage as you begin pumping, slowly, in and out.

Your wife lets loose an unrestrained moan as you curl your fingers. You watch as she bites her bottom lip in an attempt to conceal her sounds of pleasure.

You can't help but groan at the sight.

It is near agony– no one should ever be this enticing.

Time is unrelenting to some, and cruel to most. Yet it has been generous to her; your wife has truly only gotten more desirable with age.

“You're so intoxicating..” You allow your own desires to speak.

Then, you place a lingering peck on her cheek, simultaneously pulling another loud moan from Hermione before she guides you in for a kiss, one on the mouth, desperate and hungry.

You consume her gasps and whimpers as you continue pumping in and out of her at a steady, yet urgent, pace.

Eventually, your thumb finds her clit, you begin rubbing in a circular motion in tandem, and soon, Hermione can no longer kiss you properly.

She is reduced to mewls and pants. She removes her fingers from your hair, letting her arm fall to her side before harshly gripping the hem of your shirt.

In truth, your wife could just as well shred the fabric to pieces and you simply wouldn't care.

Hermione's fingers graze your abdomen, and it is only then you notice that it was her clumsy attempt to undress you, but her plans are soon destabilized as a wave of pleasure wrecks her body anew.

You are now forced to place a hand over her mouth as your wife begins to tremble. She is close. You could feel it in the way her cunt was clenching around your fingers, almost painfully so.

“Come.. come for me, beautiful.” You urge, your breath against her ear; that is all it took for Hermione to surrender herself to her climax.

As she moans against your hand, you find yourself taking in the way her chest heaved violently, her fingers digging into the counter till her knuckles turned a pale white– utterly vulnerable, and breathtaking, and she is all yours.

“My god, y/n–” Hermione curses once she has gained enough of her strength back.

Even so, your wife continues to rest some of her weight against you, and you are happy to provide her the support.

Hermione mewls into your kiss as you pull your fingers out of her. She watches through hooded eyes as you pull away so you could take your digits into your mouth, tasting her release.

Your wife turns around fully, resting her back against the counter as she continues to observe you. Her arousal, searing and visceral.

Desire shrouds the both of you, impairing all sense and judgment. It doesn't take long at all before Hermione is on you once more. As soon as you remove your fingers from your mouth, she replaces it with her tongue.

Hermione swallows your noises of pleasure as she finds the hem of your shirt once again, this time successfully pulling it over your head before discarding it, heedless and uncaring.

Her hands quickly find your breasts as she trails wet, languid kisses along your jaw and eventually your neck.

You are aroused beyond belief, and you can hardly think– you want to slip your fingers inside of your wife once more, you need to feel her, taste her. and you need it now.

As your mouths make contact once more, you prop your hand firmly underneath Hermione's thigh, lifting her in one swift motion, setting her on top of the kitchen counter.

Hermione lets you remove her shirt in record time, you fling it out of your grasp in a similarly incautious manner, not heeding where it lands before your mouth makes contact with her nipple.

You licked and sucked at it eagerly, with primal and unchecked want. A string of trembling moans from your wife urge you on, she gasps as you shift your attention to her other breast before just barely mustering enough to speak.

“No– wait, not here.” Hermione gasps, pulling your head back, her chest now wet and glistening from your saliva.

Before you can respond with something coherent, your wife kisses you again, open-mouthed and deep, but it ends far sooner than you'd like. Happily, her next words easily make up for it.

“Take me to bed.”

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger #hermione granger smut #draco malfoy x reader

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gumjester · 11 months

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i made a map of ever after for my rewrite !! and also just out of general desperate headcanon organisation !! if you want some vague terrible and VERY long form of explanation of each of the regions ripped straight from my discord messages, look under the cut !!

the white kingdom: takes up almost the entire south of ever after. historical hub of trade as it spans a good amount of the river quill, very rich region as a result. this is apple's home turf obvs (as well as daring's) and home to almost half the actual population of ever after! many magical folk reside there, seeing as the kingdom borders the elvish district and pixie province, with faerie just behind. speaking of which!

elvish district: this is a canon region (though do not ask me where this is mentioned i presume it was in one of the books?? but i found it in my notes. i presume this is just where elves historically hung out. love it!

pixie province: where the pixies hang out!! i considered naming this pixie hollow but then half-remembered that pixie hollow in disney is like ?? an island?? with different regions for each season or something?? and i could honestly not even get into the geographical logistics of that so its just pixie province. and within this province is:

the thumbell kingdom: where thumbellina fucks around and does whatever it is she does in the story i havent read it in years

faerie: another canon region! i presume that, again, this is just where faeries be. faybelle's from here! but specifically from that little arm that stretches up into the dark forest. that arm contains a very high percentage of the dark faerie population of ever after, perhaps to no surprise.

the dark forest: SO MANY CHARACTERS R FROM HERE SO ITS BIG. ostensibly under the rule of the white kingdom, but there are local councils dotted about that hold more immediate influence. hood hollow is near the top border, a few miles from the bestia kingdom. ginger is from lower in the forest, kind of in the thick of it to be honest. hunter is from even lower down, near the centre. the centre of the dark forest is pretty rough territory, with most of the actual civilisation concentrated on the border to grimm county.

grimm county: where the brothers grimm originally set up shop. also a very rich region! more industrial than the kingdoms though, lots of factories, lots of apartment blocks. a capitalist hell! the county has been eating into the dark forest and the magical provinces over the years, in the interest of asset expansion.

grimm coast: more of an arbitary distinction, its still basically grimm county, but its got a lot more nature left and is relatively untouched by the industry. ever after high is here!

kingdom-by-the-sea: yet another canon region! basically nothing is mentioned about this in the books, so i've decided its one of the few regions actually ruled over by a charming family! most of the time, charmings dont rule any actual land, and are just absorbed into whatever kingdom it is they marry into (if any). but kingdom-by-the-sea is entirely charming! not a lot happens here, though. its mostly a holiday destination, but it is a high honour for the charming family to keep their beaches in top condition!

nottingham forest: back to the forest! sparrow is from here obviously, right on the border in that little bit that dips into the dark forest. i believe this region would be ruled over by a king richard? but i am truly not sure if that matters. hijinks occur here, a truly astounding amount of which can be traced directly to sparrow. quite rundown as an area, but not as rundown (and not home to as many dangerous creatures) as the dark forest

swan coast: duchess' turf! a rich (ish) and elegant region, with lots of man made lakes.

bestia kingdom: the only other kingdom to span the river quill! rocky, mountanous and pretty wild, not a lot of industry. home to almost the entire beast population of ever after, with a few spilling over into neighbouring regions. (through gritted teeth) rosabella is from here

queen's waste: this is actually a relatively new region within the timeline of my rewrite, created entirely through the events of the queen war. this region used to be the outskirts of grimm county, with the industry tapering off into small towns filled with people who wished to be closer to their work in the heart of the county. the evil queen essentially razed this region to the ground and repopulated it with her #MinionsOfDarkness, and it served as a barrier to her stronghold in the deadlands. most of those left without homes after the regions destruction fled to grimm county and the white kingdom.

hellhound marsh: this region was essentially barren of life even before the queen war. its basically all marsh, as the name suggests, and the few sentient creatures that lived there were trolls, which the evil queen was particularly enthusiastic about recruiting to her cause due to their virtual invincibility in combat. now, the only things that live there are newts, and terrifyingly large bugs.

the deadlands: raven's turf! a teeny tiny island where the evil queen carried out much of her tyranny, and where queen castle stands to this day, down to just two residents. windy, rocky, rainy, FREEZING. a villainous location if ever there was one.

the frog kingdom: hopper is from here :) very marshy, but unlike hellhound marsh, full of life! mostly frogs. lots and lots and lots of frogs! to me it has the vibe of a little village, lots of old stone cottages and plants EVERYWHERE. cozy little place. slimy though

kingdom of twelve: had to fill this space somehow! this is the kingdom of the twelve dancing princesses, where they get up to.... whatever they get up to in the twelve dancing princesses. justine is from here!

buff kingdom: yet another canon region that you can probably tell i was very annoyed i had to include because i made it tiny. this is where the emperor's new clothes story happens ! and thats it

the light forest: big, long old forest, with many more technical and civil advancements than the dark forest! blondie is from here, from bear woods, right below the lowest point of the bestia kingdom. its pretty nice all round in the light forest, lots of meadows that make you want to frolick and castles that make you go ooooooooh. lots of farmland here too!! the light forest is quite rich from acting as ever after's main produce distributor.

the old mountains: i'll tell you a secret! this is where the brothers grimm are from, WAY back in the day. the old mountains suck, at least according to them, which is why they made sure to start their ventures on the complete opposite side of ever after to them. truthfully, the old mountains arent all that bad! theyre quiet and the civilisation there is not massively technologically advanced, but they're very beautiful and theres a nice little tourist industry there. just dont go into any of the caves at night, because the things that live there have been there longer than any kingdom.

port avalon: our final obligatory canon region. i believe it was mentioned in a semi-charming kind of life? and no detail was given, it was simply called 'avalon', so i made it a port and decided that some stuff goes on there, but whatever it is is none of my business. im sure its fine

the ella kingdom: ashlynn's turf!! VERY beautiful region, not really bogged down by industry and city infastructure like the white kingdom, full of nature reserves and beautiful mansions and upcycling stores. hippie central, i feel. weed is legal there

the aurora kingdom: briar's home oh yeah!!!! almost as beautiful as the ella kingdom, just in a different, more antique way. theres actually... not a lot there? civilisation is quite sparse, and what is there has been there for hundreds upon hundreds of years and is not changing in a hurry. lots of town squares and charity shops. zero nightclubs. im losing the thread a bit here

story bay: its a bay........ also possibly charming-ruled? i dont know why they keep putting charmings in charge of beaches. probably because theres not a lot to them. even a charming could rule a beach

isle of charming: same deal. can you tell i was runnign out of ideas

rapunzel islands: rapunzel happened here i guess!!! very warm climate, living off the land vibes. people go here for festivals. the ibiza of ever after

ariel islands: completely forgotten to mention these OOPSS um the little mermaid happened here !!! people also go here for holidays but its more chill and cute like you could do it with your family ! fishing village!!!! sun and fun and poke bowls!!!! ive lost the thread but thats the end !!!

#eah:rir #(first time ive used that tag for lore OOOOOOO EXCITING)#eah #ever after high #gum art #TECHNICALLY....?#raven queen #apple white #daring charming #faybelle thorn #ashlynn ella #ginger breadhouse #hunter huntsman #briar beauty #OTHER PEOPEL..... IM SO TIRED

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gyarucoded · 6 months

Text

sorry but this post just pissed me fr, i need a moment to talk. basically i freshly became a valcarol shipper (they kinda been the only thing i've been thinking of ever since i saw the marvels-) and i came across this as i was looking up stuff abt them and...

...sorry but like? what is the point of pitying the two pairing together when they are both getting the same awful mistreatment by marvel and d*sney??

sure i don't deny, there are some inviduals out there who purely ship them out of fetishizing or that there are misogynists (mostly thowards sylvie obv) cuz no fanbases are perfect but literally tf does that got to do with wether the ship is queerbait or not..? where is the colleration exactly? 2+2=fish ?

using "two characters that have been called queer on social media" as counter-argument is so esp weird as if loki isn't canonically bi...my brother in christ, the same way brunhilde is. like op's really going nowhere 😭

let's look over facts: 1. valcarol has good chemistry, kissed on cheeck, shipped by cast, one's canon bisexual in the pairing and had a line cut out due it confirming the two's relationship to not loose homophobic audiences, 2. lokius has good chemisrty, one's canon bisexual in the pairing, has a theme titled after their ship name, constant romantic under-tones & pararrels with f/m canon ships, shipped by cast, they had to rewrite the entire 5th ep bc of something "controversial" *cough* cheeck kiss *cough* bc they r "basically trying make the relationship canon without loosing homophobic audiences" yes. (SORRY IF I LEFT ANYTHING ELSE OUT BTW)

so looking all over these i can only wonder where this whole narrative comes from 😵‍💫

but i'll say: it lokius is queerbait ! valcarol is queerbait !

anyways if we not gonna be besties at least let's not trying to be so competitive and use a fairly similar ship and invalidate it just to "prove a point" ok plsss🙏 🫶

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ghirahimbo · 3 months

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i started replaying totk recently, i say replaying bc i did buy and play it when it was first released but dropped it after a couple days bc i was busy w stuff. and so i'm doing a lot of things now for the first time and obv i can't help comparing it to botw and it's genuinely got me so upset how link has been forgotten by so many people, all the people he helped in botw all the quests he did are just meaningless, all my registered horses were carried over but they couldn't keep the character interactions? all the champions are mentioned once with the exception of mipha there's no memories or divine beasts. the zora who had remembered link for 100 years had forgotten him since botw how is that possible. i had to make an ugly house near tarrey town to hang my weapons bc the hateno house was no longer mine 😭😭😭 somehow it made the game feel lonelier, even though botw was more empty there was much emotion in it.

it's not that i hated totk i liked exploring and finding new outfits, the dragons, rediscovering my favourite places etc but idk i was genuinely tearing up thinking about the champions being forgotten and all of link's previous sacrifices meaning nothing. sorry to send these random messages i don't follow anyone else who still blogs about zelda 😭😭

No, I know exactly what you mean! 😢 Honestly (lol can't remember if I've already said this before or not, so maybe I'm re-ranting here, but) my personal take is that totk shouldn't have been a sequel game, especially because Nintendo doesn't like to concern themselves with the continuity between games that a direct sequel like this just needs. With some tweaking/set up/rewriting, totk could have worked as a stand-alone story, and then they wouldn't have had to take away from what botw achieved in the name of making it more approachable to new players.

