#they’re what got me listening to math rock

[getosugurusbangs]

i will never shut up about how much i love anschluss and soldier of february by the cabs

[rrrrinmaru]

calculated risk (but boy am i bad at math) (sylus x mc) (nsfw) pt 2

wc: 4.8k rating: E warnings: NSFW content, dirty talk, handjobs, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, thigh fucking (intercrural), orgasm denial, penis in vagina sex (just the tip), dom!sylus sub!mc, male-centric pleasure because mc is being denied brief: you lose a bet to sylus and you have to do whatever he wants for 24 hours // recommended to read part 1 here for context // part 3 finale here

Being unable to refuse Sylus for twenty-four hours is not one of your smarter decisions.

To be fair, you didn’t decide much of anything. You lost a bet—rigged, you would argue, if he would care to listen—and he chose his reward. 

You would put up more of a fight if he weren’t so intent on ruining you.

“Sylus,” you gasp, the sound weak and shaky. It’s more an exhale than a word at this point. Your lungs feel like they’re collapsing in on themselves and your knees are going to give out if he keeps trying to mouth wetly at your clit—

He kisses your pert clit, laughing at the way it makes you clench around nothing. “What an excellent view,” he murmurs, lips brushing teasingly along your cunt, the tip of his tongue darting out to slide along the slick wetness dripping down your thighs. You cry out, legs shaking as you rock forward on your toes. You’re not sure if you want to move away from his mouth or sit back down on his face to chase that clever tongue. “Hips up, sweetie.”

“I hate you,” you whine weakly. Your entire body is trembling from the effort of holding yourself up, thighs tensed as you try to prop yourself up higher. Your forearms are braced against the desk in his study, palms wet with sweat as you try to sweep away any stray papers. Sylus probably doesn’t care, but you don’t want to hear the smugness in his voice when he holds up a piece of paper with ink streaks all over the surface and accuses you of messing with his work. 

You tried to hold yourself up at first, propped up on your elbows enough to look back and see a head of silver hair. Fingers on your bare ass, skirt hiked up to your waist and pooling on the table—you could see the way his fingers dug into your skin, kneading the plush fat of your ass as he spread you the way he liked. Wide open and dripping, cunt hole twitching sporadically the longer you went without any stimulation.

If he wasn’t touching you, then he was looking at you. 

Then he put his mouth on your pussy, that hungry tongue digging into your cunt as if he truly wanted to eat you alive. The sucking sounds from your cunt were obscene and they made you drop your head to the silver surface of the table in an attempt to cool your flaming cheeks with the chilled metal. 

It didn’t work. Not when Sylus groaned after a while, fingers flexing against your ass to push you up higher so he can get a better angle to work at your pussy.

“Just let me cum,” you try pleading with him. Sylus hums, the vibrations going straight to your throbbing pussy and making the ache worse. 

“I don’t think you get to call the shots here.” There’s a thread of amusement in his voice—it’s a thread you want to grip between your fingers and snap. “Twenty-four hours, right?”

You’re not above setting your pride aside if it means you can cum. You’d be the first to fling it out the window when he’s got you on a high wire like this, so close to tripping over the edge you swear you can taste it. 

“Please, Sylus,” you moan, breath hitching when he latches back onto your clit midway through your words. You want to say something else, like I’m begging you, please just let me cum, I’m so fucking close, but he gives your swelling clit a particularly hard suck and your entire mind goes blank. It’s just straight pleasure, a fire rushing up your spine and making your eyes roll back on instinct. 

Your knees involuntarily go limp. You can’t hold yourself up, not when your upper body is balanced uselessly against the desk and your legs aren’t listening to you. In the split second where your toes slip against the floor, you’ve resigned yourself to tumbling to the ground and getting a bruise on your hip in the process.

But Sylus laughs, pulling back just enough to press an open-mouthed kiss to the hungry hole of your pussy, and slips his hands down to cup your ass. He pushes you up, forcing you to slide up on the desk—your hands flail weakly, scrabbling for some sort of purchase and finding none. You must hit something because there’s a brief snap of pain against your knuckles, and you think something tumbles to the ground. 

You don’t know what it is, though, because Sylus is suddenly hunched over your back, his chest pressed up tightly against you with both hands coming around to the front of your thighs to pull your legs further apart. 

“You’re so cute when you’re like this,” he pants into your ear. His voice is a low, rolling sound that goes straight to your clit. You try to close your legs to put some pressure on your pussy, and that makes him chuckle. He forces your thighs apart with ease. You’re not putting up much of a fight, not with how weak your muscles are and how the only thing you can focus on is that you’re this close to cumming.

“Please,” you beg, words escaping you. There isn’t anything else to say—your mind is a blur, clit and pussy twitching from the heat of Sylus’ hands just centimeters away. You want those hands on you, in you. You want him to bully your clit between his fingers, pinching and rolling your swollen clit while fucking two other fingers into you. Three fingers into you. Fuck, you’re wet enough that you think he could make four fit, just slide them in without any preamble and make you cry out from the stretch. 

Even the thought of it is enough to make you shiver. You moan, eyelashes fluttering as you weakly attempt to rock back into his hips. The line of his cock is hard against your skin, the metal zipper pressing into your ass. 

“Look at how desperate you are,” Sylus whispers. You can feel the shadow of his smile against the shell of your ear—his upturned lips rub against your heated skin, his breath burning a brand into the space where your ear meets your jaw. “Like a needy kitten in heat for a thick cock to fuck her stupid. Your clit is swollen, dollface.”

As if to prove a point, he presses against the underside of your clit with his thumb. It’s sensitive there, and he’s brought you to the edge and left you wanting so many times that this small movement is enough to make you jolt, a cry escaping your lips before you can even think to force it back. Your hips shudder, rutting against his thumb without any real thought or purpose, and he lets out an amused huff. 

