#the brighter pink and darker brown looks so nice!!!

[wyfy-meltdown]

Ok so I know that the other Holy Quintet girls have much more obvious/drastic changes to their costumes but THIS

IS SO CUTE AND WONDERFUL FOR HER!!!

[dizzyisdizzy]

How do you usually pick your color palettes? I love how vibrant your drawings are without been intense to the eyes

I went over a couple things in a previous ask. So I’ll include some different ones this time.

A big part is just having an archive of 'things' in your head that develops your intuition when choosing colors. Not necessarily other illustrations/characters, but also logos, buildings, irl stuff? They all give you not just color palette ideas, but also color distribution. You can simplify both trees and bushes as green/brown, but if you picture their colors in abstract, the distribution of each differs. And that helps a lot in recognizing areas where your colors seem lacking, or areas where they *should* be lacking (and thus not attention-grabbing).

In general though I look at a char and decide on a 'main idea'; usually a 2-3 color scheme based off the original design that everything needs to revolve around. Pink/Blues, Green/Orange, Black/Red, etc.

From there my first pass at colors is splitting the piece into different elements (hair, clothes, skin) and giving them a high-max brightness base color with arbitrary saturation, and the lineart a notably higher saturation (and maybe darker) version of the base, usually hue shifted a bit to the left or right (Note this often won't be enough).

Some elements won't fit cleanly in the 2-3 color palette, or would blend in too much with the surroundings (especially with stuff like accessories or clothing patterns). In those cases I mess with the saturation, or use one of the other hues I've limited myself to in order to make it pop out more (outlining the object or giving it a shadow with the opposing color, coloring the lineart surround it, removing the lineart, etc).

Basic shadow colors is usually higher saturated and hue shifted versions of the base color.

The limited pallette creates situations where I'll use pink to act as highlights on Miku's blue hair. Or the pink is used to create extra hair strands for more volume. Limitations force creativity kinda deal.

Trial and Error 🙃. Get used to putting sets of shadings on separate layers so you can lock transparency and change the whole color at once. Same for having a dozen layers clipped to the lineart. Clip has a 'take me to layer this is on' button under Operations that's quite nice for this.

Choose a base level of brightness (usually max for me) and don't deviate too much. Brightness is a powerful part in how your art 'reads' so making something notable darker/brighter than the rest should be a deliberate decision that you make several other choices around. On that note, when I do make something dark, I make sure the lineart around it feels bright and saturated against it.

A buddy told me this trick where you have a layer of pure black on top of everything else. Have the layer setting to "Color" and it gives you an alright idea of how well your brightness reads.

Ok I wrote a lot.

[angelellipsis-devilofdots]

re: tad songs visualization

im curious what Dsftsa or inkpot gods look like to you :>

synesthesia is a.. cool? thing that im always curious about

synesthesia is absolutely cool !! it is not an inherently negative thing and it actually has a very positive impact on how i listen to music because it makes it even better for me :]

drinking song for the socially anxious: this one has very calming colors. the "general color" so to speak is mainly a cool-toned gray with some really pretty mint green swirls thrown in. the guitar is a nice brownish color and the squeaky sounds are little flecks of gold. madeleine's voice looks like swirls and is a range of purple for the most part, being darker when she sings low notes and more lavender when she sings high notes; joey has that smooth and wavy-looking brown voice i mentioned really liking and it becomes more of a velvet red when he sings higher notes. after about 3:39, the colors become a bit brighter and mix together more when they sing louder.

inkpot gods: the guitar is once again brown but with a lot of gold and silver. joey's voice is the same way (it usually is for all his music) but madeleine's tends to be more on the blue spectrum with some purple in there (navy for low notes, icy-blue and/or lavender for higher notes). the riff vocals mixing with the instrumentals (like all the sounds from 1:55 - 2:03) are bursts of this really pretty thing that i can only describe as looking like a sky; definitely a sky-blue with swirls of white and gold thrown in there. the ending of the song with the "if i dont make it back [and so forth]" is pretty persistent in its grays and purples and silvers, with not a whole lot of variation until the part where they start singing more legato and then their voices become a bright purple with undertones of pink (i don't know why this is, their voices do not usually look like this to me but it's really cool). then at the end when it fades out, it all becomes a light gray and then just kind of washes away.

sorry if the wording of this doesn't make much sense, as it is 2 in the morning, so feel free to ask for clarification or i can try to draw these to help with visuals at some point! it only takes me a bit to draw songs digitally so it should be fine to do eventually. thank you for the ask !! :]

[wallacejwriting]

descent snippets; #6

From Chapter 6

So it might surprise you to know that TMI involves quite a few themes from Christianity and Catholicism, partially because Nicki is Catholic and it's fairly important to his character. This chapter is where we start to see those themes. It's not a story about religion, but Nat is from a small town and small towns do religion like no one else. So Nat's faith, especially post family-murder, is a factor to their character.

cw for: anxiety (as always), religious discussion & themes (christianity & catholicism)

As always, writing is under the cut.

#1:

There’s no way she’s going to be able to read Nat’s phone screen through the window, not with the smudges and the light. The text-to-speech icon hovers in the corner of Nat’s note app. Will it sound ridiculous? Better than nothing at all. “Looking for Sage. Am Nat.” The phone’s voice is more normal than Nat expects. Gentle, and a little more feminine than Nat likes, but nice enough. More like a voice for VC than a substitute for Nat’s own. The woman’s eyes narrow. She’s a big woman with lovely round cheeks that hold a light pink to her light brown skin. Her thick, comfortable looking arms fold across her lap. Her hair, curls that just brush her chin, tips with the motion of her head. “You’re Nat?” Some of the friendliness drops out of her voice. Nat knows hostility. They take a step back from the door.

#2:

“You know what an Alpha is?” asks Sage. Nat nods. Of course they know what an Alpha is. Especially with all the news stories in the last decade. The explosions. The deaths. The destruction. The awesome, terrifying power that, if Nat were more whimsical, they might have said could rival ancient gods. Yet Nat couldn’t say how many were alive. How many lived in the city. If any did not. Only that they exist, and they are strong, and most laws around metahumans exist because of Alphas. “Right. So, there’s seven in Veda,” says Sage. Nat sucks in a breath. Seven. Seven Alphas? Seven minor gods? That’s a pantheon. A pantheon walks in Veda. “I’m number five,” says Sage. Oh.

#3:

“You haven’t been around a lot of powers before, have you?” asks Sage. Nat tilts their head back to stare up at Sage. They’re staring up at the sky, lavender hair askew and some of it sticking to their face. Nat manages an, “Uh-uh,” and shakes their head. Sage smiles down at them. It’s smaller than before, and it makes their face softer. “It’ll pass, y’know,” says Sage. “Not the power changes, those are forever, but the fear that comes from it.” Sage lifts a hand and stares at it, flexing it. Their hands are broad and calloused. They wear a wedding band. Their nails look nicer than Liesel’s. “Our powers are a part of us, like a muscle. The more you use them, the easier it gets.” Sage shrugs. “The less you fear.” Nat shrugs. It’s different for them, than it is for Sage. Sage’s powers are probably way beyond anything Nat could ever be. They can’t imagine what it’s like to be that strong. To be so powerful than less than two dozen people in history stand beside you. To be a part of humanity that most fear or hate or live in awe of. They shiver. They wouldn’t wish it on anyone. They don’t know what they’d do, if they were that strong.

#4:

So what if the city swallows people? So what if Sage thinks Nat can’t handle it? Who do they think they are, anyway? …Other than one of the most powerful metas in the whole damn world. Someone whose power Nat had only just glimpsed back on that rooftop. Nat stumbles. There’s a window open at this house and despite the late hour Nat can feel a television on inside. The smell of lemonade wafts from nearby. Nat waves the smell away and pushes past the house with their head down. The city seems emptier than before. Darker, too, despite the lights. Nat turns toward the brightest source of light without lifting their head. They can feel it, more than anything else. A streetlamp that glows a little brighter than the rest. A pair of lights on the gate of a stone building. Nat stares up at the building, wind blowing at their hair. A large, stained glass mural depicts an angel coming down from heaven. Probably to warn someone of an incoming disaster. Where was Nat’s warning?

#5:

Why are they here? They lift their head and glare at the mural. Sure, maybe this is a place to rest, and maybe the humming isn’t so bad, here, but it’s just another reminder of everything that’s gone. Everything that’s lost and never coming back. And even if it wasn’t, why would Nat want to spend their time somewhere they didn’t belong? God isn’t real. If he was, Nat’s family would be alive, Nat would be in Heron, and no one in this fucking city would know their name. “Some God,” mutters Nat. “’Tis now the very witching time of night, when graveyards yawn and Hell itself breathes out contagion to this world.” Nat startles. There’s a man, standing in the aisle. The man’s voice is warm and steady, low but not nearly a whisper. Hamlet. Nat licks their lips. “Hamlet.” He startles, staring at them, and Nat flushes both from his eyes and their own hoarse voice. They spoke to someone. They haven’t spoken to anyone since… Bile brushes the back of their tongue and Nat swallows. They touches their fingertips to their lips, focusing on the present. They spoke. The words didn’t hurt. Their throat feels good. Normal, even. Maybe things aren’t as terrible as they think. If they can get their voice back… “My apologies,” says the man, his voice low and tinged with a softness Nat can’t place. He speaks with a light English accent that Nat couldn’t place if you paid them. That lilt, as much as his words, brings them back to present. “Hello.” He nods his head to them. Nat nods theirs in return. “Hello.”

#6:

“Is…” Nat hesitates. “Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your family? Y’know, to prove that you love them?” asks Nat. They look at Nicki. Something Nat can’t name passes over his face, gone half a second later. “No. Nothing.” His voice in low and wispy, his expression faraway. Nat swallows. The words build and build, bubbling up in their throat until they can’t stop them from tumbling out. “What if someone hurt them? What if you lost them? What would you do?” Go to the police. Run away. Grieve and move on. The same things everyone else has been telling Nat this whole time. “I’d go after them,” says Nicki. Nat’s head snaps to one side to stare at Nicki. He watches them with a quiet, firm expression. “You would?” asks Nat. He nods. “I’d tear them apart.” He looks to the cross. “A sin is a sin is a sin, or so we are told. If you can ask forgiveness for one or the other without difference, then why not choose the one you really want to pursue?” He shrugs and meets Nat’s eyes. Nat holds their breath. They cannot look away. “Go big or go home.”

[s0ngsandstars]

Colors

The colors my brain associates with Enstars characters (I have color association synesthesia). I have plans on drawing them all out, but for now, have them very poorly described in words, lol. Put under a cut for length purposes.

fine Eichi: Periwinkle blue/purple Wataru: A pearlescent rainbow, everchanging Yuzuru: A light, pinky sort of orange color (like a peach), soft velvet in texture. Tori: Orange, with spots of yellow and red-orange that make it look like anime water except orange instead of blue. Trickstar Hokuto: A blue? Deep. Floaty though? Subaru: Sparkly sunny yellow, bright. Makoto: Green mostly, but also blue. But they're not mixed. So like.. green with a sort of light blue wisps? Mao: Playful light Blue/Pink, he's cotton candy. His has text sometimes, in bright pink. Like "WOW" or "SO COOL" it's always in caps and it's always really meme-y for some reason. Ryuseitai Chiaki: Yellow-Green, bright. Kanata: Blue, but in a green way. Tetora: Red-Orange. Midori: Muted blue, like, a slate gray almost blue. Shinobu: Simultaneously yellow-orange and blue, but not mixed?. Kind of shiny. Alkaloid Hiiro: Vibrant and bright blue. Aira: Yellow-Orange, soft. Sometimes some pink hints. Tatsumi: Soft mint green. Mayoi: Deep purple. Eden Nagisa: Light gray that's tinted slightly blue. Hiyori: Vibrantly the brightest of yellows. Blindingly bright almost. Ibara: Very Red but also very Blue. Jun: Orange. Valkyrie Shu: Sparkly deep red with vibrant purple swirls. Mika: He's kinda like um.. a brown-rust covered metal of indeterminate type? Like he should be very shiny but it's covered, with little bits peeking out. 2wink Hinata: Orange, slightly red tinted. Yuta: Green, slightly yellow tinted. Crazy:B Rinne: Red-Orange, very leaning red. HiMERU: Intimidating blue. Idk, it's just one I associate with intimidating people. Like a.. steel blue?? Niki: Wisps of light gray smoke on a dark gray background. Kohaku: Silver, some bits are a bit dirty, but not much. Not shined, so it's a little dull, but still obviously silver. UNDEAD Rei: Gray in a vaguely purple way. Kaoru: there is a line, on one side is yellow-green, on the other is yellow-orange. Kaoru uses this line as a jump rope. Koga: So incredibly very extremely orange. Like, the most orange. Adonis: Blue in a green way. Like he's blue but there's green vibes. Ra*bits Nazuna: Yellow-Orange, more yellow than orange. Tomoya: Sometimes blue, sometimes orange. Depends on how confident he is at the moment. Hajime: Yellow petals floating in beautiful blue water. Mitsuru: Vibrant, bright yellow-green (more green and brighter than Chiaki). Akatsuki Keito: Intimidating blue. Sometimes green. Souma: Blue in a purple way. Kuro: Red-Orange. Knights Tsukasa: Red-Orange, sometimes more red sometimes more orange. Leo: Vibrantly Yellow-Orange that swings to vibrantly Yellow-Green without reason. Like they're two drums in a drum set and he's having a blast. Arashi: Light blue, pleasant. Sometimes orange, but not too often? Izumi: Silver. Ritsu: okay so Ritsu doesn't have a color technically? His color is the smell of plums. idk. Switch Natsume: Orange, with almost pearlescent purple swirls. Halloween vibes. Tsumugi: Blue-Green, like turquoise but darker. Sora: Bright yellow-green. More on the yellow side. MaM Madara: Orange or Green. Usually green though.

Others: Anzu: Yellow, usually? Sometimes tints in either orange or green, but usually stays a nice yellow. Akiomi: Pale violet? Jin: Kind of blue-gray. Seiya: Bright Green with little bursts of yellow. Kinda reminds me of like, a certain time in spring leading into summer. Mademoiselle: Light blue, pink tints on occasion that are like ghosted petals.

[myinstaspace]

Wall Color Combinations for Bedrooms: How to Pick the Perfect Paint

When it comes to picking the perfect paint colors for your bedroom, it can feel overwhelming with so many options to choose from. But it doesn’t have to be so hard – a few simple tips can help you pull together a color scheme that’s just right for your space. From figuring out which colors work well together to how to incorporate multiple colors without it looking too busy, this article will walk you through everything you need to know to create a bedroom color palette you’ll absolutely love. With a little planning and experimentation with color combos, you’ll have a beautifully coordinated bedroom in no time

Factors to Consider When Choosing Bedroom Colors

When picking a color scheme for your bedroom, several factors come into play. Think about the overall mood and ambiance you want to create. Do you want a space that’s calm and relaxing, bright and energetic, or somewhere in between? The colors you choose can significantly impact how you feel in the room.

Amount of Natural Light

Pay attention to how much natural sunlight your bedroom gets during the day. If you have a room with lots of windows that gets plenty of light, you have more flexibility to use darker or brighter shades. For a room with little natural light, stick to lighter and brighter colors to make the space feel more open and airy. Choosing the right undertone-warm, cool or neutral-can also help make the most of the light you have.

Furniture and Decor

Consider the colors of your existing furniture, bedding, window treatments and decor. Choose a color scheme that incorporates some of the same tones to create a cohesive look. If your furniture is dark wood, for example, accent with shades like burgundy, forest green or navy blue. For lighter wood, pastel shades are a great complement. And if your furniture is mismatched or minimal, a neutral color scheme gives you flexibility to add in different colors over time

Ceiling Height

Pay attention to the height of your bedroom ceilings. Darker shades tend to make a space feel more cozy and intimate, so they work well for rooms with lower ceilings. For higher ceilings, medium to lighter shades are better at making the space feel proportional. You can also use darker shades on one accent wall, with lighter shades on the remaining walls. This draws the eye up and creates an open, airy feel.

Choosing the perfect color scheme for your bedroom is a mix of knowing what you like, what matches your decor, and what fits the space. Keep these factors in mind and experiment with different options. You’ll come up with a solution that’s ideal for your needs and style.

Popular Wall Color Combinations for Master Bedrooms

Gray is a popular neutral shade for master bedrooms. Pairing gray walls with white trim and accents creates a crisp, clean look. For a cozy feel, combine light gray walls with wood furniture and rust-colored bedding and pillows. Charcoal gray walls contrast nicely with bright pops of color like teal, mustard or plum.

Blue is a classic, calming color for bedrooms. Light blue walls evoke feelings of tranquility and work well with natural wood tones. Navy blue walls create a dramatic look and pair nicely with metallics like gold or silver. For a beachy vibe, choose a sea green-blue and add natural fiber rugs, rattan furniture and driftwood accents.

Greens are organic and grounding. Olive or forest green walls feel rich and dramatic, especially when combined with jewel-toned bedding in ruby red, sapphire blue or amethyst. For a lighter, airier feel, mint green or seafoam walls work with white or beige bedding and natural wood nightstands. Add potted plants to enhance the natural feel.

Burgundy or wine-colored walls create an intimate, luxurious space. Pair them with gold accents, plush bedding in cream or chocolate brown and a chandelier for an opulent look. For contrast, choose bedding in lighter shades of pink, peach or ivory. Metallic gold or rose gold hardware and lighting fixtures will amplify the glamorous vibe.

Mocha or chocolate brown walls evoke a feeling of warmth and coziness. Accent them with orange, red or teal for a colorful contrast, or keep things neutral with beige and cream. Wood furniture, suede or leather chairs and a faux fur throw will add texture. Gold accents and lighting help the space feel warm and bright.