And yeah, I didn't hate it either! I liked the gameplay and the weapons system and the feeling of stakes whenever you entered a new town and saw how things had all gone to shit. Loved the wells. I just think it was too eager to pretend botw didn't exist while at the same time leaning on it so heavily that it would fall to pieces if you tried to extract the botw out of it :P

#I think there's something about how nintendo likes to connect the games via ''easter eggs'' rather than actual lore?#it's an idea i might poke at sometime #like #hey this spring is modeled after the skyward sword spring literally thousands of years ago!#how? don't worry about it :)#it's a callback #it's a surface-level connection #i guess the longer this series goes on for and the more crumbs of possibility they drop without actually giving you the cake #the more i start to wish for something more #especially when you see what other lower budget games can achieve these days #step it up i guess? i don't know :P #totk negative #lol sorry #the more time passes the more i have #frustrations

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paperstarwriters · 7 months

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Hello hope your day is amazing

I was wondering if you could write a Muriel x florist reader where when Muriel is making his once in awhile trip into vesuvia he goes past the readers shop and she gives him tulips because he looks sad and he takes them but after he's gone they forget him obv but the next time he comes into town it happens again and again until he finally gives the reader myrrh and then they remember all those times and get really embarrassed

My first request!!! Wow!!! Now technically I haven’t had any explicit availability on requests because of classes but, well I may just open them up now! (Of course though not all requests will end up this long 😅)

Also, I just wanna mention, that when I first got this request my day had been a little bit of a mess but this certainly brightened it thanks so much!! 💕💕💕💕

By the way, Anon, I am SO sorry I took so long to write this. It ended up getting really long and then I ended up deleting everything and rewriting everything because I thought it could’ve been better lol—Not an excuse, but I kinda wanna be transparent about these things because it helps me acknowledge that no, I did not magically make a perfect fanfic on my first go, and other authors do not make perfect fanfics in one go.

Also I understand that this has since been requested to someone else now too because I was taking so long, and I really don’t mind, though I feel kinda bad to have been so slow. Unfortunately life just tends to interfere and all that.

Anyways,

A Flower a Day Keeps The Lonely At Bay

Pairing: Muriel x Flowershop!Reader

Warnings: Lack of communication (ie. Muriel being shy), awful & rich customers, who pay the cops to chase you down, Reader also Swears. Summary: A flower a day keeps the lonely at bay, but two to three more, and I’m here at your door, ever waiting, ever waiting, never sure never sure.

Muriel finds himself making visits outside of his hut a little more frequently than usual, accumulating a small bouquet of flowers made larger by a few flowers at a time with every trip he makes to the market.

The only issue is, he hasn’t exactly paid for these.

Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist

Word Count: 14, 181

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Muriel watched as red washed down from the coliseum stands.

He should be grateful. The sight should uplift him—should release that tension tied deep in his chest. It should fill his chest with something other than dread.

After all, for once, it wasn’t blood.

Red roses drip down from above, their petals peeling away from the bright blooming flowers, cut in the peak of their beauty fluttering in the wind, catching in the sunlight, and falling onto the hot arena sands, still yellow, still free from blood, now stained with a new shade of red. The audience cheers instead of screams, clapping instead of booing. They throw flowers instead of stones.

All for his opponent.

A foreign fighter from a kingdom not too far away, his opponent bathed with open arms in the rain of flowers and roses, smiling and waving at the people above who cheered and wailed their name in rapt awe and delight.

If he were sitting in the stands, watching the battle from afar, he’s certain he would see how clunky and awkward he had been fighting. Lucio had told him that unlike his usual “criminal” opponents he was not to kill the foreign fighter lest he piss off the other kingdom, and wile he wasn’t sure exactly when Lucio had grown so conscious of other people’s feelings, Muriel had been grateful for the chance not to kill his opponent.

It was naïve of him to assume it was something he could simply stop doing.

With every swing of his massive axe, made to cleave heads from their shoulders, Muriel found himself faltering. With every attack, he wondered if this was the swing that would kill his opponent, if this was the swing that would start a war between kingdoms. His opponent, who had no such qualms, was able to slowly whittle away at his defenses until they knocked him to the sand and pressed a dagger to his throat.

When Muriel was shuffled out of the coliseum to be slotted away into the cold cell they called his room, he watched as the other fighter received a glory he never saw for himself. Armfuls of gifts, boxes of food or sweets, letters sealed with hearts and given with bright grins on their faces, and armfuls upon armfuls of flowers. Sitting in his cell, Muriel watched as his opponent passed by with many servants in tow, all needing to be led by Lucio, as they couldn’t see past the heaps of flowers that crowded their arms.

A flower slipped past someone’s grasp, drifting it’s way into his room. It was rose-like in it’s colour. A deep crimson hue, although the shape of it was a far cry from a rose. He could hope that it was something precious and expensive, from some bouquet of foreign flowers, but Muriel couldn’t help but doubt. Perhaps it was something cheaper, something carelessly held and carelessly dropped into the cell of this careless fighter. Its a thing to be admired regardless, something pretty and colourful to enter his drab cell. He plucks it off of the floor, to cradle it’s delicate petals appreciate the soft, sweet smell of it.

Something sweet something soft, and colourful and kind.

It’s not something that would last very long with him.

Lucio returns past him a few moments later, having led the servants to whatever lavish room he had prepared for the foreigner and their followers. The red flower dropped against the hallway floors catches his eye, and with two golden talons he plucks it from the floor, smiling as he appreciates it’s delicate, feeble beauty. He continues down the hall, not even sparing Muriel a glance, as his footsteps crack against the stone floors.

He’ll throw it away the moment he gets outside perhaps, or maybe even sooner than that. Or maybe, just maybe he’ll get some small little cup and let the flower live just a little longer. It’s doubtful though, considering how easy it would be for someone like him to get more flowers. People gift him things all the time, and whatever he doesn’t receive as a gift, it would be simple for him to purchase himself.

Muriel never received gifts in his life as a gladiator.

After all he’s done, he didn’t deserve them.

He did not deserve flowers.

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Muriel pulled his basket closer towards himself, shifting the strap that attached it to his back to rest more comfortably on his shoulder. Although he initially refused the offer, he’s grateful for Asra’s insistence, and even more grateful for the gift. It’s practical. With it, he can carry so much more materials than he ever had before. Flour, rice, fruits, he can place it all in his basket and leave his hands free to purchase smaller things, like bread or berries or herbs, or whatever else he might need. Most importantly, being able to carry so much at once, Muriel can limit his trips into the market as a once in a month or two journey.

Sure, the basket made him look bigger, only drawing more attention to his broad looming frame, and sure, perhaps it was a bit heavy to carry so much groceries all in one go, but if it meant he’d only have to endure the bustle and crowds of the market less, it was certainly a sacrifice he was willing and ready to make. Even the longer journey the basket imposed on him—since it would not fit into the smaller alleyways—was made more tolerable knowing that he would not have to return for a while.

It’s his saving grace amidst the crush of people yelling and hawking their wares, the inconsiderately placed shops of medicine right beside shops of food where delicious scents make the dizzying medicine smell stronger. The push and shove of impatient customers—all of it is made just a little more tolerable knowing it’d be over soon.

Soon. He assures himself. Just a little further, then I’m out of the market. Just past these next few shops, just a little more…

A blur of bright colours catch his eye. Though it was hardly enough to stop him from walking, he slowed at the sight, unable to help but stare at the little shop squished between and behind a few other stalls. For some other shops perhaps the size would be moderate enough, if only a little squishy to sit inside, but for that shop in particular, it seemed downright tiny, dwarfed by the flowers that seemed to burst from any and every opening it could get, starved for space and sunlight, and with the vivid colours and unruly growth—starved for attention.

He didn’t mean to stop in place, but he couldn’t help but stare at all the pretty flowers before him. Butterflies twitched from where they sat atop flowers, and bees bumbled lazily from flower to flower, all delighted at the sheer variety they had before them to enjoy. Like the many insects around him, Muriel found himself drawn into the little alcove the shop provided, drowned in the flowers and their soft and tender scents.

Setting his basket aside, Muriel let himself breathe. The crush and bustle of the crowds were still there, but a panel from another shop blocked him from their view. An alcove large enough for him to hide him—he never thought he’d find a place like that.

“Hello?”

The voice was by no means loud. It was a far, far cry from anything accusatory or cruel, and yet still, Muriel can’t help the urge to leap up in place and run, the thin branch of flowers reaching over his head, serving as the only thing to stop him from doing so. Careless movement could damage the pretty little things, and even if it would sting, damaging the beauty of something seemingly so abandoned, he’d hate to have to deal with the ire of the shopkeep should he damage their precious merchandise.

—Should he damage your precious merchandise.

Wearing mud-smeared clothing and a pair of gloves, it was clear you were the caregiver of these flowers and therefore, the owner of the shop.

Maybe he should have noticed it sooner—seen the vibrant colours and assumed nothing that bright and big could grow naturally, or maybe he should have looked closer to those openings and noted how clean the curtains of the window—the very one you now leaned out from—were.

“I’m sorry.” he mutters, scrambling to get his things while still taking care not to damage the flowers of your shop.

“No, no. It’s okay,” you tell him, smiling a little as you watch him pick up his basket once more. “You don’t have to go, I’m not gonna kick you out.”

“I’m out of money,” he blurts out in reply.

While technically a lie, there is some semblance of truth in it too. He’s already spent his limit of what he set out to buy today, and he really didn’t want to buy any more, just in case he needed the money for something else more important.

“That’s fine you don’t have to buy anything. It’s a nice place to relax here.”

Muriel nodded, but knowing he’s long since outstayed his welcome, he turns instead, fully ready to leave and let you forget. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to come by this side of the market place again any time soon.

“Hey! Wait!”

Oh no.

What did you want now? Did he break something? He might’ve hit or damaged some of those flowers with the basket, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to accept Asra’s gift. It made it so much harder to not bump into things. Automatically, he reaches for his pockets prepared to out himself for his earlier lie rather than have to deal with the accusations and demands for damaging merchandise.

Instead, he finds the flowers still intact, and a new one, bright yellow, and mere inches from his face.

“Here,” you say with a smile as you lean out—nearly tipping yourself out—form your shop’s little window. “Take it. Just a little something to brighten your day.”

It’s a simple little flower, with yellow petals like the sunshine that dappled through your flowers and their leaves.

He hesitates, unsure of whether or not to receive your little gift, what your ulterior motives might be, or what he needed to do for this gift, but you had been insistent, slipping the flower into his half open hand before he has a chance to back out. Satisfied with your gift, you smile with a brightness that matches the flower you’ve given him, warm like spring sunshine.

Despite the abruptness of the gift, he manages a small smile, nodding a little in thanks before he promptly turns to leave and finally be out of the market.

The simple yellow flower, with little else it could go, remained in his hand held to his chest as he weaved in between other market-goers. Listening for the sounds of shouting and screaming that never made it’s way to his ears. It’s not like you would remember. It’s not like you would even know.

Technically speaking, he didn’t have to keep it. Honestly, it’s probably nothing more than a ploy to get him to return and actually buy something from your shop, and it’s not like you’d remember him to ask what he’s done with the flower. Not like he could do anything with it anyways. Unlike Asra’s gift, it’s impractical, and Muriel finds himself wondering what you even expected him to do with it.

His fingers trail along the velveteen petals as he walks, appreciating the faint but pleasant smell that sits at the flower’s center. Whatever beauty he finds in it now is fleeting. It won’t last very long, especially since he has no vase to put it in.

It’s just a flower. He has no obligation to keep it.

It’s not like you would remember anyways.

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Shrugging the basket off his shoulders, Muriel makes quick work of putting away the items he’s bought. The bread flour gets tucked into the bottom shelf of the alcove of food he keeps in the house, and the fruits go in a bowl a little higher than that. Finally the bread is placed and covered in it’s own little box. Inanna runs around him welcoming home as he trundles around setting everything into it’s place, tail wagging like a dog. Even as she jumps up on her hind legs to greet him, she's just as careful as he is not to bump into his table, lest the cup at it’s center fall over and spill the yellow tulip it cradles onto the floor.

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Muriel returned to the market a bitter few days later. The basket had made him eager on his last trip, urging him to get everything done and over with so he wouldn't have to be there long, but he had forgotten that the chicken feed needed some extra restocking with the rain season lurking just around the corner. Muriel wasn't technically responsible for Bok-Bok and her friends. They could easily care for themselves as they, and all other chickens scattered in the forest, have been doing long before he had arrived. As a neighbor who occasionally borrowed eggs, however, Muriel had an obligation to lend a helping hand, and he knew full well how difficult the rainy season made it to find berries and seeds. There were of course plenty of worms, but robins and crows were quick to snatch those things up and some days there was just too much water for even the worms to enjoy. In those moments Bok-Bok and company would really need his help, and he was not about to let them down.