“So twitchy. Is this pink pussy all for me?”

His other hand slips down, fingertips tracing the seam of your pussy. You’re so drenched you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy—the sticky sound when he dips one finger into your cunt and pulls it out, so quickly that you barely manage to clench around it for the slightest hint of pressure before it’s gone again. 

“Again, again—Sylus!”

A warm tongue runs along your neck. “Patience, sweetie. One finger isn’t enough for you?”

You are going to burst, and you swear you’ll take him with you. “More, please, I’m so fucking close—”

Two fingers fuck into you. They’re crooked at the knuckle, slamming up against the sensitive spot inside of you and you shriek, legs shaking so hard that Sylus has to lift you up again to press you against the table. 

“Please, please, please,” you babble mindlessly, vision blurry. “I’m—fuck, Sylus, nnngh—close, I’m—”

Your cunt tightens, clit twitching on Sylus’ thumb, and the heat enveloping you abruptly disappears. Your cunt is empty again, clinging onto nothing, and your clit is left with nothing to rub against, and there is nothing holding you up and you’re sliding off the desk. 

Strong arms come around your waist, scooping you up and onto a familiar lap. Sylus must have pulled his chair over, but you’re not concerned about that. You’re not concerned at all about the finer logistics of how he got you onto his lap. 

You’re concerned about how your pussy isn’t filled, how your thighs are still spasming from the brute force of an orgasm ripped away from your grasp like that.

You had it in your fingers. You were this close to cumming. One more slam of his fingers into your cunt and you would have tipped over and it would have been so good. 

“You can take it,” Sylus tells you, eyes gleaming. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

You stare at him. Is there a knife in the vicinity? Hell, a gun?

“Look at that expression. Are you upset?” He asks with a gleeful, knowing look in his eyes. “It’s just one orgasm, sweetie. Be patient.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out for a while. “Twenty-four hours?” You ask eventually, voice hoarse from crying out just seconds before, when you thought you were en route for cumming your mind out. 

Sylus shrugs, eyes closing briefly as he rolls his shoulders in that lazy manner of his. “You’ll cum soon enough.” His crimson gaze lands on you. Half-lidded and smug, like he’s pleased at how distraught you are from being denied an orgasm twice over. “If you can’t wait, I could tell you about how I plan to have you for the rest of my time. A little preview, if you’d like.”

“I don’t want a preview. I want this—” you reach down, fingers wrapping challengingly around Sylus’ stiff cock through the fabric of his pants. His breath catches, eyebrows rising as he looks down, admiring the way your fingers look against his outline of his cock, then he drags his gaze back up to you. 

His fingers thrum lightly against the sensitive skin at your waist. “And what will you do with it once you have it, dollface?”

You squeeze it, mollified by how it makes him tilt his head back and inhale sharply. It’s unfair how sexy he is, how good pleasure looks on him. He looks hedonistic like this, with his eyes closed as he lets the pleasure roll throughout his body, stemming from the hard cock beneath your fingers. You can feel the heat of it spilling through the fabric, and you’re tempted to pull his zipper down and sneak his cock out to sit on it. 

“Fuck myself on it,” you admit frankly. Your pussy clenches at the thought, and you dig your thumb into the head of his cock, hard enough for him to let out a pleased grunt. 

“Nngh, naughty girl. That wasn’t very nice of you,” he pants, opening one eye to look at you. But he doesn’t do anything to stop you. All he does is sit there, head lolling back far enough to expose his Adam’s Apple and the dip of his clavicle. As if waiting to see what you’ll do next.

You have half a mind to hop off his lap and leave him to settle it by himself. He deserves it, you think petulantly. If you can’t cum, then he shouldn’t get to soak in the syrupy pleasure of cumming either.

But you think about the heft of his cock. The way it feels in your palm, thick and heavy. The pearls of precum beading at the tip, the visceral proof of how aroused he can get at your touch. The way he flinches when you pull at his cock too tightly—the instinctive flinch, and then the gradual relaxation as he revels in the sensation. 

“Oh? Are you going to make it up to me?” He murmurs, feigned surprise in his voice as you pull the zipper down. He lifts his hips up helpfully, just enough for you to fish his cock out. 

You don’t bother replying to him. Instead, you steady his cock and suck on the insides of your mouth for a while. 

Then, you open your mouth, tongue out and resting on your lower lip as a trail of saliva drips from your mouth and onto Sylus’ cock. 

You see the way his cock jerks, precum spilling furiously from the tip. And when your saliva pools on Sylus cock, dripping into the slit and mixing with his precum—

“Fuck,” Sylus curses lowly. “Fuck, sweetie, you—”

You look up. Sylus’ pupils are blown wide open, dilated beyond belief as he stares at your mouth. His cock twitches, throbbing beneath your fingers and you slowly start to stroke, the slide made smooth by your saliva and his precum. You rub the pad of your thumb at his slit, playing with the sensitive head of his cock until he jerks, hips snapping up as he growls and tightens his grip on your waist. 

“You’re going to give a man ideas,” he groans, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. His gaze is hazy with arousal, and he looks at you with the confidence of a man who knows that you know he’s about to cum. His lips are crooked up in a taunting smile. 

You lick your lips. He looks good enough to eat. You had this cock in your mouth just hours ago, bruising the back of your throat, but you feel like sucking it again. You feel like running your tongue over the thick length of this cock. 

“I should edge you too.”

Sylus tilts his head. “You could,” he says agreeably. “Until I ordered you to make me cum. With your mouth. Your tits. Your fingers.”

His eyes drag down along the line of your body, pausing meaningfully at each location he mentions. “Your thighs,” he continues, looking straight at the sticky and damp patch between your thighs, tracking all the way up to your pussy. 

You shiver, clit pulsing at the thought of him rutting between your thighs. 

