#*posta

Send me a ✿ and my muse will react to your muse putting a flower in their hair.

Next To Normal Ask Meme: Send me one to see how my muse will react.

She takes a moment to draw her eyes towards the man, lips quirking into a small smile before she lets out a deep breath. It wasn’t often that she’d meddle in the affairs of others, but he has her curious. She was in a tough situation, her mind hurting more than normal, and to have someone say they were experiencing something of the same situation or outcome as her, she’s more than worried. 

Send a ♒ and I will generate a number for what my muse will say to yours!

Florence hasn’t been out of her apartment in awhile, so when someone rings her doorbell, she’s surprised and accidentally drops her phone on her face. She was just about to send a message to someone, not expecting anyone to come to her house. “Ouch,” she says, lifting the phone up and scrunching her face. Rolling out of her bed, she sighs as she thinks about the walk to her door. It wasn’t that far, now that she thought about it.

Send a ♒ and I will generate a number for what my muse will say to yours! 

Florence is shameless when it comes to drinking, onto her third shot already, and she’s not planning to stop anytime soon. There are loads of people around her, suffocating the small bar even more, and she lets out a small sigh before drowning into a blank abyss. She’s got a funny habit of talking to herself, though, and can count how many times she’s slurred out random sayings to the people next to her. Long story short, they’ve moved away already, onto the floor or a booth.

Doing a quick look through to the people next her, it wasn’t that bad. There was a woman on her right and a group of friends, loud and jolly, on her left. The woman, however, looked alone so she uses the chance to make small talk. Florence is getting drunk, so fuck it, she thinks, it didn’t hurt to think of something to say. 

Send a ♒ and I will generate a number for what my muse will say to yours!

It’s not in her nature to meddle into the affairs of other people—only when she thinks it’s absolutely necessary—so when Florence sees a faint, dull red stain on a passerby’s shirt, she can’t help but worry. It’s noticeable from the naked eye and she widens in her eyes in shock. Did nobody else notice? Was it just her? Did the person not know there was something on their shirt?

The man is only a couple of steps away from her and doesn’t look noticeably wounded in any way, so she guesses it doesn’t hurt to warn him about the stain. The rest of her day was free, any way, and whatever may have caused the thing on his clothing may come of good importance to know. 

Florence quietly taps his shoulder and succeeds in gaining his attention when he turns around. She’s hesitant in her words, ideas rushing in her head on what to say, because it would be bad if she said the wrong things and gained a bad impression.