#mc toast

[robdtsmith]

Kryptic Minds Live at Osiris Music - Cable London 05/10/12

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Not cool, Mate. But i'll forgive you for looking too adorable in that onesie

[plaguebirds]

assorted ts doodles bc im obsessed w it

[shaqthemc]

Seasons greetings from The MC, Everything is UP and UP

[morelikeravenbore]

I ASKED HIM IF HE WOULD STILL LOVE ME IF I WAS A WORM.

(and he said no 💀)

[kittybunnycoded]

i should make myself a special spooky layout... hmmm

[that-darn-clown]

Some maxx angst on this fine day

[myckicade]

It's been a few days, and the line sticking with me from this week's episode?

"Everybody knows about the nutmeg, but they forget about the vanilla extract."

As someone who gets raves for her French toast, I can tell you that Marcus is 100% right. ❤️.

[toastyifed]

Mc evilface is evil >:)

[nexus-nebulae]

i love having little themes with how i name my pets in games i love when things match

[lvmimis]

"You follow her around like a dog, man," Sero says finally, and even if the surrounding ballroom chatter doesn't cease for a moment as the table set for ten starts to receive their first course salads, the parallel conversations among the group of old friends halt abruptly to a stop. Eijiro gives Sero a raise of the eyebrow, then turns to Katsuki, expecting to have to mitigate his hot temper.

The latter clearly has heard the jeer, but he's not the same as perhaps a decade ago, where any one of Sero's teasing comments could have set him off. Glancing back for a second in the direction where you left just moments ago to go to the bathroom, followed by most of the other women at the table, he then turns to look directly at Sero.

"Yeah, that's love, right?" he says, calmly.

Kirishima blinks for a moment, incredulous, then exchanges a look with Kaminari beside him.

Katsuki, as if he hasn't said something highly uncharacteristic of himself, reaches for a bread roll in the middle of the table and then a butter knife.

"You didn't see me follow her into the bathroom, did you?" he adds. Sero snorts, but leans back into his chair.

"I mean no, but-"

Katsuki smears butter on the roll, and sets it on your empty plate, then takes another piece of bread to and butters it the same before taking a bite.

"But what?" he asks. The edge to his voice is back, something that paradoxically puts Sero back at ease.

"It looks strange on you," Denki finally points out.

Katsuki chews for a moment, then swallows, his eyes making a quick scan across the room. At another table, Midoriya's partner is focused on adjusting the lapel of his suit, and at yet another table, Iida is trying to convince Mei to keep her gadgets off the table before the MC starts another toast.

The bride and groom continue to cruise around the venue, and Katsuki cannot stop thinking about how beautiful you would look in that exact dress.

Or something of your own.

"I just can't imagine what the fuck she did-" Sero starts again before Eijiro cuts him off.

"Just knock it off for a second," he says, gently but assertively. Katsuki doesn't pay any mind to him as he observes the table favors.

These flowers are beautiful, but they aren't your favorite. They're gorgeous, but made of plastic while you'd prefer hundreds of real ones.

You've told him small weddings feel more intimate. This wedding isn't in the right season for you, but it's your second choice. You don't yet know how many people will be in the bridal party but you've floated some ideas.

You don't yet have a ring on your finger.

The many thoughts dissipate when your hand rests gently on his shoulder as you slip back into the seat next to him.

"Oh, they didn't bring out the food yet," you say, and Katsuki points to the bread on your plate, reminding you to eat.

His friends are captive audiences as you smile and take a bite, and perhaps horrified as he smiles back warmly, genuinely.

Love does look strange on him, perhaps.

But they'll have to get used to it because it will not go away.

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ rising action ] | sylus

— summary: you’ve convinced yourself that this is normal. routine. that you’re used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun before you. so why does it still hurt? — cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, unrequited feelings, mentions of blood & injuries, jealousy, profanity, sexual content, fade-to-black, self-destructive behavior, somewhat of a slow burn, mdni — notes: thank you so much for reading! [ part 1 | part 2 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 ] — now playing: bmf - sza

Breakfast is uncharacteristically quiet. 

