This past June 24th, two massive earthquakes destroyed various cities of the country, the first one being of 7.2 and the second one of 7.5: the strongest of our history... I don't live in Venezuela at the moment, but my family lives there! Thankfully they're fine, but the rest of the country is in shambles... (Update: there's been replicas of the earthquake all around the country... Yesterday there was a 5.2 replica...)
There's an estimate of 50.000 missing people, many of them under the debris of fallen buildings, other couple of thousands needing medical treatment...
Millions lost their homes and their families... My dear Venezuela needs help!
Please, if you know any venezuelan artists, commission them and help them! Thank God I don't need it, so please focus on other artists from venezuela! If some venezuelan artist is here on Tumblr, reblog this post with your commission charts so others can see it!
(On my Twitter, I have a lot of venezuelan artists reblogged! I want to warn you, I also have a lot of sensible images and videos from the earthquake and the aftermath reblogged on my Twitter too...)
Now, if you want to help more than one individual, here's a link to Caritas if you'd like to donate: Caritas (it's a Catholic assisting organization)
Yummy (a venezuelan private delivery company, they are offering free rides to hospitals and deliver medicine all across the country and are recollecting money to help refill medical treatments, food and any thing the affected civilians need)
(Update:) DO NOT DONATE TO THE RED CROSS!!! The venezuelan branch is compromised!!! It has direct ties with the corrupt regime, so any help you want to send to the Red Cross will be STOLEN by the dictatorship!
I wish I could do more... But the least I can do is share this information with all of you. I hope this post reaches venezuelan artists and any kind of person that wants to help... And, please pray for Venezuela 🙏
Lily I'd marry Phainon if I could, ofc I want more wedding!Phainon! Especially if ideas and scenarios come so easily to you
I'd love to hear the ideas you have, they don't have to be fully written out!
As for how quickly I saw your post to my ask... I may have notifs turned on <3
Wedding Day (Phainon x Reader Headcanons)
A/N: Hello anon. :) You declared you’d marry Phainon if you could… Understandable. So here’s your wish granted: full wedding Phainon. Emotional chaos, everyone celebrating, and enough tenderness and sweetness to require a visit to the dentist. It’s tender, earnest, and Phainon’s fully embracing his emotional era. But I think you’ll like it. :) (Maybe have some tissues nearby…)
Your whole ask made me smile so much, but the part about you turning on notifications—ahh. Thank you for the enthusiasm. It genuinely makes me so happy. So now we have happy Lily, happy Phainon… hopefully happy you? And maybe happy everyone. :D
(P.S. Like I mentioned before: Phainon makes my brain short-circuit…so writing in a haze has become normal for me at this point.)
Song recommendation: “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri.
Word count: about 2600 words
I. Before the Ceremony
Phainon barely sleeps the night before. He’s the one who insisted you stay in separate rooms before the wedding. “It’ll make tomorrow feel even more miraculous,” he’d said with a soft smile.
Every time he closes his eyes, he sees flashes of what’s to come: your smile, the music, the way sunlight will catch on the rings. His mind loops through details like a conductor rehearsing a symphony. Flowers, vows, seating, timing. He knows everything is ready, and yet he still can’t rest.
Small details that give him away:
The room is immaculate in the middle of the night. He’s reorganized it twice
The vows are folded and refolded in his pocket, edges soft from handling
He’s rehearsed his smile in the mirror (trying to look calm, failing)
Tribbie finds three drafted speeches on his desk, each more emotional than the last
By dawn, he’s already dressed. Not just dressed—perfect. Cuffs fastened with precision that betrays how his hands shook. Hair immaculate despite being awake all night. He’s standing by the window, watching the sky lighten from indigo to gold, when Aglaea finds him.
“You do realize the ceremony isn’t for several hours yet?” she says, her tone light, amusement soft at the edges.
“I know.” He fidgets with his cuffs—a tell she’s learned means he’s nervous. Restless energy in every small motion. “I just… what if something goes wrong?”
“Like what? You forgetting how to speak?” Her lips curve faintly. “Though I admit, that might actually happen when you see Y/N.”
His ears turn pink. The flush creeps down his neck. “That’s not—”
“You’ll be fine,” she interrupts, squeezing his shoulder. “Better than fine. This is your day.”
“Our day,” he corrects quietly, and there’s so much tenderness in those two words.
“Yes,” she says, smiling. “That’s why you need to breathe.”