With so many stunning options, choosing a wall color for your master bedroom is a chance to create a personal haven of style and comfort. Consider colors that reflect your desired mood and pair them with accent pieces in complementary shades for a polished, put-together look. The combinations are endless!

Cool Color Schemes for Kids’ and Teens’ Bedrooms

Blues and Greens

For kids and teens who love the ocean or nature, shades of blue and green are a perfect choice. A seafoam or teal pairs well with navy blue for a beachy vibe. Or go for a leafy forest green combined with a lighter mint green. These cool color combos create a calming space for sleep, homework or hanging out with friends.

Pinks and Purples

For a fun, whimsical look, pinks and purples are ideal. A raspberry pink pairs nicely with plum purple or lilac for a dreamy, fantastical feel. For older kids, darker magenta or eggplant purple used sparingly with hot pink can make a bold, dramatic statement. These vibrant combos stimulate creativity and imagination.

Neutral Bases with Pops of Color

For kids who want a more mature look or prefer less stimulation, neutral walls in gray, beige or white provide a blank canvas. Then add pops of their favorite bright color with accessories like pillows, rugs, bedding, curtains or wall art. This flexible scheme works well for both boys and girls, and the color accents can be changed up easily with their evolving tastes and interests.

With cool color combos, it’s best to limit the number of main colors to two or three complementary shades for the most cohesive look. Don’t forget to tie the colors in throughout the room using coordinating bedding, window treatments, wall art, lighting fixtures and decorative accents. Painting an accent wall, the ceiling or one piece of furniture the same bold shade as your accessories helps give the color scheme a custom, built-in feel.

Warm Paint Colors for Small Bedrooms

Cozy and warm paint colors are ideal for small bedrooms. They make the space feel enveloping and inviting. Some warm hues to consider include:

Reds

A red shade, such as barn red or cranberry, adds warmth and visual interest. For small spaces, choose a red with brown or orange undertones, which tend to appear cozier than bright reds. Limit the use of red to one accent wall, or use a darker, muted shade for the remaining walls.

Oranges

Orange is energizing and vibrant. In a small bedroom, burnt orange or terra cotta nicely warm up the space. For the best results, pair orange walls with wood tones and natural elements. An all-over application of orange may feel overwhelming in a small room, so consider using it on just one wall.

Yellows

Cheerful yellow is perfect for brightening a small, dark bedroom. Mustard, amber and saffron are warm yellow shades that create a cozy glow. Pair yellow walls with white trim and natural wood accents. For maximum warmth and visual impact, paint the ceiling the same yellow shade. The yellow will reflect onto the walls, making the space appear more open.

Browns

Chocolate brown, cocoa or coffee shades lend a sense of coziness to small bedrooms. For the most inviting look, pair brown walls with creamy white trim and bedding, wood furniture and brass accents. The dark brown shade will make the space feel enveloping and cocoon-like. Limit the brown shade to one wall, using a lighter neutral on the remaining walls.

Warm paint colors, especially in darker, muted shades, help make a small bedroom feel

like a cozy retreat. By limiting the use of bold colors to one accent wall, you can achieve a sense of warmth and visual drama while keeping the overall look balanced for a small space. Pairing the walls with natural wood tones, creamy whites and metallic accents enhances the cozy, enveloping feel.

Conclusion

So there you have it – some great tips for choosing the perfect paint colors for your bedroom. Remember, it’s your space, so pick shades that make you feel happy and relaxed. Play around with complementary hues on different walls to add visual interest. And don’t be afraid to go bold if that’s your style! 

My Insta Spaces offers a wide array of options for bedroom interior designs, ensuring that you find the perfect combination of colors and styles to suit your taste. The most important thing is that your color scheme reflects your personality. So take your time, experiment with samples, and enjoy making your bedroom your own personal sanctuary. With the right combo of paint colors, along with expert guidance from My Insta Spaces, you’ll have the bedroom of your dreams in no time!

[rantsintechnicolor]

Staycation

The spring has put new growth on the coastal scrub plants, those that didn’t slide off the cliff into the ocean during the rains brought by this year’s atmospheric river. The new growth is brighter than the old growth and it glows at the tips, and glows more in the light of the rising sun, as the rest of the plant is dull and in shadow. Hazardia, Baccharis, Staechadifolium, Eschscholzia, Salvia, Lupinus and the introduced genuses of Carpobrotus, Foeniculum, Brassica, and so many species of invasive grasses. The rocks, jagged and breaking, polished and undulating, peaking and peeking from beneath the foliage are yellow and white and pink, a more solid base for the hotel than other hotels down the cliff a ways, where the dark brown and black sedimentary rock has been crumbling distressingly quickly with all the weather this winter. 

The cliffs are dotted by the bright white chests of Western gulls. These are the gulls you expect to see, the large ones with pink legs and yellow bills that have a dot of red on their lower mandible, the same ones that harass and shit on tourists. In contrast, the crows are not as numerous as the gulls on the cliff but they serve a similar niche, opportunistic and scavenging. On the water in the cove below, pigeon guillemots and cormorants float on the water. The screech of Western or Clark's (maybe both) grebe can be heard, but they can’t be seen. Canada geese can be seen on the cliff from one angle, but not others as they try to stay away from folks as much as possible. Closer to us in the scrub we can hear the song of house finches and white crowned sparrows, wrentits and bushtits, and frequent chirps of black phoebes as they hunt insects from any and all perches. The ocean is silver blue with a brown cast from the soil and sand that recently washed out of the creeks. Far out toward the horizon it reaches a darker hue, perhaps I can call it indigo.

The birds of paradise, with their green stalks, orange petals and purple tongues, are bright and burning in the new day’s light near our building. A hummingbird that was just sipping out of the flowers and flashing its red-black iridescent head feathers is now a silhouette on a dead bush on a cliff outcropping more than a hundred feet away. It sounds like it is scolding the world. Or perhaps another bird. Perched lower in the branches is a round sparrow eight times the size of the hummingbird. Perhaps it is scolding this neighbor, but what for?

A ground squirrel finds a red fruit abandoned by some human or perhaps it was deliberately discarded. It chews on it methodically while watching for gulls and crows that may want to steal its meal. I may have seen the same squirrel foraging in this area yesterday and running back toward its den with a stick. I wonder what it might want with a stick…

I sit on the little concrete patio off our room. I’m wrapped in a blanket against the chill of the morning. I have a faux fur costume stole around my shoulders, because I guess I like to look extra when I’m on my staycation, though perhaps I do it to add some romance to what seems to be an increasingly less romantic world. Perhaps my perspective is the problem. Perhaps I'm not working hard enough to see the romance, to reframe it into a romance. I see from the sea stack at Dinosaur Caves to the north all the way to Point Sal to the south. I know all the birds from here to there. I can name the porpoises and dolphins further out in the water, the various pinnipeds coming up and diving down with a little splash, otters floating near the kelp in the cove. I know a lot, but there are still a lot of things I don’t know, lots of mysteries that have been previously solved for me to “rediscover” or enjoy learning about. It’s a pretty sweet world. A pretty nice earth.

I can’t really get enough of this view. I am out here every chance I get before we leave, sitting still and watching long enough to see how the other creatures adapt to our development or behave as though it has always been here. 

I got an email from the hotel this morning asking if we wanted to check out. No. Not really. I suppose I do have to get back to my responsibilities and the crises that continue to be unresolved. But not yet.

[aromanticannibal]

ok so an idea has been floating around in my head for some time so I'll just put it here

concept : quirkless people look more "normal" than other people (ie: natural hair color, eye color etc).

following on that, quirked people look less "normal" and it's tied to their quirk in some way.

Katsuki had red eyes cuz yknow... red. (in my brain Katsuki's eyes are more of an orangey red to differenciage him from the ten thousand other characters with red eyes, so it fits a bit more w/ explosions ig?). similarly, Nejire's hair's blue, Tamaki's got pointy ears, and yknow. Mina's EVERYTHING.

Mina doesn't need to be pink and horned and stuff to make acid, it doesn't have anything to do with her quirk, but it does.

where I'm going w/ this is mainly doing funky stuff w/ characters who were originally quirkless and got a quirk (i actually talked about that in a headcanon post but anyways)

taking Yuuga, my baby boy. I headcanon my child as part-french (because obv) so his hair is naturally blond. before getting his quirk, his eyes were just brown. acquiring the lazer quirk made his eyes a sparkly blue, similar to the color of the lazer. boom.

All Might now. I can do this either the hardcore way or the soft way (this sounds weird. it's fine) : starting with hardcore, toshinori used to have black hair and dark eyes, and perhaps he dyed his hair blond. when he got One For All, his hair actually turned blonde and his eyes blue. the soft way is to say his hair was blonde naturally.

to talk about Izuku I'm gonna introduce another parameter to this : this whole thing isn't an absolute rule. some quirked people will look completely normal, like Aizawa, and some quirkless people will have unrealistic characteristics, like midoriya, both cases because of their parents. Izuku's mom is green as shit, it would look weird if Izuku came out black hair black eyes basic ass boy (though we don't know what his dad looks like but yknow)

So Izuku is quirkless, but he does have his funky green hair and eyes, though perhaps his hair was darker and his eyes a duller green before getting One For All.

Now how would One For All affect its users' appearances. Cuz all of them look different and most of them already had quirks.

I think the colors kind of as OFA gets passed around more. Originally, the second user got light green mixed into his characteristics, bc Yoichi's eyes are this color. Then second's color mixed w/ third's, etc, slowly erasing the green.

it's kinda nice that it comes back to green then.

so Izuku, after getting OFA, would get lighter hair and eyes, and some blue mixed in from All Might's eyes (im also realizing idk what Nana's color really was? she just looks as non descript as aizawa lmao).

As he gets stronger and masters the quirk, the blue is more apparent (ie: overhaul fight, my man's blue as shit) and then the other colors (somehow idk). Green would stay dominant bc it's his og color and because it's also. The Og Color thanks Yoichi.

also i think that if the quirk was given and then taken back, the characteristics acquired would stay, like how all might still looks like himself after giving OFA to izuku.

So Heroes Rising. Because I can't not talk about it. I guess Bakugou didn't get the quirk for long enough for many characteristics to be given to him, but his eyes would be brighter perhaps.

ok idk where I was going w/ this but I needed to get this out of my system bye

[worktopspecialists]

Kitchen worktop colors can range from classic neutrals to bold and vibrant hues. Neutral colors such as white, beige, and gray are timeless and can be paired with any style of kitchen. For a more modern look, consider black or navy blue worktops. For a more traditional look, opt for warm wood tones or earthy colors like brown and tan. If you want to make a statement, choose a bright color like red, yellow, or orange. No matter what color you choose, make sure it complements the overall design of your kitchen. Colors: red | orange | yellow | green | blue | purple | pink | white | gray | brown | black Kitchens are a place to gather and entertain, not just to cook. That's why many homeowners are choosing kitchens that offer more than just counter space. They want the room to feel warm and inviting—and they want the color of their kitchen worktops to match that atmosphere. After all, your counters will be the first thing anyone sees when they walk into your home! Dark Kitchen Worktop Colors Dark kitchen worktop colors can be great for small kitchens. If you have a small kitchen, dark colors will make it feel even smaller, so it's best to avoid them if you want your kitchen to feel spacious and airy. Dark colors also look good in masculine spaces, so if you're working with a smaller space that you'd like to make more masculine, then dark worktops are one of the best ways to go about doing so. Darker worktop shades are also quite elegant or rustic depending on how they're used; they give off an old-world charm that comes from the combination of wood and stonework often found in older buildings. Grey Kitchen Worktop Colors Grey is a great colour to choose for your kitchen, especially if you want a neutral colour. Grey will work well with many other colours and styles, making it easy to match with the rest of your kitchen. You can also use grey in a white or light coloured kitchen because it provides some contrast that makes the room look bigger and brighter. White Kitchen Worktop Colors If you're looking for an option that's as classic as it is easy to work with, white kitchen worktops are a great choice. This shade will go with just about any color scheme, from traditional to industrial and everything in between. It's also perfect for creating a space that feels bright, light and airy—especially when paired with white cupboards or cabinets. To get the most out of your white kitchen worktop colors, be sure not to overdo it on accessories or decor. You want your kitchen to feel spacious and clean-lined rather than overly cluttered or busy. A simple set of glassware can add elegance and style without being too distracting—as long as it fits into the overall scheme; for example, if your cabinets are blue then don't go overboard with green glassware! kitchens come in all colors, but here are some worktop colors to consider. Dark colors are popular. If you want your kitchen to look dark and moody, then choose a dark color for the worktop. The most popular is black, but other options include copper and brown. Grey is also good for a kitchen that wants to look calm and modern. It goes with just about any color scheme, so it’s safe to say that if you have a grey wall or cabinets in your kitchen, a grey worktop would fit in nicely! White worktops are great for those who want their kitchen to feel spacious and light-filled! Are there windows throughout the room? If so, consider how well they would match up with white countertops; if not much natural light will be coming into them anyway (and thus creating shadows), it might not matter that much what color they are after all…  

[angelisverba]

thinkin’ bout you

in which harry owns a flower shop and has a major crush on a girl who comes in to buy flowers every once in a while (and he’s too shy to ask for her number) 

word count: 17.3k

paring: florist!h and y/n

warnings: just some pinning and lustful yearning. m for mature...

author’s note: i’ve been working on this forever. not to pick fav’s but i think florist!h comes second to sl23... hes just so.......well, you’ll see!!

*    *    *    *    *    *

When Harry was given the option to go on a playdate with his car-loving and dirty-nailed schoolmates or spending the weekend at his nan’s house, he would often pick the latter. 

He preferred to spend his afternoons frolicking with her Siamese kitty in her wild-flower filled garden, sunbathing in the open grass, or napping on a quilted blanket under the large, round oak tree, with the kitty nestled into his tummy, keeping him warm. When he woke in the arms of his nan as she carried him inside the house for a glass of cool lemonade, he bore a band of pink sunburn over his button nose, and the blue and white striped Mickey shirt was sticking to the areas where his furry friend had provided an extra heat. 

So, it was safe to say that from the start, Harry’s tastes weren’t what could be considered ‘average’ or ‘normal’ or ‘straight’ for a heterosexual male of his age in current society. 

Not that he ever valued those opinions, but their impressions rang in the back of his loving head when the women who he brought to the comfort of his home made hurtful ‘joking’ comments on how ‘peculiar’  his choice of decor was or giving him prolonged strange looks before shaking their heads and yanking their clothes off so that they landed in a forgotten heap in some unimportant corner of his room. 

Granted, he still got a good shag, but it wasn’t enough to fulfill his desires regarding any actions associated with relationships. He wanted someone warm and soft and kind. Someone who wouldn’t judge his home, his music choices, his clothing, or anything else about him. A girlfriend, not a fuck. 

Long ago, he’d stopped caring about what others said about him. Adopting this mindset had given him some of the happiest and healthiest moments of his life (albeit occasionally, doubts merged with the ghastly shadows of his loneliness). Business at his flower shop increased as his charm increased with positivity, and a new life within him bloomed like a baby rose bud when he accepted that being single was okay. The ribbons of his bouquets bouncing with an added umf and the mist that landed on his skin when he changed the water in the flower buckets only enhanced the golden hue of his skin. 

Harry even took to renovating his home a bit. 

 Coincidentally, his apartment was located on the floor above his flower stop, and contained a significant amount of singular flowers in vases or bouquets in empty corners to prove it. An array of pastel colors smeared on the once blank walls. Bambi pink in his bedroom, sage green in his kitchen, and a French blue in his living room. The couch was a suede papaya three-seater with black and white checkered pillows, and the coffee table was an emerald-tiled piece standing on top of a geometric lavender carpet, a soft contrast against the dark oak of his floorboards. Harry’s taste in pop-culture, art, and literature was displayed on the frames hanging off his walls. Pictures and posters of his favorite pieces like Matisse’s Blue Nudes and Goldfish and The Dance II. An enhanced, enlarged photo of maraschino cherries and a raven haired pin-up girl. Another glass table by the end of the couch held a silver candlestick and a small statue.

Sometimes, the miniature Greek statue he bought at a thrift store of a man with his nakedness pure and unobscured to the viewers' eyes made his dick bloat against the seams of his pants. If he stared at it for too long, his eyes drawn to the softened cock between thighs that looked so flesh-like even though it was carved out of some clay or ceramic material, his mind would travel to sensual, honey-red places that he hadn’t been in so long. Harry’s imagination explored- as cheesy as it sounds- the sexual aspects of the male genitalia, and therefore his own sexual expeditions and how much he missed giving or receiving a good fuck. More often than not, he ended up with himself in his fist, forehead sparkling with perspiration under the candle lights in his room as his thighs and abdomen clenched with every buck of his yearning hips. 

The doorknob of his room was in the shape of an eye, the iris colored a brilliant blue. His king bed- no, frame, just a minimalist white base, pushed up against the wall with two tables on either side, both of them loaded articulately with vintage trinkets and ceramic ring trays shaped like seashells to hold his jewelry. His bedsheets were a stylish combination of pastel colors; lilac comforter, mint and sky pillows. Previously, they had been snow white sheets with strawberry print, but a woman he brought over said they looked like the sheets her five-year-old niece had. 

He changed them the week after that.

On the windowsill, a pot in the shape of a white, blue-eyed kitty with vines of string of hearts kissing the floor. A mirror in the shape of a heart with a pink trim besides the lightswitch, above his brown dresser. In the corner, a bookshelf stuffed with books that spilled over the seams, and perpendicular to it, the home of his pet chameleon, Owen (he wanted a cat, but when he went to the pet store and saw the dehydrated creature, he couldn’t leave him there). A 16 x 16 x 30 inch tank filled with a branch that cut across halfway. It was full of all the things he might need, maybe even too much of it, but it didn’t matter because when Harry was home Owen spent most of his time hanging off the collars of his shirts or snuggled in the ruffles of his hooded sweatshirt on his shoulder. The small, color changing friend adored his owner, and only morphed into a mild red color when Harry didn’t feed him more mango. 