At least, for the three of you, it is. The silence makes way for the lazy swish of cars on the road, the clatter of cutlery against plates, and the idle chatter of the cafe’s other patrons. 

It’s balmy outside. The type of weather that pastes your blouse to your skin and creates a fine film of sweat on the back of your neck. The kind that welcomes mosquitos and makes showering beforehand pointless. And it’s so obnoxiously bright out, nary a cloud in the sky. But you figure you're being unreasonably antsy because you’re hungover and still a little tired. 

Despite the climate, your ragtag team is seated beneath a cafe’s awning, scarfing down food to battle the effects of your collective hangovers before jetting back to Linkon.

Typically, Ms. Hunter would be on about something, filling the space with her animated talk, with you and Sylus occasionally chiming in to tease her or exchange covert words concerning upcoming missions. But she’s still a little worse for wear, with dark lenses perched on her nose and a wrinkle between her brows as she pushes food around her plate.

You snort around a mouthful of eggs at her plight, tucking your amusement behind your hand. Decide to incite a little mischief to distract yourself from the weather and the creeping feeling of unease brewing in your gut. 

“Someone had a rough night,” you tease, reaching for your orange juice.

She glowers at you. Sticks out her tongue, flipping you the bird. You snort into your drink, nearly sending pulp flying every which way.

“Not my fault you have the tolerance of a three-year-old.”

Your eyes crease at the corners whilst you watch her work up to a retort, mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. But before she can get a word out—

“Ladies,” Sylus interjects like a distant clap of thunder pushing across a dark horizon. He’s seated between you at the round, iron-wrought table, arms crossed over a broad chest. Sunglasses shroud scarlet intentions, but you don’t miss the twitch of a silver brow nor the humor meddling with his voice. “Play nice.” 

There’s finality there. He speaks to you like a referee. Like a father who’s caught his children roughhousing, and you both shrink beneath his mock disappointment. 

“Besides,” Sylus continues, casting his amused gaze on you. “You weren’t in the best of shape yourself last night. Are you really in any position to talk?” 

A hot rush of mortification wades over you. You're unsure of its source, whether at your memories of last night or how quickly he came to her defense. 

And so what if you stumbled a bit down the hall, searching for your room? 

You didn’t think he noticed after your exchange. Figured he retreated into his room, or worse—slipped across the hall to keep his hunter friend company into the wee hours of the morning while you tossed and turned, driven to hell by thoughts of them doing everything besides sleeping. 

The recollection makes you bristle, and you turn a scowl down to your food. Grumbling, you plop a slice of toast onto the hunter’s plate. She glances at you, confusion pulling her lips down. 

“Eat,” you order. “Feed a hangover, starve a cold.”

“I don’t think that’s how that goes,” she counters, a pout evident in her voice. But she doesn’t protest, sitting up in her seat to nibble on your peace offering.

You resist an impulse to pat her head, your ire sloughing off, traded for something like fondness. You want to ruffle locks of silken ebony because she’s effortlessly adorable, pulling at those little heartstrings you’d worked so hard to conceal. 

Sylus beats you to the punch, leaning forward to mold long fingers around the round of her head. The world slows, casting a special spotlight on the pair of them. 

You ignore how your chest tightens at the scene. At the affectionate little tug of his lips as Ms. Hunter cants her face towards him, cheeks full and expression doe-like. You try to pretend like it doesn’t make you sick with resentment. Once upon a time, he used to look at you like that. 

Fuck. 

What are you thinking? He is your boss, and she is your charge—your friend. There’s no reason to feel like this, especially considering you practically shoved Sylus into her arms, reasoning you never stood a chance in hell with him. 