When she leaves:
Phainon catches his reflection in the glass. Half-lit by dawn, eyes tired but bright with something that looks like wonder. For a fleeting moment, he doesn’t recognize himself.
The man looking back isn’t the debator or the strategist or the savior.
He’s just someone who’s happy.
Terrifyingly, beautifully happy.
He touches the glass where his reflection’s hand rests over his heart, and whispers to himself: “Today. It’s really today.”
⋆ ✦ ⋆
II. The Ceremony
The Processional:
The music starts and Phainon’s heart stops.
What he does while waiting:
Rocks slightly on his heels
Takes three deep breaths that don’t help at all
His hands clasp in front of him, then drop, then clasp again
Someone in the front row smiles encouragingly. Phainon doesn’t see them
All he can see is the aisle, empty, waiting
Then you appear.
When Phainon sees you, everything stops.
His breath catches audibly. His hands freeze mid-adjustment. One rises halfway to his mouth before falling again, like his body can’t decide what to do with all this feeling.
Tribbie has to nudge him discreetly. “Breathe, Snowy.”
He does, but it’s shaky, uneven, and when his eyes find you again, they glisten.
What people see:
His composure crumbling in real-time
One hand finally covering his mouth, the other pressing over his heart
His shoulders shaking slightly
Tears spilling before you’ve even reached halfway
Someone in the crowd whispers, “He’s crying,” and Phainon doesn’t care. Doesn’t care who sees. Doesn’t care that the one who’s supposed to be strong and steady, is falling apart at the seams.
Because you’re here. You’re real. You’re walking toward him.
You’re halfway down the aisle when you see it clearly. His face transformed by joy so pure it’s almost painful to witness. The smile breaking through tears. The way he’s trying to stay still but his whole body wants to move toward you.
Phainon nods, swallows hard, and somehow manages to stay rooted.
When you finally reach him:
He takes your hands and they’re trembling. Not nervously. Reverently. Like he’s been entrusted with something infinitely precious and he’s afraid to hold too tight or too loose.
“Hi,” you whisper.
“Hi,” Phainon manages, voice cracked and beautiful, rough with tears. “You’re—” He stops, laughter breaking through, wet and helpless. “You’re here. You’re real. This is—”
“Real,” you finish softly.
He nods, tears spilling freely now. His thumb traces your knuckles, grounding himself.
He doesn’t let go of your hands.
Doesn’t let go through the entire ceremony.
The Vows:
The officiant speaks, but Phainon barely hears. He’s looking at you like you’re the only real thing in the world.
Then it’s his turn.
His hands shake so badly the paper flutters audibly. He tries once—gets three words in—stops. Breathes. Laughs at himself, the sound half-sob, half-joy.
“I practiced this,” Phainon says, voice unsteady, still looking at the paper. “So many times. But now you’re here, looking at me like that, and I—”
He looks at the page. Then at you. Back at the page.
Folds it deliberately and sets it aside.
The crowd goes still.
“I love you,” Phainon says instead, and his voice cracks but there’s steel underneath. Certainty that won’t bend. “I love you and I’m going to keep loving you for the rest of my life. In every way I know how. In ways I haven’t learned yet.”
His grip tightens on your hands.
“You make me want to be soft. To be gentle. To be something other than what I was made to be.” His breath shakes. “And with you, I can be. With you, I’m just… me. And that’s enough.”
A tear slides down his jaw. He doesn’t wipe it away.
“You’re everything, Dawnlight,” he whispers. “And I’m so grateful you chose me.”
What people notice:
Tribbie wiping her eyes
Mydei’s hand on Phainon’s shoulder, steady and proud
Half the crowd reaching for tissues
The way Phainon looks at you like you hung every star
When you say your vows, he listens like every word is being written into his soul. Nods at certain phrases. Smiles through tears. Mouths “I love you” when you say it.
The “I Do”:
When the officiant asks, Phainon’s voice breaks on the words.
“I do.”
It comes out rough, thick with emotion, but it’s the most honest sound he’s ever made.
Something in the air shifts. The light seems warmer. Someone in the back sighs happily.
The Kiss:
He doesn’t wait for “you may kiss your spouse.”
The officiant is mid-sentence…“You may now—”
But Phainon is already moving. His hands cup your face, fingers gentle and reverent, and he kisses you like he’s been holding his breath for years and finally remembered how to breathe.