The renovations occurred in his bathroom; a cherry-red covering the walls because it looked boring before (at least in his opinion).  The gold piping of the sink accentuated nicely with the darker color, and the sun seemed brighter when it streamed in through the window above his ceramic claw-footed tub. Owen particularly liked the misty showerhead stall in the corner, and as long as he kept his eyes to himself, Harry didn’t mind it if his green friend wrapped around the showerhead and enjoyed the mimicked tropical atmosphere. 

For awhile now, it had been just him and his chameleon (and maybe his mum’s cat if she was going out of town and needed a sitter) but he didn’t mind it. 

He got to meet new people everyday within the parameters of H’s Garden, and they all tended to overshare when it came to buying a bouquet. ‘My wife just had our son, want to see a picture?’ or ‘my boyfriend and I have our anniversary on Saturday’ and even ‘my sister had plastic surgery so me and my dad need something that says ‘congrats you look like Kim Kardashain now’ how ‘bout it?’ 

Stories ranged from sweet, to grotesque, to sad, to funny, and sometimes even evil- Harry didn’t like customers that gave flowers as a ‘fuck you’. He thought it was a waste of beauty and sacrifice. Flowers were living things that had their lives cut short in order to provide momentary satisfaction and life long memories to the receiver, not bitter feelings of revenge. Although it was still business, it pained him that such a pretty arrangement be misused. It was one of the cons of his work. He created what he considered to be masterpieces, and had no control over where they would end up, whether it be as a centerpiece for a candlelit dinner, or in the trash after the apology for a strong argument hadn’t been enough. 

However, Harry couldn’t deny that he didn’t love his job, because he did. 

When he turned 16, he’d determined that he wanted a peaceful life with a job that wouldn’t bore him. He wanted to be as stress free as possible, with his spirituality as a prominent highlight in his lifestyle. When he turned 18, he had determined that he wanted to be a florist, and began to save up to open his own shop with the occasional help of his friends and sister. He refused to take anything from his mother because he wanted to be the one giving her gifts and money and everything good after all of her sacrifices in raising him. Call him a momma’s boy. Harry loved his mother. 

Online seminars and college classes became his best friend, teaching him everything he needed to know about accounting, stocks, and how to keep his business going. He was a businessman first, florist second. During the slow seasons (the start of winter and an awkward half-week between summer and spring) he relied on his investments to triple-ensure that he had enough money to stay afloat. 

On his 22nd birthday, as a gift to himself, he signed the lease to the building that housed all of the pretty plants in temporary buckets full of flower food and water, and hired a graphic designer to design the cursive, golden letters that spelled out the name of his shop above the front door. 

 Now, three years later, he lived as happy as can be. 

And he wasn’t lonely anymore. 

Well, if you wanted to be technical, his relationship status was still a checkmark over the box labeled ‘single’, but his heart couldn’t be fluttering any harder at the sight of one of his regular customers, and she was there, creeping around in his brain to keep him company. 

She was the complete opposite of every girl he’d ever been with. She was sweet, kind, funny, and didn’t judge him for the way he dressed, or his profession. In fact, they bonded over things that previous women had… slyly berated him for. The color of his nails, the lace of his collar, the pattern of his flared pants,  and even the sheep on his baby blue sweater vest.  

She stole his heart the moment she walked through his door with a soft smile on her face, a sparkling gleam in her warm eyes, and placed it in her pocket the moment she said, “it smells lovely in here!”

Harry, awestruck and blushing because well, she was pretty and wore a shade of purple that somehow made her hair look so soft. Two strands of hair were pinned at the back of her head, essentially keeping the rest of it away from her face save for the few baby wisps that rested gently against her cheeks like a lover’s caress. The stuttering, stumbling cupid’s-bow-struck fool replied with, “thank you. It would be my pleasure to help you with anything you’d like,” and that had been his name, signed on the dotted line of a soul contract. Only she was not the devil. She was an angel. 

But even then, it wouldn’t matter. If she was the devil, if she was an angel, something in between or something new entirely he wouldn’t care because he was half gone for her already. 

“In that case,” she smiled, and Harry’s heart sang a melody it never had before. It was like the sun beamed from the spaces between her teeth and tickled the fuzzy spot beneath his earlobe. She had the most amazing voice, tranquil and clear and ethereal. “I just moved into a new apartment and wanted the place to feel like home. I thought maybe flowers would give it a little life.” 

He vividly remembers that the color of her cheeks changed to that of what is called a ‘blush’, but he didn’t know if it was a trick under the light, or a product of his wistful imagination. Her fingers gently skimmed the petals of a rose from it’s bucket near her hip, and one of the straps of the tote bag on her shoulder disrespectfully dropped away from her shoulder. He wanted to simultaneously rush over and fix it for her, and yell at the inanimate object for not being grateful of the fact that it had the opportunity to cling to her shoulder.

But, before either of these inner-conflicts met a sound resolve, her delicate fingers righted what was once wrong, and Harry cleared his throat, embarrassed because he’d stared for a little too long. He wanted so badly to ask for her name and how she liked her eggs in the morning, but instead he said, “there’s nothing like a bit of something pretty to brighten your day. Did you have something specific in mind?”

He hoped that the meaning of his words wasn’t caught on her, or that would be totally embarrassing and ‘loser’-like. 

When she walked out the door with a content smile on her lips, his own heart was beating faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s tender wings. He was sure that he had never laid eyes on a pair of lips like hers, neither the feeling that blossomed in his chest at the thought that she might be smiling just for him to see and enjoy. 

Of course, it was a silly crush. One that clawed and gripped onto his sweaty palms with no sign of letting go. Maybe, Harry thought, it was because he hadn’t wet his wick in so long, and the interaction he’d had with her had sparked irrational, poem-inspiring feelings within the love cavern of his ribs. Because how could he fall head over heels with someone he didn’t even know? Surely, the swarm of hormone-pumped butterflies in his stomach was the beginning of a dead-end infatuation. 

Right? 

Harry went that entire day, appalled at the apparent angel he had the fortune of being in the presence of in her short fall from the tender heavens. He wondered where she placed the flowers she bought (an arrangement he was particularly proud of, full of lilac, delicate stems of lavender, and puffs of baby’s breath wrapped with a white bow) and where that tiny extension of him was. At the entrance of her home, right below the place she rested her hand against as she tugged her shoes off? At the center of her table? Maybe besides her bed? Where she would see the purple petals and white of him as he wrapped it every time she woke up or went to bed? He hoped- as much as it was a romantic thought- that it wasn’t the last one. He’s been so awkward, so pink. A blush on his cheeks he hadn’t remembered being there since the time he yelped, startled, at the unexpected pain of a tattoo needle, the artist pointedly peeved. Acting like such a boy. 

Right before crawling up the steps of his apartment, heart still bleeding with love-blood from the deadly tip of Cupid’s arrows, he made himself a mini version of the bouquet he’d made her, and placed it at the center of his tiled coffee table. 

*********

A few days trickled by, and the memory of her face drifted in and out of his mind like a giant sway of fabric slowly billowing in the wind. He was just so… struck by a slab of awe, stunned by her kind of beauty. Natural, the kind that hooks you in it’s purity, like the golden beams streaming in through transparent curtains on a warm spring afternoon. 

Her strawberry lips curved elegantly under her nose, and displayed a smile that leaked some sort of heady drug into the air because the air was sweet when he breathed it in. And when he handed the bundle of flowers over to her, the pads of her delicate fingers skimmed the rough ridges of his knuckles. He wondered immediately what kind of moisturizer she used, and if it smelled like honey or lavender or peaches. She smelled sweet. Sweeter than all of the flowers in his colorful soul shop put together. The colors that belong to her, on her person and worn by her, were more captivating than any of the tones that painted the petals on his plants. 

Owen got a kick out of this whole ordeal, though. Harry’s passionate mood had him divulging in munching and nibbling on things that tasted the way he felt; ambrosial, fresh and pure. It resulted in the purchasing of endless amounts of fruit, with many bites given to the tiny chameleon. Mangoes, strawberries, oranges, grapes, pears (Asian pears, if the store carried them, they were Harry’s favorite), peaches and guavas. The sudden craving for fruit might be explained as just a casual craving, but deep deep down inside, Harry knew that it was because he wanted to replicate the feeling that coursed through his golden veins when she giggled at something she happened to find funny. 

He wished that he had caught her name. The girl had paid in cash (and left a five dollar tip Harry fawned over), so he couldn’t have read it on her card, and he was halfway between charming and awkward that he didn’t even think of asking for it until the minute the door closed behind her, bells tinkling in announcement of her exit. He wished for a hundred different things, but he was not the type to live in regret. Not anymore. So after about a week of floundering in her memory, he meditated for an hour, tropical incense on one of his bedside tables, and cleared his mind as best he could. 

The next morning, he did the same thing. Woke up with heavy limbs, plopped himself down on his blue mat and stretched in various positions, his white boxers hanging low on his hips. His lips and eyes were sticky with sleep, and the back of his nose ached with cold air that he must’ve breathed in throughout the night after forgetting to close the window (again) but the pleasurable twinge of stretching aches between his joints were the perfect way to start his day. They urged his mind to transform into the still surface of water, clear and collected from any unproductive-pinning thoughts towards a girl he would most likely never see again. 

Even his clothes reflected his refreshed mindset.

Harry donned his favorite pair of flared  trousers in an earthy brown color, nestled snugly on his slender hips and around his thighs. The tight fit accentuated the way his back tapered into his waist, glutes shapely and sculpted. A maroon sweater vest that had a teddy bear embroidered on the middle of his chest, the small latte-toned stuffed animal seemingly childish, but on him it only directed attention to the spotlight daze of the velvety heart sheltered underneath his breathless plate. Underneath, a mustard long-sleeve shirt with tiny cherries printed on them. Some straight, some tilted or lopsided. His shoulders and biceps were hidden in the floofy bunches of cloth, anonymity given to the true thickness of his ink slathered skin. 

He looked like a corduroy dream. A thick milkshake of patterns and colors, but he managed to pull it off.

A tiny gold hoop on his right ear gleamed under the morning sun coming in through the windows and a pearl necklace rested against the downy skin of his throat. Slender fingered tipped with a coat of pure white, with his ring fingers accented in a shimmery pink. Chunky rings adorning the base of his digits; a silver rose, a band of dancing teddy bears (a running theme with him), two gold rings with his initials H and S on one hand, and a simple ruby stud from his graduating class. 

He looked good, he knew that he looked good, and was ready to begin a bright, healthy, non-pretty-girl-thought-polluted day. Even the old woman had pinched his cheek whom he had been assisting- a regular-had said he looked like a proper ‘nice boy’ along with ‘when are you going to her a lovely girl to help you run this place, Harry?’. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had momentarily sworn off women until his broken sentiments healed, and they had a long way to go. 

In the middle of wrapping a smashing set of tulips and fern stems with a cherry red bow, the bells adorning the top of the door frame dinges, announcing the entrance of another pleasant customer and giving passage to a gust of chilly air. Harry looked up to greet the customer with his usual pleasantries of ‘welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment!’, but the words died on his throat in a desperate hussle, just as the little mermaid had given up her voice to meet her gallant prince.  

It was his own personal little slice of heaven presented to him on the black and white checkered floors of his shop. Hair loose against her shoulders again, eyes cast downwards to inspect a bucket of fresh daisies that tickled the space above her bare knees. How she could wear a skirt in this biting weather, he didn’t know, and it partially prevented him from continuing his pursuit of admiring her because the first thought his caring mind jumped too was, ‘is she cold? And if so, does she need a sweater? Because I will gladly give her one.’ His second thought, however, was ‘how could someone be that beautiful?’. The third was something along the lines of ‘all my yoga has gone to shit, and I’m okay with that’. 

He cleared his throat, tightened the bow around the stems of the flowers in his hands and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment, love!” His head bowed, looking at his work because he wasn’t sure he could afford the medicals for the paralysis that was sure to take over his meek self if they made eye contact so soon. Harry needed a moment of homeostasis, his soul adjusting to her dulcet presence. 

The woman he was assisting, Edna, spoke, drawing him out of his daze, but he had been so deeply in thought that he had not heard what she said. 

“What was that?” He asked her. He grabbed Kraft paper from the roll by the register to wrap up her arrangement. 

“The girl. You like her?” She was smiling at him, wagging a finger the way his nan used to do when she caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t lie to me, I recognize that look. I’ve given and received that look many times throughout my life.” 

The woman was not wrong. With age, comes wisdom, Harry thought, smiling to himself at being caught. A dimple carves itself into his cheek, nestling onto the space above the corner of his mouth as if he had no choice in the matter. The apples of his cheeks were shadowed with a dusky pink, and the tip of his nose was twitching like a rabbit when it stood on its rear and sniffed the air, only he was coy after just being caught and wanted to avoid the question as much as possible. 

“I’ve got no idea what y’talking about,” he chuckled, keeping his voice low so that the intriguing stranger in the store didn’t hear that their topic of discussion was her. He moved over to the register to ring her up, and even slid in a discount he applied to customers he liked. 

“Next time I come in,” Edna said, passing Harry her debit card, “I hope to hear that you got her number, dear. Don’t let these opportunities pass you up. Life is short. And who knows? She could be the one.” Harry gave her the card back after charging her, and handed her the flowers, too. All the while Edna was grinning at him, shaking her head like she knew something he didn’t. 

“Take care, Edna. And don’t forget to change the water every 2 days with the flower packets I placed at the stems,” he reminded her, sweetly wiggling his red-lacquered nails at her retreating woman as butterflies awakened in his stomach in a furious flood of nerves. The girl was looking around, her hands hovering over the up-turned faces of a bundle of lively sunflowers, browsing and quietly humming to herself as she waited. 

There was no backing out of this, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t! He didn’t want to back out. The girl was a customer, and he would have to approach her no matter what. But she was so pretty it was also intimidating. He doesn’t remember ever being this nervous while approaching someone, especially one he harbored feelings for. His heart was pounding so loud, he was sure it was audible. 

“Hello,” he wanted so badly to add ‘love’ at the end of his greeting. “Are y’finding everything a’right?” He asked her, his hands wringing themselves, palms moist with sweat from his unyielding need to impress her. The pink tip of his tongue poked out to swipe across his full bottom lip, and soon after that his teeth sunk down into it, nibbling with uncertainty. Harry made sure that he was standing straight, body aligned to face hers because in that psychology course he took once, he learned that it was a subconscious tactic to engage interest and pleasant replies to attempts at wooing another. 

At the sound of his voice, the girl jumped, startled at the sudden vibrations of Harry’s husky voice. Her delicate feet, he noticed, skittered on the floor from her tiny jump, and her doe eyes widened, shouldered rising and falling at a quicker pace than before from the new rush of light fear. When she realizes that it’s just him her hand flattered over the base of her neck and her collarbone in attempts to soothe her racing heart. 

“M’s sorry,” he whispers, his hand clamping over his mouth, and then lowering to his chin when he speaks again, “didn’t mean to scare y’love.” This time he can’t restrict himself. It comes so naturally, like the endearment was meant for her, and when a flush covers the bridge of her nose his first instinct is to coo at her for looking so cute. The second is a surge of guilt for having scared her to such an extent. 

“It’s okay,” she says, a little out of breath. The blush on her face was partly because she was embarrassed at her own reaction, while the other was that she had let herself act so freely and uncoordinated in front of someone that looked like him. Handsome and sweet and eyes so green they refreshed you upon first glance. Like the cool burn of water going into a mouth that had just chewed a stick of minty gum. “I want to buy these flowers.” 

God help him. Her voice alone was enough to make him melt. The lilts and melodies of her voice swarming all four of the ventricles in his heart with warmth, and every blood cell that passed contained a glowing heat, buzzing with her energy. 

She points to the sunflowers, her gaze lingering on them with longing. A soft smile toying on her mouth, and Harry could see the tendons in her throat stretch as she inhaled to add another thought to her sentence, “Do you sell vases by any chance?” The girl looked at him shyly, her eyelashes almost twinkling as she blinked, and his heart soared, “I had a really nice one in the shape of a big Coca-Cola bottle, and I accidentally knocked it over, so now I have nothing to put them in.” 

Harry is incredibly enamoured by subconscious gestures that take over her hands as she speaks, fiddling as if the vase she spoke about was in her hands, all in one piece before it was broken. He’s quiet throughout her tiny ramble, listening and taking note of her enticing antics. She’s looking down at the floor or the flowers or her hands, and when her eyes dance over to his steady gaze, “I’m rambling aren’t I?” she murmurs bashfully. 

“No, no it’s a’right. I can look in the back for something if y’like?” He suggested, arrowing a thumb to the ‘back’ he mentioned. “Did y’want anything in particular?”  

“Oh, I don’t wanna be a troubling customer!” She squeaked, concerned with becoming a nuisance she didn’t want to be. 

“Y’not a bother, love. M’promise. I’ll go look f’you. What color did y’have in mind?” He asked her, tone calm and soothing to reiterate his sentiment. She was not a bother. The only thing about her that bothered him was the fact that he did not know her name, and even that was his own fault for not asking her. 

His hands rest on his hips, tattooed cross momentarily hidden by the bunch of his sweater vest  as he waits for her to respond, his eyes locked on her mouth, her own tongue subtly licks her lips, adding a sparkly sheen to it that only drove him crazy. Ever the jilted fool, his mind jumps to what it would feel like to kiss her, or what it would feel like if she kissed him in other places. What fruits she tasted like, and what kind of kisser she was. A timid one? With a patient mouth waiting to be broken open with the force of his own? Frugal? Opening her mouth and giving him everything she had to offer. 

“Something pink, please. If you have it.” That smile again. One that told a million apologies it didn’t owe, with her eyes pinching at the corners with whatever nonsense culpability she felt. Her voice was sweet, Harry thought, like wind chimes on a summer morning. 