You snap back to the present, and suddenly, breakfast isn’t so appetizing. You push around your cold eggs as Sylus and Ms. Hunter slide into easy conversation. You feel like a husk of yourself amid them. Like you’re impeding on something intimate, and your stomach lurches when they draw you into their chat every so often as if pitying you.

You’ve convinced yourself that this is normal. Routine. That you’re used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun. And yet, you’ve never been more eager to return to the N109 Zone. To leave these green-eyed thoughts on this island and get back to your distracting life, luring terrible people to their demise and wiping the scourge of man off the face of the planet. 

You suddenly straighten, clearing the phlegm from your throat. Your silverware clatters against your plate as you shove it away, eyes regretfully shifting between them.

“So, what time do we leave?” There’s a whisper of exasperation in your tone, but you quickly conceal it with that playful arrogance you’re known for. 

Sylus and the hunter trade looks of confusion and humor, blind to the turmoil of your mind slowly creeping through the folds and staining your pride like ink spilled into water.

“Eager to get back to work, aren’t you?”

You scoff, taking up your fork, clueless to scarlet eyes studying the crown of your head, narrowing at the apprehensive slope of your voice. “You have no idea.”

—

It’s a pleasure to dance. Of course, it always is. It’s one of the few times you feel desired. Wanted. Useful when your hands aren’t speckled with blood and your knuckles aren’t purpling from bashing someone’s face in for taunting The Devil. 

Dancing is a versatile skill you’ve acquired with time and practice. It's one of the few pleasures you’ve drawn from this fickle life. One of the few things you kept from a past veiled in darkness, the rest tucked away in the hulls of your psyche.  

All eyes are on you. Gazes burning with assorted degrees of desire, envy, and awe beneath the tawny glow of the stage lights. The attention makes you warm and tingly, and your lips salaciously curve as you move your body in time with the music, casting an inadvertent spell on all who dare to watch. 

You’re the center of attention without trying to be and without the influence of your Evol. Of course, you usually are. He’s even told you so. Customers often flock to Sylus’ nightclubs to see you dance, hoping to one day have your affections. 

Or to fuck you. 

You rarely entertain these people. Not unless you have to. Not unless Sylus sicks you on them to further his goals or take down his competition. You’re ever the faithful lapdog, tuned to your boss’ every command, and it makes you sick with how loyal you are to him sometimes. A part of you feels you owe him for this life you lead. He’d snatched you from an impenetrable darkness. Renewed your sense of purpose and redirected your desire for revenge. 

For now, you have this. The recognition of others despite how misplaced it is. They want you for your body, for the promise of what your facade offers. Deep down, you crave something more, something real. But you tamp down those feelings as you bite your lip, putting on a good show, hands smoothing over the surge of your hips. And you’re spurred by the whoops and whistles and shouts of your name as the lights dim, signaling the conclusion of your performance.

Your chest heaves with the effort of breathing, and your cheeks ache with a smile as you pose. The crowd's cheers dampen the violent thrum of your heartbeat—chase away the cacophony of your mind, adrenaline spuming through you like an erupting geyser. 

You look over your shoulder towards the ceiling, catching scarlet-spun eyes from the upper floor’s rail, and your grin twitches the slightest bit. It’s a rush, having the attention of strangers. Having their desire, their yearning. But his attention is much more addicting like Nicotine furling between your teeth. For a moment, you feel seen. Like you’re the center of his universe, and not the pretty, bright-eyed damsel with enough room in her heart to house the galaxy.

Something flashes in his eyes, and the world fades. You mistake it for tenderness. Just wishful thinking. He would never choose you. He’s had four years to make you his. 

Why would he suddenly choose to acknowledge you now?

—

Once the adrenaline ebbs and clubbers flood the dance floor, you’re nestled behind the crowd, leaning against the sticky countertop of the bar, clutching a glass of something acrid and glacial between your fingers—something to take the edge off. To mute the insistent pulse of your nerves.