He hauls two bags of chicken feed in his basket, the bite of the straps onto his shoulders almost as bad as the bite of the cost into his limited pouch of coins. Technically he’d only really need one bag, but seeing as chicken feed was edible, Muriel was hoping to use at least some of it for his own meal within the coming days. There’d still be plenty for Bok-Bok and the others, but this would make things easier on him for a while as well.

The feed shifts side to side with every step he takes, the shift in weight feels almost hypnotizing, as he walks. It’s an imperfect distraction from the typical sounds and smells and feeling of the marketplace, but it’s a distraction nonetheless. People continue to press against him, and he feels the grains shift to his left. People continue to chatter and talk, the sound of it layered thickly over the sound of crashes and movement and moving creaky objects, and he feels the grains of the bag shift to his right. That awful smell of medicine entwined with fresh bread and he feels—

“Hey!! You!!”

Muriel freezes in place. When his head snaps to the sound of the scream, the rest of his body is already preparing to run away. And yet, when he sees that familiar face—your familiar face—he finds himself unable to move

For the second time within the few weeks he’s been here, he meets your eyes, and your own grow wide.

As if you recognized him.

Just as quickly it appears, it vanishes and you continue to yell.

“Watch your step!” you yell and point to a little spool of ribbon, sitting just where he would have stepped.

Muriel allows himself to relax, following your gaze downwards, taking a step backwards rather than forwards to find a spool of golden ribbon, lined with green that sat just beneath his feet. He’s about to apologize for almost crushing it when you promptly continue.

“I’m sorry, but yeah could you get that? I don’t want someone to step on it and trip like you almost did”

He nods as he bends over, freezing momentarily to shuck off the basket on his back when he feels the grains of feed slip forward. Taking the little spool in hand, he ducks back into the little alcove where your shop resides and hands it back to you, promptly rewarded with a smile flashed his way.

His face warms at the attention, but he doesn’t find it all too bad.

“Thank you. Oh, and here! As thanks.” You pull from behind you another flower—another tulip. It’s orange this time, tinted yellow around the edges. It’s the colour of a sunset, or his warm fireplace at night—the colour of even warmer smiles.

Although he hesitates, he takes this flower as well, bringing it to his nose to drown out the smell of medicine and food swirling together unpleasantly just a few stalls down.

It works better than the rice of his basket had managed at least.

Muriel manages a nod and soft grunt as thanks, trying to avoid the bright smile on your face as he slings his basket back onto his shoulders and trundles off once more. Another flower held carefully between his fingers.

He knows he doesn’t have to take it or keep it.

He knows he still will anyways.

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Asra visits a day or two later, and grins when Muriel is unable to give them their own cup for tea, especially since it was the one cup they had purchased themself. Still, they grin, and even snicker, as if unaware of the turmoil that brews at his inability to be a good friend and give them what’s theirs. Instead, they only fuel the fire of his anxiety and coyly remark that he should get another cup for whoever had given him his tiny bouquet of flowers.

It’s only then that Muriel realizes he could have, and should have argued back.

He still tries, though he knows it’s too late for that.

“How do you know I didn’t pick them myself?”

“Because you don’t tend to pick flowers for yourself,” Asra replies easily, grinning happy and easy, with that familiar glow of mischief in their eyes. “You should make a vase for them. It’d look nice, I think.”

Muriel can feel his face grow hot as he hesitates to refute Asra’s offer, which only makes their grin grow wider and wider in reply. Eventually he sighs, and though he doesn’t make any direct confirmation or denial, Asra laughs, knowing full well what that sigh entailed.

Despite it all, Muriel found himself smiling too.

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Muriel wanders through the marketplace a mere two days since his last visit. He’s without his basket, as he has been for the last handful of times he’s been there, but the journey is still overbearing. Visiting so often within such a short amount of time was quickly giving him a painful headache, and the temptation to just buy some spiced bread or some other delicious smelling food, to drown out the worst of the busy, busy, world around him, was only trumped by the fact that he did not bring any money with him.

Lately, on his last few trips to the marketplace, he neglected to bring any coins, knowing it’d be better for him to focus on saving up for when he really needed the money. Technically he didn’t need the money that much, being fully capable of living off of the forest, but difficult times such as the upcoming rainy season was made much easier when he could just buy the things he needed. For now, however, he’s simply content to wander through the marketplace and shop for inspiration; his only payment being his time, and the need to be there in the first place.

Carving a vase is easy. It should be easy, compared to the other things he’s carved. it’s a pretty simple wooden thing practically a deeper, wider cup with a little flare at the top like a plate. That was something he could carve, but he recalled seeing other vases around the marketplace, and despite himself, curiosity got the better of him and he stopped by to look at the vases other people had made. He’s been returning pretty often much to his dismay, as he kept on realizing or remembering the design of a vase he had only glimpsed at when he returned to the hut. Not to mention how his initial design might not even work anymore.

With every visit he’s made to the marketplace, he passed by or took shelter by your little flower shop on the way back home, and every time without fail, you called out to him. Even on days where he forgot to try and stop by, where he, fully engrossed in some other thing, or the dizzying feeling of the crowd around him, passed by the shop without a second glance. Even then, you still called out to him, with some excuse or other for you to offer him a flower. Some days he got a single tulip. Other times he’s received up to three different blooms. He gets a different flower each time, and each time he has to add the flower to his rapidly filling makeshift vase. It’s no longer a cup, but a rather sorry chunk of wood with a hole down the middle and water at the bottom. So busy with his visits to the market, he hadn’t had the time to really work on it.

If he was being truthful, he had been trying to avoid the task. What could he carve that could adequately hold such pretty flowers that you’ve given him? It’s the first bouquet he’s ever received, he wants to make something fitting for your gifts.

With how consistently you give him flowers, Muriel can’t help but forget that you don’t even remember him. He can’t help but forget you don’t really even know him. Not in the way that he knows you. Even if he knows you in sporadic fragments, he still knows you more than you know him.

Perhaps it’s made him cocky. Overconfident in his understanding of you.

Perhaps that’s why he didn’t expect to see you like this.

You are the sun, radiant and bright for your flowers, providing them warmth, providing them light before you give them away to others to illuminate their day or the day of whoever is lucky enough to receive that gift.

Somehow, he never anticipated the fact that maybe the sun couldn’t always be shining.

“I AM NOT PAYING THIS MUCH FOR THIS STUPID SHIT!!!”

Eyes shift away from Muriel towards the loud argument of some overzealous self-entitled noble who failed to recognize that the world doesn’t revolve around them. Selfishly, Muriel finds relief at the distraction bathing in how for once, in the crowd he was not the spectacle to be stared at instead it was—

Oh.

You stand under the barrage of cruelty raised against you and smile. It falters, it twists, but you do your best to maintain your smile, to appease your audience, someone who clearly did not deserve your grace.

“With the amount of money you had outlined—”

“YOU ARE LITERALLY JUST PICKING FLOWERS—CHILDREN COULD DO THAT!! WHY SHOULD I PAY SO MUCH FOR SOME DAISES YOU PICKED?!”

The stranger’s hand slammed on the small windowsill that you usually leaned on rattling the worn material below it. Bees and butterflies fled from their refuge in your flowers and even some weaker flowers toppled over under the stress. Even if he could not see it for himself, Muriel could tell you were trembling, every flower that so much as brushed against you vibrated in place, your fear bleeding into them, as you tried your best to smile despite it all.

If not for the flowers, he’d believe it too.

“WERE YOU NOT LISTENING WHEN I TOLD YOU THAT THESE WERE FOR AN IMPORTANT EVENT?!? YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL THAT I’M EVEN BUYING FROM YOUR PATHETIC LITTLE SHOP!!! IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME SOME BETTER FLOWERS I WILL—”

It’s hard to tell what compels him more, the barely restrained discomfort that you radiate, or the bitter anger that only rises with every wretched word that comes out from the noble’s poor excuse for a mouth. If he were a better person, perhaps he’d go to you first, but just like with any fight, it was foolish of him to assume violence was something he could simply stop doing.

It always came back to him one way or another.

He strode, unthinkingly with every intention to just get rid of the unpleasant nobleman. Whether he was going to punch them, shove them aside and away from you, or simply pick them up and throw them into the nearest canal, Muriel would never know, because thankfully the noble was more cowardly than they had seemed.

All it took was for him to stand behind them, his shadow swallowing them whole as he glared them down before they were scrambling backwards and sputtering threats about money and guards. A hard threat to follow through on considering the stranger won’t even remember him the next day.

He’s tempted to follow the noble as they run. Tempted to chase them down and force them to never do it again. To show them how strong they really were in the face of a cruel world. Greedy wretches like them wouldn’t survive a day in the coliseum.

But would he really be able to stomach dragging them there?

Red flickers in the corner of his eyes, and Muriel instinctively turns, bracing for the sight of blood. Instead he finds flowers, and you flinching with wide terrified eyes, and a smile barely there on your twisted lips.

“Hello,” you say, flatly, only loosely coloured with a false cheer, just barely covering your trembling voice.

“…Hi.” He manages to mutter back. “Are you…okay?”

You relax a little, no longer afraid, but a look of hurt still lingers in your expression, and Muriel doesn’t know if or how he should try to help. Still, you manage to nod, and smile, however sad it may be.

“I’m fine,” you sigh in a way that always preludes a “but”. “It’s just that, he still didn’t pay for the bouquet.”

You gesture to the bundle of flowers a beautiful splash of red all clustered beautifully together. There are a litany of different shades of red and even a few other colours amidst the bunch, each complimenting the other, looking much less like the chaotic spatter that he still had at home. He could see roses amidst the bunch, de-thorned and coloured in hues he’s never seen before. Taller more spindly flowers sit amidst the bunch as well, though he’s unable to tell them by their names unsure if they are true in colour or made to look similar to the rest through whatever magic you were using.

Despite it’s beauty, you glare at it, as if you hoped it could shrivel up and die.

“I used so many flowers for that thing, what am I supposed to do with it now?” another grumble escapes you, sounding almost like a bitter growl. He flinches when you grab a flower and it’s pot, something set out as a display, and snatch it into the confines of your shop. He almost expects to hear the pot shatter, but your hands snap back out to grab another without so much of a whisper of the first pot being set down.

“Don’t you give some of your flowers out for free?” Muriel blurts out, regretting the question as soon as he asked it. Did it sound suspicious? Insulting?

“Those are special situations,” you snap back. “Besides, I do NOT give full bouquets out for free. That shit is expensive you know?! I put a lot of time and effort into them!”

Muriel nods, but he doesn’t think you see, as you carefully yank another bundle of flowers back into your shop, angry footsteps making the remaining blooms tremble from the force of it.

“I put all my hard time and effort growing these flowers! Contrary to popular belief I am NOT just running around in a meadow, picking out little flowers to take back home and sell for cheap! I grow these things myself! I colour them! I mix them together! I’m not some nobleman with access to flower farms and flower farmers!!”

Muriel busies himself by picking up the flowers you have further out for display, and bringing them back towards your shop. He doesn’t know where the door is, burred under flowers and greenery somewhere, but he tucks the display into the nook where he had hid many times before, keeping the flowers from prying eyes and greedy hands.

It’s the only thing keeping him in place really. As you continue to stomp back and forth in your shop, ranting about rich customers trying to cheat their way out of paying for your flowers. Even if he knows it’s not directed his way, Muriel can’t help but feel a growing sense of guilt.

He did that too. He’s doing that right now.

You don’t remember it, and to you it probably seems like you’ve been giving various different strangers tulips, but he has a bouquet of them now—one even bigger than that noble failed to pay for.

He carefully tucks the last of the flower displays away, carefully arranging the flowers so that none stick out and reveal their location to onlookers, and prepares to run away, internally promising to never return and never steal flowers from you again.

What he intends as a final glance your way, hoping to leave while your back is turned, roots him in place instead.

You stand, hands over your eyes, furiously scrubbing as you try to both hide and stop your tears. Torn between running to help you and running away, Muriel stands and stares, as useless to help as the flowers that still surround you.

“I just… fuck,” you hiss, or at least you try to around the hiccups of your sobbing. “It’s just so hard. They demand money from me and then refuse to pay me for my hard fuckng work! What do they even get out of hoarding that much money?”

Why can’t he decide? The choice to help you is as obvious as it was when you were being threatened by the nobleman earlier. And yet, when faced with a problem that he can’t solve with violence he’s stuck.

It really is all he’s good for isn’t it?

You duck behind your window to hide your tears, but he can hear your back hit the wall and the hiss of fabric against stone as you slide down to your knees and succumb to sniffles and sobs.

With little else to say or do, Muriel turns and runs away.

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A moment of terror pulls you from your sorrow as you remember the flower stands you left outside the shop. You’ve already lost a lot of time and effort on the bouquet for the noble who never paid, you can’t afford to loose your display flowers as well.

About to bolt out from the shop to look for them, you glance to the shops beside you wondering if your neighbors decided to be cruel, or if you could see the escaping thief. Instead, you find your flower stands tucked away in a little alcove between your shop and one of the neighboring booths beside it. The flowers are carefully tucked beneath each other, to keep from springing up over the other shop’s crates, and remain hidden from any potential thieves.

It’s not anything grand enough to make you reconsider opening the shop back up for the day, nor does it quell the roll of anxiety in your chest, but it’s enough to make you smile again. Even if only a little.

It takes you a moment to recall that a stranger had been here only moments ago after the departure of the nobleman, but beyond their presence you can’t recall anything about them. You know they helped a little, but the how or why evades you.