Feeling guilty for allowing such dirty thoughts to gallop through his mind when she was so… so pure. Like an angel. Even her way of presenting herself was shy and sweet, yet he was thinking about kissing her. Was that perverted? She was a customer he had seen twice, and his mind was already running wild with luscious assumptions; a sunday topped with a red cherry of sensuality. How awfully dirty of him. 

But! But those were not the only thoughts he had. He wanted to ask her what happened to cause her to drop her vase, and where she had bought it. If it was vintage, considering it was a Coca-cola bottle, and if she had any accidents while cleaning up the mess of broken glass. He wanted to hear her thoughts. No, better yet, he just wanted to hear her talk. He wanted to get to know her. To know if she was as nice as she looked. 

“‘Course,” he mumbled, his eyes shamefully downcast to the floor. “Be righ’ back.”

Harry stalked off to ‘the back of the store’. Truth was, there was no back of the store containing vases. There was only a small closet with boxes of items he might need around the store, like flower food, rubber bands, and decorative paper for the bouquets. A crate of bottled water for when he got too lazy to climb up the back stairs and into his home. 

His home. 

Plucking the keys from his pocket, a ring that held a ceramic swan his closest friend Mitch had gifted him with a humble admission of ‘saw this at a thrift store and thought about you, H, I had to buy it’, and five keys: one to the front door of his shop, one to the cash box in the register, one to the mailbox, another to the front door of his apartment, and one to his car. The one to his front door was painted at the head with pastel pink nail polish, so it was easy for him to pick out when he was dead tired after a long day of being on his feet (spunky shoes that he liked to wear sometimes didn’t help ease the ache on his back, and neither did his posture). 

The back door that led to the stairs had locks on both the inside and the outside. A deadbolt and chain on matching sides of the door to ensure comfortable sleep at night, and peaceful work time during the day. Not having to worry about curious children opening doors or nosy customers relieved him. It was a little amatuer, but the door made a loud noise when opened because it wasn’t quite level, and he had a tiny key so he could lock it from the outside, too. 

A loud shucking noise resonated through the store as he pulled the door open, and then again when he closed it behind him. The delicacy of his dainty yet large hands were nearly comical around the tiny golden pin stud that hung from the chain, almost slipping from his hands with nerves as he slid it in place. Harry didn’t think that she was nosy or anything like that, bit if he was going up to give her a vase of his own personal collection, he didn’t want her to find out and feel even more intrusive that she already did. 

He was a huge giver, and upon hearing her say that she broke her flower pot, his mind was already thinking about the perfect one to replace it. It just so happened to be sitting on his shelf with a bundle of dying lavender. Climbing up the stairs (the ache in his thighs was a mere twinge compared to what it was when he first moved here), Harry huffed and thought to himself all the ways he could ask for her name and number. 

Listen, I really like y’and would like to have y’number?”

Do y’wanna have my number so we can go out sometime if y’feel like it?”

“Is it alright if I get y’number so we can go out sometime?”

“Hey, love. What’s y’name?”

Nothing’s making sense to him. The pick up lines he had stored in his head for the rare times he would flirt with a girl were slipping from him. None of them seemed worded right to use with her. Too abrupt or too brisk. Not sweet enough. He wanted to treat her gently and to be worthwhile of her time. Plus, it also had to be smooth enough that it made her forget she was paying him for flowers or it would be awkward. He was a twenty-six man for crying out loud, not a twenty-one year old smile at the bar looking for a good time. This wasn’t a ‘good time’. This was… a courting. An inquiry to a relationship. A rose rose in a candlelit room. 

Harry opened his front door and moved in a quick jog to a table besides his hi-fi that held a translucent pale pink glass, fat at the base before twirling and widening a few inches at the lip. An image of a nude mermaid puffing out at the front like an engraving. Cuddling it into his breast, he grabbed the lavender, speed walked back to his kitchen where his toe banged against the metal of the trashcan as he pressed on the lever to open it. He hissed fuck under his breath and shucked the dead lavender into the bag before turning back to his door, closing it behind him, but not locking it because he didn’t want to keep her waiting. His feet moved quickly down the stairs, the one hand not holding onto the vase cupping a hand over the side of his hips that held his keys so they didn’t make much noise. 

The button on the chain slipped from his fingers a few times from their repeated clamminess, and when he was ready to finally twist the knob, he paused to take a breath and collect himself. Harry ran a hand through his hair, fixed his collar, and dusted off his pants legs. He wanted to look perfect for her. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he murmured to himself. He had a good feeling about this. About her. And if he messed this up because he looked bad or said something weird he would kick himself into a muddy ditch. 

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and calmly walked back, “I’ve got the last one,” he said, tapping the tip of the vase with his pointer finger. It was a lie, right through his teeth, but he was happy to tell it in return for the way she was looking at him in that moment. His eyes rounded out as he approached her, like the curves of hearts that made up the heart-eye emoji, or the puppy-dog face. Just another physical display of his growing affinity towards her. 

“Oh my god!” She said,  “It's so pretty!” The trapped crystals in her irises twinkled with bewilderment at the treasure Harry’s presented her with.  She’s got a smile on her face, and he can’t help but think, ‘wow, she looks like a freshly bloomed white lily’. 

There’s a vintage print hanging in his corridor, a ‘flower language chart’ with different types of flowers and a sentence beneath them describing the messages they send. For example, red carnations= my heart aches for you. The description beneath white lilies reads ‘my love is pure’. 

She asked him if it wasn’t too pricey, and he made up some fake sale he had going on about a hybrid BOGO in which if she bought an arrangement she would get a vase included in her purchase (he added “I’ve got a shipment of new ones coming in an I need the space cleared out before they get here” just to make sure his fib is believable.) And he explains this so shyly. Harry can’t keep his eyes locked on hers because she’s staring at him with an intensity that lets him know she's really listening, and it makes him squirm.  The tips of his fingers tap against the vase, and he’s tripping over his tongue, which is ridiculous because he already talks so slow. 

“I guess I was right in waiting then,” she said casually, waiting for Harry to finish ringing her up. 

His finger froze over the touch screen of the sleek, modern device (he wanted nothing but the best for his store) and listened to the exciting roar of blood through his eardrums at her words. I guess I was right in waiting then? What did that mean? That she was planning on coming back to see him and didn’t? Of course, it could also mean that she was going to buy something else somewhere else, but he couldn’t stop the vine of ripe hope that swelled around his chest. And she looked so apprehensive while saying it. As if she was walking on glass and was looking for cracks as she stepped. As if she was waiting on him to catch on to something.

Harry cleared his throat and looked at her through the corner of his eye, trying to be as discreet as possible as his fingers continued their deliberate work on the screen, “What d’you mean, love?”

“I was going to stop by sooner, but I just got in my head about it,” the girl shrugged, and adjusted the ends of her cardigan so they wrapped around her torso. She had a different bag this time, one of those reusable market bags that was made up of holes, and it was filled with two books and a can of green tea from the vegan store down the street. Harry thinks he can make out one of the titles on one of the spines, which looks suspiciously similar to something that he has on his own shelf. 

“Why would y’get in y’own head about coming to m’flower shop, hmm? It’s hardly that intimidating,” he chuckles to play off the dashes of pink and red that are painting themselves across the bridge of his twitching nose, “I don’t bite, either.” 

And he hopes that his wistfulness isn’t meddling with his vision because he swears that he can see a matching reaction on her own doll face. “I know! I know, it’s just that I can’t help it sometimes. Talking to other people makes me nervous.” 

Harry could coo at her right now. He doesn’t, though. He nods and smiles at her before reading her total out to her, “That I get, too. But y’doing just fine with me, love.” 

Waiting patiently as she digs through her bag for cash, he tries to not stare. However, it’s impossible. His eyes had a mind of their own dragging against the forces of his will to feast on her image again. Her hands and the tip of her nose. The base of her neck and gentle swell of her clavicles. The swoops of hair that hung in a curtain from her shoulder as her head tilted in search, and the how her teeth bit down into her lip in concentration. Harry counted the amount of times her eyelashes met her waterline in those few seconds of comfortable silence. Three. 

“I thought I had cash on me today,” something in her bag clicks, and she pulls out the rectangular card Harry’s become familiar with, holding it out to him between two deft fingers, painted with red hearts on a white base. “I guess I used my last twenty at the organic food store down the street,” she said. 

“It is pretty easy to get lost in there, isn’t it?” He took her card from her, and tried not to make it obvious that he was eager to read her name off of it as he inserted it into the machine. The embossed letters into the plastic read y/n y/l/n, and when he turns back to look at her, he can’t help the smile that spreads across his boyish features.

Y/n. 

Y/n, y/n, y/n.

This is what it must feel to be let in on a secret that’s worth millions of dollars. It must, because Harry’s heart is soaring with a closure he didn’t know he needed. Y/n, y/n. Her name tickled him. Stroked him. Lathered him with the honey smoothness of the beeswax shampoo he bought at that fateful organic store. It was a fitting name. Sometimes, one could tell a person ‘you know, I actually thought you were a Amy or a Jessica’, because their looks and style just didn’t match the strength or modesty of their name. But not y/n. It fit her like a glove. There was no other way to make sense of the way Harry’s brain was thinking. The name was her. 

“What?” Her lips quirk up into a smile and her eyebrows dip in confusion. Why was he looking at her like that? Did she have something on her face? Here she was, opening up to a cute stranger and she had something on her face? This, she thought to herself, is humiliating. Her finger dusted off non-existent crumbs from the corners of her mouth, “do I have something on my face?”

“No! No, no.” Harry’s careful beam simmered down from it’s previous brightness, and his hand nervously filed through the swoop of chocolate curls sitting on his head like a cinnamon roll. “I just think y’name is pretty thas’ all.” 

He murmured the last part so that it was practically incoherent, and lowered his gaze as a searing heat stretching like saran wrap around his head and the divot on the nape of his neck.  Oh, God. He was fucking blushing. Great Harry. A normally favorite among the ladies had been reduced to murmurs and thick, uncoordinated movements. 

Like dropping her card when she piped up again. 

Voice as small and quaint as his had been, "you think my name is pretty?” Her fingers are wrapped around the frail straps of her bag, tight enough that her knuckles were white and Harry was scared that she’d bury her fingernails into her palm. 

“I think y’very pretty.” He whispered back. He can’t even bear to look at her in fear that he’s totally fucked himself over once and for all. His logic was this: what girl wants to be told by the guy they’re buying flowers that they’re pretty after he reads her name from her debit card? Especially one who (if outside female sources are to be believed) dresses “the way my mother did when she was a girl in the seventies”? Jesus, fuck. He must’ve looked ridiculous. 

Harry opened his mouth to backtrack and apologize for being so unorthodox in his workspace, a breath sitting on his tongue with words ready to spew out, but the bell began to chime and it yanks his head from the register to the front and instead he said, “welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

Flustered and full of regret, the flower connoisseur returned his wired gaze back to y/n, who… was smiling at him? The kind of smile that said ‘oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that. Now please say it again’? Was he… dreaming? Did he have to pinch himself in order to verify that he wasn-

“Thank you... what’s your name?” Y/n looked at the card from his hands and sunk her hand- carefully, as to not get her fingers stuck in any of the tiny holes- and there was another clicking noise before she took her hand back out. That angel-like smear of girlish happiness was still on her, decadently radiating positivity and secret affection. Goodness leaked from the seams of her bones; through the cracks of her breastplate, radiating from her chest to Harry’s. He could feel it now. He could feel that his previous assumptions about her nature were true. She was altruistic and tender, like the inside of a bird’s wing. 

“Harry. M’name’s Harry.” This time, he didn’t hide his happiness. Even his eyes shone with a heightened, clear and sparkly shade of liquid evergreen. The joy that bounced inside of him like ricocheting metal balls in a pin game machine. His slender hand, fawn-skinned and graceful like the legs of a deer, stretched out between them. His mother had taught him that along with the first introduction of his name, a handshake must be present, always. Dipping his head slightly, and his words spongy with love-ditz, Harry rumbled, “Nice to meet you, y/n.”  

She placed her hand in his, and was practically swallowed by only his palm. He curled his fingers around her, thumb and middle finger overlapping around the clammy center of hers. So she was nervous, just as he was. Y/n was trained on their embracing limbs, and he could feel a spot on his neck where the skin palpated from the rush of blood as she observed their entwined digits. Their hands moved up and down, up and down between them for longer than necessary until her chin twitched back up to meet his, and she blinked mawkishly, slowly, like the videos of rehabilitated barn owls Harry sees on his Instagram. 

Then, suddenly, as if she remembered she was not the only one present, y/n jolts upright and shakes her head dazedly. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Harry. I like your nail color,” she added. 

He’s cheesing. A shit-eating grin too big for his face and it carves dimples into the flesh of his cheeks. His name on her tongue had never sounded so appealing, like it was made for her and only her to say. Not even the turtle-doves that cooed outside his window in the mornings sounded as beautiful as she did saying his name. And she complimented her nails! She hadn’t scrutinized him like others had, instead, she displayed her admiration for them. No one- well, actually he can’t say that without offending Mitch- no female of his age had ever received him with such open-mindedness as hers. If he didn’t have any self-restraint, he would giggle. Instead, Harry pulled his hand back so that their perfect moment wasn’t sullied with bouts of bad timing, “thank y’love. I like yours, too. You’ll have t’come over sometime and paint mine, yeah?” 

Y/n laughed, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been too bold, “I’d love too!” With glee frozen on her, she turned to look over her shoulder at the customer who was browsing the flowers Harry had in buckets, “I don’t want to hold you back from a customer for so long. I’ll stop by again soon, Harry. Thank you so much for your help.” 

The moment her hands reached for the wrapped bundle of sunflowers and the mermaid vase, a metaphorical grey cloud of rain and thunder manifested in the space above his head, and blocked all of the sunshine from spanning across his toned, lithe body. Did she really have to go? He wanted to whine. Maybe even wrap himself around her ankles like a child that refused to leave the park. They were only just getting to a mutual spot of comfort! Forget the other customer, he wanted to shout. Harry would kick them out and flip the sign to ‘closed’ if it meant only a few more minutes in the presence of her candy-coated charisma. 

But he knows that’s unrealistic, and settles with, “it was my pleasure, y/n,” a flirty wink (at least he hopes it is), “I’ll be waiting f’your next visit.” His taffy lips wrapping effortlessly around his smooth words, fueled by her welcoming receptiveness to his advances. It would be easy to be himself in the future, a little smoother and eloquent in his language and feeling. He was usually clear with what he wanted from anyone, and made it a pleasurable experience in all aspects for both parties involved (once it was three). Harry wanted to sweep her off her feet, and he wanted it to be an enjoyable experience for the both of them. Revel in that feeling of blooming emotions in a new relationship. A healthy one, in which he wasn’t receiving back-handed compliments all the time. 

He wasn’t superficial enough to push anyone off the table based on looks alone, but it did help that y/n had the disposition of an angel. An ethereal voice, supple lips that looked so silky and soft they had to feel that way, too, and hands that felt so tender in his. Perfect for holding on a late night stroll, or over the center console of his car when -if they go out on dates. 

What really hooked, reeled, and sinked him, though, was the fact that she was so nice to him. From the start, she’d been nothing but polite and sweet with him. Don’t even get him started on the way he swooned at the tone of her voice when he said that her name was pretty! So quiet and velvety, careful and calculated like she wanted him to know that it was okay. That she wasn’t thrown off by his comment. He nearly toppled over, clutching his heart with his legs jutting straight up into the air like a frightened goat. 

It wasn’t until the bells stopped ringing the sad notice of her exit that Harry realized he passed up the perfect opportunity to ask for her number, and as he kicked himself over it, he walked with the perfect customer service face he could muster to help the other person in his store. 

***

Harry was having a shitty morning. 

Not the kind of morning where every aspect of his routine is a terrible mishap, but like the water being too cold and the stove not working or the bottle of oat milk in the fridge being empty so he couldn’t make coffee. No, everything was fine and rolling smoothly, as it should. 

His water was the perfect temperature and ran down the toned bumps and divots of his muscles like the relaxing thrums of a lover’s caress in the midst of prowling heat. As soon as it hit his back, he released a sigh of contentment, his shoulders hunching and head rolling back and his hands roamed his shoulders and the back of his neck, rubbing away any aches that existed. The branch of eucalyptus that hung from the golden pipe of his showerhead fused a thick minty scent into the steam that fogged the glass wall, and the calming aroma helped the tendons loosen like the deflating limpness of untied shoelaces. He spent a few minutes just standing there, inhaling and exhaling deeply and feeling his lungs open and stretch beneath his rib cage. 

It almost made him wish that he’d opted to use his tub for a hot bath instead. 

He was able to cook an egg just fine on his stove, with dashes of Everything Bagel Seasoning with a side of avocado and a slice of toasted cranberry walnut bread, the same thing he had every morning. The carton of oat milk was brand new from his trip to the market the day before, and his coffee tasted the same as it always did. But… he was just... sad. An melancholy soreness that eroded against the insides of his body, consuming him slowly but surely and leaving him with a lost feeling of emptiness and unimportance. 

He thinks he might know why he’s feeling this way. 

While he’s stirring his scrambled eggs, he’s wondering how y/n likes hers. Over easy? Sunny-side up? Scrambled, like him? Did she even like eggs in the morning? What did she eat in the morning? He knows that some people ‘aren’t hungry’ in the mornings, though that’s only because they’ve gone hungry in the mornings before for an extended time period, and after so long of not feeding their growling stomachs, their brain discontinues the signals of hunger. Harry hopes that isn’t the case with y/n, and that she’s eating the proper three meals a day every day. 