The music thumps beneath your feet, accompanied by the sparkling chatter of the club’s other clients. Yet you still hear him amid the chaos—the familiar curl of a voice around the vowels of your name. You fix him with an amused, sultry look beneath Lux’s customary red hue. 

“When are you gonna let me take you out on a date?” he asks, worn knuckles easing down the slope of your arm. You track his audacity with your eyes, jerking away from his unwarranted attention, ignoring the goosebumps igniting across your skin.

This, too, is routine—one of Lux’s regulars throwing himself at your feet, begging for an opportunity to court you.  He’s been on like this for months, entertaining your game of cat and mouse. Maybe you’ve given him a false sense of hope because he’s yet to let up. In fact, he’s grown bolder with his advances lately, often popping up when you least expect him, vying for your heart.

It’s endearing, really, having someone who genuinely wants you. Or maybe he doesn’t, but you convince yourself otherwise. Play a sick little game with yourself, fooling yourself into thinking that maybe there’s more to you than your reputation builds you up to be.

You turn towards him, crossing your legs, the leather barstool sticky beneath your thighs. You lean into your knuckles, studying dark brows, whiskey-infused eyes, and full lips. You end your excursion at the thick of his throat, excitement prickling like static in your chest. He’s easy on the eyes, tone velvet smooth. Had you not been a femme fatale, you might’ve given him the time of day.

But for now—

“You couldn’t handle me,” you counter, reveling in how the smugness melts from his face.

He chuckles at your cheekiness, sweeping the tails of his blazer back and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Squares his shoulders, standing akimbo like he’s preparing for a fight, though he might as well be, stepping to you like this.

“Still holding out for that old man, I see.”

It is your turn to wear a wavering smile. Your turn to look silly, the proverbial knife driven into your stomach and twisted. 

You scoff with a sneer, dumping the last vestiges of your drink down your throat. You tear yourself from your seat, reaching past the gentleman to snatch your coat from the counter, pinning him with a haughty look. 

“I’m not holding out for anyone, fucker. And even if I were, it wouldn't be your slow ass.”

With a huff, you brush past him, wending through the crowd gathered on the dance floor to retreat into your dressing room. 

You try vainly to contain a scowl, knowing you’ve been read like the deckled pages of a book deep down. 

Maybe you refuse to move on because you feel like you’d betray Sylus if you did. How, exactly, you’re unsure. He’s had no problem betraying you, quietly shoving you out of the picture in favor of someone who’s hardly seen him bleed. 

—

“Do you like anybody?” Ms. Hunter asks above the steady purr of the SUV’s engine.

Her question nearly floors you. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly, and you almost choke on your spittle. 

You’re stuck in traffic together. 

Knowing the holidays loomed around the bend, someone decided it would be an ideal day to go to the mall. Of course, you weren’t the only people out on the road. 

So naturally, she’s bored, unused to the silence stretching between you. The low croon of the music spilling from the speakers does nothing to ease the tension.

You glance at her, and she’s wearing a Cheshire Cat-like grin, studying you from the passenger seat. You swallow thickly, adjusting your shades on your face, staring at the cars sluggishly easing up beyond the windshield. “I don’t like very many people.”

An exasperated sigh later.

“C’mon! There’s gotta be someone you like. Ya’ know.” She pitches herself closer, her mischievous grin curling in your periphery, and she pokes your side with a pointed finger to get a rise out of you. 

“Someone that gets your heart racing. Someone who makes your face all hot. Makes butterflies swarm in your tummy.” 

You know exactly where this is going. Had you not valued your friendship—or whatever you call this complicated mashup between you—you would reveal the inner workings of your mind. But how insane would you sound, telling the hunter the person who gets your blood racing is the very same man she has tucked in her back pocket?

So, you deflect. With a sardonic smirk, you jest, “You get my heart racing when you fuck up our meetings.”