Instead you return to work tucking your flowers away inside, before you finally close shop and head back to your garden.

You can’t recall what the stranger’s face looks like, but the fleeting memory of them still lingers in your mind. They remind you, strangely, of tulips.

Perhaps you could give them one next time you saw them. Hopefully you’d recognize them in the crowd.

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Muriel’s fingers sift through the flowers that sit in his little wooden makeshift vase. In a better world he’d be able to give back all the flowers he had taken from you—stolen from you—and you would be able to sell your flowers to people who could pay for and better deserved the beautiful blooms. Instead, Muriel finds many of the flowers already starting to wilt in the vase, petals growing crumpled and stems growing weak. The first flower you had given him was a husk of it’s former beauty.

He shouldn’t have gotten it in the first place. That fleeting beauty would have been better spent on someone better than him. Someone who could appreciate it better with a crystal vase—or even a simple painted clay vase to carry the flowers and show off how pretty they were.

Or just…someone with more money than him. Someone who could actually pay you for your flowers.

Someone…. Someone who would deserve them.

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Once more, Muriel makes his journey into the market, the dizzying smells and feelings and noises made all the more worse by the burden of his objective. Two pouches sat in his pockets both burning through fabric and skin to scorch him to his bones. Every passing jostle against his body had him scrambling to check if both bags were still there, panic flooding him when he forgot that he had moved one of the bags from one pocket to another.

Over and over again scenarios flashed through his mind. He tried to keep himself reasonable, tried to expect the worst so he wouldn’t be disappointed, but hope—ever stubborn, and ever cruel—slipped in regardless of his wishes. He hoped that you’d still like him afterwards, that you wouldn’t ask him to pay for all the flowers he had taken from you, that you’d be happy to be able to remember him, but the truth of the matter was, that he was just another customer. All he had been receiving was a placating smile in hopes that he’d buy from you.

If only he could hate you for that. It’d be so much easier if he could let himself feel like he had been cheated, or wronged, but you were just trying to make money for yourself, just like everyone else. Could he condemn you for that?

The sickening smell of some strong smelling meal with pungent medicine fills his chest once more, and the once familiar need to vomit at the smell grows stronger knowing your shop is only a little further away. His hands gravitate towards the two pouches in his pockets and he squeezes them, hoping that for once the universe would be kind to him and he wouldn’t make some awful mistake like mix them up and give you the wrong bag too soon.

With every step closer he gets to your shop, Muriel recites in his mind what he wants to tell you, his apology for what he’s done and his willingness to not bother you again.

Someone else is already shopping at your booth. Muriel watches from nearby, trying to remember what he needs to tell you while he waits his turn.

“If you don’t mind, I need a few flowers, not too many…”

He just needed to tell you that he was willing to leave you be.

“How many flowers will that be? Oh, and what kind?”

No, no, he needed to apologize first for taking all of your flowers.

“Any kind will do. I just need them for a… friend of mine. They’re ill, and I... I made a promise to them.”

He’d need to explain what had happened as well. Explain how he kept receiving flowers from you, and explain how he’d need to pay for it.

“Oh, I hope they’ll be okay soon, how about this?”

“Oh that looks gorgeous!”

He’d need to tell you about that magic, that kept others from remembering him, and he’d need to….

“…oh, I can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t pay that much.”

“…how much can you pay?”

Muriel watches the old man place a few coins onto the table. It really isn’t much, but telling by the clothes he wears and the stains that litter them, it’s clear that he’s been trying to save up for this. Your own eyes, grow dim at the sight of the meager amount he brings. Would it even pay for a few flowers? Would it even pay for a single flower?

Your eyes flutter closed and your hands grip the flowers as if you were going to yell at the old man, but you’re trembling as well, fighting against something before you look back up and smile.

No. No, no. You can’t be thinking—gossip travels fast in the marketplace, even faster when it’s something of concern or interest to a noble. If that person gets word that you’re giving out free flowers after that stunt you pulled yesterday…

“Alright. Take it.”

…What will happen to you?

“No—wait.” Muriel steps in, his own coin pouch in his trembling hands. “that…how much does that cost?”

It’s a smaller bouquet than what you’ve given him over his many many visits, but he still winces as you take the money. He’s now the one without enough funds to pay you back for your flowers. He’s now the one marring your reputation—making it seem like your prices are something fickle, that someone could just get a bouquet of tulips for free if they looked sad or sorry enough.

Was that why he had gotten all those flowers? You did say some were to brighten his day. Did he truly look so miserable?

The old man smiles up at him, and thanks him profusely as he leaves with his flowers. Muriel manages a smile, but a nagging feeling at the back of his head tells him it looks more like a grimace. When he turns back to look at you, you meet his half-smile half grimace with one of your own.

“Thank you so, so much for that—but you didn’t have to.”

“But yesterday—I saw—heard—” Muriel coughs, fighting the rising warmth in his face. “I heard about that… customer…yesterday. I just.... Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You smile, eyes falling closed as you recall something before you look up to him. “Yesterday, a kind stranger stepped in to protect me. It was…really sweet.”

Muriel forces himself to turn away from your fond expression. For all the preparation that he put in anticipating what he should do when you hate him, he never prepared for what he should do if you liked him.

While your attention is diverted, Muriel begins his attempt to scurry away from the situation before it grows too awkward, but not for the first time, you call out to him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Before you go!” Once more he stops and turns. He knows his face is flushed, he know he looks ridiculous, but he turns out of habit to the sound of your voice, like a sunflower to the sun. “—here. Just as thanks.”

Muriel stares at the flower you give him his mind flying back to a small cell beneath a roaring crowd. A rose coloured tulip, the likes of which he’s never seen before, sits in his palm as another gift from you. He’s never seen a tulip this red before. Brighter than the colour of blood.

He tries to hand it back, but your hands sit atop of his and push back, insistent on giving your gift.

You smile when you tell him, “Please, it’s a gift.” But he feels nothing but dread.

Another flower stolen, another bloom he can no longer afford to pay for.

He does not deserve flowers.

He certainly did not deserve yours.

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Muriel doesn’t return to the market. He doesn’t—won’t—need to for a while. The basket Asra had given him really lived up to it’s practical uses. He savors the fresh cool air of the forest, untainted by headache-inducing smoke billowing from medicine shops or blacksmiths or bakeries of sleepy bakers. The hiss and hush of the trees, sounds soothing to his ears rather than the cacophony of chatter, of yelling and demanding from sellers and buyers.

He feels alive and safe in the forest.

At least, more than he had felt when he was in the city—when he was just a child.

A lifetime of struggling for money and food and running from guards called by over zealous nobles was not something that he expected would every leave him. In the same way the blood may never wash from his hands, the dirt and disgust he carried for being one of many strays in the South End would never leave him either. It’s something he could live with though. Something he could endure within the safety of the forest.

…He just never thought he’d be the one causing someone to struggle the way he did.

It’s not the same. He knows that it’s not the same. You have a shop that you are able to maintain—a viable way to make money. With all your flowers, you probably had a garden, you probably had the ability to grow fruits and vegetables that you could eat and rely on when times got tough. And most of all, you are an adult. You can fend for yourself, act for yourself. You don’t need help the way a child does. You can survive.

…but sometimes just surviving just made things worse.

He just made things worse.

What if you were struggling for food? What if you wouldn’t be able to maintain that shop for much longer? What if all those flowers you gave him were what lead that noble to think it was okay to get flowers from you for cheap?

Even if he couldn’t be remembered perhaps people remembered seeing you give flowers away for free to someone over and over again. A free flower every now and then would hardly be anything bad but Muriel had enough to consider it a bouquet.

He had to pay you back.

It might take some time, but hopefully his carvings were appraised better than they were when he was a child. Hopefully more people liked them. Hopefully he could make enough money to pay you back soon.

Wooden animals sit between Muriel’s legs as he carved away at another figurine from a block of wood. It was a little sloppy, as was the other figures, but seeing as he needed to make back the funds at least somewhat quickly, he needed a lot of figures in a short amount of time.

The knife slipped against the wood, and cut into his hand. Deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough to garner worrry. Not for his hand at least. Blood stained the wood he carved, tainting the wooden flower with a bloody patch of red, soaking into the wood.

Muriel sighed, as the blood seeped deeper and deeper into the pale wood. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to carve the stain away to salvage the flower, he set it aside, and wiped the blood from his hand, and started again against a new block of wood.

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For all Muriel had planned and worried the location and use of a stall was not one of the things he had considered. The market was filled with vendors all squished against each other in an attempt to sell wares. Any of his old places for selling things as a child were either filled by new children, hawking trinkets and other odds and ends, or far too small for him to fit in and comfortably sell from now.

He tried to wander through the busier parts of the market, even amidst the crash and chatter of people around him, but earlier vendors had beat him to the stalls, and no one was willing to spare any space.

Eventually, though he tried to avoid it, he came down to your side of the market, where there were just a little less shops than before. Even here however there was no space that he could take that wasn’t a crushing squish against two other shops.

The familiarly grating smell of medicine and baked goods wafted past him and instinctually he glanced your way, even if he hoped not to see you and gain another flower he needed to pay back.

Only, you weren’t there at all.

Where there was once a little window surrounded on all sides by flowers that seemed to burst out from the room within, there was instead, a green door. Upon closer inspection a thin line divided the door in half so the top could be opened or the bottom could be opened, and he realized that this had been the window you once leaned out from to sell your flowers.

And now, flowerless it had been closed.

What happened to you? Did the noble come around and confiscate all your flowers for some crime you didn’t commit? Had he been too late to help you? Too late to fix his mistakes?

He didn’t know how long he had spent staring at the blank walls, taking in all the imperfections he had never seen and never wanted to see before, but it was long enough, that someone inevitably noticed him.

“Hello?”

Muriel nearly leapt up from his place and ran, if not for the person he turned to see.

Still smudged with dirt, with flower petals and leaves caught in your clothes, you stood before him, smiling but confused.

“I’m sorry, did you want something from the shop?”

The bag of coins burns in his pockets, both too heavy and too light for him to hold. He scrambles for an explanation, something feasible to explain away the situation, and allow him to go on his way once more, but his mouth dries with every attempt, and the urge to confess his crimes and get it over with builds high in his chest.

In the end, he abandons his words and shakes his head instead.

With an even more confused look on your face, you shake your head almost dismissively, but a smile still lingers on your lips. It reaches your eyes too, drawing lines across your face from the force of it all. He tries to convince himself that it’s genuine, but the doubt is hard to remove once planted.

After all, you always smile to your customers, even if they don’t deserve it.

“What are you doing here then?”

“I… Just…I’m passing by,” he manages, watching as your smile shifts for a moment. It softens, but it never leaves your face.

“Oh. Where are you off to?”

He glanced away, tempted to just give some non commital answer and just leave before you could ask something else, but he catches sight of your empty shop once more and finds his feet rooted in place.

“I…. I was looking for a space to set up a temporary shop.”

“Oh! What are you selling?”

Since it’d be easier than trying to explain, Muriel reaches into his basket, pushing aside the blanket covers to protect against the sun and the wooden support beams he was planning to use to hold the blanket up, to reveal the wooden carvings that sat beneath it all. He grabs the first one he feels pulling it free and offering it for your inspection.

“Oh! That’s so pretty!” He looks at it in your hands now, one of the flowers he had carved from wood. It’s no tulip, but he’s glad you seem to like it at the very least.

“You can keep it if you want.”

“Really?” you ask, your voice wrung with awe sounding almost almost breathless to his ears.

Despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to tell if you were actually pleased or just smiling, Muriel glances your way, finding that soft smile once more on your lips, as your fingers carefully trace around the center of the flower. He turns away from the sight of it.

“Sure.”

“Oh, hey, in exchange, how about…” Muriel braces himself for the flower you’d always give him. No matter how pretty or soft it’s petals looked he would not accept. He couldn’t, knowing that he’d have to add another flower considering how much he’d need to pay for it.

Instead, you gesture to the shop, and smile.

“Here! You said you wanted to look for a stall to sell your things at, you can use my shop.”

And though Muriel knows full well what your shop looks like, for the first time today he turns and actually looks.

Between two stalls sits the little window, where you once leaned out and smiled at him as he passed. Except, with it’s top “shutter” closed, he could now see it was a door, sitting listlessly against the off-white walls. Around it, where flowers once bloomed, cracks in the stone are so abundantly clear. Exposed for all to see without flowers covering the cracks. Sitting lifeless, colourless, and empty, he little shop seemed even smaller, crowded out by other people’s boxes. A hollow husk of what it had been before.

Or, perhaps it was hollow because you weren’t there anymore.

For all the questions he wanted to ask, all the distress and apologies he wanted to offer, all Muriel can stomach to ask, is a pathetic, strangled, “why?”

Why weren’t you using your shop anymore? Why did you remove all your flowers as if you were just moving out? Why were you letting him use that shop?

Why, even when you couldn’t remember him, did you still trust him?

Why were you kind to him?

Why—

Muriel turns to the sound before you do, the heavy footsteps of armored soldiers marching with that distinct rattle of their shiny armor that only ever meant they were here on purpose, rather than just on patrol.

You catch sight of them a moment later, the same time that they catch sight of you.

And all Muriel can do is stare.