“Oh? You liked that, didn’t you?” He smirks, a pleased air settling on his shoulders as he looks you over. “Put your fingers to work, sweetie. I know you know how to use them.”

Some part of you really wants to resist on principle. But the horny part of you prevails, and you watch with satisfaction as you pull Sylus to the brink in a handful of minutes—he groans, a deep and hoarse sound as his muscles roll with the effort of keeping still so you’re balanced on his lap. His cock throbs heavily in your hand, betraying how he’s barely hanging on to his self-control, and you watch with bated breath as sticky cum spurts out in your palm.

You cup his swollen cockhead, catching the streaks of white cum on your fingers so it doesn’t stain his sweater. He makes a delicious sound when you rub the head of his cock against your palm while he’s still cumming—the overstimulation makes him twitch, fingers clenching at your waist over and over again as if to ground himself with the touch of your skin. 

“You made a mess,” you note idly, stroking him through the aftershocks. “Are you going to clean up after yourself?”

Sylus huffs, still breathing heavily with every pass of your hand, hips rutting up instinctively. “Decide where you want me to lick it off,” he grunts, free hand pulling your dress all the way up to your collar to expose your breasts. He licks his lips, giving you a pointed look as he blatantly stares at your tits, and you can feel the way your nipples harden under his gaze. 

“Go on,” he murmurs, breath catching when you rub at the underside of his cockhead. “Tits or cunt, sweetie? I’m feeling generous enough to let you choose.”

You want his mouth on your cunt again, but if he brings you to the brink one more time before ruining the orgasm, you might actually kill him. In these trying circumstances, having him lick the remnants of his cum off your breasts might be a better idea. 

Having come to a decision, you take your hands off his cock. Your palms are sticky with his cum, long strands of cum stretching between your fingers, and you reach up to cup your tits. 

Sylus watches intently, eyes glued to the way you pinch your nipples between your fingers. The way you spread his cum all over your tits, leaving white streaks on your skin as you go. His lips are slightly parted, tongue darting out occasionally to swipe across his lower lip as he watches, as if he can’t wait to put his mouth on you. 

His mouth on your chest, you think deliriously. Teeth worrying at your nipples, sucking at your skin until he leaves a ring of bruises across your skin. Tongue flicking those pretty buds until you’re begging for more, for fingers in your cunt—or his tongue flat, letting you rub your tits all over his mouth. 

You can’t decide which is better. So you press your arms together, pushing your cum covered tits up, and offer them to Sylus. 

“Clean them up,” you murmur, and Sylus chuckles.

“How demanding. Even when you have no power to order me around.” His tongue swipes against your left nipple, a fleeting sensation that sends sparks down your spine. “Lucky for you, I am feeling rather hungry.”

==

The torture continues. He corners you on the couch when you’re trying to watch something to get your mind off the hot arousal pooling in your gut for the past few hours. He puts you on his lap, back pressed up to your chest, feet up and planted on either side of his thighs on the sofa. Your hands under your knees just to hold yourself open for his taking as he plays idly with your cunt while watching the show you put on.

He keeps up a loose commentary about the show, laughing lightly when the male lead appears shirtless in the shower. “Is this what you watch in your free time?” Sylus asks, three fingers deep in your pussy while rubbing insistently at your clit. “Naked men in the shower?”

“Mmmph!” You moan, eyes rolling back at the electricity sparking in your veins. His fingers are thick and clever, pushing up against the bundle of nerves inside your pussy with such damning precision that your entire body is shaking from the effort of not cumming. And it’s like Sylus knows that, with how he shifts you easily in his lap, pulling you tighter against him and fucking rougher into you with his fingers. 

Like he’s trying to push you all the way to the brink. Like he takes pleasure in the way you deny yourself just to be obedient to him. 

“You’re missing the good parts,” Sylus continues, murmuring quietly in your ear. His voice isn’t loud, but your entire world seems to have shrunk to focus solely on him. His fingers, his heat, the puff of his breath against your ear. You’re looking straight ahead, eyes half-lidded, but you’re not seeing much of anything on the screen.

“Sylus,” you whine, pussy clenching tightly around his fingers. “Please, please, it’s been hours—”

He bites the shell of your ear, hard enough to sting, then runs his tongue wetly over the mark. “Patience,” he coaxes, even as his fingers pull at your clit hard enough to make you cry out, hips jerking forward uncontrollably. 

You’ve kind of had it with patience, but when Sylus lets go of you, third orgasm ruined, you take a deep breath and hold yourself back from strangling him. You do need his cock hard and alive to fuck yourself stupid on, when he’s stopped being so unhelpful. 

You go to bed early, nerves tense and temper high. If you punch the pillows around a bit before settling down and yanking the covers up to your chin, that’s between you and the bed. And Mephisto, who is likely reporting everything back to Sylus the moment you fall asleep. 

It takes ages, and a lot of tossing and turning in bed, but you must have fallen asleep at some point because you wake up to your legs in the air, held together by one hand wrapped around both ankles, and an unbearable heat between your thighs, pushing insistently against your clit.

You gasp, still dizzy from sleep and distracted by the wet slide of something against your pussy, hot and demanding. It drags along your slit, bumping the underside of your swollen pearl on every upstroke. It’s a slow, tenacious fire that builds in your gut, stoking the dying embers and coaxing the flames to roar up your spine once again. 

“Awake?” The voice is low, closer to a growl than anything else. “Go back to sleep, sweetie. All I need are your thighs and this sweet little cunt.”

His hips roll against yours, driving his cock further along your pussy. He fucks your thighs slowly, so fucking patient as he chases his orgasm—patience that you don’t have. You would try to coax him to fuck you harder if you weren’t still half-awake, vision bleary as you weakly clutch at the bedsheets. 