You squint and flinch away with a laugh in your throat as she swats you, whining at your cruelty. 

“You suck,” pouts Ms. Hunter, falling back into her seat with crossed arms. “Bet it’s that guy who always stalks you at Lux.”

You side-eye her in the rearview, placatingly patting her head. “I like you, stupid. Isn’t that good enough?”

Maybe one day. 

One day, you’ll have the intestinal fortitude to tell her the truth—to tell them both the truth. How you’re falling apart at the stitching, the world you know falling away from beneath your feet.

—

You’re not as strong as you let on. You’re human beneath that flirtatious exterior—still a woman with wants and needs, not immune to the temptations of the flesh. Which is why you find yourself at his doorstep, a glacial, errant breeze ruffling the tails of your coat as the silvery moon haloes your silhouette.

He leans against the doorframe, brown eyes simmering with intrigue as he takes you in. Dark hair sweeps over raised brows. “What made you change your mind?”

You shrug, hands stuffed in your pockets, a quirk to your lips. “Maybe I just need a friend.”

He chuckles low, arms crossed. “A friend, huh?” 

“Yeah.”

There’s no mistaking the pitch of your voice. The air charges with something amorous as he ushers you into his apartment. You brush past him, tamping down your dignity as you disappear into the warm sanctity of his home, his hand reassuring at the small of your back.

Had you taken the time to survey your surroundings, you would’ve noticed a set of beady, crimson eyes peering through the inky night, watching you from their perch atop a powerline.

And had you further investigated, you would’ve heard the familiar whirr of machinery as the iridescent outline of sleek feathers recorded your every move.

conflict | masterlist | climax

[101-furbys-101]

INTRODUCTION POST!!!

Hi!!! I’m 101-furbys-101, my main blog is @lact101

This is my furby blog! Under the cut is all my furbies, it could be outdated tho, so I’ll try keep it updated!!

1998

(From left to right)

Blossom - Easter furby, birthday is 29th of February 2000, tag is ‘101: blossom’

Sample text - Snowball furby, birthday is 12th of September 1998, tag is ‘101: sample text’

David - Kiwi furby, birthday is 27th of September 1999, tag is ‘101: david’

Aldis cereal - Snow leopard furby, birthday is unknown, tag is ‘101: aldis cereal’

1999 BABIES

(From left to right)

Rancid toast - Wavy stripes furby baby, birthday is December 28th 1999, tag is ‘101: rancid toast’

Funky Strawberry Milk - Baby pink furby baby, birthday is October 9th 1999, tag is ‘101: funky strawberry milk’

Koh-Koh - Flower bud furby baby, birthday is January 7th 2000, tag is ‘101: koh koh’

Bud - Spring time furby baby, birthday is November 28th 1999, tag is ‘101: bud’

BOOMS! AND FURBACCA

(From left to right)

Nova - Pink-purple furby boom! Crystal series , unknown birthday, tag is ‘101: nova’

Topher - Orange-pink furby boom! Crystal series, unknown birthday, tag is ‘101: topher’

Neglected Frankenstein - Polka dots furby boom!, unknown birthday, tag is ‘101: neglected frankenstein’

Furbacca - furbacca, unknown birthday, tag is ‘101: furbacca’

CONNECT

(There’s only 1 this time around)

Kah - Magenta furby connect, unknown birthday, tag is ‘101: kah’

PLUSHIES

(There’s a lot this time, left to right) (I’m not not going to put birthdays for this)

IVE DECIDED TO NAME ALL OF THESE, BUT THE MCDONALDS ONES WILL GO UNDER 1 TAG BECAUSE THERE IS WAYYYYYYY TO MANY, THE TAG IS ‘101: MC FURBYS’

Peachy, john, Lennon, red, carbon dioxide, Gerard, eduardo, Weezer brexit geezer, ebony darkness dementia raven way, paracetamol and naproxen

Wotsit - orange 2012 plush furby, tag is ‘101: wotsit’

OKAY THATS ALL!