It’s funny really, how, in the past it had almost been second nature for him to run and hide at the sound of clanking armor, grabbing any other children he’d see who had yet to notice lest they get taken by the soldiers seeking to “clean up” the marketplace. But maybe it was all that time he had to spend trying not to flinch and run from the soldiers in the coliseum lest the taunt and tease him while he was helpless to do anything else, or maybe it was the safety net that his gift provided, knowing they could never come for him.

It doesn’t matter anyways. He’s rooted to the ground, helpless to do anything to help you.

A familiar face grins behind their armored friends, looking as pleased as they looked punchable, as if tattling to the soldiers about whatever offense you didn’t commit was something they could be proud of doing. As if they weren’t just some massive coward hiding behind armor and gold.

As if they were really in the right.

He’d scowl if he could manage, but he feels far away from his body, bracing for cold impact of armored hands against mere flesh. Ready to drag him away somewhere cold and dark and alone. Ready to drag him back to the arena.

Instead, the hand that finds him is warm.

Warm fingers thread themselves between his, and suddenly he’s being pulled through the marketplace, just barely able to grab his bag before he’s running between stalls and down alleyways, as the soldiers clamor and shout clumsily crashing through booths and debris in their pursuit.

The both of you are fast, but the soldiers, trained as they are, are faster, and grow closer and closer as you stumble on each other’s feet trying to stick together. You seem to have a destination in mind, but running home with these soldiers on your tail is never, ever a good idea. You seem to know this, but you don’t seem to know how to loose them.

Muriel on the other hand does.

All it takes is a few strides and a squeeze of your hand before Muriel is leading you through the streets, diving down alleyways, and between shops and their carts, before he shoves you into a small dip between two buildings, crowded with boxes and goods from the stalls that sat on either side, and his basket set in front of him for good measure. The two shopkeepers glared his way, frustrated at his strange intrusion, but they fail to notice that he had someone with him, as they often do if that other person is hidden quickly enough. Though their eyes on him makes his skin prickle, they slide off as easily as water on oil, and soon they return to their own business, forgetting that Muriel had ever even existed as their attention drifts away, and they return to attending to their wares.

The crash of soldiers is audible in the distance, and behind him, hands pressed to his back, Muriel can feel you grow tense. Your hands ball up into fists on his cloak, and you press your face into his back as if it may be able to better help you hide from them. It lets him feel you breathe, trying to keep it slow, and deep, trying to relax yourself, but the tremors remain. It makes him want to hold you, take your hand in his to reassure you, tell you that everything will be okay, but when he still trembles at the growing sound of iron on stone and wood, all he can do is stand still and quiet, hoping to all hope that the shopkeepers beside him would not note his presence and, that what little magic he has won’t fail him,

Above all, if everything else fails, he hopes you remain safe.

Their armor glistens in the sunlight, blindingly bright, a distraction and protection he’s fallen victim to many times before. One turns his way, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, Muriel loses his breath. Behind him you tense as well, as if his tension passed onto you. As if you could somehow see through him, and met the guard’s eyes.

He wonders if you had poked your head out from behind him, wonders if the guard had somehow seen you—a scrap of your clothes perhaps, or some sliver of your skin. He hopes to all hope that you had not done so, but he tries to puff up his chest despite it all, use the width of his shoulders to truly make sure you were covered.

And no matter how much he wants to do otherwise, Muriel keeps his eyes open, and stares down not only the guard before him, but also the group behind him, watching and waiting for that moment of recognition, the moment when the guards eyes stopped slipping away, the moment when he’d have to shove the soldier away to let you escape.

To make sure no one was dragged to the coliseum again.

Someone yells behind the guard, loud and abrasive, and Muriel has to keep himself from flinching at the sound. For another moment the guard lingers, eyes still scanning the area, where Muriel stood, as if he wasn’t there at all, for a mere second perhaps, before they turn away eyes still slipping off of Muriel like water against oil. The soldiers continue on hollering and barking as they chase shadows down the street. It’s only when they fade out from earshot that Muriel finally relaxes, and behind him, he can feel you do the same.

It’s an awkward little shuffle around when he steps away to let you escape your confines. Your hand doesn’t quite leave his back so readily, trailing down before falling away, leaving phantom trails of pressure and warmth still lingering on his skin, even if you never actually touched him directly. He tries to distract himself amidst it, focus on getting his basket back on his back. Focus on the possibility of another patrol of soldiers passing by. He doesn’t notice that you had been waving for his attention until you fingers slip beneath the belts across his chest and you yank.

“Thank you,” you whisper-hiss, freeing his belt to capture his hand instead. “C’mon, follow me. I know a safe place we could lay low for awhile.

Your hand is warm in his. Sweaty from running, but warm, with callouses marking the inside of your knuckles. Your rough hands against his own, and yet cradling his carefully with your touch. In his earlier haste he didn’t get the chance to notice that.

You tug, he follows.

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For all that he’s known you, for all the times he’s visited, all he’s ever seen from you were smiles that bent your eyes with it’s fondness, soft as the flowers that surrounded you and vibrant as the sun that fed them.

But that hardly counted as knowing a person.

For all you had forgotten of him, he never really got to know you.

The city grows more glittery and sharp as you tug him towards the decrepit opulence of the flooded district, right along the edge of the temple district where old temples sat in ruin, flooded with water that bent their floorboards and made space frigid during the night. Yet those flaws hardly stopped children from scurrying into the upper levels through windows, standing in the frigid dust laden rooms, and pretending they had a better life.

He remembers doing the same himself, with vivid fondness, trying and failing to climb up the side of the building after soldiers broke all the available climbing structures, that could support his weight. Asra managed on the tiny ledges, and weak remains, but Muriel and many other children struggled to do the same.

Thick walls of ivy, and even a small tree grows there now, the ground having been cleared of tiles to make space for dirt and mud to allow for the growth.

He turns his attention back to you, as you continue to pull him past buildings, littered with new blooms that climbed the walls.

For all that you had forgotten of him, Muriel barely knew you.

–––––––––✿・✿・✿–––––––––

You stop before a fence that looms even above him, coated in greenery, with sharp, rusted metal spikes that jut out from the top of the bushes.

He can see thorns entwined with the green shrubbery, thin and clustered together to make it hard to avoid getting scratched or hurt by any attempt to climb up it, which perhaps, is why it was an area that seemed so abandoned. Unlike the well-maintained gardens of many nobles, what could a trespasser hope to find behind a fence so clearly bursting with nothing but plain shrubs and wayward thorns?

You, clearly, believed otherwise.

Muriel can’t help but wince when you jam your hand into the mess of thorns and bushes, rummaging around the plants in search for something within. He’s tempted to pull your arm out and try to get you to wear something to protect yourself, but you beat him to it, pulling back for a moment to reveal an untouched arm before you reach back in with more intent and care than you did before.

Something creaks, and the wall of ivy and bushes, reveals itself to be thinner than the foliage initially let on.

He doesn’t even need to slip through the greenery as you do to already glimpse the world within, but he does anyways, treating himself to the true magnificence of your domain. Hidden by plants and trees and bushes and thorns sits a world of flowers blooming en masse until they cover nearly every inch of the ground around it, some even spilling out from their designated places to uproot the stone tiles that made up the slim walkways between the spill of flowers.

Most strikingly, Muriel can see the tulips that line the far end of the garden, a splash of sporadic colours all clumped together in a mad swirl, spilling out from their allotted section to infiltrate pathways and the beds of their neighbors.

And amidst them, finally looking at ease, you stand, turning back to him with a smile.

“I’m sorry about that, but… we’ll be safer here for now.”

You close the door, with a gentle thud, and brush the roses around it back into place, slipping a rust-browned lock back into place, and locking the world outside far, far away.

Perhaps he should be worried that you had essentially locked the both of you inside here together, but despite being overcrowded with flowers, the garden seems so expansive he can hardly see it as being locked inside anything.

“Feel free to look around” you tell him. “Just… don’t pick anything, please.”

You flash him a smile, and as quickly as you had astounded him with the beauty of your garden, you turn away snapping your attention back to your flowers, and give him space to marvel in awe at your beautiful garden—to marvel in awe at your beautiful practice. Setting his basket aside, he watches as you crouch down, and procure a pair of shears from beneath a bush, and begin to snip away at the overgrown and wilted plants. The sun shines a halo around you as you hunch over plots of dirt, shuffling your way into the plants, and trying to pry flowers away from each other, to generate distance so one doesn’t starve the other.

It’s hard work, quick to smear you with dirt and mud, but he can see the tension fade from your back as you toil away, a means of relaxing yourself from the tension.

Though questions swirl around his stomach and chest, Muriel decides to give you your space. It’s the least he can do after all.

He wanders, carefully, between the patches of flowers, many intermingled with each other into beautiful messy arrays, some even curling around each other, to enough of an extent, that Muriel supposed you couldn’t separate them anymore. Of course, slow growing as flowers often were, Muriel wondered if you failed to notice how close they had gotten, or you simply allowed them to grow so close to each other.

He approaches your tulip patch. You have so many. Found in nearly every colour, with different patterns on the petals, and different shapes of petals themselves, all crowded into one large plot—and when that plot could not fit any more flowers, you intermingled the tulips amidst other plants, amidst other flowers that seemed to get along well with the shoots of colour.

Although he has never seen the foreign shaped and patterned flowers before, Muriel can’t help but note the abundance of red, orange, pink, and yellow tulips in your garden. A favourite, perhaps? Or perhaps they were in high demand, or perhaps they were just—

“They used to be my parents' favourite.” He turns to look at you, dirt smeared with leaves sticking to the fabric of your clothes. You turn to him and smile. “They liked to give them to each other, as a way to show how much they cared about each other.”

Something in Muriel’s chest flutters. Something else constricts. He really shouldn’t be hearing this—you don’t remember him, you don’t remember what you’ve done.

“I tend to give them out to my favourite customers as well.” Muriel scrambles for his bag. He shouldn’t be hearing this should he? No matter how much he wants to… he shouldn’t. It’s not fair to you. You don’t remember him, you might not even be harboring those kinds of feelings.

After all didn’t you say the flowers were supposed to just... cheer him up?

“Hey, do you want—” Muriel just barely manages to shove the bag into your hands, pressing further to get the bag closer to your face.

The sooner you remember the sooner you can kick him from your garden and be on your merry way, even though his stomach grows tight at the very idea of it. Your garden is beautiful. If he could stay here, or even just visit every so often he would be glad.

As it is, just seeing you smile was enough for him.

Just seeing you smile had been enough for him, but he’s taken too much from you, and he refused to take any more.

It takes you a moment, flustered as you try to protest the strange gift he’s given you, but the memories come soon enough, and rather than push, he finds you grabbing—not only the bag, but his hand as well—and pulling it closer to your face, to take a deep breath, and savor the memories.

It only lasts so long.

You stare at him now, eyes wide and mortified before your hands snap to your face trying and failing to hide you as you still cling to the bag of myrrh he had given you. Muriel closes his eyes and looks away, not wanting to see your enraged or sorrow filled face when you claimed you had been cheated or swindled of your precious, precious flowers.

Instead he hears you giggle.

It’s a nervous sort of giggle, the kind made when someone’s not actually happy, echoing in the hollow cup of your hand as you sink to the floor.

“Oh my gods. Oh gods.” The words slip between your fingers as you adjust and readjust your hands to hide your face. “Oh my gods I am so sorry.”

“What?”

“I gave you, so many flowers…”

The comment sounds like regret—that you regretted wasting so many flowers on him, but your voice doesn’t sound sad, you just sound… embarrassed.

“I am so sorry…”

“W-what?? What for?”

“Isn’t it embarrassing? I keep giving you flowers!” Your volume picks up, and though he doesn’t intend it, his own voice gets a little higher and a little louder in reply.

“Is that bad??” He really can’t focus on his volume when he’s trying to sort out all the questions you are not answering.

“ITS EMBARRASSING!”

“HOW?!”

You groan, half stifled and half agonized before you bury your face back into your knees, leaving Muriel’s mouth to snap shut with a soft clack, gritting his teeth as he silently vows to never open his mouth again—or at least refrain from doing so for a long while. He was too loud. Too close to yelling. He doesn’t blame you for being afraid.

He’s about to apologize, whisper something placating to fix his wrongdoings, but once again, you speak before he can even get a word in.

Or well, you don’t speak. You laugh.

It’s almost a mad cackle. Almost. If you didn’t peer up for a moment, looking so genuinely happy and pleased, he would have thought you had gone insane.

You’re breathless when your laughter bubbles down into hicuups and giggles, leaning your head on your arms as you peer up at him. Of course, he’s too tall for you to look without craning your neck, and that’s so much worse when you’re sitting down. He sits beside you in an attempt to keep your neck from aching, but that only seems to make you giggle more.

“So, how much to I have to explain?” You ask your question teasingly, but Muriel can’t help but notice the strain of sincerity or the way you shake ever so slightly as if scared. You’re still grinning, but he can’t help but take you seriously.

“It…. You spend so much time on your flowers…. Don’t you need the money?”

His question sobers you considerably, that smile falling away from your face. Again, he’s the one who has to tear that from you, who makes you frown instead of smile.

“I can afford to lose a few tulips.”

“It’s not a few.”

You huff, turning away from him, and again, he worries that he’s made you upset. “It’s fine. I have a lot of those ones anyways. Besides, it’s not like I give them out to everyone.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.”