And while he dipped a mini vegan chocolate croissant that he got at Whole Foods, he also wonders what she likes to dip chocolate croissants into, or if she even likes chocolate croissants. If she was a person who likes sweet treats, like strawberry tarts with powdered sugar over them or something lighter, like fruit cut into small squares in a bowl. When Harry was younger and would visit his nan on the weekends, she would pick fresh strawberries from her garden and cut them up for him when he’d woken from his nap. Sometimes, she would even sprinkle half a tablespoon of sugar over them. He wonders if she’d ever eaten strawberries like that. 

It’s been a week and a half, he still hasn’t seen her, and his heart is yearning. 

Harry knows he’s not in the correct headspace to assist other people with a cheery disposition about an hour before opening time, and decides it’s best if he writes a note on the door about how the shop wouldn’t open that day because he didn’t want to taint the reputation of his business by snapping at a customer for the only bundle of sunflowers he had, or dissolve into a puddle of love-sick tears in the middle of ringing someone up. Though really the notice just says ‘H’s Garden will not be opening today. Sorry for the inconvenience!’ followed by a frowning face and a lopsided, filled-in heart. 

Harry drags his feet back up the stairs, his lower lip jutting out in a discreet but depressing pout, and grabs Owen from his tank so that the chameleon could curl into the shoulder of Harry’s hoodie while he moped on the couch to sappy rom-coms that would only make him think about her more. At least there was someone there with him, even if his small green friend only used him for mangoes and papaya. They sit together for the entirety of Romeo + Juliet, and when it’s over, Harry’s sniffly and standing up to return Owen to his enclosure and to clean because the riotous emotions that whirl within him are too much to process while sitting down. 

Cleaning wouldn’t help him solve his problems, but it would help him cram all of his worries into a tight corner at the back of his mind- sort of like when dirty laundry began to overflow in the hamper and it requires extra force to shove it all in, only to come all back out like a memory sponge. His tormented thoughts on y/n could be compared to a dramatic inner monologue, very similar to how Romeo feels about his Juliet. But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and y/n is the sun. Harry has the play on his book shelf (the one with the side-to-side modern English translation because he was never quite gifted in the English department) and as he reaches for a bandana to tie his hair back, he finds himself resonating with a particular line: parting is such a sweet sorrow.

There was no need to change any of his clothing, since he was already dressed in one of his more impromptu outfits; grey sweats and a white t-shirt that read ‘women are smarter’ in black across his chest. He tied the red bandana into a knot at the back of his head, and lifted it over his chin so that it settled on his forehead, sweeping his hair back with a final push back. It doesn’t get in his way when he crouches to clean his various tables, spraying cleaning products with his shirt pulled over his nose, another organic product that’s supposed to be less harmful and smells like cinnamon and sandalwood. His shoulder blades begin to ache because he’s being a little more aggressive than he has to be, but the green tiles were sparkling so he was content. 

He washes the dishes, mops the kitchen floor, vacuums the carpets, cleans Owen’s habitat, and tidies the mail that piled up on the table when he finally calls it quits. Scouring his brain for something to do, to keep him busy- his brain busy, Harry settles on the floor with his back to the edge of his bed. He’s shirtless now, and is in need of another shower but he’d rather not because he knows he might end up crying over the possibility that he’s scared y/n off. There’s a book in his hands and a Frank Ocean record playing softly in the background that mentions something about ‘I've been thinkin' 'bout you, do you think about me still?’ and it’s not helping his case at all.    

It’s no use. 

There’s a plague of darkness buzzing like cicadas in his ears. He fears rejection and criticism. That maybe, she was only pretending in order to make the situation more pleasant so it ended sooner. Most of all, he feared that it would always be this way. That he would never find someone who embraces who he is as a person. Always met with mean side-eye glances or second looks of displeasure and confusion. It isn’t always that way, though, because then that would mean he gets absolutely no action, and that isn’t true. 

Harry is very… well-educated in matters that concerned sexual intercourse, but it was always a one-night stand ordeal. It was never ‘I really like you we should go out sometime’. In fact, he noticed that only time his approaches were well received were those in which he was dressed in a calmer manner. Simple, solid colors with sneakers or a t-shirt. Girls would flirt back, make good conversation, allow him to buy them a few drinks, and when he’d take them to his apartment they’d ask why he lived on top of a flower-shop, and if it was his sister or female-friend’s palace that he was crashing. Sex would ensue, but his heart wouldn’t be as present and engaged as he wanted it to be. 

Wrong. It was always so fucking wrong, and God, if he didn’t get out of this apartment he’s going to breakdown and cry and there’s no one to call to come over because Mitch is on a trip with his girlfriend, Sarah, and his other friend Jeff is on his honeymoon in Sweden. They were the only two on his mental speed dial list during the rare occasions he had a crisis, as they were the two that Harry had ever really opened up to. Mitch was a bit closer to his heart. They’ve known each other since their school days and practically grew up together (at one point they had small crushes on each other, which were confessed years down the line). Jeff was the owner of Winsome where… where y/n had mentioned spending her last twenty dollar bill. He didn’t have an issue opening up to them. He liked opening up to them, but he didn’t understand why they were the only two that ever truly opened their arms to him. 

A walk, he decided, would help him… air out his brain. Calm down. Breathe a little deeper, a little easier. 

He threw his white shirt back on, and a forest green sweatshirt that donned the emblem of the school he went to earn his business degree that fit him wide around the shoulders and felt like a marshmallow. Putting on a pair of beat up shoes, he shoved his keys into his pocket, hobbling and nearly losing his balance because he was moving way too fast. The door closed behind him with a slam, and even though he was still wearing the bandana around his head, wispy stray curls framing his face in a wild mane, his distress palpable through his appearance, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out and feel the cool air against his skin. 

There’s a backdoor behind the stairs that will take him to a small alleyway that leads to a back parking lot where other shop owners that live at the top of their stores on the same side of his street parked their cars. He unlocks it from the inside, and throws his shoulder into it, desperate to her out. When it shuts behind him, he doesn’t turn back because it’s the kind to lock from the outside when closed. His fingers curl into the ends of his sleeve so that the tips of his fingers (nails now changed to a sparkling silver color) are the only parts of his hands visible. 

Rounding the corner, he whistled the cheeriest tune he can muster. His lips are puckered and his cheekbones high with the extension of his mouth. He’s not very happy on the inside, though he remembers reading something somewhere that if you pretend to be something long enough, you’ll eventually become it. If he pretends to be happy, then he’ll actually be happy. 

Right?

Harry rounds the corner of the parking lot and turns on to the main street. It’s only two in the afternoon, so there's people crawling in and out of shops anywhere. He even sees a man and a woman peeking into the window of his store, and he would feel bad if he wasn’t in a shitty mood already. He’s so out of it, that he nearly yells ‘get your hands off my windows!’. He doesn’t though, because for a moment the woman becomes y/n and the man becomes him, wrapping a ringed hand around her waist and whispering in her downy ear ‘they’re closed, darling, let’s go somewhere else’ and she straightens dejectedly, pouting playfully and standing up and her tippy toes so that she could press a quick kiss to his lips. 

That image fades though, and the couple continues with their stroll, hand in hand, and his heart is wrenching, writhing and trying to yank itself free from it’s place in his chest because it hurts too much to stay. 

Cars whizz past, and he skirts in and out of people on the sidewalk, keeping his pace fast and focused. There’s no intended destination, he’s just moving with the intent to forget the pretty girl who haunts him. Her voice is all he can hear. Her smile is all she can picture. And the rest of her is all he can imagine, which is exactly what hurts the most. Imagination only goes so far, fulfils so much with uncertainty of what the truth was and what wasn’t. Harry could imagine her with her feet up on the lip of a bubble filled tub, a glass of wine in her hands, but then…what kind of wine did she like? Or did she even like wine? And did she even have a bathtub to stretch out in after a long day? 

He curses the crimes he may have committed in past lives to deserve this torture. This unbearable pain that felt like he was being dunked in a slow-acting acid. He can do nothing about it but keep walking with labored will power. He passed his shop, and a bakery and a small thrift store that sells used clothing for way too much money. At the propped open double-doors of Jeff’s Winsome, he decides to talk in and browse. There’s so many items that smell good and taste good, that it was fun to just walk in and look. 

“Back again so soon, H?” 

Spinning on his heel, Harry comes face to face with Niall, a brunette, fit, Irish bloke with a chummy smile and a killer sense of humor. The two have brokered a sort of friendship, considering the amount of time (and money) that Harry spends there. Niall has even started calling him ‘H’ in silent homage to his flower shop. 

“Y’know I can’t stay away,” Harry attempted to joke, his lips pulling up in a weak smile, “plus, I think I needed s’more of the peppermint essential oils f’my diffuser.” 

“‘Course ya do! You're worse than the bloody vegan mums that come in asking for gluten free baby powder!” Niall cups a hand over his mouth and loudly whispers to so that only Harry catches his verbiage. There was a woman in the back of the store, looking through soaps in the limited kid’s section, the same exact kind that Niall was speaking about. “Go on and look around then, I’ll be here when you’re finished.” He said. 

Harry only nodded his acknowledgement, and moved in between wooden walnut shelves. The entire store had a caramel brown color scheme, with only the inventory adding color to it. Macramé potted succulents and plants added to the natural, outdoorsy feel. Winsome had an interesting mix of smells from all of the aromatherapy based products it housed, but it only added to the appeal. 

Currently, he held a packet of four lip balms that advertised to be ‘100% all naturally derived ingredients with no artificial additives' infused with ‘healing power of crystals’, two of them ‘citrine cherry' flavored, and the remaining ‘garnet guava’. The brand name is something in Italian that he can’t read, packaging thick and a triangle made of arrows in the corner signaling it can be decomposed and/or recycled. He had the same exact ones at home, only they were all misplaced and- 

“Harry?”

A small, timid voice called his name from behind him, and he froze. He knew that voice. It was the same one he had repeated over and over in his head for the past week, waiting for her promised arrival with a hopeful heart. 

His eyes go wide with recognition, body still and stiff like a deer caught in headlights. His heart begins to rump at a furious speed, loud in his ears like a million stampeding hooves. The packaged products in his hands shake, and then she speaks again, “Harry, is that you?” 

Is this really happening right now? He’s embarrassed at having been caught with lipstick in his hands of all things, but he can’t put them back now. It was too late for that. He lets them hang at his side, and turns around. He hopes there isn’t perspiration dripping from his temples because all of a sudden he wants to yank his sweater off. 

Harry turned, slowly. He feared that if he moved too fast she would fly away like a startled dove. 

“Y/n…” He’s breathless, but he manages a pitiful quirk of the corner of his mouth, which he licks over right after, “hi.” 

She’s wearing a dress this time, frilly at the hem which fell just above her knees. It’s pink and covered and lined with blood red trim at her forearms. A string of pearls glistens at the base of her throat, and her lips are covered in a sheen of lipstick. Her hair, however, is a tousled mess, pieces of it framing her face and untucked from her bun as if she had been jostling around. Her cheeks are flushed with the cold, and clearly that thin beige cardigan hanging off her elbows is doing nothing to keep her warm.

Y/n smiles at him, with the same shakiness, “f-for a second I thought I was talking to the wrong p-person.” 

 It’s quiet again, and they’re both fidgeting. Y/n’s knees knock together as she shifts her weight from foot to food, and Harry idly rubs his finger under his nose and sniffs boogies that aren’t there. She’s staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on her heels and he can’t think of anything to say because he’s so paralyzed by the fact that she’s actually standing in front of him, and looks as gorgeous as ever. Had he somehow manifested her presence? 

While she’s hiking up the ends of her sweater so that they’re situated properly on her shoulders, he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Aren’t y’cold?”

Her head snaps up and she peeks at him from under her lashes while flattening a hand at her thigh, “a little bit.” 

Harry watches her tuck her hair behind her ears and wonders if she came walking from her apartment again. In the cold. Dress as she was. Not that he had a problem with the way that she was dressed! He understood that sometimes when people grew bored they used the smallest occasions to dress up and have some fun and get out of their homes. He did it too, sometimes. To clear his head. Hell, isn’t that what he was doing now?

“D’you need a ride home?” He stumbled over his tongue to backtrack, not wanting her to think that he was a wierdo or anything like that, “t-that is if y’walking, I wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything like that. S’bit chilly out today.” 

Y/n smiles shyly at him, a blush on the highest points of her cheeks, and rubs the side of her face against the fabric of her cardigan, “thank you, for the offer, but uhm… it’s my friend’s baby-shower-gender-reveal thing today and I came with my other friend to some last minute gifts and some flowers. I was going to buy some stuff from here because she’s crazy about the whole ‘no preservatives’ and all but, and I was also going to stop by your shop to buy some flowers, but I saw you were closed so I…I’m rambling again.” She sputtered out the last bit, and pressed the tips of her three middle fingers to her lips to stop the words from coming out. 

Harry smirked at her antics, but it’s more of a repressed smile, and the rest of his humor gleamed in the sea-glass of his eyes like a message in a bottle. 

“S’alright, love.” He’s still holding the lip balms in his hand, and he can feel the moisture that’s collecting on his palms dampening the Kraft like material as he gestured to her dress with the tip of his chin. “Y’wearing pink. I take it y’want the baby to be a girl?”

“Actually, I know it’s a girl. She told me,” y/n pips, shrugging smugly. 

Harry laughs at her this time, “Did you finish with all your purchases here? I can make an exception and open up f’you.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t wanna bother you! Because if this was your day off then-”

He lifts a hand to get her to stop, and uses the opportunity to twist around and put back what he had in his hands. The conversation is flowing so smoothly now, that all of his previous worries are gone. He can only focus on her and the way her eyelashes fluttered and the crystalline sparkly in her voice. 

“Y/n, it’s fine. D’ya finish here? We can head over to the shop now if you’d like.” Harry points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. 

“Uh, no. I just got here so I still have to go grab some things,” she said, pushing her hair past her ears again. He thinks that she can probably tell the disheveled state her hair was in, because she begins to pop off a pin in her hair to readjust it. He doesn’t mind it, though. He thinks she looks cute. Angel-like. 

He nods, rolling his hands into fists within his sleeves so that the cuffs hang over his knuckles, and tries not to trip over his legs as he backs away. “A’right. I’ll wait f’you in the front, then. Take y’time, love.” 

“‘Kay,” she gleams at him, biting down on her bottom lip, and Harry turns away fully before he starts whining about how cute she is or before there’s a dent in the heather grey fabric of his sweatpants.  

At the front, Niall has his chin at the palm of his hand, and as he gets closer, Harry lifts his head to see that the brunette is wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. There's a shit-eating grin on his face that clearly points to a mountain of teasing in the near distance. 

“A little love-struck, mate?” He said, as soon as Harry was within hearing distance. At least he had the decency to keep his voice down, he thought. 

Harry flips him off, “oh, bug off.” 

Silver glitter sparkling on his nails, and his gaze strays to the floor, bashful of how clear his affection was. He turns to rest his bum against the counter and pulls out his phone to appear busy as he waits for y/n, mindlessly opening Instagram to have something to do (and to stop him from glancing at her ever two seconds).    

“Yup. I knew it. Have y’asked her out yet?” Niall doesn’t stop to let Harry refute his question, “y’know she comes in sometimes, after stopping by your place? And she just will not stop talking about how nice yeh were to her.”

Harry’s head snaps up from his screen so fast, something at the back of his neck creaks with the force. Instagram is long forgotten.

“What? Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” He doesn’t mean for his words to come as aggressive as they do, but the thought of her speaking to someone else about him is… well, it’s thrilling. 

Alarmed, Niall’s hands come up near his face in the motion of surrender, “no, man! Dead serious. Think she likes yeh, honestly.”

He can only say: “Fuck me.”

Niall is about to respond when a quiet voice breaks their stares, “I’m all finished.” 

“Already, babe? I’ll rig ya up, then!” 

He’s quick to slide the few products over the scanning square, and y/n and Harry stand beside each other silently, their height difference laughable. Niall’s gaze flickered between them with no commentary, and his lips pucker with a wiggling smile when he finally announces her total. A bit too much for a small changing blanket, oatmeal-based baby lotion, pacifiers with a lavender infused towel attached to ‘aid with goodnight night’s sleep’, and a bamboo hairbrush with a tuft of soft bristles. 

Nonetheless, she provides the money with a pleasant smile. Harry can see a bit of tightness around her eyes that suggests discomfort, but he doesn’t say anything. Niall hands her a paper bag with her purchase, “there yeh go! Have a good day now, y/n! And be good, to Harry!” 

Harry’s eyes widen at Niall’s last comment, and it takes every bit of self-restraint in him to not reach the other counter and whack him in the back of the head. Instead, he shakes and ducks his head in near shame.

Y/n, however, quips back with “I’ll be nice only if you’re nice,” and bumps her shoulder against his before walking towards the door, looking over her shoulder at Harry who’s smiling wide now, and trailing after her with no regard to Niall at all. 

He shouts something after them about being rude lovebirds, but Harry doesn’t care. He’s floating after this heaven-sent like cartoon characters being led to a freshly baked pie with their nose on the scent. His rump high in the air like the Lorax disappearing into the light in the clouds, utterly ignorant to everything else. 

When they’ve both stepped outside, they speak at the same time, 

“Let me just-”

“Do y’wanna put-” 

Harry and y/n giggle at each other, 

“You go first.” 

“Y’speak first.” 

And then they laugh again. Harry pretends to zip his lips and throws away the key, and she says radiantly, “I’ll drop this off in my friend’s car really fast and we can walk to your flower shop.” 

Watching her approach a car parked two spots away, a girl with blue, pink, and brown hair leans over to the passenger side, seat belt straining against her throat and when she sees Harry, she waves and it makes y/n push her back to her spot behind the driver’s  side. Whoever this girl is, she and Niall have to meet, seeing as they can’t mind their own business. He chuckled and waved back, that girl laughing along with him and it made y/n cover her face with her cardigan covered hands. 

“I’m sorry about Charlotte,” she said when she got back, “she doesn’t know how to mind her own.”