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Life in the N109Zone w/ Self-Aware!Sylus

You ended up inside of the Love and Deepspace game in a rather painful way because of Sylus. Now that you're here what now? Also did he turn that damn stove off? A/N: MC is still in her main story feelings right now so she’s not emotionally involved with Sylus at this point in time. Thank you to @forbidden-sunlight we all say in unison because they're the reason this made it onto Tumblr. Sunny I appreciate you so much :) Also go check out their work (especially if you like yandere 😚) they're an amazing writer

↢ previous

After receiving the most mind numbing kiss from a man who shouldn’t actually exist you found yourself sitting at the breakfast nook nestled off to the side of his massive kitchen. Your stomach had growled so loudly you thought it was going to eat you alive in one bite. Your eyes skated over every detail of your surroundings. The pictures in the game didn’t do this place justice how did his house manage to be even more breathtaking in person?

A full spread of food made for a king was displayed in front of you. You were much too hungry to think of being ‘lady-like’ in this moment. You snatched your plate and began filling your plate up with everything you could get your hands on. Once you were satisfied with the amount of food on your plate you sat back, stuffing a piece of French Toast in your mouth. “Hungry sweetie?”

You locked onto those gem like eyes of his and nearly choked on your food. “Yes … a little” Your words were slightly muffled as you talked around a mouthful. You sipped a bit of water and cleared your throat, suddenly feeling shy under his stare. You shifted your gaze looking around once again “So my first….. question…..” your voice trailed off when your eyes landed back on the stove for what felt like the hundredth time. “My food!”

“That’s not a question Princess” Sylus smirked, resting his head in his hand as he continued to take you in.

“No I was cooking when you took me!” You frantically slammed your hands on the table “My stove is still on!” Damn it. There’s no way your entire house didn’t catch on fire. “My place is going to be burnt to a crisp” You were currently losing your mind going over the numerous amount of documents you’d have to replace along with finding somewhere to stay while you looked for a new place. Sylus laughed loudly his shoulders bouncing in amusement. “How the hell is this funny to you? Not all of us are disgustingly rich you know”

Sylus inhaled deeply trying to stifle his laugh “Technically you’re as you say disgustingly rich by proxy now” By now you were on your feet pacing back and forth. Sylus didn’t move an inch as he casually watched you stomp back and forth. Seeing him so calm and even amused at the fact that your house has more than likely burned down didn’t surprise you. He’s rich and he's not the one who just lost everything.

“You know this is your fault” You glared at him, crossing your arms in frustration. If looks could kill Sylus would be a smug corpse right now.

“It would be” He shrugged

“There’s no would be it is your fault since you snatched me out of my house in the middle of the night you bandit”

Sylus’ rich laugh filled the space yet again — his laugh alone sounds like it could buy you a new house. “I turned your stove off sweetie” That fire in your eyes was extinguished expeditiously after hearing those words. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Sylus smile widened seeing you in such a speechless state. “Unfortunately in my haste I had to toss your food but on the bright side you won’t be going home to moldy food”

“Won’t they be concerned why I dropped everything and disappeared?”

“Perhaps but I'm sure you’ll come up with something” He shrugged.

You drew back in confusion “Me? Why do I have to do it?”

“I mean you could tell them how you were taken to another world via energy manipulation and spent the day with a fictional game character” He quirked a brow seemingly challenging you while simultaneously knowing he held the cards in this situation. A high functioning sociopath at its finest ladies and gentleman. You knew damn well you couldn’t go back home and tell people what's actually happening.

You rolled your eyes with a heavy sigh “I’ll think of something” You slid back into your seat much calmer now knowing your home was safe and sound. “Alright now that I've eaten I can think straight” You could see Sylus ears tint to pink as an innocent smile spread on your lips. Underneath all the bravado and confidence you make him nervous.