“What about that old man? You wanted to give those flowers to him for free…”

You roll your eyes, and shake your head a picture of exhaustion, if not for your smile. “Yeah, well, he’s a pretty common customer, and he’s a fellow merchant. I stop by his stall sometimes and I know he doesn’t always have much, but he still wants to give flowers to his friend and all that.” You turn away from him then, tucking your face back into your knees. “Besides, I wasn’t giving him tulips.”

His brows dip again, “Tulips…?”

You sigh, loud and drawn out, tucking your face deeper into your lap. “I… remember how I mentioned my parents?”

“I… I didn’t think I was supposed to hear it…”

“If not you then who?” you gawk, waving an arm to the garden that wraps itself around you. In the beat of silence that follows, the wind rustles through the flowers, and the sound of trickling water meets the melody of a birdsong. It’s so peaceful. It’s so… lonely. Another gust of wind, and though the walls sit thoroughly coated by shrubbery and plants outside, it’s far clearer to see the iron bars from within, a mere gust of wind doing enough to show the cage these flowers have been locked inside of. To show the cage that you...

“You’re the only other person here.”

“I didn’t… I thought you’d change your mind in letting me in here if you realized….”

Once more you tuck your face into your lap, and Muriel has to wonder what makes you so miserable every time he mentions it. “Why would I change my mind after remembering how many flowers I’ve given you?”

“I thought… I thought you’d think I’d stolen them.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “I gave them to you. As a gift.”

“Would you give me them if you knew it was me returning?”

You straighten yourself, turning to him with wide eyes as if he’s said something absurd or unthinkable. He’s about to retract his statement, make an apology for whatever he’s done to offend, but you look away before he does, and though muffled, in the quiet peace of your garden, you’re loud enough for him to hear you.

“Yes.” A pause. You fiddle with a worn patch over the knees of your pants, coated in dirt, and evidence of being repaired repeatedly, it’s a well loved set of gardening clothes. Well worn. Well cared for. “If I knew it was you, I’d give you even more flowers too.”

You huff the words out as if frustrated, and Muriel can’t help but look away.

“Why?” he blurts out the question, immediately regretting it when he hears you tuck your face back into your legs. You had said it was embarrassing. He still fails to understand… how.

“You heard the story about my parents.” This time it’s not a question. With your face now tucked behind your knees and safely guarded by an arm, you wave a free hand in the air, as if expecting him to connect whatever dots remains.

As if it was as easy as that.

“You said that they did so to show how much they cared about each other.” You bury your face deeper into your lap. “But you don’t… You don’t know me.”

At this point you’ve thrown your arm over top of your head now too. Trying to fold yourself up into a little human ball. Was this what was embarrassing? That you had been showing affection to someone you’ve never met before? To someone you didn’t know? But you haven’t known each other this entire time. What made it different now?

The glows over your garden, dappling you in it’s golden warmth. There are structures in place, some tall trees intermixed with the bushes outside, but sunbeams still sneak their way to reach you, as if eager to light you up, to amend the gloom that he’s cast over you. One beam streaks across your arms, and as you peek up at him, your eye glows in the golden light, and like magic, you slowly unfold yourself, to sit normally by his side.

“I… You’re right. I’m sorry.”

That was… “You’re apologizing again.” He means to ask it as a question but it doesn’t come out like it should. Hearing it fill the silence, he wonders if that would have been worse.

“I…” again, your hands come up to cover your face, dragging over your eyes, until they’re cupped around your mouth. You’re hiding again. Embarrassed you had said, but he still can’t figure out—“Look, I’m sorry for flirting with you okay?”

Muriel chokes. You don’t seem to notice.

“You don’t have to take it as flirting at all okay? It’s just… You just looked really pretty and I just wanted to give you flowers because I thought you were nice and you helped me out so many times with all those things, you were really brave and tough and yet so kind, and, augh no, look I’m not… I know I don’t know you okay, I’m not expecting you to fall in love with me over some…silly flowers, it’s fine. I… I’m really sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry if this is just…weird. I… look my garden is pretty much all I have! People like flowers but I understand if those were maybe just not your thing, and I know maybe roses would’ve been more fitting, but those are just so hard to take care of sometimes and they’re such an overused gift, I mean I kinda thought someone like you would end up tired of receiving those gifts all the time but that’s because I was assuming that you were interested in relationships like that and—”

You keep talking. And talking, and talking and talking. Circling back to the same statements over and over and over again in new contexts as you somehow say so much and very little at the exact same time. It’s nice though. He likes listening to you speak, even if this seems to make you more stressed out than ever, but most importantly, it gives him a moment to try to collect his own thoughts, to try to get his breathing in check. And when both attempts fail, to try and find a way to fold himself up into something tiny and unseeable.

He waits for a while, hoping that you’d trail off somewhere eventually, that he would eventually be able to interject and direct the conversation away, or just…. Ask if you were… serious…. but every glance his way seems to make you more stressed, and you burst out in another round of apologies and reassurances, and on top of it all another round of compliments, many of which keenly focused on…prettiness.

Particularly him… and… being… pretty.

He doesn’t mean to grab your wrist. Poke you maybe, but he doesn’t mean to grab.

It’s just… hard to tell when he’s trying to hide his warming face behind a hand.

There’s a long stretch of silence.

And of course, you try to amend whatever mistake you think that you’ve made. “I’m so sorry I didn’t—” he has to interrupt you this time.

“No… no… It’s…”

You’re really smart. Very, incredibly clever. Burying his face in his lap sounds more and more appealing by the minute, but as much as he wants to he can’t exactly make himself look as small as you managed beside him. Besides, he just… really wants to know.

“I… you think…. I’m….” He can’t. He just can’t. His mouth opens to try, but his throat falls dry each time. It’s a struggle to get the idea of it into his mind without growing furnace-hot at the thought alone. He is a rival to the sun, by mere heat alone.

Somehow, miraculously, you understand… or at least somewhat. “You’re kind, you’re brave… you’re pretty….” You have to look away as well, lips falling victim to the press of your teeth. “You’re pretty as flowers, really.”

Muriel could explode.

You take his embarrassment as distress, faltering and wincing as you try to amend what had never been damaged. If he could, he’d press a hand to your face to shut you up. But that would mean having to remove a hand from hiding his own face away.

“Sorry! Is that….? Is that insulting? I didn’t mean for it to be insulting like that or anything It’s just you know as a gardener and all constantly working with flowers and everything and—”

“No!” he wants to berate himself for yelling. To feel ashamed for raising his voice but the sound of it is so strangled and sounds more like a helpless yelp than anything, only really serving to make him feel more embarrassed.

It’s Embarrassing…

Have you been feeling this way the whole time?

“It’s just that…” many words want to spring their way out of his mouth all at once, and considering his tongue has yet to master the skill of saying two separate words at the same time, Muriel is just left to struggle. “I’ve never…. No one’s ever… It’s not bad it’s just….” He can’t speak. He’s as effective as if he were mute, eyes practically spinning in his skull, as he tries to look anywhere but you.

Still he manages a glance your way, and it gives him pause to find you staring intently at the ground, a little smile stuck upon your lips.

“Oh.”

You try to hide it behind your hand. And Muriel’s terrified to find his first instinct is to grab your wrist and keep you from hiding away, like some sort of greedy hypocrite. To deprive you of the chance to hide when all he would ever do—all he was ever going to do, would be the exact same thing. It’s greed isn’t it? First for your flowers, and your mild kindness towards him and now—! Now!!

What was he going to do now?!

“Do you want a flower?”

You blurt the words out, slamming your hand over your lips to hide away promptly after. You’re standing now, unable to tuck yourself back into your knees, but your hands are still a serviceable shield. It’s nothing to block the words that begin to pour from your lips, but maybe you aren’t trying to stop that. Maybe it’s just your expression. He wonders at what you look like so flustered….

How greedy.

“I mean It’s just—I don’t know if you want something other than a tulip—I’ve given you so many tulips—I haven’t even asked you about your favourite flower! You know! So I just thought! Just— Any flower you want!! Just one!!”

You scurry off somewhere, possibly off to tend to your flowers for something, trying to busy your hands, or just to get away from him. He understands both sentiments very well as his hands tangle themselves together twisting and pulling as he wearily gets up and looks around your pocket of paradise once more.

He doesn’t really want to take any of your flowers. At least… not pluck them straight off of the ground.

The tulip beds overflow with flowers, and like a moth about to be burnt by the flame he wanders towards it, unable to bite back his urges when he plucks a flower from it’s place.

It’s not something he wants it’s just…

It’s stupid….. But……

You return with an armful of various flowers, small simple little things, that fill your arms and get tangled in your clothes, some even worming your way to sit around your shoulders like little faeries peering over at him.

And you offer all that hasn’t attached itself to you, to him.

You don’t even speak, you just shove it all into his arms, like some last ditch effort for… something. As if this was a last ditch effort at all.

The flowers just barely all fit into the crook of his arm, and he’s grateful for once, for being so large. That he can hold so much in one arm alone, as it leaves his other arm free to offer your tulip back to you.

It’s a sign of affection you said. He hopes you understand, because he really can’t stomach speaking right now.

Surely, surely you do… right?

Your eyes go wide as if it was not your own flower he had been offering to you, gingerly taking the little bloom by it’s stem into your own hands.

And when you glance up at him, looking so happy, so giddy and yet trying and failing to hold it all back, he finds that same warm sunshine you’ve offered him when you leaned out your window the first time you met.

It’s so bright, it almost burns. At least, it certainly makes his face burn. He can’t stare at you for long, turning away sharply as he fights the urge to take more than he’s due, to sweep the dirt from your face, pluck the flower from your hand and tuck it behind your ear…. Or…. Something…..

He has to go. He has to leave. His face can’t take much more of this overwhelming warmth.

“I have to—” he begins his retreat muttering as he goes, but you grab him, your hand clinging to the slim portion of his wrist, fingers slipping beneath the cuff, to sensitive skin beneath, as if scared that he might try to tear your hand from his skin.

“Wait you….” Your smile faltered, growing into something sad as you stared at him. “Will…. Will I remember you?”

And for all he wanted to escape, he turns back to you to slip your fingers free from the uncomfortable hold they have on his wrist, to instead take your hand in his own and give what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze. “Yes. You…. Yes. You’ll remember me. So long as you have that pouch I gave you…”

He can see it in your eyes, in the furrow of your brow and how you lean closer to him. You want to know why. What had happened to him, how it happened. You want to ask about the spell that he asked for himself.

But you don’t.

That soft smile glows his way instead, and you squeeze your own hand against his once more.

“Okay,” you say hand already falling slack. “I’ll see you in the market then.” You’re just barely holding on to his fingers now, still squeezing, still trying to let go. “You’ll visit, right?”

He wants to say yes, but you’ll remember him now, and he’d hate to leave you waiting for him.

“The market isn’t really….”

“Ah right." You laugh, though a little awkwardly. "How about here then? Do… do you think you can come back here sometime?”

He nods, not trusting his voice to speak for him. Your fingers are nearly gone from his hand, but you curl them up against his anyways, giving one final squeeze before your hand falls away.

He turns, and with the loud creak of the metal gate marking his departure, he sends one final glance to you, finding you grinning from ear to ear, waving at him as he goes. “Come back soon! I really want to get to know you!”

Tongue tied, and the need to escape burning furiously through his body, Muriel smiles and nods, before he slips through the gate and through the foliage that hides it, already planning the fastest way to get back home, and the fastest way to return to your garden the next day.

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When Muriel gets home his hands are a trembling mess. He misses many times, trying to slip the many flowers he’s received back into the little cup along with the others. Perhaps it’s a bad decision to take up a knife when his hands are trembling this much, but just as much as he shakes with the overwhelming wave of anxiety from talking with you, he trembles just as much with an itch to create.

It’s hard work, and long work, and it’s very far from done when the sun finally sinks down into the sky, but the shape is at least there, and tomorrow he’ll work on scooping out the insides of it to make a vase.

His thumb sweeps over the patterns clumsily carved into the wood but he smiles as he follows the grooves of his work.

A little heart sitting amidst a garden of clumsily carved flowers.

It’s fitting, in a way.

It seems to be where he’s left his own after all.

……

…It…also seems to be where he’s left his basket.

Ah, well, looks like he’ll have to go there tomorrow then, right?