You’re not even sure what’s happening. All you know is that your pussy is aching, throbbing so badly for something, anything to be stuffed inside. His cock saws between your thighs, the slide made smooth by the copious amount of slick you’re dripping, and you moan when the head of his cock bumps against your clit. 

“More,” you gasp, the word rattling in your throat. “Sylus, please—”

“Shhh. Go back to sleep.”

You shake your head as best you can. Your back arches, trying to roll your hips up into his to get a better angle. To put more pressure on your clit. You’ve been denied for so long that you’re tiptoeing on the jagged knife’s edge—you just need a bit more, a little more of something, and you know you’ll cum.

But Sylus keeps up this devastatingly slow pace, like he’s taking his time, like he’s savoring the experience of you writhing beneath him. 

“Please,” you beg, eyes fluttering shut. There’s a moment where your voice breaks in two, and you think you might cry if he denies you again. It’s a steady build up, a long trek up a mountain with a payoff you can see, just barely out of reach. 

“Not yet,” Sylus replies softly. There is another hand on your hip, thumb rubbing gently over the skin there. It’s almost a reassurance, an attempt to cool the flames licking over your body, but then he moves your legs over one shoulder so his other hand can join your legs, squeezing your thighs together to create a tighter crevice for him to fuck into. “You can take it, sweetie.”

You’re not sure you can. The back of your thighs are pressed up against Sylus’ chest, the jut of his broad shoulder leaning into your calves. He holds you in place like you’re nothing more than a sex toy he’s using in the middle of the night to try and rub one off. He rocks his cock against your pussy, the full length of it scraping past your slit and peeking through your thighs at the end.

Your clit feels battered and bruised and far too sensitive for the consistent grinding of his cock. When he pulls back, far enough that the head of his cock is positioned right at the mouth of your pussy, you can hear the way you start to whine. 

You can feel it. The briefest touch of pressure, his cockhead nudging at your cunt, teasing your hungry pussy. Like he’s going to sink in and fill you up so full you can feel it in your throat, if you just ask nicely.

But he won’t. He teases your cunt just enough to make you shake, then he continues the slide to make the head of his cock kiss your clit. 

“You’re so mean,” you cry out, voice trembling as your pussy mouths hungrily at the touch of his cockhead. “Please, Sylus, I’m begging, please, please—”

Sylus grunts. His grip on your thighs gets tight, and you imagine you can see the veins in his forearm bulge. You imagine the way he’s frowning, brows taut as he grits his teeth and stares down at you like he wants to eat you alive. 

Restraint looks so ugly on him, you want to say, but the pressure against your pussy grows and your mouth drops open. It feels like some higher power is perched above the two of you, drawing the air from your lungs out, wisp by wisp, as your cunt opens up for the head of Sylus’ cock. 

“You don’t know how fucking good you look like this,” Sylus forces out, gripping you hard enough that it aches, that you know you’ll wake up with handprints on your outer thighs tomorrow. “Good enough to eat, sweetie. Just look at you.”

You open your eyes, hazily looking up. Sylus’ eye is glowing, glinting crimson through the dark, and there’s a ravenous look in his gaze. He looks down at you, searching your body, watching the bounce of your tits every time he fucks into you, the fat head of his cock slipping in just barely.

It’s not enough. There’s a gaping hole inside your pussy, so deep inside you that only Sylus’ full length can reach it to pummel it into submission. Even as you clench around the tip, your cunt mouthing hungrily at Sylus’ cockhead, it’s not enough.

“Just the tip,” Sylus groans, voice tight as he grinds the head of his cock into your pussy. “That’s all you’ll get for tonight.”

You arch your hips up, trying to force him to slip further into you. “More, I want more—”

He laughs breathlessly, hips stuttering when you tighten desperately around his cock. “Soon,” he promises, carefully fucking into you. Sylus keeps his word, feeding you just the tip and nothing else.

“You feel divine,” he murmurs, breathing heavily. The rhythm of his hips falter, a telltale sign that he’s losing control. He’s close, you think deliriously, and flex your pussy around his cock to pull him along at a faster rate. 

“Inside,” you moan, fingers blindly tracing down your body to find his hands, gripping his wrists. “Inside, inside, inside me,” you chant desperately.

“Want me to paint your pussy white?” Sylus coos, hips speeding up. The head of his cock pops in and out of your pussy, bullying its way past your throbbing hole to open you up just enough before he pulls back. It’s a horrible tease, and sometimes he moves too fast, too eager to sink his cockhead into the wet heat of your cunt and he misses. 

It makes him curse, eyes skimming down your body to fixate on your thighs. He watches you with the hungry intensity of a predator on a hunt—the shaking in your thighs, the way his slick cockhead peeks out from between your thighs, the way your chest squeezes tightly every time he grinds flatly along the swollen bump of your clit—

He slides back in your cunt, fucks in harshly, deeper than before, deep enough to make it feel like your breath’s been punched out of you.

Sylus’ cock throbs, pulses hotly inside you, and you can feel the spurts of cum against the walls of your cunt. 

The pooling heat of cum inside you is almost enough to make you tip over the edge. But your clit throbs insistently, demanding attention that Sylus refuses to give you. Your pussy clenches and unclenches tightly around Sylus’ cock, coaxing his orgasm out as he groans from the sensation. 

He holds himself tightly above you, refusing to fuck deeper or pull out. Sylus pants, the sound of his heavy breathing filling up the space around you as you try to catch your breath yourself, fingers still holding on to Sylus’ wrists. 

When he finally collects himself, his cock giving one last jerk inside your pussy, he leans down. Sylus’ face is right above yours, in painful clarity despite how dark the room is, and you look up at him with your heart thudding in your chest.

His gaze searches your face for a moment, then he smiles. 

“Good girl,” Sylus croons, and one of his hands leave your thighs. “Be obedient for a little bit more, and you’ll be rewarded at the end.”