“Go on.”

Since Sylus had already explained how he brought you here and how you can get home there really was only one question you needed an answer to. Your palms are clammy and you can feel your heart starting to pound in your chest.

You’re nervous.

Sylus just watches you silently letting you get your thoughts together — the epitome of patience right now. A few deep breaths to steady yourself helped “How can I guarantee you won’t leave me?” Finally the roles had switched and Sylus was the one wide-eyed and at a loss for words. His eyes darted around under furrowed brows trying to find an answer. The idea of staying here and living such a carefree life with Sylus was just that — an idea. The seconds ticked by slowly, sucking all the air out of the room. He tapped his chin lightly which did nothing for the pit forming in your stomach.

He focused back on you after what felt like hours and spoke in a leveled tone “I speak through my actions Princess let me prove myself” His large palm covered your hand that was fidgeting with the utensils on the table. You couldn’t help the feeling that blossomed in your chest from the simple gesture. “Also since becoming as you say ‘self aware’ I've seen every timeline of her love interests” Sylus’ eyes flashed with disappointment for a second, but it dissipated as quick as it came. “She has options” You expected his tone to be sad, but it remained leveled. “In our past she showed me that I can be loved unconditionally and selflessly” You were about to tell him why thats even more of a reason to stay with her but he continued “I want to make my own choices instead of being told who my lover is” He squeezed your hand before bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “I want you”

You could tell by the way his eyes softened that he meant what he said, but there was still no guarantee. “That’s not enough Sylus” Your answer has Sylus’ brows shooting up to his hairline. You could practically feel your heart sinking as he quickly gathered himself and set that stoic expression back in place. “I can’t stay here and I know you’re going to end up leaving me for her she literally has the other half of your soul”

“Why don’t we raise the stakes then?” Sylus leaned back in his seat with a mischievous look on his face. You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Give me two weeks” He stared deep into your eyes with a smirk “I’ll sever the bond and get the other half of my soul back” The soft scrape of a bowl caught your attention. Your eyes flicked down to see Sylus sliding a small bowl of pomegranate seeds towards you. “How's that sound?”

“That sounds risky” You plucked a single seed from the bowl a gently rolled it between your fingertips.

“Is that a no?” Sylus challenged.

“I didn’t say that i’m just saying….” You tossed the seed in your mouth, crushing it between your teeth, letting the tart flavor burst on your tongue “If you die I'll kill you” You shot daggers at Sylus and all he did was laugh. You rolled your eyes already knowing that he was laughing because he thinks you look like an angry kitten or a temperamental hamster. He flicked your nose and you quickly tried to retaliate only for him to snatch your wrist mid-air. You fought his grasp, but to no avail he smiled as he pressed his cheek to the palm of your hand — nuzzling into it with a low hum.

“I promise I won’t die”

You were way too happy right now and even though your logical self in the back of your mind was screaming at you to leave and delete the app — you muted that voice and let your heart run rampant. Nothing about any of this made sense so you’d let yourself have this.

Just once.

↢ previous

[sayangrafayel]

Crow family Pt. We're men! 🍞

Luke and Kieran hanging out

MC: You boys need anything? I'm going to the kitchen.

Kieran: Umm, can you make us toast? Crusts cut off?

MC: Ok!

MC leaves

Luke: Wait, Kieran. What are we doing? We're men!

Luke: MOM! LEAVE THE CRUSTS ON!

Yes she's their mom. No one can change my mind.

[loveanddeepthroat]

Sylus: *kissing the top of her head* I’m heading out. I love you.

MC: *with a mouthful of toast* M’kay.

Sylus: …

Sylus: I love you.

MC: I heard ya. *takes another bite*

Sylus: *takes the toast out of her hand and walks away*

MC: Mmph!

Sylus: Now we can both spend the day empty and unhappy.

MC: *hurrying after him* I was kidding! I love you! Sylus!