“A bit like Niall, it seems.” Harry said. He waits for her to catch up before beginning to walk down the street. Side to side, shoulder to shoulder. They’re so close, Harry can feel the warmth of her body heat through the fleece of his sweatshirt. It’s cold, and she’s still this warm? 

“Maybe,” her eyebrows raise, and her head tilts towards him, “they should meet.” 

“Tha’s exactly what I was thinkin’!” His voice rises with his excited agreement, and the tip of his nose wiggles as he scrunches his nose. 

As they get closer, to H’s Garden, Harry reaches into his pocket for his keys, fingering through them so that they wouldn’t have to stand in the cold for so long. He didn’t want her to get sick. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I feel really bad about this,” she whispered beside him, looking up at him with doe eyes as she worried her lip between her teeth, the sheen of gloss adding an extra allure to her image at that moment. “It’s your day off, and I’m bugging you.” 

They stood in front of the door now, underneath the green umbrella cover that extended from the top of the door and down the side of the window. Harry waited for her to step into the little alcove created by the indent of the door before stepping in after her and jiggling the key into the lock. He resisted the urge to pull his lips down into a cooing frown at the look on her face. She really was worried about disturbing him. If only she knew that he spent the entire day moping (and nearly crying) over her. 

He sucked on his teeth, “oh, love, please worryin’ about it. Don’t wanna see that frown on y’pretty face anymore okay?” His confidence was slowly coming back, “s’not my day off, I just didn’t feel like speaking to customers today.” 

Shrugging, he opened the door, and took a step back to allow her to step through first. Y/n ducked her head as she passed him with a murmured ‘oh, okay’, and he followed right after her, wanting to get away from the cold too because he knew that his nose was probably pink at that moment, but what he didn’t anticipate was for y/n to stop right after breaching the threshold, and bend over at the waist to pick something up from the floor, causing Harry to bump into her at such an awkwardly sexual angle with all of his momentum. 

Considering he was half twisted away from her and in the middle of pulling out the key from it’s slot, the amount of force in Harry’s push from behind was enough to cause her to nearly fall forward, a surprised whimper slipping from her lips. Harry, determined not to see her fall, lets go of the key and reaches out just in time to grasp her hips on either side, pulling her back towards him mid-fall so that she doesn't collapse on her face. 

However, in the midst of all of this Harry forgets himself and uses a bit too much force. Not to mention, the implications of their position makes him hyper aware of every single place their bodies touched, her small frame against his lithe, tattooed body. 

This moment only lasts for a few seconds, but he can feel everything. 

He can feel the easy give of the skin of her hips underneath each finger that touched her, the softness of the flesh on her thighs against his sturdy knees. The fabric of his sweatpants is suddenly non-existent, and it’s almost as if he felt every taught tendon of her legs, frozen with efforts of helping catch or brace herself. The heat of her groin is flush against his, and it makes him want to scream with a sudden sensitivity. Her ass is practically seated on him, full and malleable against the points of his laurel covered hip bones. Harry’s semi-hunched, as her weight also pushed him back, and the position is doing nothing to help his frenzied mind settle. He feels like shit because he’s being a horny, pubescent kid instead of asking her if she’s okay, but then y/n moves back into him to straighten fully and their centers grind. Her dress is semi-bunched at the halfway point of her bum, and he can feel heat emanating from her, radiating back on his bloating cock. He has to stifle a moan when she pushes herself up with the tips of her fingers. 

Just as quickly as it started, it’s over. Y/n is dusting her bum off so that her dress falls and covers her modesty, and she’s beet red in the face, not looking at him. Which was fine by him, he was too ashamed to look into her eyes. 

He clears his throat (something he’s doing a lot around her) and asks if she’s okay. 

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. This was on the floor,” she squeaked, holding up a neon yellow notice sheet in her hand. That damned thing was what caused all of this?

It’s a notice from the delivery men that said, ‘sorry! We missed you!’ with a time and date messily scrawled on the dotted lines. Harry had forgotten that he was getting a shipment of several plants that morning. 

Cursing, he takes it from her, “t-thank you. Now how ‘bout those flowers?”

It’s awkward, obviously, but y/n is severely silent. Harry’s still stuffy in his pants, but he ignores it and doesn’t add any fuel to the fire because there’s more pressing matters at hand than a boner. Y/n is the most quiet she’s ever been around him, considering all of her word vomits and ramblings, and he’s suffering. Definitely beating himself up in his head for having ruined the moment. He held onto her for a second too long, frozen. She must feel so embarrassed, and he was self-endulging like a fucking asshole. 

Harry asks her questions on what flowers she’d like, and she answers by pointing or bringing a stem to him, laying it on the counter without a word. A mixture of dahlias and baby’s breath with a handful of feverfew to make the pink in the dahlia’s stand out. He lays them out on his work table, cutting the ends at an angle where they need to be cutted and laying them out on a sheet of clear, dusty rose paper. Three packets of flower food are strewn at the corner, and y/n busies herself by fidgeting with them. He grows concerned when he makes a comment on the kinds of ribbons he had stored and she doesn’t say anything. Not even a nod or a hum. 

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of her neglect, and pauses his work to devote her some attention.  

“Love, I’m sorry about what happened,” he said softly, trying to catch her eyes, “I know it probably made y’uncomfortable, and I didn’t do much to make the situation better, but I just didn’t wanna see y’fall.”

Y/n’s head is already dipped, so he can’t see her face, but when her shoulders begin to shake, he knows he’s utterly fucked. She starts to sniffle, and his eyes go wide. The paper crinkled as he set down the baby’s breath he’s holding in his hands. He hates seeing people cry, not because he didn’t know how to deal with it, but because he often ended up crying along with them. Also, he just didn’t want to see her cry. Harry wanted her to be happy, glowing, and smiling. Not dull with dollops of woeful distress in liquid form.

He rounds the corner and spares a look out to the street, wanting to make sure that there is no strange onlooker eavesdropping on their interaction. His hand reaches out to stroke her back or shoulder comfortingly, but he thinks better of it and drops his arm. She most likely would not like to be touched, considering what just happened between them. He drops his head, seeking face-to-face interaction, and speaks as gently as he can, “y/n, what’s wrong?” 

She avoids his search, and turns the other way while sniffling, “you probably think I’m weird now or something after that.” 

“No!” Harry exclaimed, jerking his head back as if he’d been struck, and her words practically had. He can’t believe that she would think that and even go as far as verbalizing her thoughts when he worshipped the ground she walked on and didn’t even know her that well, yet. “No, no. I don’t think that. Y’tripped, that’s all. Happens to everyone. If anythin’ I’m the weirdo for grabbin’ y’the way I did, and I’m really sorry about it.”

Y/n dig the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, “that was so embarrassing, I should’ve told you I was gonna stop or something. I always embarrass myself in front of cute boys and I never know what to do. I just-” 

Harry interrupts before she can dig herself further another hole. He highlights a segment of her words, dropping everything else in hopes of changing the conversation and taking her discomfort away, and mostly because he was bursting with relief and happiness. She had said that she thought he was cute, just how he thought that she was adorable, and nice, and everything good. They were on the same level, their minds in sync. Did that mean…

His voice is airy and light because of what she had just admitted, “y’think I’m cute?”

She stills with awareness of what she’s just said, and a puppy-like noise seeps from the back of the throat before her hands sink further into her eyes, embarrassed. Harry tenderly wraps his fingers around her small wrists and pulls her hands away from her face, murmuring about ‘don’t rub y’eyes anymore, love, y’gonna hurt’ with nothing but kindness. A millisecond of distraction speeds through his mind at the softness on the inside of her wrists. 

There’s a trickle of blubbering in her part, her bitten lips bumping against each other as she attempts to backtrack, “I mean- I- I-”

Harry decides that it’s now or never. It was a bit inconvenient, perhaps, but with her revelation his confidence soared and he was more prepared now to ask than he ever had been. So, he goes for it, “can I have y’number?” 

A moment of semi-uncomfortable silence as the unknown tips the scale. Would she say yes? Would she say no? His head was spinning and he hoped his nose didn’t start bleeding or something because y/n nods slowly, smiling, and then, “okay.” 

He’s elated. He was the polar opposite of what he had been that morning. If only Owen could see him then. He doesn’t waste any time reaching into his back pocket and handing her his unlocked phone. They don’t share any words, only coy glances and flirty quirks of the lips as the tips of her fingers move on his screen. Harry can’t believe that he’s finally getting her number, after nearly a month of pinning. 

When she’s finished, she clicks it off and sets it next to him with an added pat to the back of his suspiciously clean white phone case while he’s tying the flowers together with a loose rubber band at the ends to attach the food packets. He’s fine with working in silence now that she's not crying anymore. He throws occasional glances in her direction, and catches her watching his hands while fiddling with her own. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth was twitching. 

“Will you text me?” She asked him. 

He’s careful not to bruise any of the petals as he sets them down again, pausing with his ministrations to pick up his phone. He wiggles his eyebrows at her and types a quick ‘Hi. It’s Harry :)’. He hits send, “until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” She shakes her head, and Harry’s reminded Rachel McAdams in The Notebook while she’s in complete denial of her feelings for Noah. The comparison makes his heart flutter, considering the romance of the onscreen couple. “How much do I owe you?” 

Harry waves her off, “it’s on the house.” She begins to argue, but Harry stops her before she starts rambling again, “y’better go or you’ll be late, love.” He holds out the arrangement to her, tufts of baby’s breath poking out from between the vibrant dahlias like fluffy clouds, the feverfew looking like miniature white daisies in the center. 

She looks at it, and back at him before huffing, “fine, but you’ll have to let me return the favor.”

“Of course,” he smirks, “with dinner, maybe?” 

They’re both gleaming at each other now, “okay.” Y/n takes a step back, her body half twisted as she walks away, but it remains like that for a moment as her eyes rake him up and down, a murmur following, “bye, Harry.” 

His veins charge with electricity, and his dark taffy lips part at her actions. Had she just checked him out? He doesn’t recover quick enough to return her goodbye because the previous swirl of arousal in his navel was bristling back to life at the implications of that look. Calm, slow, steady, and her eyes remained doe-like and innocent. 

She had to have known exactly what she was doing, whispering his name the way she had, looking over her shoulder and under her eyelashes the way she did. Deviously provoking his thoughts to begin a new with a reinspired fervor. The space in his underwear was growing tighter by the second, a blissful ache swelling. 

Before any other customer stepped in after her, Harry locked the door, and jogged up the stairs to prepare himself a nice, hot bath, simultaneously cursing and thanking the stupid fucking delivery men.  

********

Harry can’t stop thinking. 

Obviously, this is a huge issue for him. He was constantly thinking, and well, who wasn’t? The process of thoughts wisping around in his brain was one that he often put an unnecessary amount of energy into because he had no one to filter these thoughts onto, releasing them through a conversation to prevent the exhaustion of his brain and heart. A prime example of these mishaps being the depressing slump that occupied his demeanor that very morning. 

This?

This was different.

As soon as the apartment door was shut behind him, Harry pulled the suffocating sweatshirt off of his upper body, fingers hooking in at the collar and yanking it off with a swift tug. It landed somewhere on his kitchen floor, and he didn’t stop to take note of its final destination. Instead, his legs instinctively took him to his bathroom. 

Chest heaving, Harry walked to the small window leaking sunlight and rolled the stick between his fingers to close the blinds. His thumb dipped into the waistband of his boxes and dragged them down lopsidedly, the tiger tattoo roaring as it became exposed. When the blinds are fully closed, the white extension clangs against the shutters from his aggressive release. His body was slowly being consumed by a raging fire stoked by the illicit images his brain conjured of the innocent, unsuspecting y/n.

His inner turmoil consisted of guilt for using her image that way and justification from the conspiring rake of her eyes along the upper half of him that was visible behind the counter. He was so fixated by her, that her look alone felt like a tempting caress along his skin. And it all happened in a matter of fucking seconds. That’s how gone he was. That’s how fucking gone he was. Harry guesses that the easy excitement also had to do with the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while (he only ever gets lucky when he goes out to the bars with Mitch or Jeff, and they’d been gone for a significant amount of time) and the strong affinity he had for the girl who bought flowers from him.  

Explanation or not, he had to do something about the problem in his pants. He was painfully hard, and when he shucked his pants off fully, his underwear dragged with the movement and pressed against the tip of his swollen prick. A darkened patch of moisture bloomed where the head was, and he saw stars at the short pressure. He wouldn’t take his pants off just then, though. He liked to stall his pleasure as much as he could so that when he finally did cum, his stomach muscles contracted and his toes remained curled for more than ten seconds. 

He twisted the golden knobs of his tub so that the water would come rushing out at a borderline scalding temperature, and opened the small cabinet above the toilet for a bottle of almond and coconut shea butter bubbles. He uncapped it and bent over the edge of the tip, the cool, porcelain lip touching his crotch and provoking a choked whimper to leave him. Jerking his hips back, he poured the soapy liquid into the spot where the water cascaded, and retracted his hand when the beginning of froth formed along the surface. 

The heady sweet smell permeated the air with the rising levels of bubbles, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. Because he liked to torture himself, he closed his eyes and slowly dragged the hell of his hand over the outline of his cock, a groan ripping though the silence. It’s so painfully good, that he does it one more time, and he jolts forward. He removes his hand, slips his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, and lugs the fabric down his hips at an excruciatingly slow pace. The head of his member smearing precum all along as he moves and when he gets caught in the ripples of his boxers the muscles in his thighs flex at the ripple of pleasure that zips into his nerves. 

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. His mind was a spinning vintage reel of slideshow images of y/n. Y/n on bruised knees, her mouth wide open and her own drool on her tits, the tip of his cock flat on her tongue as she pleads with weepy eyes for him to cum down her throat. When he finally springs free of his underwear, a hefty slap rings out as his dick collides against his abdomen, right on the space underneath his belly button. 

There’s a stripe of liquid on the trail left by the mushroom head of his prick, and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throat straining as he hovers over the bathtub. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this hard over a girl before, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to last as long as he usually does. As he swings a leg over the edge of the tub, the hot water encasing his calf, he’s thinking about how soft she is. The inside of her wrist and the palm of her hand. If she’s that soft on an external part of her body that’s used everyday, he can only wither away at the idea of what the inside of her thighs feel like. 

Bubbles are swarming up now, swathing his thighs and buttocks as he sinks into the sloshing water. When he’s completely seated and satisfied with the belly-button level of water, he clumsily throws a hand in the direction of the knobs to shut them off, and reclined his head against the curved end of the tub with his eyes shut. 

He hikes up his knees so that they’re resting against the porcelain walls, and mindlessly ruts up into the water at the filthy images he’s picturing, white foam collecting in sparse clouds over the math on his chest. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s as if his body is being transported back to the moment his hips clashed with y/n’s. At the recollection, his mouth drops and his eyebrows pinch in a silent moan. The feel of her flesh underneath his fingertips has him bobbing in the water, and the next ideation has him gripping the base of his cock. 

Vividly, he pictured her on all fours, keening back onto him as her pussy enveloped him in warmth, a warmth that is almost replicated by the temperature of the water, dripping and making a mess of him but what’s turning him on most of all is the easy flushness of their bodies. He had felt the way her bum gave way under his hold, and he imagined the bounce of her flesh as he thrusted into her. 

He moaned a broken call of her name with his eyes still shut, and heard the trickling of water as his fist rolled up his stiff prick, squeezing at the tip so that a few more droplets of precum dribbled out. With his thumb, he rubbed over the red mushroom head and lathered it in slow, leisurely circles, a throb pulsating with the beat of his heart as he returned to flicking his wrist over himself. 

The way that he looked at him and the sound of his name on her lips seared into his memory. Airy and willowy, similar to it resonated in his brain with the fantasy of sinking into her for the first time, stretching her and having her preen and arch with desperate whimpers of his name for more. Harry considered himself to be ‘well-endowed’ and his size was a factor of what sent him careening over the edge as girls mewled over his size after he’d bottomed out. He wanted y/n to mewl under him, both of them falling apart at the seams at the mutual pleasures because if Harry’s this broken over just the thought of her, then he’s sure he’s going to lose himself beyond recognition after he’s buried himself into her velvety walls, slick with her arousal and so fucking warm. 

Just as she had been earlier that day. There had been two layers between them- the fabric of Harry’s pants and her panties- yet, he was still able to feel an immense heat from the apex of her thighs against his cock. He needed more than this. He needed her, not just his hand driving him closer to the edge. 

His jaw clenched as he bit back on a particularly loud moan, for no reason other than he enjoyed self-sabotage from time to time, and the speed of his jerking hand increased. His other hand gripped the side of the tub, and his legs flexed as he began to thrust up into his own fist, a trail of bubbles sticking to the tanned muscles. The cut rectangles of muscles of his abdomen glistened like freshly chopped cubes of apricot with the droplets of water that remained clinging to him. His breath came in labored, strained puffs as the palm of his hand twisted, tightening at the tip and loosening at the base. 

For a moment, he paused and cupped his balls, massaging them as the fantasy in his head continued. His mouth wrapping around y/n’s nipples, her eyes glazed over from previous orgasm that he wanted so badly to give her. She’d whine something soft and quiet to match her personality, ‘please, Harry, please I want more. Need another Harry, please’, and he’d speed up the movement of his hips, driving deep into her and cooing into her ear about, ‘c’mon, darling. Give m’another then. Y’want it so bad, yeah? Give me a’fucking ‘nother’, and she’d release a peircing moan that explodes in his eardrums while arching into him. She’d squeeze impossible tight around him, gushing with her own cum. 

The water in Harry’s tub sloshes around his ankles, and the muscles of his abdomen clench so that he’s closing in on himself, sputtering on an outrageously loud cry that he can’t contain and his hand increases the speed of his filthy ministrations because he’s right on the edge. He’s about to fucking cum and the back of his eyelids burns with the possible variances of y/n’s face in ecstasy provided by him with his nose deep in her cunt, lapping at the sweet honey that spills with every whimper of, ‘please let me cum, Harry. I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please let me cum. 