The crowd erupts. Cheers, applause, someone whistling.
Phainon doesn’t hear any of it.
Forehead pressed to yours, he laughs through his tears. Bright and broken and whole all at once.
“My spouse,” he whispers, testing the word like tasting honey for the first time.
“Your spouse,” you confirm.
He kisses you again. And again. And the third time, you’re both laughing.
⋆ ✦ ⋆
III. The Reception
The Receiving Line:
Phainon can’t stop touching you. Your hand, your back, the side of your arm. Every time someone congratulates him, he lights up all over again.
What he says (variations):
“This is my spouse” (said at least fifteen times)
“Can you believe it? My spouse” (to Mydei, who says “Hmph, we were all there”)
“I’m married” (whispered to himself, awed)
“Look at Y/N. I married Y/N.” (to Hyacine, who smiles)
Small moments:
Phainon fixes your collar without thinking
Brings you water before you ask
His hand finds the small of your back in crowds
Introduces you to everyone with such pride his face glows
The First Dance:
When it’s announced, Phainon’s confidence falters.
“I’m going to step on your feet,” he warns as you walk to the floor.
“I don’t care.”
“I practiced,” he admits, voice dropping lower as you take position. “For weeks. Aglaea helped. I wanted this to be perfect.”
“It is perfect.”
“You haven’t seen me dance yet.”
The music starts. Something soft and golden.
What happens:
He spins you perfectly (Aglaea’s lessons paid off)
His hand at your waist is steady, sure
He whispers things only you can hear: “You’re beautiful,” “I can’t believe this is real,” “Thank you”
Halfway through, his eyes shine again
He pulls you closer, less proper form, more embrace
When you come back into his arms after a spin, his eyes are bright.
“I married you,” Phainon says, wonder threading through every word, like the reality keeps hitting him anew.
“You did.”
“I get to keep you.”
“Forever.” You smile softly at him.
He smiles, too. Soft and certain and devastating. Leans in until your foreheads touch, swaying more than dancing now.
“Forever,” he repeats, voice hushed like prayer. “I like the sound of that.”
From the sidelines:
Tribbie filming on her teleslate, sniffling
Mydei watching with fond exasperation
Aglaea watching quietly with a faint smile on her face
Guests smiling at how completely gone Phainon is
Someone saying, “I’ve never seen him this happy”
The Toasts:
When Mydei stands to give his speech, Phainon immediately tenses with affectionate dread.
“I’ve known Phainon for so long,” he starts, “and I’ve never seen him cry this much in one day.”
The crowd laughs. Phainon hides his face in your shoulder, ears burning.
“But seriously,” Mydei continues, “may he never forget anniversaries.”
Phainon nods solemnly, like he’s just been handed divine decree, and the laughter that follows is soft and genuine.
Other moments:
He tears up during every toast (gives up trying to hide it)
Squeezes your hand when people mention how good you are together
Mouths “thank you” to speakers
At one point whispers to you: “Is it okay that I keep crying?”
You kiss his temple. “More than okay.”
IV. Private Moments
Finally, the noise fades. The doors close. The world narrows to the two of you.
The silence feels sacred after hours of celebration. Intimate in a way that makes him exhale properly for the first time all day.
He takes off his ring immediately, not to remove it, but to look at it. Turning it in the lamplight, marveling like it’s some ancient artifact that holds all the world’s meaning.
“It’s real,” Phainon murmurs, thumb tracing the band.
“Very real.”
He slides it back on slowly, then takes your hand and studies yours just as carefully. His fingers trace the ring, your knuckles, your palm.
“We’re married.”
“We are.”
“I’m your husband.” The word sounds new in his mouth. Precious.
“You are.”
He looks up, eyes shimmering in the low light.
“How did I get this lucky?”
What he looks like in this moment:
White hair slightly mussed from the long day
Tie loosened, top button undone
Blue eyes red-rimmed but glowing
Smile soft and unguarded
Vulnerable in the way he only is with you
You pull him close, and he melts into the embrace, head tucked against your neck. His arms wrap around you. Not desperately, but securely. Like coming home.
“I’m the lucky one,” you whisper into his hair.
Phainon shakes his head against your shoulder but doesn’t argue. Just breathes you in.
“Thank you,” Phainon says after a long moment, voice muffled and thick. “For choosing me. For staying. For—”
His voice catches. You feel him trembling slightly.