#answering asks #Anonymous #x reader #reader insert #Muriel x reader #Muriel the arcana #Muriel #the arcana muriel #the arcana muriel x reader #the arcana #Muriel the mountain man #Muriel the hermit #muriel of the kokkhuri #muriel arcana #muriel the hermit

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sammylovesbendy · 1 month

Note

Is there a rewrite Alice/Allison at all? Or any of the other cast?

i only have concrete designs for bendy alice and sammy, but i have ideas for the others!

alice is literally two faced and hides in shadows to give the appearance that she is alice angel so she can manipulate henry. itd be revealed later on that shes evil and also susie (susie in this rewrite having killed allison before being sacrificed by joey to bendy) in the second game wilson would do experiments on her to remove her "bad side" so when she joins the escaped convict gang shes very weak from that but still evil

i dont have much of a concrete design for allison but i know that she was captured by alice and put in a birdcage and you free her after you beat alice. shes also not great though and mainly tags along with you (+ tom) so she can use henry to escape + also ransom henry to bendy or the cult if it comes to it

i dont really have designs for anyone else but its obv a work in progress :)

#rewrite

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gold-rhine · 5 months

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caught up on hsr events as im traveling, and was pleased to see that they continue to give characters actual personalities, which should be normal, but after luofu can't take this for granted

especially was pleasantly surprised at ruan mei, who is obv hsr version of rhinedottir - genius researcher obsessed with creating life, specifically recreating dead gods, despite immense danger. i was long concerned genshin is gonna soften rhinedottir into a mommy or smth, but ruan mei is giving me hope bc she is an unapologetic, stone cold bitch who is not like evil, but so ruthless and focused on her goal that she will use ppl, rewrite memories, mind control, put entire space station in danger at the slight chance of success of her experiment. her relationship with her creations is also interesting - its not hat she's cruel to them intentionally, but she creates for specific purpose and if they fail, she doesn't hesitate to discard them. like she's sympathetic to them to some degree, but dismissive of their love and need for her, not even out of malice, but bc they don't seem important enough for her. she's pleased someone else is taking care of them, but she would not do it herself. this all i think tracks with rhinedottir and has more heartbreaking implications in genshin, bc the creations are not some cat-cake pets there.

on a lighter note, dr ratio is actually the rude reddit annoyingly condescending know it all that ppl are pretending alhaitham is, when he is not

#rhine talks #i support the womens wrongs

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huynun · 4 months

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So since I’m basically rewriting the show, I sort of know in general terms how I would want to lay out the first two seasons and part of the third

Season 1

- setting things up

- very episodic, you can watch most of them out of order (like a lot of shows seem to start)

- Chloe is the stereotypical mean girl

- setting up the friendships between Alya & marinette and adrien & Nino

- also setting up a friendship (and soon one sided crush) between adrien and marinette

- at some point, they have the hotel work study episode (with changes like the akuma won’t be quite the same and Chloe isn’t quite as obvious about giving the bad jobs to the people she doesn’t like) which is the beginning of marinette’s ties with jagged stone

- marinette also becomes class rep despite Chloe’s efforts

- some identity shenanigans but not too many since Lila is on the same school schedule as them

- Lila isn’t really a threat as a civilian but does make some comments and if you look closely, she does benefit a fair amount from the attacks, getting more effective as time passes

- don’t reveal who has the butterfly miraculous until the finale

- speaking of the finale

- adrien fully cuts off his friendship with Chloe after she does something horrible to his friends (after a season of them teaching him that it’s okay to set boundaries etc etc)

- obvs a more intense akuma

- marinette also gets a good win against Chloe when she lashes out about losing her friendship with adrien which does not help Chloe’s mood/vibes

Season 2:

- starts with Lila beginning to make herself a bigger name in the class and start trying to get an in with adrien

- she makes up lies that are somewhat out there but not easily provable

- however, she does say something that tips marinette off that she’s lying but has something to do with being ladybug so she can’t prove it

- Alya hears her say that this girl is lying and listens but doesn’t put much stock into it (like canon but actually hears her out and tries to alleviate some of her concerns even if not necessarily well)

- no one truly turns against marinette but they do brush her concerns off for the most part

- throughout the season, it’s still pretty episodic but things do escalate

- Chloe is still causing problems but fewer and less on purpose, beginning a redemption arc

- Lila makes more subtle digs at marinette and does things to try and isolate her (with varying amounts of success)

- Lila also becomes more blatant and cocky with her use of the butterfly miraculous

- meanwhile, Gabriel and Nathalie have been investigating the use of the miraculi, they can’t just figure it out because there are glamours over them but they can figure out that the butterfly holder is from the school since lila has been getting over confident and cocky about her use of it, thus they can survey the school and catch her

- when they see lila transform, it’s the second to last episode

- ladybug and chat noir have been investigating as best they can too in spite of their many responsibilities

- in the last episode, they figure out lila (not sure how yet) and try to set up a plan to catch her and take the butterfly miraculous

- they end up being just too late, seeing lila upset on the floor and Gabriel transformed into Hawkmoth leaving

Season 3

- starts with stoneheart

- when lila had it, she was bound to the children’s limits and only ever really did akumas with mind control and other things that didn’t result in property damage or real injury

- immediately, Hawkmoth comes in hard with something big that affects the city instead of just a small area

- ladybug only had the lucky charm power and since lila was on limits (and just didn’t know she could) they never had to actually catch the akuma after breaking the object

- though both ladybug and chat noir gain new powers (haven’t yet decided what I want chat’s second power to be) they don’t know how to use them yet (ladybug needs to capture the akuma and use the energy she gets from purifying it along with her own to cast miraculous ladybug) so things go similarly to canon stoneheart

- since it ramped up so suddenly and combined with the failure to get the butterfly from lila before, marinette really feels like she needs to give up, that she can’t do this, and tries (and fails) to give her miraculous to Alya

- an episode or two later, ladybug and chat noir are really struggling to face the butterfly without limits so fu releases the fox and turtle

- even with the help, marinette begins to buckle under the pressure of her responsibilities

That’s all I got for now

#you can add or question or critique if you want #these are just the main ideas I’ve come up with #probably will add more later #anew au #mlb #mlb au #miraculous ladybug #lila rossi #gabriel agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe

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wonderland-x-showtime · 1 year

Note

I'm sorry if I submitted a request alr or if reqs r closed - I'm forgetful with things like this - but could I ask for some rui x reader comfort where reader is someone who gets along with basically everyone at school well and Rui feels like he isn't deserving of them as a partner because he's not as emotionally open or "normal" as them? So, reader asks him about not spending as much time next to them at school as he typically does which causes him to just break a little and cry.

Thanks in advance, you obv dont have to do this tho!

RUI WITH A MORE POPULAR READER

THIS IS SOOO BITTERSWEET poor rui frfr…,,, sorry this took so long! like i said finals is literally this week and I’m more busier than usual! and don’t worry, you haven’t submitted a request until now! also, i didn’t really understand what it meant by "reader asks him about not spending as much time next to them as he typically does”, so i went with my best guess and though that maybe you wanted RUI to just.. slowly avoid reader subconsciously as he also subconsciously held himself back during the Halloween event in wxs when TSUKASA gets injured by one of his inventions? sorry if this is not the case, please let me know and i will rewrite it. hope you enjoy the show!

KAMISHIRO RUI (神代類)

when you first started dating, RUI was honestly surprised. of course he didn’t doubt your love as just a simple prank on him, but he did overthink a lot bit since he’s well aware of both your social status’

you’re incredibly popular and loved by many people in school while he’s.. nobody. he’s a weirdo, as others would put.

you knew that and you still loved him despite the rumors spreading around that he might plan on blowing up the entire school, why? he genuinely believes he’s ruined your social reputation just by talking to him. despite all the rumors and weirdness he brought, you genuinely loved him.. right?

he doesn’t open up to you about his concerns as he was afraid you would realize that he’s right and leave him. instead he treats you in the best-RUI way possible.. although he’s a bit dumb when it comes to having a romantic relationship.

slowly say by day, the constant overthinking about how much he thinks he’s ruined your social life has taken a negative toll on his mental health and thus subconsciously led him to avoiding you more around school. it hurt him doing this but knew you’d be better off without him

this devastated you greatly, but you weren’t ready to give up on him. one day you finally corner him (NOT LITERALLY LMAO) and desperately ask him why he’s been avoiding you many times during the weeks which eventually led to months.

while he wouldn’t really cry at any situation, this one led him to slowly break down a tiny bit as he still tried to smile a bit, although it was very wonky and just sad to look at. he’s a quiet crier, so he whispers gently and tells you everything he’s been constantly thinking about. your reputation, his reputation, how he feels like a bad curse that’s ruining your reputation.

in the end though, you comfort him with a hug and a pep talk (or just a simple pep talk if you’re uncomfortable with physical touch) that you don’t care how negatively he affects your social reputation. if anyone dares to ask why, you will by staying by his side no matter what. you chose him as your boyfriend for a reason.

eventually this calms RUI down as he apologizes for crying a little bit in front of you, feeling very embarrassed by it. you tell him it’s fine, and he thanks you, thanks you for everything you said specifically. he knew you meant it deep inside your heart, and eventually he was able to return back to the same old RUI after that moment of vulnerability he had

while after since then he’s been less concerned about his reputation ruining yours, the thoughts will still be in his mind no matter what. it’s not like it’ll go away the minute you told him how you truly felt about him, but it’s mostly in the back of his mind now. he tries now to be more open to you privately about his feelings, knowing he shouldn’t keep you in the dust anymore.

#WAHAHA! WONDERLAND X SHOWTIME HAS APPEARED! ✨ || writing~#pjsk #pjsk x reader #project sekai #project sekai: colorful stage #wonderland x showtime #wxs x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #kamishiro rui x reader #rui kamishiro #kamishiro rui

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akutasoda · 4 months

Note

hi, may i req natsume soseki with a granddaughter (platonic obv) who has a thread ability? like the one from black clover's vanessa enoteca?

family threads

synopsis - when natsume's grandchild has a 'thread' ability

includes - natsume - platonic!

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst??, small mention of broken bones and open wounds, wc - 363

↪natsume has rather complicated relationships - especially if it came down to any living relatives. truth be told, he probably would distance himself from most of them as he has alot of people after him and the last thing he'd want is for them to suffer.

↪but sometimes he can't bear to break some relationships, especially when it came to you.

↪you were quite the powerful ability user in his opion and that was actually the truth. and it probably was because of this that he felt he could still let himself be in contact with his grandchild.

↪and maybe part of this also came from his need to want to protect you. your ability would definitely make you the target for certain people if you weren't careful.

↪originally he would think nothing off your ability - it was just another part of you. but when he really stopped to think about it he did find it slightly unnerving.

↪he assumed by your simple description you provided him, that your threads were akin to that of a puppeteer. bounding your targets to act as you commanded - but he had faith in his grandchild that you'd use it appropriately.

↪he was surprised to find out your ability also encompassed more healing properties aswell. he was quite proud to know that you had helped out your companions by sealing open wounds or holding their broken bones in place with your threads.

↪but he was significantly more surprised to know that your ability had more, permanent effects. he couldn't help but stress to you over and over again about the power you held when he came to know your ability allowed you to control fates.

↪rewriting any recent events to make them turn in your favour. now that was what made your ability dangerous. he had a whole faith in you that you wouldn't use that for more sinister reasons.

↪ however should something happen, family or not, he wouldn't hesitate to turn against his own blood to ensure the safety of yokoham and beyond.

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd natsume #natsume x reader #natsume soseki x reader

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the-beginning-is-ending · 10 days

Text

HOUSE M.D × WarriorCats

FelidaeMD is yet another crossover between HouseMD and WarriorCats, where I will be actively rewriting the series, along with adjusting it to fit the warriors series.

This is a remaster post for the designs that I created before, and overall I might make a fic for this AU, but no promises! Anyone is free to use these designs for unrelated things or for their own stories and AUs.

Designs + info under the cut!

LINENCURL - LINENSTAR ( Cuddy )

Norwegian-Forest-Cat based! I took inspiration off of a sheep, because of her bangs within the show always reminded me of one.. and idk she has sheep vibes. She also has extra toes on one of her front paws! No reason, just cuz I thought it'd be cool.

JASPERWREN ( Wilson )

Based on an American-Curl +a little heart-like dot on his face! He's the Mediator of the clan they're within, cuz I thought it'd be fitting. More wavy-ish fur.

HARSHGUST ( House )

He's a Cornish-Rex mix. I saw this in a certain Warriors-AU and really liked it, but I can't remember the goddamned name of it (going feral rn). Either way, credits to them! One of his front claws is declawed, just for some detail, and he is the main medicine cat of the clan. Also! Cats, and many animals, can get blood clots and things like that, so it's the same thing that fucked up his leg. No monster or anything like that.

EVERGREENFALL ( Foreman )

I really love his design.. idk why.. he's a Burmese mix, and yeah! He's another medicine cat that House mentored, and stuff like that. Simple. Idk I just love drawing him too!! Also! Extra toes like Cuddy, cuz after all, he does replace her.

AIRYCHIRP ( Cameron )

A Somali! I couldn't decide if I wanted to lean blonde or brown, cuz I think of both when I see her... but I thought an in-between would fit better. I love her chronically sad look... she's so funky...

RAVENCOIL ( Chase )

A marbled Bengal. He didn't change much... as u can tell. It's just him. Same paws / tail being a lighter color as House, following in his paw steps and stuff.... idk. he.

REEDHAIL ( Thirteen )

No real reasoning in her design! I decided on a rex mix with other stuff in there cuz I thought her being a mix was more fitting, is all. (I think the rex part came to me from the same au as the house-rex thing, but I can't remember! sry!!)

VASTAMBER ( Amber )

Her design came easily to me. I saw it since day one, as a simple wirehair cat. It just immediately came to mind. This graceful, golden wirehair who just always looks so.. oddly relaxed.

COLDTAIL ( Taub )

Scottish fold was so obvious.. and also from the same one as House/13, I believe? Idk I just thought it was rlly fitting! I wish I could've gone further with his design, but overall, it's Taub. I think it matches him well enough! itty bitty guy....

LYREKRILL ( Kutner )

Kutner was either gonna be a snowshoe or Siamese, and I thought Siamese fit better, so here he is! I rlly like how simple he is, and Siamese are honestly some of my favorite cats so obv I like him... if only he stuck around for longer. But he definitely made his impact on the show.