He tensed violently, his face contorted painfully as white ropes spurt from the tip of his cock over his fist and onto his chest, blending with the white almond foam. His feet are braced against the edge of the tub and his head falls back and his stomach tenses even further, the final leaks of his cum dribbling out. 

With the fuzziness that comes after an orgasm, his body melts back into the water that’s still warm, and his jerks with a pant as he allows his softening prick to sink into the water. The head on his hair is matted in a chocolate smear across his forehead, and his lips are a raging heart of cherry blossoms, parted with arduous gasps of recovery breath. His hands fall into the water at his sides, and with the lapping movement of the liquid against his sensitive member, he ruts into nothing again. 

Reclined with his eyes closed and heartbeat slowing, Harry murmurs a final, “fuck me,” at the extreme sensations that had raked through his body. 

Somewhere in the muffled distance, his phone dings with the notification of a text message, and with a tired noise of resentment, he sits up and reaches for his sweatpants that lay in a messy puddle besides the tub. His fingers drip darkening spots onto the grey material as he rummages for his phone, and then he finally clicks it on...

It’s her name, lighting up his screen, and the text reads: 

y/n <3 : so… dinner? 

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever crushed on a girl this hard before because even though he’s just completely physically spent himself, there’s something stirring in the depths of his tummy just at seeing the heart she put next to her name. 

He couldn’t be happier. 

*    *    *    *    *    *

and here he is!! what do you guys think?? pls pls pls leave your feedback in my askbox! i’d love to hear your thoughts! and if you really really loved it, don’t be afraid to press that reblog button <3333

[wellnoe]

Hello! I'm in love with your art, could you tell us how you do colours?

AH that is very nice of you to say. i can try! there is the caveat that my coloring process is mostly just layering different colors on top of one another until i get something i think looks good.

info below the cut:

so first! i put down a solid base color that i kind of want to be in the finished piece. milli has teal hair (and my version of her is based on a rainbow trout) so i used a light greenish-blue color for the base. then i choose a color that is closer to a skin tone (usually a type of pink, but sometimes oranges or yellows too) and put a light layer of that over everywhere skin is visible. it doesn't have to be perfect, because there's going to be a lot more color plastered on top. this is also usually the stage where i start using pink and a darker version of the first color to indicate where i'm going to put blush & shading.

more color layers! for milli (and with characters like jean) i do a lot of my first color layers with shades of yellow and pink. i just layer the colors on top of each other to achieve the shade i want, then color pick from that for other places in the drawing, like the shoulders. i tend to add a lot of saturated pink across the center of the face (cheeks, across the nose, up to the ears). for milli, because i'm basing her on a trout, i used a pretty saturated yellow for the eyes and a lot of greenish yellow for shading. i used green around her spots, but for things like freckles i usually do the same thing with a brown or red.

also!! i usually try to make shadows a more saturated color? it makes coloring more fun for me and i also think it looks nice. milli's shadows are greenish yellow, but usually mine end up being pink/red or orange (which you can kind of see on milli's shoulder).

i cleaned up the base color to make things less distracting and started on the hair. i usually do shadows first. also, i usually use a slightly different hue than whatever i want the 'real' color of the hair to be? milli's hair is supposed to be teal, but i used a much more green shade for the shadows. i also realized i wanted the hair to be brighter in general, and so added a more vibrant teal in a lot of places. i color picked her lipstick from her hair.

finally! i added highlights to the hair with a less saturated color. this was done on top of the lineart layer, and its where i do most of the stuff like adding random fly-aways or strands of hair. i also added blue make-up under the lineart layer, and then added lighter parts of the makeup on top of the layer. in general, i tend to do things like highlights on top of my lineart layer.

here's the finished product! i generally add a noise layer on top.

anyway, my colors are always pretty messy! i do a lot of erasing to make sure they eventually fit in my lineart lol. and you can definitely still see the streaks and shapes of my colors, but i think that's fun! my colors really are just. a lot of layering!

hope that answered your question!! thanks for asking!

[elysianslove]

Have you ever done..

Middle blocker dick analysis? 🙌🥺👉👈 I love this series more than I should teehee 🤫

ohhhh this is a good batch there are so many,,, bless you for requesting it, and also, i’m very glad to hear that you’re liking this series!!! 

pls my search history is so weird rn <//3 

other versions: haikyuu captains dick analysis, haikyuu aces dick analysis, haikyuu setters dick analysis, jjk dick analysis

middle blockers done in the captains version: kuroo tetsurō

HAIKYUU MIDDLE BLOCKERS DICK ANALYSIS 

hinata shōyō 

okay the thing about hinata is i think he’s a grower!! like i firmly believe so. so maybe he’s 4.3 when soft, but it’s so satisfying gripping him so firmly in your hand and feel him harden and grow to like 6.2 inches. and it’s actually pretty thick too, like it’s a fat cock, you know? i feel like i need to answer this question with him too: does the carpet match the drapes? yes, it does. he does in fact have ginger pubes, but they’re like wayyy darker than his hair, so it’s nearly brown you know? can’t believe i just talked about some fictional guy’s pubes. he also doesn’t shave, but will trim sometimes, just to maintain it. dark pink tip and tan, flushed shaft, super veiny surprisingly!!! feels so nice when it’s in your mouth omg! 

tsukishima kei 

skinny penis skinny penis skinny penis. long but skinny. penis. it’s maybe 6.7 or 6.8 inches, and it does not curve at all. like he loves to sit somewhere like a couch or chair and just spread his legs for you, and his dick is stiff against his stomach, staring condescendingly down at you. bright, kind of pale pink tip, and pale shaft with only a few prominent veins. is he clean shaven? is he not? depends, which would piss you off more? also not a lot of his partners paid attention to this, but once you discovered that his balls are hella sensitive, you could not let that go. it’s his biggest, biggest weakness. just suck on them or squeeze and toy at them while sucking him off and he makes the cutest noises.

suna rintarō 

definitely has a big dick. have you seen how large timeskip suna is? he is packing, i know it. he’s like 7.2 inches, nothing less and nothing more, i stand by this. head is so fat, and his dick is so hefty and heavy in your hands, like so heavy. i don’t know how else to describe it, it’s just so firm and sturdy to hold. very dark pink tip that it’s not really pink, you know? more of a color fading into his own skin color. his shaft is a little bit darker than his skin color. idk it’s just a very aesthetic dick, so pretty ngl. also it curves to the left, like slightly, but it’s noticeable. actually clean shaven, because yeah he’s lazy, but he’s very adamant on taking care of himself and making sure he’s clean, you know? have to mention that he loves to sight of you fucked out resting your head on his thigh, a mess of cum everywhere and his limp cock near you <333

matsukawa issei sincerely apologize for going off track w this one

holy fucking shit. holy shit. do i even have to? he is top 3 biggest dicks in haikyuu. he is so big, so fucking big. he’s definitely like 8.3 inches? and so much girth too? it’s literally a struggle taking him in. i think he actually was insecure about it for a little bit just cause so many people would back out of sex so quick when they saw his dick. at first it was flattering, but then it started to genuinely bother him. he’s definitely not gonna force anyone to do anything they’re uncomfortable with, and he understands cause it yeah it is big, but damn can’t a guy get his dick wet? :( do i have more to say about this? yes, but i choose to shut up. his dick is so gorgeous though, dark red tip and tan shaft, so so so veiny, and a happy trail from below his belly button to his trimmed pubes. breeder balls <333 such big balls <333 

tendō satori 

he’s definitely definitely 6.8 inches, skinny but long, and is so fucking good at what he does. like insanely good. the first push inside of you feels insanely good, just cause the way he has you, the way he’s pressing inside of you, the way he’s filling you up so well, the push of his hand against your lower stomach. yes, exactly. he’s very clean shaven, for the aesthetic i think, more than the convenience. pale, smooth shaft with no too harshly prominent veins (when he’s hard there are two very obvious ones) and as you approach the tip from the base a deep, red flush starts, darkest at the slit. is really into cumplay so, do with that what you will :) 

haiba lev 

7 inches. this himbo. my god. he knows his dick is long and also doesn’t know it, you know? like he has a concept of size, but also, at the same time, he keeps wincing whenever he enters you too early and you’re too tight like,,, what were you expecting? i think he just underestimates himself, you know? it’s a nice dick though! flushed shaft and a tip of similar shade, but slightly brighter. he shaves because he got so scared he would never get girls if he didn’t shave, poor baby </3 extremely sensitive all over, the shaft, the tip, his balls. everywhere. he came so early the first time you had sex omg. but when you’re giving him a hand job and you press and massage at the slit, he does a literal entire body shiver. 

yamaguchi tadashi 

apparently yams’s official position is middle blocker (aside pinch server), or at least that’s what wiki says. i’ll do him anyways! i really really really wanna go with yamaguchi having a big dick. like idk why but it’s satisfying to think about the fact that he might be bigger than people make him out to be, but i won’t go too overboard i guess :( he’s 6.5 inches, proportionately thick and long. it has the prettiest dark red tip, and it looks beautiful when his own face is flushed red just <333 dark tan shaft, and kinda veiny! he doesn’t really know whether to shave or not, but he tried it out once and preferred it so now it’s the norm for him! 

hirugami sachirō

pretty dick pretty dick pretty dick. like such a bright, bright pink at the tip, and a pale shaft with a few veins!!! it’s honestly more cute than anything. not because he’s small! he’s like 6 inches, or 6.1, but it just. it’s cute, okay? he has great orgasm control surprisingly, and it’s so impressive. his dick just looks so kissable when it’s drooling and leaking so much, just the tip is so glossy and the shaft is so wet and slippery, and he literally ascends the moment you suck at his tip. clean shaven for sure for sure! he just prefers it that way, you know? 

meian shūgo 

fat dick fat dick fat dick. such a fat dick. thicker than it is long, maybe 6.5 inches? very girth-y, very veiny, breeder fucking balls, like he cums so much it’s insane. tan shaft, and a golden tip with the slightest flush tint. curves to the right!! and he’s not very clean shaven, but like it’s well maintained enough not to be bothersome you know!!! his favorite favorite favorite part is watching the way you stretch around him like he purposely doesn’t prep you exactly as much as you need because he wants it to be a bit of a tight fit. anyways :)  

aone takanobu 

another one of our monster cocks <3 he is just so. sweet though. like it took forever to convince him you actually were ready to take him because he was in denial that he’d fit, and it really was a very, very tight fit. he’s just big, length and girth wise. probably 8 inches??? like genuinely????? for a good while at the start he wouldn’t even push himself all the way in :( very pale shaft, veiny but it’s not dark veins, you know? and a very very bright pink bordering on red tip. clean shaven, of course he is???? considerate is his middle name are you kidding!!!! 

kindaichi yūtarō

something about him says 5.2 inches and i don’t know why or what or how. he was so clueless on how to use it for the longest time, and he’s extremely sensitive too so that didn’t help his case. but honestly kindaichi is very giving, in the sense that he learns how to pleasure you very well, with his dick or without. golden light tip, and a light tan to the shaft. relatively veiny, and it curves to the right too!!! tip becomes really pink when he’s hard and leaking precum. also he trims very often and very well just cause he’s weirded out if it’s completely bare! 

the saga continues 😼 hope i didn’t miss anyone and that you all enjoyed this, mwah <3 

[mysaldate]

AThane and the symbolism behind the outfit

This has been on my mind for quite some time, pretty much ever since AThane was introduced to the game but it was only with the comic coming out that I realized just what was it that looked so important for me in his design. Yes, I’m not very fast on the uptake sometimes let me ramble xD

As usual, this will probably be a fairly long post so I’m putting it under Read More just in case. And yes, I know this is the Brutus month and tbh, I do love ABrutus and his story is amazing but I don’t really have much to say in terms of symbolism etc.

The Awakened heroes so far didn’t really have any MAJOR changes to their design. Sure, ATalene tied her hair back and got an extra pair of fluffier wings, and AEzizh got buffer and more blue and pink than red and purple but it wasn’t anything huge. There really wasn’t much going on in terms of theme or symbolism that wouldn’t already be there in their original form. Yes, ATalene looks more angelic than the old version and yes, AEzizh now ascends from a ball of demonic purple energy but these changes only emphasize what was already there, meanwhile AThane’s design completely flips the script on his previous aesthetics and feel.

Since his introduction to the game, Thane stood out as being one of the few Lightbearers with a darker theme to his design. Sure, he wasn’t the only one but it was still somewhat of a staple of his. His outfits consists mostly of dark blues, grays, and browns, a lot of them a little faded, and though he’s on his guard, his expression is somber. This goes double for his in-game model. And unlike the other darker-themed characters, he doesn’t really have much to lighten the overall feel up. Estrilda has her flag which has brighter colors and a nice rim of light (and her insane amount of revealed skin which also brightens the pic), Hendrik’s colors are overall lighter and he has more gold on his outfit, his hair being white also adds to a more positive mood, and we could go on. Standing out from the lineup would be Morrow and Scarlet but those are fairly late additions and their palettes are more purposely contrasting than the somber darkness we see in Thane.

In a way, this is tied to Thane’s mental state at that point of his story. After losing Baden, and blaming himself for it, Thane fell into fairly deep depression, one he only somewhat got out of after he started training Estrilda. But going off of the Solemn Vow storyline, even that didn’t exactly get him out of that state much and while he did come to genuinely care for her, how much of his teaching was because he cared and how much was because of his self-assumed debt to the Rayne family is still unclear. I think it’s safe to say that with Baden, a part of Thane died as well. And while Baden wasn’t exactly dead, there is no canon confirmation that Thane would know about that. This is one of the things I really wish they would’ve made into a webcomic since we are apparently getting some comics for some awakened heroes and it would allow for more emotional connection compared to the Voyage of Wonders and plain text description.

Furthermore, and the picture above is inverted since I can’t find the correctly-facing one, Thane lost his right arm at the same time he lost Baden. This isn’t enough to end his swordsmanship even if it was his dominant hand but no doubt was this a major blow for both his sense of self-worth and his everyday life. Again, this is already very symbolic of what happened to him because of the loss of Baden – he didn’t die but it would forever be in the back of his mind like a haunting reminder of his failure. For all means and purposes, Thane’s story could’ve ended there, leaving him agonizing over that one moment where he lost his... ehm “best friend” and his arm, the moment of his ultimate failure.

And then came his awakening.

Immediately, the first thing you notice is how much brighter this design is compared to the original. AThane is still wearing the same black suit but now with more gold, and his cloak has brighter colors. Even his hair – and a new goatee – changed from gray to blue. The addition of lighter shades, whites, and the overall light-feeling aesthetic also marks a big step for his mental state and character development. AThane moved to a brighter place. It is very fitting that Thane’s design choices are affected by him losing Baden, while AThane’s are directly tied to finding Baden again, and being able to prove himself worthy of him.

The motif for AThane’s outfit appears to be the peacock, both based on the colors and on the shape his outfit took. Peacocks are, among other things, universally considered the symbol of pride and confidence but various cultures assign them other meanings as well. In Native American cultures, peacocks could be used self-esteem, refinement, beauty, or even sexuality. Hinduism associates peacocks with prosperity, good luck, and protection. And finally, in Chinese history, peacocks were used to symbolize power, beauty, and even divinity.

It is therefore fitting for AThane’s theme to be so heavily leaning into the peacock motif for several reasons. Not only has he gained new power – and it was the power to protect – but he gained a connection to the divine by merging with the elemental wind mark. This was most certainly a tough choice, Thane avoided it for as long as he could, knowing how much of a strain it was sure to put on him. It was no sooner than he saw Baden ready to sacrifice himself for him AGAIN that he made his choice, thus ultimately making this choice about love. Now, whether you see Thaden as platonic or romantic, there is no doubt that some kind of deep love runs between the two. Last time, Baden was the one to act on it and take a tremendous risk. This time, Thane is the one to take the risk, not willing to fail Baden again, even if it costs his life. And finally, we get to the final point of AThane’s design.

Notice how the right side of his cloak is so heavily decorated with the feathers while the left side is relatively plain, the feather design instead appearing on his sleeve. This is the part I newly realized and that really knocked the air out of me once it clicked. By his self-sacrifice, AThane not only made up for his previous mistake, but he gained wings. His arm won’t ever come back, much like Baden will never be human again, but there is now something to substitute it. Now, I’m sure I don’t have to get into the common associations when it comes to wings, but let me just bring up a few most common – and most interesting – ones.

Wings symbolize protection. In multiple official arts of AThane, he seems to be using his missing arm as a way to deflect blows, the shoulder piece serving as a bright shield. This also tracks with how he even gained this new power – in an attempt to protect Baden, on a mission to protect Estrilda, and ending up giving him the determination to try and protect the world.

Wings symbolize freedom. In AThane’s case, it’s the freedom from his haunting past, and the ability to overcome it. It’s a freedom of his weakness and of the fear that he would end up losing everyone again. I wouldn’t be surprised if after this, we saw the character developing deep relationships and let himself get close to people again. He might even feel free to express himself some more. One thing I certainly hope to see once we finally get to the culmination of this arc is Thane, completely exhausted after the battle, perhaps hurt, but looking over the people who helped him get there, and smiling, or perhaps even laughing, letting all the stress and responsibility wash off of him.

And finally, wings symbolize purity and divinity. I touched upon the divinity before but I want to mention it briefly once more because angels as we know them are often intimately tied to both of the previous ties. But furthermore, they are gentle, often self-sacrificing creatures who serve as protectors, soldiers, messengers, and more. This role is fitting for a character like Thane who was a soldier, a castellan, a detective, an arrand boy, and now finally also a protector. It also symbolizes a rebith of sorts. With his rise from the dark depths his mind was in before, he can now fully embrace a new calling.