“Twenty-four hours is way too lo—” your voice cracks, going high at the sudden touch of a thumb, wet with slickness, on your stiff clit. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, crimson gaze fixated on you. “Easy does it, sweetie. I’ll give you what you want.”

He brings you to the brink again, and again, and again, until you drift off to sleep from how worn out your body is.

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[walli3darl1ng]

Hey fav writer!

I got a couple of ideas when I was zoning out in math class today but I'm just going to do it one at a time cuz I don't want to overboard you and have you stressed out I don't want you to get overwhelmed you're my favorite writer right now

Okay here's what I'm thinking! Okay reader recently moved into the neighborhood and has met almost everybody except for Frank...

And when they met Frank saw Stars the reader was half butterfly!

Frank x butterfly gn reader!

Romantic or platonic I don't really care whatever one you prefer!

Also I don't mind being called Moon!

From: a new friend🌜

To: You💖

Pain is illusion by gold byeeeeee!!!!

DONT YOU EVER-

don’t even stop you’re the reason I’m even still writing on this blog, Moon!💖💖😖

But this is adorable! You know that scene from that movie about fairies and the female spread her breathtaking wings?! I can’t think of the movie oh ma gawd-

But anyways this one’s gonna be short and sweet one.

Moving i to a new neighborhood can be hard and stressful. There’s so much you need to do and keep track of, it can be overwhelming!

Which is why you felt relief when you finished unpacking and meet all the neighbors.

First was Wally, he came up to you! You think he’s a cute little puppet, loves listening to you. You remind him of an Angel.

Next, was Julie and Sally. Lovely girls! Wouldn’t stop gushing over your wings and eyes, they’re glowing like glass!

Then it was Barnaby, so funny that one! Made you laugh every moment. You guys played around too with Wally after tea.

Poppy and Howdy were next, at the store you were getting some ingredients for dessert tonight and they were impressed with your wings.

Eddie was a big help! Moving in the boxes and helping you set up your mailbox. As well as tell you about this clearing with a bunch of butterflies!

So there is where you are relaxing and sitting on a rock not noticing another butterfly loving puppet stoping himself from stepping in the clearing when he sees you in his usual butterfly seeing spot.

“Oh hey, Frank!”

Frank panicked and turns to see Julie. He quickly covers her mouth and pulls her down with him as you swiftly turn around at the noise but turn back when you didn’t see anything.

Julie protested as Frank lets her go. “That’s rude!” She whispers now sitting on her knees.

“Rude! You’re the one who spawned outta no where!” He whispers back, taking glances at you. “Who are they?”

Julie pushes him over, only for him to push her back to keep his eyes on you. “That’s Y/n.”

Just as she said it you stand up and stretched, your wings spreading and letting it take in the sun. They were glowing! The holographic glow bringing stars to Frank’s eyes.

He thinks you’re so pretty and unique! Just look at you, everything about you is perfect! The wings and glow are just a bonus.

“Hey, Y/n!”

You turn and smile. Julie called you. Frank was slightly embarrassed that Julie just called both him and her on spying on you but you don’t seem to mind. “Hey, Julie! Oh hello I don’t think we’ve meet, I’m Y/n!” You flap your wings and glade over to them and hold your hand out to Frank.

Frank smiles and shakes your hand. Then starts letting his mind run. “Hello, I’m Frank! So do you know what kind of butterfly you are? Are the wings transparent or is it a specific color? Will you let me look at them?”

“Woah Frank, let them breathe! Oh, oh! What about a sleepover?!” Julie jumps up and down pulling Franks with her to follow her actions.

You laugh and nods you head, a sleepover sound perfect! This also is a good time to get to know all you neighbors. “That’s a good idea! Should we invite the others?”

“Yes!” Julie takes your and and Frank’s pulling you two back to the neighborhood. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“Slow down, firecracker!”

You just laugh and let yourself be pulled.

You’re starting to love it here!”

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hi! I’d love a BG3 matchup if you have the time and energy! If not, feel free to discard this! I also do matchups, so if you’d like one feel free to send it my way!

Here’s my info:

General: Agender, they/them, aroace but I love hypothetical romances and I’m open to any gender in that case! I can’t say much for my appearance, as I have an issue with perceiving my actual appearance that makes it hard for me to know what I look like, apologies for that one.

Personality: I'm a Scorpio, INFJ-T, and in general I'd say I align with those assignments. I'm extremely introverted to the point of being asocial. I spend most of my time by myself, and if I could I'd do everything on my own, since I'm stubbornly independent, and very cautious around people, even those I know well. Despite this, I'm not unfriendly, I just have a really hard time connecting with others due to my social anxiety. I really appreciate people who go out of their way to connect with me, and I make friends with people quickly when I get the chance. Once I get comfy I become very blunt and humorous. I tend to say and do as I please, though never to the detriment of someone else, as I tend to put other's needs above my own. I'll talk for hours about my interests and passions, and I'm always up for a challenge. I also have a very strong moral compass, and I refuse to compromise on it. I try to be kind above all else, especially to those who seem to be in a rough place, as I haven’t always been treated kindly, and I want others to feel loved. I’m known for giving great advice and being a good shoulder to cry on, but I don’t let others take advantage of that. I do well in emergency situations, especially when leadership is needed, but I also tend to crumble under mounting stress, and lash out when upset. Overall I'm determined, creative, and compassionate, but also stubborn, judgmental, and fearful.

Likes: I love horror media and anything deemed unsettling, since things that make me uncomfortable fascinate me. I love animals (especially tarantulas and spiders) and nature, and I spend a lot of time drawing and painting the world around me and taking walks on sunny days. On that note, I’m an explorer, and I tend to get into spaces I shouldn’t be if only because my curiosity got the better of me. I enjoy composing, playing, and listening to music, especially instrumentals, rock, and soundtracks. I also play video games, especially RPGs and FPS games. I’m a boxer and archer, and while I don’t like athletics and sports that much, climbing, running, and adventuring is always fun for me, especially with friends.