Since I cannot add anymore images (yes, very unfortunate) and Vogler / Tritter didn't change designs one bit, they won't be in this post. I'll post them later on probably, but yeah.

They did get clean refs tho.

Plainsclan — Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital

Boarclan — Voglers Clan

PrincetonClan — Clan near the edges of the city where Vogler comes from

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joocin-thebox · 1 month

Text

what if my g5 headcanons that will ultimately influence the story progression in my "rewrite" of mym?

under cut ofc because bitch we really get into it!!! (aka, long post)

i am one autistic bitch who feels let down my g5 in some aspects but mostly in a sense that it's just... missing some things!

disclaimer? i realy like g5. i come back to watch mym and tyt and the movie because it brings me joy and i like seeing the characters do things!

HOWEVER i personally feel like the story and writing is a bit... lack luster? im not sure if its because we're just missing so much information that's going to be explained later, or if the writers just... are struggling to piece together this lowkey mess of a situation our favs are in!

i just want to make sense of it all, and im a storyteller not a theorist so im not doing that theory stuff :) im just going to spew headcanons and be happy abt what i think could be implied by the writers that we dont actually get expansion on

[4/28/2024 edit] i drafted this way back in december '23 or jan '24 so some of these might seem "duh ofc! Thats canon!" but yeah, i just had it in the drafts for a loonngg time

now another disclaimer uhm,... when i "rewrite" mym im... not exactly going to remove key details? i think my intent is to include some things into each chapter that will make it a bit more digestible to all demographics? i like the sillies, i like the serious, and mym hits some really strong points that i think were executed perfectly! there are some things that are just spot on!

but again i just think mym is missing some elements and my headcanons are a result of that (obv bc thats what a headcanon is omg).

only big different in my rewrite will be opaline because her character is just... i dont know but i dont enjoy her. and i love villains. i am a villain enjoyer, and as many others have pointed out, she just randmly decides to be evil for the sake of being evil which sometimes i get it but before then it seemed like more than that? so im going to stick to "its more than that" and she has an actual solid goal in mind :)

this is more of an autistic revelation turned writing exercise so YAY let's see how this goes!

HEADCANON TIME!

i love sunny!! since the movie she's been such a cutie and one of my favorites! in tyt and mym however, they have a habit of watering down her character to "naive protag who has flimsy and unbased morals" and that doesnt really sit right with me? sooooo headcanons for sunny? (and some others but mainly ones that focus on sunny)

Sunny likes history as a way to connect with her dad, and she collects things she thinks he might have liked, and continues his research partially because of her own ideals of friendship and spreading it, but also because part of her thinks she has to carry on his legacy

Sunny and Zipp have a "likeminded, different methods" leader rivalry

Sunny and Pipp love to spa day together! They're also late risers, and love healthy meals and afternoon strolls

Sunny lets Pipp style her mane and tail ALL the time for inspiration because she likes the pampering a little and bc she wants to help Pipp

Sunny does her best to assist her friends with their jobs from time to time. Mostly because of her admiration of Twilight and her idea of friendship meaning spending time doing things your friends love to do

Sunny invites them to help her make new smoothie ideas too

Sometimes Sunny spends time in the observatory, reminiscing her memories with her father. Typically on anniversaries and holidays. It's her form of quiet time

Sunny doesn't actually like help when she's cooking, not unless shes genuinely biting off more than she can chew. She'd rather her friends share the space with her while she cooks, and maybe grab an item or two for her when her hooves are full

Sunny considered looking to study magic after getting her alicorn powers, (zipp definitely encouraged it) but Sunny decided against it because 'she doesn't need magic if she has her friends'

Sunny isn't actually good at helping her friends emotionally. Her love language is acts of service, so kind words are all she can really offer.

Canonically (comics), Sunny likes to read! I like to think she has her own book nook and really likes books that are about overcoming odds and happy endings

(Based on the movie) Sunny's most noticable character flaw is believing every choice she makes is justified. A “ends justifies the means” type of character. She grows out of this when she learns she can rely on others to find a solution.

When given no option to explore, Sunny is a theorist more than a researcher

She was NOT immune to propaganda (but she knows what she truly believes in)

Sunny acts without forethought, and when there’s a kink in her quick plan, she forces herself to stop and reevaluate. All the same, she's sensitive to failure.

She is also quite intuitive, with her theories (even though help crafted by her dad) tend to be correct in one way or another!

Sunny was reluctant to rebuild the lighthouse because part of her felt like, starting over meant forgetting her father (as it tends to go, with grief of a parent.) [Her friends help her come around and work with her to give her father's stuff a safe space in the brighthouse]

oh man that's a lot! NEXT!! (any hc i have following posting this will be reblogged to here!!)

I care so much about Zipp and the ways she can grow as a character. She was deep from the beginning but we never really got into more of her rather than her detective side. which i appreciate of course, but you know :)

Zipp is a natural leader (which in my rewrite i want to subtly emphasize this difference with Sunny learning to be a leader)

[Sunny and Zipp eventually would learn to work as a team, rather than one person having a more important say]

Zipp would be the one to teach Sunny what it means to lead, mostly indirectly, but sometimes directly

She leans away from leadership entirely and it causes a disconnect between her and her mother :(

She's drawn to puzzles and mysteries (especially in fiction) but prefers them in really fantastical settings

Zipp loves history, and views it as clues to her research about many things. If it's unrelated to current problem or doesn't have one on hand, she's not likely to read any history books

Zipp loves for Hitch to play detective with her. They snoop out clues together, and he helps her loosen up to solve the mystery faster as well as be more open minded

Zipp is wary of new ponies, and isn't quick to welcome anypony she doesn't know already or anypony not already dedicated to a cause (evidence: misty)

Zipp thinks Sunny studying magic and becoming more powerful would just be awesome to see

Zipp has a "problem" of being right all the time (sagittarius things)

After she gets ignored enough times about something she knows is true, she kind of just stops contributing to any conversation unless she has everypony's attention or if they're all out of ideas

She isn't a big fan of change? She prefers not to do new things all the time

But she LOVES a challenge!

Zipp is uncomfortable with being royalty in general. I assume she’d detach from the whole royalty thing entirely, and agree with Sunny’s ideals of democracy and equality to the point of stepping down as heir. Or she grows into her role, and becomes more and more queenlike each passing day

Zipp seems like the type to always be thinking, even during conversation. She isolates when things get too rough for her, and she's very quick to come up with schemes

Zipp is not good at lying. She avoids responses or tells half truths

She's an adrenaline chaser

Zipp starts out especially sarcastic toward Hitch because he's a sheriff and she thinks that's silly. Also because they have different ideas of leadership when they first meet.

Zipp (as well as Izzy and Sunny) love adventure!

i was so iffy on izzy when they introduced her in the show... i feel like she went from being an actual character with thoughts, to... watered down pinkie pie which is not enjoyable lol but anyways i like her actual moments of personality (not implying her lol XD random!! moments ARENT personality, but there are time where she's actually pushing it to the point of it being genuinely irritating with no comedic payoff :/

I BELIEVE IZZY HAS A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY!! it just makes sense!! [she remembers in complete detail, or doesnt remember at all until way later]

Izzy would rather lighten the mood than make serious decisions :) She doesn't avoid action, but she does avoid sole leadership

to me, she's Brave and Direct and will step in if nopony else will. the type of character who isn't the hero, but will get the job done

Izzy in my mind is prone to going off on her own and not running ideas by ponies before acting which :) has its issues but comes in handy!

Along with Pipp and Hitch, Izzy LOVES nature! She teaches them both about Bridlewood's flora and fauna :) eventually they start having plants in the brighthouse and wanna explore all flora and fauna in the 3 locations

Izzy likes plants and is curious to what types of plants there are outside of bridlewood

Izzy learns some kind of multitasking spell, where she can create many things at once if she is making things in bulk :D

she does feel out of place in the friend group (canon to canterlot comic) and has a hard time making friends with the unicorns in other places :( [this is up until Misty, who makes her feel better]

Izzy sees Misty as a best friend :) But also takes on a silly older sister role with her!

She helps Misty grow into herself, and feel more secure with her past bebcause Izzy passes on her "damaged doesn't mean useless" ideals she usually saves for her unicycling

Izzy inspires Misty to use creation to get out her feelings, like making tea or exploring with crafts, just to find peace. She also helps Misty get out of her comfort zone in smaller ways, helping her try new things

When Izzy went looking for Maretime bay, Bridlewood just thought she went missing

Izzy wants close unicorn friends :( someone to genuinely bond with [see: Misty]

Izzy’s creativity comes from being really resourceful, BUT as a unicorn that lives in trees i’d imagine she’d have more respect for the trees of any kind LMAOO

she’s always got a solution to a problem even if unconventional or… surprising... but quick thinker!

Izzy loves to create things she can share with her friends (even when she has none, its the future thought that counts)

Izzy is the tallest out of the 5 of them? At least she’s taller than Pipp and Sunny

Izzy believes in Sunny way more than the rest of them do :) When Sunny has a plan, Izzy is ready to back her up!

now i see so many mixed opinions on pipp, but its mostly bc she's social media pony and i can't lie.... i tire of it... but pipp is great on her own! i dont think there's too much wrong with her, but at the same time i havent picked up much of her character and personality outside of social media (aside from this list ofc)

Bc her sister loves mystery and being a detective, Pipp lowkey has a spy hobby :) it started when they were kids, but it came back once they moved to Maretime bay

Pipp plans extravagant fake cases for Zipp every birthday :)

Pipp got her love of mystery (and by extension: horror / spooky) from her sister

Pipp does not have an interest in being any type of leader! she likes to inspire, but not lead :)

Pipp loves to glamp, and takes Hitch with her! Sometimes she camps with him to "embrace nature"

She likes to hear Sunny's spooky stories of the Everfree Forest

Pipp is a speed reader >:3 Any book she reads she just zooms through it

She's a great liar, for acting purposes but also just to save her hide.

Pipp can also be max sneaky, or by being the younger sib with no real duty to fulfill, its much easier for her to slip under the radar. Could be a reason she adores fame so badly and chases it harder than Zipp or Haven do

Pipp knows the city streets like the back of her hoof

She doesnt take Hitch’s title of sheriff very seriously unless she’s in Maretime bay

Pipp is VERY good at being a hype pony [ She was so happy to hype up sunny i ship pipp x sunny call that star petals ]

ill be so honest, hitch was my favorite from the beginning :D he's my favorite g5 pony ever, he's so cute and i love him to no ends!! i really liked seeing him stand up for what he believed in, and then when sunny was like "look, i told you" he didnt try to make any excuse why any pony kinds couldnt be friends :) he accepted it and was ready to help! i loved his moral code, you dont see a lot of lawful good characters this day and age (as far as ive seen)

BUT they did... do something to change his character in mym and tyt, taking away his love for order and replacing it with "stupid cop" gags and him being extremely silly. I miss his overconfidence and ego :( i dont think it should have left with the movie's end, it would have been so funny is he was still such a hardass

When Hitch gets stressed, he tries to alieve the situation and then calm down

Hitch is a scaredy cat

He has an overwhelming love for Maretime Bay, and typically likes to stay there if he can

Hitch liked not having magic so he doesn't actually use the new magic he gains

Hitch is loved by everyone in Maretime Bay, and he loves to protect him as much as he can, but he doesn't baby them

He makes jokes about a holiday about him where everyone cleans up litter around town, but insists its a joke

He gives good advice!

Hitch wanted to protect Sunny from being alone, and often protected her from bullies

Hitch doesn't put his friends above the law, and insists on fair punishment

After he gets Sparky, Hitch doesn't get to work out as much

Adding onto that, Hitch and Pipp bond over mane care

He's a realist, and knows that he can be wrong. But he'd rather the proof be shown first before he switches his ideals

Hitch is always open to listen

so called "free thinkers" when misty brightdawn is the best character in make your mark by far, solely because she feels (to me) like the only 3 dimensional character in the series :/ otherwise i just love her range and how silly she can be :) she feels real and fleshed out and obv she's just cute

Misty's special talent is actually inspiring change within herself and in other ponies, but whatever mym said is fine too

She's a jack of all trades after being made to be basically a maid of Opaline

She's got an excellent sense of direction

Misty got magic with everyone else, but bc of being in Opaline's castle, it was delayed, and weaker + Opaline forbade her from using it

Misty is more willing to confide in Sunny if prompted, because of all the times Sunny's protected her from pressure + Sunny is just a nice beacon of hope to talk to

Misty and Sunny bond over having to find their place in the world on their own due to absence of parent

Misty likes exploring creative outlets with Izzy

Misty hangs out with Sparky and Hitch n they're like a little family (blatant Histy shipping...)

Misty knows a lot about ancient artifacts

Misty (should) have her own room in the Brighthouse specifically for her, that only she and Zipp know about bc they both like quiet time

Misty and Opaline have a similar was of thinking after being together for so long (even though they weren't close)

Her moral code isnt cyrstal clear, due to her conflicted ideals after meeting the mane 5

She doesn't see Opaline as anything more than a faulty mentor and boss, but Opaline does provide for her so Misty is fine to stay

Misty and Izzy bond over basically being outcasts of Bridlewood (for different reasons)

Misty does not scare easy (vs Hitch who does, and Pipp who loves to be scared)

#long post #mlp g5 headcanons #mlp talks #mlp headcanons #mlp g5 #my little pony a new generation

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