AFK Arena (luckily) doesn’t have a habit of killing off playable characters but if it did, I believe it to possibly be the perfect culmination for AThane’s arc. This is just my opinion so absolutely feel free to yell at me. I simply think that AThane gaining wings and then possibly falling in the final battle, possibly shielding his allies instead of going in for a reckless offensive, would be the most fitting end to his character development, showing us just how far he’s gone. From someone who needed others to die for him, to someone willing to protect others with his life. But even if this is not going to happen any time soon, simply the fact that he was willing to risk it for the mere chance of being able to save others is already an incredible step forward.

Well, that would be it for this analysis. I plan on going more in-depth about why the characters were picked for their particular elements too but since we only have two so far, that might have to wait. Speaking of which, we’re left down to fire and water, and Wilders and Graveborn. I wonder who will take which element? Wilders already have a character associated with fire, and Graveborn have multiple water-related characters so seeing a switch would certainly be interesting. There’s also the Daimon song video that has the grave symbolized by a large body of water so that could also be a hint... Well, we’ll see in two months. Until then, let me know what you think.

If you’ve read this far, thank you very much, you have no idea how much it means. I’m sorry for being so long-winded and hope you at least found it interesting. If you’re curious about the sources for some of the claims I’ve made in this post, hmu either in dms or send in an ask. I hope to see you soon, possibly with a lighter post this time!

[missluckycharms]

These small moments.

Single Dad!Harry and his little love, Honey.

Summary: mornings with Honey are Harrys favourite, small chats with blurry eyes and lazy smiles is what makes him feel closer to his little lady.

A/N: ahhh they’re so 🥺 enjoy !!

Click *** for visuals throughout the story.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff and dad jokes.

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist.

It’s nearly seven in the morning.

The sunrise shining through the windows and casting a bright warm hue onto Harry’s sleeping body in his bed. The white sheets tossed about and his head buried in the pillow, his cheek smushed to up and his lips slightly parted letting out small snores.

The only sound throughout the whole house is the sound of birds chirping about outside and the engines of cars on their way down the roads, the morning rush nearly upon the streets as people make their way to their nine till five jobs. The house has a slight breeze throughout due to Harry always sleeping with his window cracked open, and his door cracked open also to allow honey to walk in when she needed her Papa.

Speaking of the little love, she’s already awake, in her own small pink coloured bed, many pillows around her and her stuffies lined up against the wall, her favourite stuffie in her hand — Pascal from Tangled is her favourite stuffie, she brings him everywhere, even sneaks him into school in her back pack when Harrys not looking. She does this every morning, she lays in bed and talks to her stuffie or just stares at the ceiling, her glow in the dark stars now white and barely noticeable in the bright room, her pink curtains casting a pink hue around the room.

She waits five minutes before she’s hopping out of her bed and padding along towards her door, she pulls it open as it’s only closed a little, allowing enough of a gap for her small body to fit through. She snuggles pascal as she walks, looking around and noticing her Papa must still be asleep, she immediately darts for his room, peeping her curly head in and looking at his sleeping body, his back facing her and his bed messy as usual, but there’s always enough space for her to snuggle up next to him.

She doesn’t wake him, she tip toes towards the side he’s not laying on, throwing pascal up first before she’s hiking herself up on the large bed, a small groan when she has to put more strength into getting up than usual due to her sleepy state. When she’s up, she brushes the curls from her face with a harsh swipe, her blue doe eyes looking at her Papa, his hair messy like hers. She lays down on the pillow, looking at her Papa as she softly taps his cheek and pushes pascal towards him.

“G’morning button” he grumbles when he hears a small giggle, pascal now on his back as her dimples pop out at how ridiculous the man looks with a small green chameleon stuffie on his bare back. He smiles when he hears her hearty laugh, instantly wrapping his tattooed arm around her and squishing her into his chest.

“Papa! Cant see!” She laughs loudly, her small body being caged by her Dad’s broad muscular one, his own laughs filling the room as she peeps her head up at him, a small pout on her lips which causes him to lean down and peck her lips lightly.

“Have a good sleep? Yeah?” He asks when she nods happily, her small hand playing with his cross necklace as he shuts his eyes for a few more minutes, face buried in her chestnut curls as she talks to him and pascal, Harry never knowing which one she’s actually talking to sometimes.

“Papa? Pancakes now?” She asks after another five minutes, her small attention span running out which causes Harry to wake up from resting his eyes, smile back on his face as he turns them over so he’s laying on his back and Honey is sat on his stomach slapping his chest looking at his tattoos — she loves his tattoos or his “paintings” as she calls them.

“Papa, your pearlies are gone” she says disappointed looking to see that her favourite necklace of his which is his Pearl one, is missing. She loves to run her small hands over it, the feeling and look of it making her eyes wide in awe at the beauty of it.

“Should I wear them today?” He asks with a smile, watching as she rubs her eyes a little, slowly waking herself up as she lets out a small yawn, her small pouty lips returning as she babbles on nonsense as Harry tries to tame her hair a little before he has to style it for her today.

“Love your pearlies Papa” she says brightly, laying down on his chest, her curls tickling his chin as he wraps and arm around her back, rubbing small circles on it as she relaxes a little, her small body still trying to wake up as Harry softly kisses her head.

It’s when his alarm rings when the two actually peel themselves from bed, Honey immediately springing up and slapping his phone to turn off the sound, it’s her favourite thing to do for some reason, she always shouts “I did it Papa!” Which makes him laugh and nod kissing her head proudly. They’re both in the kitchen now, the early start allowing them to lounge about in their comfy clothes for awhile while they make breakfast. Harry is only in a pair of grey joggers while Honey sits on the counter, helping him add in flour and sugar to the pancake batter in her baby pink bunny printed silk pyjama set *** the darker complexion of her skin standing out against the pale pink, Harry was overjoyed when he seen she had the same skin tone as her Mum, her darker skin causing her blue eyes to be brighter.

“Wanna help crack an egg button? Need t’be careful though, don’t want crunch pancakes now do we?” He asks with a grin as she pulls a disgusted face shaking her head. Her small palm helps her Papa’s hand crack the egg and she giggles watching it plop down into the dry mixture.

They scarf down their banana pancakes through small chats and giggles, Harry cracking his usual jokes that have Honey giggling loudly as she shovelled her pancakes into her mouth, their faces hurting from laughing by the time they’re up in her bedroom, Harry standing at her drawers, holding up small outfits as Honey sits like the diva she is on her bed, giving him a thumbs down when she doesn’t like an outfit he picks. She’s so stubborn, but she gets that from him.

“I do it Papa!” She says annoyed now, marching over to him as she picks her up with a laugh, her small hands rooting about until she pulls out a white cable knit jumper with a few frills on the sleeves and a baby pink velvet pinafore to go over it. She smiles up at him as he nods, happy with her choice. ***

“Did good button, need to put some tights on you though, getting a bit nippy out” he says as she nods, walking towards her sock drawer and pulling out some white knitted tights with an smile as Harry gives her a thumbs up, causing her to laugh loudly.

“Why Papa shave?” She asks sitting on the sink, her small outfit on her and her brown boots swinging on her feet as she dangles them off the counter beside the sink watching as Harry applies his shaving foam and wets his razor under the water, he’s still shirtless and only in his joggers as Honey watches on — she loves watching him, when he’s shaving his face or when he’s cooking, even when he does something a small as put her DVD in the player, she’s fascinated by him and Harry thinks it’s because he’s all she has, and he doesn’t mind being the centre of her attention as she is his.

“Papa has hair on his face, sometimes it gets itchy when it lets long. You don’t like it sure you don’t, always complaining it tickles when I kiss ya” he says with a laugh, his hand gliding the razor over his face as he inspects himself in the mirror, trying not to nick himself as Honey watches on curiously.

“Yuck! Hate Papas beard, gross!” She says as Harry looks at her, his face shaven and the foam gone, he picks up his curl cream and scrunches it through his hair a little.

“S’not nice to say gross button, remember? Cant say things are gross” he warns her, her small face falling but nodding as she takes the small scolding from her Papa, he rarely scolds her and when he does, he feels guilty but he knows it’s for her own good. Apart from a few slip ups here and there, she’s the most well mannered toddler ever, everyone that meets her complements Harry on his good parenting which means so much to him due to what he’s been through to get to where he is now.

It’s another few minutes before Harry is fully dressed, a baby blue striped grey suit *** on his body and his usual gucci heeled boots that Honey loves the sound of, she instantly perks up at the sound knowing her Papa is near. She claps when he walks out from the bathroom, it’s her new thing, she claps like he’s putting on a fashion show, causing him to strike a pose which causes her to fall back onto the bed in fits of laughter.

“Alright button, hair time!” He says as she widens her eyes, trying to wriggle off his bed and run away. She hates her hair being combed due to her curls being unruly and always tangled on her head. He grabs her and makes monster noises at her, tickling her belly as she screams out a laugh, nearly falling from his arms as he places her down on the counter by the sink, she spins around and watches herself in the mirror.

“What are we going for today Miss Styles?” He asks her like a professional hair stylist, her smile wide as she grabs a pink hair tie with small butterfly clips also, she shows them to him in the mirror as he smiles, taking her hair brush and de tangling spray. He struggles a little but he gets there in the end, her hair tied up in a pony tail and the small butterfly clips all around her head as she smiles brightly at herself.

“Did good job Papa!” She says clapping her hands, seeing how her Dad is improving, he’s been watching tutorials nightly and even trying some on himself as he gets used to braiding and all that stuff for when she starts asking for more complex styles in her curly hair.

He packs her bag and they’re both out the door quickly, he straps her into her booster seat in his black Range Rover, her legs dangling about as she rings and dances to the song on the radio, Harry keeping his eyes on the road but they flicker to hers in the rear view mirror when she speaks to him. Honey loves school, she loves her teacher and she loves making new friends due to her out going personality that she definitely got from her Mum, she could make friends with a tree if she was near one.

She’s holding his hand as he walks her in the gates, the other kids all lining up on their designated class spot on the ground, a yellow circle painted on the tarmac signalling the younger class. The Mums are all there with their kids, the odd few Dads there also but it’s always the Mums who are smiling and speaking to Harry as they watch their kids walk into their classroom, small hands waving as they excitedly march into the school. He doesn’t stay long after she’s gone in, mainly because the Mums have no filter and would publicly flirt with the single Dad even when they have wedding bands on their fingers.

He brushes off all the women, smiling at them as he runs out the gate, hearing them all whisper amongst themselves as they excitedly look on as he pulls away in his expensive car heading towards his work building. Harry feels empty when Honey is gone, he loves mornings with her, just him and her going about their mornings, making breakfast and cracking up at jokes they tell one another back and forth over banana pancakes every morning, some mornings they have cereal if they wake up late and sometimes if they wake up extra early and can’t go back asleep, they get ready and Harry brings her out for breakfast before dropping her off at school.

It’s the little moments with Honey that Harry cherishes, knowing she won’t be his little love for very long, but doesn’t think about that. He lives in the present with her and he loves how they are now, he loves his little lady with all his heart.

[taohs]

tanchirou’s coloring tutorial

hello!! i was asked to make a tutorial showing how i color a while ago, so here it is! i’m honestly not the best at explaining at all so i’m very sorry if i lose you somewhere along the way ;; you can always come ask me to clarify anything, my dms are open to everyone :) 

also a quick disclaimer: this tutorial will only be focused on coloring, so i won’t be showing you how to redraw lineart. however if you are interested in what programs i use, i use clip studio paint to redraw and photoshop to color 

besides this tutorial, i also want to link some others that are great for tips & learning!!

katsuke’s coloring tutorial

sugawara’s coloring tutorial 

dicennio’s coloring tutorial

and without further ado, let’s go goooo

since coloring given is therapeutic for me, i’ll be using this manga cap for the tutorial: 

first step: render, sharpening, psd

take your image, resize and sharpen accordingly to your liking! even though i have a lineart here, it is something that i have gotten into very recently and i have been able to achieve nice results in the past even without it. 

some tips: 

i find it easiest to use the pen tool to erase any background or redraw any lines. the eraser is also helpful for places that are harder to cut out.

play around with the levels adjustment before coloring. this can make your edit look sharper and cleaner if regular sharpening doesn’t do the trick.

if i ever need to clean something on normal mangacaps, i make a new layer above and then color it with a white brush like so: 

i always like to add my psd before i start coloring, and simply make final adjustments with it later on (but this comes down to personal preferences as well). i have a psd that i’ve made for manga colorings, so the first thing i’ll do is just slap it on top of my panel 

after adding my psd: 

second step: base colors

fill in your base colors! when looking for what colors i want to use, i usually look for the character’s anime pictures as a reference. for mafuyu, i chose this picture

all my layers are set on top of the lineart as multiply. this is how my edit looks after filling in the base colors: 

if at any point you don’t like how a certain color comes out, use the hue/saturation tool to adjust it!!

use a new layer for everything (eyes, hair, skin, etc.) so that it’s easy to fix if you ever need to go back

third step: shadows and blush

add your shadings! 

i’m pretty amateur with this, but usually i try to imagine where the light source might be coming from and shade in the part where it seems like the light wouldn’t hit. for this picture, i imagined that the light will be coming from the right side of mafuyu’s face, so everything on the left side will be darker. this process definitely comes more intuitively after a while, so practice lots!

i like to set my shading as multiply on top of my base colors on 50% opacity

use the smudge and/or blur tool for a softer effect on the shading and to blend it nicely with the skin

i also pay close attention to the areas under the hair, neck and around the ears. using the same color that i did for the first shading, i will create a new layer, set is as multiply on 50% opacity, and shade in those parts as well. i won’t take the extra step of blurring it with the rest of the skin this time

next, using a pink color, i’ll color in the cheeks and mouth using a softer brush

fourth step: lighting

 using a pastel color that matches the background, i’ll shade the right side of mafuyu’s hair to make it brighter (again, that’s where i imagine the light will be hitting him). this layer is set to soft light. 

then to change the color of the lineart and make everything bright and pretty in general, i’ll choose a dark red color and set it to screen on top of everything else. 

some tips:

you can try to see what colors work for you on your own edit by using the hues/saturation tool again. aside from red, i saw that orange and brown are also nice to color with

you can also try and set it to lighten instead of screen to see what kinds of effects you can get. go with whichever one you like more

fifth step: extra effects

this part is really fun for me and also gives me a chance to explore my creativity a lot! here i’ll add highlight to his hair wherever i want, to his face, eyes, etc. all of these are done with either the pen tool or the brush tool set at size 1. 

the modes that i like to play with the most for this is either soft light or overlay 

if you’ve ever seen me stream my colorings in the DailyAnime discord, you would see that i always use a looot of layers to experiment with things. so honestly just go wild with your colors!! don’t limit yourself!! :’)

lastly, i’ll be adding any extra things that i want such as speech bubbles and sparkles in his hair. i will also add some noise to the skin and the hair to make it look nicer too. here’s the final product 

aaannnddd..... that’s basically it! i use the exact same coloring method for posts like these (x), (x), (x). hopefully this tutorial is able to help at least one of you! ^^

(and a quick thank you to narumii @narumii-chan, zebra @reddriot​ and jaime @itsyuurikatsuki​ for helping me look over this tutorial ♡ love you all sm )

[redheadgleek]

Help RHG Paint Her House

Painting the house has been high on my list of must-dos since I bought the house – the wood is starting to warp and really, really needs a protective coating over it, or I’m going to have to replace all of the siding, which I’m not eager to do quite yet.

As a reminder, this is how my house is painted now (minus the replaced siding).

I don’t know what color it has faded to, but muddy pink brown is not my favorite.

And it’s faded unevenly as well.

I finally found a company to paint. They’ll be coming in June, but as there’s all of these world-wide supply issues, I need to be picking out colors soon.

I’m a very indecisive person. After much (so much) hemming and hawing, I finally decided on an ocean blue with white trim and sunny yellow door: something that would remind you of the sea on a perfect day. Something similar to this:

Only with a brighter, sunnier yellow door. Isn’t that cute?

However, when I went to get paint samples, they recommended very strongly not using those brilliant shades of blue on exteriors because they’ll fade within a year wherever there is sunlight and I have very uneven sunlight. Instead, they recommended “historical paint colors” that keep their colors better. Which are duller, at least on the paint chip.

So I got three samples to try out on stock paper and on the side of my house when it stops raining: a light blue, a mediumish fern green (which is lighter than I thought), and a dark purple just to see if I wanted to go dark.

I honestly thought it was going to be a decision between the less vibrant blue and the comfortable green. And then I painted the purple on my sample boards and it’s this vibrant, gorgeous color that made my heart go pitter patter.

Here’s the light blue, with white trim and a yellow door. Not quite the “sea on a sunny day” but not terrible either.

Basically the original thought, only with a lighter and a little more muted blue. The blue does look more sky blue when dried.

I’m not sure about the white, to be honest. I think it’s all too pale.

There is a little bit darker blue called Meeting House, but I haven’t gotten that as a sample (yet). But it might be closer to my original vision:

The light blue and the dark purple are a nice contrast. I’m not certain about the yellow door with the blue and purple.

Historic light blue with dark purple trim and blue door

With the purple door

The green is a little lighter than I thought it was going to be, but it’s a really comforting fern green that goes well with the surroundings. The yellow doesn’t go at all with the green, so no sunny yellow door here. I think it needs a darker trim; white looks ridiculous, so I could go for the purple trim. Or a darker green or grey.

And finally. Purple. Dark, vibrant, gorgeous purple. It’s called Plum Island. I could do green trim or white.

Just look at this rich purple!

Oh gosh, I love it so.

I’ve also explored painting the windows that jut out a different color. Or the living room that slants off.

Or maybe this half?

The colors are from Miller Paint, a local paint company. Light blue – Emily #ABD1E1; medium blue – Meeting House #739DAD; green – Viscaya #7B9E98; white – Shell Tint #ECF0E9; and yellow – Lemon Zest #FFF1A5.

What do you think? What has your vote?

Addendum: for @shiraz66 and @darrenismydarcy: