Gallery

Working at a flower shop, it might have been easy for Bloom to sour on holidays like Matentines, and fast. Such was the curse of the retail worker; any big holidays ended up being associated less with the enjoyable aspects of said holiday, and more with the woes that came with the crowds of last-minute, cranky succubuns who ventured out the day of to pick out their gifts.   Fortunately, Bloom seemed to have avoided the curse altogether this year, and a particular bun who resemb...

Arden did not necessarily need a romantic partner. No one really did, if you asked him, but he understood that every bun had their own inclinations where that was concerned— and he never did care enough about what others did with their time to pass judgment on buns who yearned for love in their lives. Most of his time was spent whatever his next book would be; he was far more invested in the relationships between the characters he wrote than whatever one might be like for himself. Likewise,...

The bun that rushed into the flower shop just a few minutes before closing time looked, to put it mildly, a little out of sorts. “I need a bouquet,” he told the clerk in what Dante tried to convey as a calm manner, but the fact that he was anything but must have been rolling off of him in waves for the clerk to look at him with her eyebrows knit in… yes, that had to be pity.   She cleared her throat. Dante glanced at her nametag— Bloom. A rather fitting name, considerin...

The day after harvesting the ambrosia couldn’t come fast enough, and much unlike Aurora’s first couple times visiting the Heavenly Embassy to help out with the seeds she’d planted, it wasn’t with a sense of dread or desire to simply get the task over with that she came here. In fact, it had been of her own accord that she’d asked to help out with the process of making the ambrosia itself!   Just a short while ago, she might have gladly shirked the duty, especially sin...

Primrose said it one afternoon when Aurora was leaving after her latest watering, as casual as if he’d been discussing the weather. Maybe after many cycles of ambrosia harvest, it was just that simple for him. “Come early tomorrow,” he said. “The blooms should be ready to harvest in the morning, and I’ve found we can extract the most nectar in the morning.”   “Really?” Aurora was positively beaming at the news, earning a raised brow from Primrose.   ...

It had become something of a habit over the weeks for Aurora to visit the Embassy’s gardens a few times a week, waking earlier and earlier even without the assistance of an alarm to check on the status of the ambrosia she’d planted with Primrose. During her first few visits, he’d accompanied her to ensure that she wasn’t overwatering the delicate sprouts, but lately something had prompted him to ease up and simply offer merely a familiar greeting or small conversation on her way in or...

After playing delivery girl for Primrose and his admittedly lovely cherubun friend (and, to be fair, having been rewarded with a satisfying cup of tea in the end), Aurora had not been immediately sure when to return back to the Embassy for the next phase of rearing ambrosia seedlings. His instruction to her had been to come back in a week for watering, sure, but she found herself doing something drastically uncharacteristic: overthinking.   ...