“For making me the happiest person alive.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you, and there’s so much in his expression. Gratitude, wonder, love so vast it doesn’t fit in words.
“I used to think I didn’t deserve this,” Phainon admits quietly. “Softness. Safety. Someone who looks at me like I’m not a weapon or a symbol. Just me.”
His hand comes up to cup your cheek.
“But you make me believe I can have this. That I’m allowed.”
You turn your face to kiss his palm. “You are. You always were.”
He closes his eyes, exhaling shakily, and when he opens them again, they’re clearer. Lighter.
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me,” he promises.
“You already do.”
“Then happier,” he insists, almost competitive about it, and you laugh.
“Okay. Happier.”
He smiles—that devastating, unguarded smile that’s only yours—and kisses you slowly. Tenderly. Taking his time now that the world isn’t watching.
When you finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against yours.
“My spouse,” Phainon whispers, and somehow it sounds even more precious in the quiet.
“Your spouse,” you confirm, and feel him smile against your skin.
And when you make love that night, it‘s simultaneously like you‘re having sex for the first time again and knowing each other‘s bodies inside and out. Excitement and familiarity. Intensity all the same.
⋆ ✦ ⋆
V. The Morning After
You wake to sunlight streaming through gauzy curtains and the distinct feeling of being watched.
Phainon is propped up on one elbow, hair sleep-mussed and catching gold in the light, eyes soft with that unbearable tenderness that still undoes you. His free hand is tracing idle patterns on your shoulder. So gentle you barely felt it.
“Morning,” you mumble, voice rough with sleep.
“Good morning, my spouse.”
The words come out reverent, testing, like he’s still getting used to the shape of them in his mouth. Then his smile blooms. Bright and unguarded and so full of joy it’s almost blinding.
“My spouse.”
You laugh, still half-asleep. “Say it again.”
“My spouse. My dawnlight. My partner. My—”
His voice catches on the next word, thick with emotion.
“Mine.”
“Yours,” you confirm softly.
He leans down, kissing your forehead with deliberate care, then your nose, then your lips. Each one a small reverence.
“I’m going to say that every morning for the rest of our lives,” he warns, but there’s delight in his voice.
“Please do.”
What he does next:
Traces your features gently. Memorizing
Counts your eyelashes (you can feel his breath on your skin)
Kisses each fingertip when you reach for him
Looks at you like you’re made of starlight
He used to fear the new dawn. It meant duty, performance, another day of pretending to be what everyone needed. But now the light touches your face, and for once, he lets himself believe that joy can be routine. That this is his life now. That he gets to keep this.
Breakfast:
It’s quiet, domestic in the best way. His hand finds yours across the table, thumb brushing over your ring like it’s still a miracle he can’t quite believe.
He makes your coffee exactly how you like it (remembered even through yesterday’s chaos)
Keeps looking at you between bites
Smiles every time you catch him staring
Says “my spouse” at least twice more (can’t help himself)
“You’re still staring,” you tease.
“I know,” Phainon admits without shame. “I don’t want to forget how this feels.”
The sunlight spills across both your rings, catching and glittering. He watches the light play, then looks at you again.
“You know what’s funny?” Phainon says quietly.
“What?”
“I used to think I’d never get this. That people like me don’t get soft endings. We get duty and sacrifice and purpose, but not this.” He gestures vaguely at the breakfast table, the morning light, you. “Not simple happiness.”
His smile is gentle. A little awed.
“But here you are. Here we are.”
He reaches across the table, and you meet him halfway, fingers interlacing.
“You’re my home now,” he says, and it sounds like a vow. “Not a place. Not a duty. You.”
His voice is steady, certain in a way that makes your chest tight.
“And I get to come home to you every day for the rest of my life.”
You squeeze his hand. “Best decision I ever made.”
“Second best,” he corrects, smiling.
“What’s first?”
“Saying yes.”
And when you kiss him across the breakfast table, tasting coffee and joy and forever, he smiles against your lips.
Later, when you’re washing dishes together (him drying, you washing, domestic and easy), he’ll say it again:
“My spouse.”
And you’ll laugh, and he’ll grin, and it’ll be the start of a routine. Him saying it every morning, you pretending to be exasperated, both of you knowing it’s Phainon’s way of making sure this is real.
That he’s not imagining this. That he’s not mistaking this for a faint memory he never actually lived.
That he gets to keep this.
That happiness isn’t temporary anymore.
It’s forever.
It’s home.