Dislikes: Inconsiderate people, especially when they’re not aware of how they’re inconveniencing others. Trutthfully, I can be very judgemental and picky with friends or associates, and if someone annoys me even slightly I tend to disregard them. I also dislike those who are arrogant and cruel, and I have a particular distaste for seafood and being touched.

What I look for in a partner: Someone who is kind and understanding of my flaws, and especially someone with a good sense of humor. I feel like I don’t truly connect with people until we laugh about something together. I value honesty and communication as well, so someone who isn’t willing or can’t be open and vulnerable with me is a no go. As pessimistic as I am, I also believe in doing good and making other people’s days a little bit brighter if possible, so I couldn’t be around a cynic or someone intentionally cruel.

Fun Fact: I like to read medical textbooks, and I find visiting cadaver labs and watching medical procedures thrilling.

~~~~~ MATCH UP ~~~~~

I now present to you your math; they are funny, kind, compassionate, and a person always looking for a good time-----

Karlach

~~~~~ HEADCANON ~~~~~

Karlach would 100% be okay with being the instigator of all your interactions.

She will sit down with you, and if you ask her, she will describe how you looked in her eyes to help you understand what she sees.

She loves to make you laugh—not just any laugh, a true deep belly laugh. She will do anything to know she has made you the happiest she possibly can.

Karalch went through years of solitude as Zariel's forced right-hand woman, so she understands the need for space and being hyper-independent.

Karlach will always let you lead until you ask her to help you. She knows your morality aligns with her, so she never questions you.

Once Karlach gets her engine worked on and can touch people again, she finds every reason to have a hand, tail, or piece of herself touching you.

She never judges you if you fail or mess something up, she is right there softly comforting you and ready to assist you in anyway necessary to fix the situation.

~~~~~ BLURB ~~~~~

After days of intense terrain and countless enemies, the group rests. With no town or tavern in sight for miles, it was time for good ol' outdoor camping. As everyone set up their tents and cots, the sun started to set past the horizon. Food was served and drinks shared, and many retired for the night, ready to rest for the next steps in the adventure. All who stayed awake with the moon was Astarion on the night shift, you, and Karlach. You and Karlach had an exciting companionship; nothing felt forced or overwhelming. She always attended to your every need and desire as you had them, making you feel light and warm in her presence.

As if feeling you think about her, she made her way over to you, sitting down on the log you were on gently. "Heya love, what's on your mind tonight?" You smiled languidly at your partner and sighed contently. "You know Karlach ever since we got your engined tuned you have been a lot happier, it honestly makes me happy as well, seeing you finally have a life outside of hell fire." Karlach smiled softly at you, enjoying the compliment. She looked towards the sky, leaning back a bit. You also turned your head when you felt something gently wrapping around your arm. Looking down, a dark red tail had laid claim to your wrist.

Laughing gently, Karlach's attention was brought to where you were staring. She ignited slightly, not before removing her appendage first. "Sorry, when tieflings get happy, our tails do weird things." You let your lover cool down before gently grabbing her tail and wrapping it back around you. "It's okay; I like it; it makes me feel like you are always there with me." Karlach smiled wider and moved closer to you. Once in arms reach, she wrapped you in a gentle hug. Pulling away from the embrace, she placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

~~~~~ EXTRA ~~~~~

(One night, just outside of town, your group found a hot spring. Ready to relax for a night and clean yourselves off, the group decided to take turns in the pool of water.)

Shadowheart: This is amazing, honestly. It's just what we all needed, really. I could live in this forever if you let me.

Lazel: This isn't even remotely as hot as some of my mother homes in the astral realm. It feels almost as if we are in a warm bath.

Y/N: This is a nice reprieve from the outside world. We may be on an adventure, but our health should also come into play.

Karlach: Yes, this is worth the pit stop; I have to agree with Lazel. It isn't all that hot. Anyway, I will return to the guys and make sure they haven't scourched our dinner tonight.

(As Karlach leaves the pool, a noticeable temperature shift occurs)

Shadowheart: Well damn, no one tells the boys our little secret.

[shortnonsense]

Old Shoes

by M. James

I was 10 at one point. Now I’m not. I hate that.

My mom says I’m just like her, so I guess it’s written in stone, but maybe there is room to be my own person. My sister is not like me. She seems to know the answers before the questions and doesn’t even care that some of us ask why. But such is the life of the 13-year old daughter of an engineer. Dad says he wanted 3.25 children; I think that’s meant to be an engineer joke, but usually I lose track of time when he says anything over eight words. I wake up suddenly an hour later and I don’t know where I’ve been.

What was I saying?

Oh. 3.25 kids. Yeah, that math didn’t work out, and I have a sister and two twin little monsters—I mean, brothers. Their names aren’t important. What is important is that I used to be 10.

My mom had aspirations once, I think, but now she seems to be happy to get through the day. I’ve seen the degrees and pictures of her PKD (aka pre-kid days), and she looked happier then. I know she loves us, and we make her happy also; it’s just that I don’t think she has spoken with her face lately to get on the same page with her heart.

When I was 10, it was just me and my sister, which meant is was mainly just me. My sister tends to live above us all. Now it’s all noise, and movement, and…where are my old shoes? I’ve been going through my closet for hours, and all I can think about was that I was 10 once. And that is when I went to the mall to buy shoes.

“Clara!” I heard my dad yell from downstairs, and most likely from the garage. I’m sure he’s been sitting in the car waiting on me. I guess I’ll be late again. But I really wanted to wear those old shoes to school today!