___
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. :) I wanted to focus on a more classical version of the wedding day this time—soft and emotional. The chaotic and intense scenarios exist too, of course. :)
Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. :)
I just think it’s very neat that RWBY looked at the horny anime trope of the sexy catgirl who only exists to be a sex object for some protagonist dude and said, what if the story was about her and not him? What if she was a fully fleshed-out character defined by her passionate sense of duty and heroism? What if she escaped from the guy who tried to reduce her to that horny catgirl trope, took back control of her narrative and her life from him, fell in love with a kind-hearted butch brawler lesbian, regained her confidence and love for herself, and then together with the new girlfriend she stabbed that dude to death when he tried to get revenge on her for escaping his control?
Your emotional state fluctuates like the wind, one minute you're bawling your eyes out and the next you're giggling over something stupid you said while you were crying.
People didn't understand you, and that was okay. You were used to weird looks and never truly having close friends.
At least, until you met Shinsou.
If you weren't looking for him, he's easy to miss. He goes out of his way to stay in the background, as if stepping into the spotlight will burn him alive.
But you notice, you notice the look on his face when they have his favorite in the cafeteria, and his quiet chuckle when someone says something stupid. For some reason, you want to be the person to make him chuckle like that, or get a rare smile from him.
It was such a simple conclusion that it made you stop.
You're complicated, you don't come to these conclusions easy.
So why was it simple with him?
When Shinsou approaches you, mumbling something, you want to bounce off the walls and scream from the rooftops, and another part of you is drinking up whatever he's mumbling like a thirsty dog. You couldn't really hear him, your heart was pounding too loud, but you heard something about ‘sit’ and ‘you’ and that was all you needed to get the confidence to grab his hand and lead him to the table you and your friends sat at.
Your friends gave you a knowing look as you told Shinsou to sit next to you, but you couldn't pay them any mind as you watched a thousand thoughts swim behind Shinsou’s eyes.
It was a simple conclusion for such a complicated person.
Why did he make this easy?
You look to catch his eyes throughout class to see what he's thinking, and for some reason you want him to feel… whatever you're feeling. You couldn't explain it if you tried. But when you laughed, you wanted Shinsou to catch your eye so you could get one of his borderline infectious smiles. When you forget to study for quizzes he's the first person you look to silently mouth ‘review?’ to which he'd always reply with a nod. Such a simple answer but it still made you feel funny, how dare he! You were a complicated individual with emotions that fluctuated like a raging tide, it shouldn't feel like this. You don't know what it is but God you'd do anything to get this high over and over again.
So when you get an anonymous love letter in your locker, asking you to go on a date with the location and time written in handwriting you don't recognize, your heart can't help but sink. You don't understand why you're disappointed, and when you ask Shinsou, all he gives you is a congratulations, and says anyone is lucky to have someone as amazing as you. He doesn't say much, and neither do you. The note doesn't give you the high Shinsou’s smile does, which was silly, you should've been over the moon for someone wanting you, but for some reason. You didn't want whoever this was to want you.
Odd.
When your “Secret admirer” didn't show up on time, you figured they were running late. So you stood patiently in your heels and brand new dress for a little longer.
When ten minutes passed you figured their bus was running late.
when twenty passed it was starting to set in.
When thirty passed, tears were threatening to spill as you walked back to the dorms.
Your feet carried you to a dorm that wasn't your own, but you knocked on the door anyway.
And there he was, those eyes, a million emotions swimming behind them all at once and you crumble.
You tell him about how it was a cruel joke, and you hated that you wore your new dress and did your hair for this. You hold him tightly, and he returns it just as strongly, you never want to let go and you just want to stay there, in his arms, foreve-
Oh.
It hits you all at once and you almost laugh at how stupid you've been for not realizing it sooner.
You want Shinsou. You wanted him to hold you like this forever, you want to understand every thought that swims behind his indigo eyes and you want to be the one to make him smile, and laugh, because God knows you could listen to him laugh forever.
You wanted to be there for every step of the way.
Your grip loosens on his shirt and his grip loosens on your waist. You look up and give him a silent thank you, and he gives you a lopsided smile.
You fall for him harder.
You don't say anything though, because if you have to lose your best friend too you don't know what you'll do. You're almost sure he doesn't want someone so complicated in his life and he's content with being friends, and if he is, then so are you.
Fuck I’m at a fencing tournament and literally a minute after I reblogged this my dad told me that he talked to the point people and I’m probably going to win a medal.
I need to follow up to say I reblogged this last night, and this morning I got some of the best news of my life, like, a life dream come true news thing.
FUCK, I though it was just another lucky meme but LISTEN. Since a week ago I was waiting a phone call to confirm me if I got a job or not in my university. I reblogged this yesterday’s night “just for fun and because I don’t want any bagel to be mad with me”, and today’s afternoon, while I was losing my time as always, the professor I was supposed to work with called me and asked me for my personal information to start working with her.
PLEASE take the time to learn about what is happening in Turkey at the moment
this is not a joke.
TURKEY IS BEING BURNT DOWN! and It’s not a natural disaster, it’s arson. literal terror. a crime. there are 81 fires going on in 23 different cities. this has been going on for 2 days. people are dying, losing their homes.
helicopters, drones, planes and thousands of firemen are currently trying to control fires in 10 different locations in southern Turkey. so far, three people have died, hundreds of animals have perished and several settlements are being evacuated.
A WHOLE country is on fire please that is not something you can underestimate.
please use your voice for us.
please dont stay in silence.
YOU CAN READ THIS THREAD FOR MORE INFORMATION
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#TürkiyeYanıyor
#PrayforTurkey
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HOW TO HELP
You can deposit your cash donations by typing "MANAVGAT YARDIM" in the explanation section, to the account numbered Adalya Health Education and Culture Foundation, Vakıf Bank Lara Branch (TL) IBAN: TR22 0001 5001 5800 7273 6305 85.
Webtoon Sketch 1:Lucia ————————————————————————————-Here’s my webtoon sketch #1 which is Lucia from Suitor Armor. She is a wonderful girl who hides a big secret that can change everything around her. I like this outfit because it suits her as a fun free spirited girl for this series. Hope you like it
pairing: hitoshi shinso x gender-neutral!reader
word count: ~0.4k words
warnings: fluff, so much fluff
author's note: loml.
⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆
shinso's story starts with you.
you are the most lovely person to shinso, beautiful & kind & stubborn, gentle sunsets and long naps on the gray comforter of his dorm. you feel safe to hitoshi.
before you, he was alone & lonely. was it safer to be comfortable by yourself but unloved or risk opening up with the mere possibility of being loved?
the question rattled in his mind until kind eyes & soft lips made it dissipate into these butterflies in his stomach that number more than the stars in the night sky.
now, he is not lonely, never lonely. a small smile graces his lips as he leans down to kiss your forehead, a tiny & tender gesture.
you are in his arms, eyes narrowed as they adjust to the morning light. hitoshi takes a mental picture because how can you look so pretty when you just woke up? he thinks whatever’s in the heavens spent eons on creating you as golden streams of sunlight pour & lick at your beautiful skin. it drips off your eyelashes like honey & spills over your lips to taint them gold.
shinso melts.
"morning, kitten," he murmurs, voice raspy and deep to hide the aching in his chest. (your eyes can’t meet his because you swear you jolt from the deep vibrations of his voice.) everytime he looks at you, he aches & aches & aches because how is it possible to love someone so much?
“morning, hitoshi.” the way you say his name is like ambrosia, the food of the gods, spilling off your tongue & suddenly he wants to become a king to taste it. instead, he traces his fingers across your sun-splashed cheeks. (you hope he knows that his touch feels like he’s painting stars across your skin.)
“why’re you staring so much? it’s so early in the morning.” your voice is a quiet murmur as if there’s a secret for the two of you to share.
“there happens to be a really cute kitten in front of me, love. have you seen yourself?” it flows out of shinso’s mouth before he can stop it. he’s embarrassed for a heartbeat but savors the way your eyes widen & your arm smacks his shoulder playfully.
affection flickers within his heart.
it’s simple. the way you two can go back and forth with banter, the way you share kisses like they are just simple statements.
the words “i love you” are not hard to come by & when hitoshi says them to you, it is natural as breathing.
it is easy, shinso thinks. it is easy to be loved by you.
[id: four gifs from the the thirteenth episode of ‘heaven official’s blessing’. the first shows xie lian grabbing hua cheng’s face and pulling him in closer to him. the second shows xie lian inspecting his face intensely. the third is a close up of hua cheng’s face between xie lian’s hands — his eyes are wide and shaking lightly and he blinks. the forth is a close up of his eye as it returns from wide to a relaxed state.