“Clara! Get in the car! You’ve had three tardies this month already, and I don’t want to have another meeting with your teacher!” yelled dad.

“I’m coming!” I yelled back.

“…then I told her to mind her own business, but she kept asking. I walked out and told her that I could do what I wanted, that she wasn’t even my real mom…” droned my friend/acquaintance that I’m required to listen to since we are lab partners in third period life science. Her name? Not really important, either. I mean—names just come and go, in the next class it will be another name, going on and on about something they know I don’t really care about, but have to act like I care about it because of all of this forced socializing. My mom says I’m an introvert. I think I just don’t like most people. And I think I just want to get this report done, but I’m the only one working.

“Class, take your seats. Open your text books to page 324. Anyone remember what we discussed yesterday?” shouts Mrs. Life Science Teacher, ending my suffering. Now for the “sit and try to listen to someone else” time. But really, I do like school. I just remember liking it more when I was 10. Now I feel like one of those little metal balls bouncing around inside one of the games they always show on retro shows about the 1980’s. I just bounce from one name to the next, smiling and nodding. Till 4 pm when I get to go back home, to my room, to my closet. Where are those old shoes?

The drive home is quiet. It is March and rainy, which means it’s that stretch of school between Spring Break and Summer with no days off, and everyone, including the teachers, are just trying to get to the end of the year without a major incident. Last year, that one boy got sick after his family trip to Mexico, and he spent several weeks in the hospital. We made cards. What was his name? I don’t remember. I do remember drawing a sun on the card I made him. I don’t know why we draw suns on cards, maybe they’re supposed to make people happy or something.

“BOOM!”

An explosion rocks the car, and I have no idea what is happening. The explosive noise jerks me out of my thoughts, and I find I am now gripping my sister’s hand tightly enough to make her squeal and rip here arm away.

“Hold on!” screams my mom in a way that makes me think she is really yelling at herself. Her usual, casual grip on the steering is now a stern 10 and 2. The car starts to weave and shake as the tire makes this loud throbbing sound. We all start to collectively realize the tire has blown as the car slows to a halt on the inside shoulder of a very busy Interstate 10. Jacksonville is busy at 4:30pm on a Tuesday, and we are no longer in the flow of busy parents trying to pick up their kids between work and soccer practice.

Time stops. Life was going at the speed of a school day, and then nothing. Cars blow by, making us shake with each passing. What now? This is certainly a first. Nothing ever interrupts the drive to and from school, except for that one time I forgot my backpack with my book report on the life of Alexander the Great. I got a C +. But now life has been interrupted. My mom is trying to get my dad on the phone while my sister starts quoting standard procedures for times of emergency.

“Yes, on the side of the road! We’re stuck out here, and I am not getting out of this car in this kind of traffic! We’re lucky we didn’t flip!” my mom blurts as she tries to get all the words out at once to my dad, who clearly has been interrupted from some important work meeting. “Okay, okay, you’re right, we’re fine. Yes, I’ll call our road-side assistance. Yes, we’ll sit tight.” Her words become slower as we all start to settle into the situation.

A few minutes later we all have our eyes locked on little blue and red converging dots that tell us exactly how soon our salvation will arrive. I’m starting to feel like maybe this is the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced. I have never been in this situation before, and it is so foreign to me. I have seen cars on the side of the road and have wondered what it would be like to be in such a helpless situation; now here we are, here I am. Helpless, dependent on the blue dot to get here as fast as possible. I wonder how in the world this person coming to our aide will even be able to get to us since the cars appear to be going 100 miles an hour, mere inches from my door! We, of course, have no idea what the damage might be to our gold 2010 Camry. It is going to be mine one day, my sister always jokes, because she plans to buy her own, much better car, but now…who knows. That noise makes me wonder if anything is left back there. I had no idea a tire popping could make such a noise.

Finally, an hour later, the dots finally become one, and the tow truck we saw zip by 15 minutes ago has finally swung back around is was slowly positioning itself on the shoulder to get even with our car. While waiting, Mom called several times to yell at several people. I think she really had to pee, and the call center couldn’t solve that particular problem. Turns out there were only two trucks in our part of Jacksonville today, and the other one is stuck in the middle of a 4-car pile up on the 95. Just our luck to blow a tire on Tommy’s day off. That is name of the driver of what would have been the third truck, the one who might have been able to get to us 30 minutes sooner. Which would have been a whole 30 minutes sooner to find out that our car doesn’t just need a new tire, it needs to be towed to the shop to fix the axle, our driver explains.

Tommy. That was a name that was important. Isn’t that odd. A name of someone not there was more important to me than all of those who were there, all the time, and never went away. Tommy was important because if he had been the one to stumble out of his rusted rig I might be that much closer to finding my old shoes. Now, this other guy, who smells like he lives in his tow truck, is trying to work out what the plan will be with my mom, who is getting more and more frustrated. She must really have to pee now.

One more call to Dad, more time waiting in the car, and soon it has been explained to my sister and I that we need to choose. Go with Mom and the Camry in the tow truck, or go with Dad in his car. Not like I get a vote, but it’s nice of Mom to phrase it like I do. As my sister argues the merits of her going with Dad, I watch the tow truck driver begin to hook up the Camry to this big crane-looking thing. Why can’t we just ride in the Camry like normal when it’s being towed? It doesn’t seem like it matter to me whether we ride in the car like normal or ride in the car while someone pulls us. Things like this didn’t ever happen when I was 10.

Jake. His name is Jake. Our driver. It says so on the little patch on his shirt. And just like that I am now aware of two important names. But Jake isn’t important like Tommy is. Jake is important because I cannot believe I am going to have to sit on his gross seat, in his gross truck, smelling his gross smells, all the way to wherever cars go to get fixed when they blow up on Interstate 10 after school on a Tuesday. I slide as close to Mom as I can. You’d think a vehicle that literally pulls other vehicles around would have a back seat, but this one barely even has a front seat! And what surface area that does exist is littered with Big Mac cartons and wrappers from what must be his favorite corner store snack.

My mom and I sit still in the cab of the truck while Jake finishes up. My dad picked up my sister 20 minutes ago and left us to die. That’s probably just me being dramatic. But that’s what it feels like. Why couldn’t we all go with my dad? Great question. But I guess 13-year old girls named Clara who used to be 10 don’t get those kinds of answers.

My mom busies herself on her phone, texting with friends about the ordeal, while I watch Jake in the rearview mirror. There is a radio, which is something. He has it on some station that primarily features people arguing about the recent blowout loss by the Jaguars. I was actually aware of this recent happening since I remember my dad yelling at the TV on Sunday, saying many of the same things these people are conveying. I myself am thoroughly disinterested in football, or sports, or most things people argue about with strangers.

I jump when the door opens and Jake hops in to sit next to me with much more athletic prowess than I would guess a man of his weight could accomplish.

“Hey there!” Jake says through an awkward grin. Something tells me he doesn’t get many 13-year old passengers.

“Hi,” I find myself whispering back, with what is most likely an equally awkward smile. I had been so wrapped up in my critique of Jake’s apparent lack of workplace cleanliness that I had lost track of his movement. I am not ready for this conversation, and now I am having it, and he is way closer than I expected. This middle seat must have been designed for three very small people, not one large man in his mid 50’s, one regular-sized mom, and one me.

“Pretty crazy, right?” Jake asked. “That tire of yours really messed up your back quarter panel. Your car may take a few weeks get it up and running again.”

“Huh,” I mutter, trying to find some similar personal experience that will make me able to in some way say something relevant to the point Jake is making. I fail. This is why we have phones. To give us something to stare at instead of doing whatever we have to do right now. But no, I have to wait another year till that magic age of 14 to have a phone. I guess in six months I’ll be responsible. Until then, It’s just me.

Jake cranks up the engine as we try to ease into the closest lane. Soon, we are up to speed, and I see that our destination has already been loaded into the GPS. To my relief we are in store for a fairly short drive. At least I thought. But at this point my mom states that if we do not stop for a bathroom, she will just have to go then and there. Which is not that worst thing you can hear from you mom while riding in a cramped, smelly tow truck, but It’s probably on the top 10. Top 5 even.

Five minutes later, we pull into a 7-11, where Mom grabs me out of the truck, and we both run to the bathroom. The trip back to the truck is much slower, and mom is evidently feeling much better. We climb back up into the truck, and Jake begins to ease the gas down as we drive back out onto the frontage road. He must have found time to grab another of his favorite snacks while we were in the girls’ room, and as he struggles with the wrapper, I hear him let out what I can only describe as sorrow. “Oh man, this does not look good,” he states, like we are both examining recent roadkill. He points to the GPS screen, and it dawns on me that our route, which was very much green, is now red, and red is bad. In the time it took for our little side trip, something must have changed on our path that turned our quick 20-minute drive into over an hour. Soon we find ourselves sitting in what might as well have been a five-mile long parking lot on the interstate. After several minutes of no movement, we all watch with horror as the time to our destination grows exponentially bigger and bigger. Sirens make themselves known in the distance, slowly gaining volume as they pass by us, rushing to whatever accident has caused all of this, and with that, Jake turns off the ignition. This, in my mind, is the same as holding up the white flag of surrender. Bottom line—I am now looking at over an hour of forced, awkward conversation with someone I never should have even met.

Did I say I don’t like people? Yes, I think I did. And my mom is no help, becoming more and more absorbed in some article she is reading that was posted on her favorite blog.

Jake sighs, looks in the mirror, then asks, “So, how old are you?”

“13,” I say.

“I used to be 13,” Jake states, like it is a revelation from God.

“I have these old shoes,” I say to Jake several minutes later. “I’ve been looking for them for days. They are my favorite shoes, even though I haven’t worn them in a while. I bought them when I was 10. I used to be 10.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this fact about my current state of being. But somehow my conversation with Jake is going differently than the back and forth banter I usually endure from classmates and my sister.

Jake goes on to describe what it was like to be 13, a young boy, being raised by a single mom in North Carolina. He moved to Florida when he was 30 and has bounced around from one job to the next ever since. Never being able to get back to that feeling of unfiltered opportunity like he had when he was 13.

It’s like he is searching for something that he has lost and can’t seem to find it. Now he’s 54, driving a tow truck around Jacksonville 6 days a week, is admittedly overweight, doesn’t have many friends, and often thinks about his life choices that have led him here. But mainly, he remembers that he used to be 13.

I used to be 10. “When I was 10,” I continue, “my dad took me to the mall one day, and I saw these shoes in the window of Macy’s, and I begged him for them. Eventually, he let me try them on, and after some more begging, I was walking out of the store with them wrapped up in this big, expensive-looking bag.”

“They sound nice,” Jake interjects. I know there is no way he can understand the feeling of buying new shoes as a young girl, but it is nice of him to try.

“The reason these particular shoes were such a big deal is that up till that point, every pair of shoes I ever wore had first been worn by my older sister.

“Ah!” Jake slips out, with comprehension that leaves me surprised. “Hand-me-downs, yes, those were common in my family. I was an only child, but with my mom being low on cash most of the time, I got my wardrobe out of a bag of clothes that was left on our doorstep by the family down the street that had two older boys, and they loved to point out the fact that I was always wearing clothes they were going to throw away.”

I let that statement linger a few minutes. We actually get to move forward about a quarter mile before yet another full stop. Another tow truck passes by to hopefully help clear the congestion several miles ahead.

“I wore those shoes every day for the whole school year,” I eventually say. “They were more than shoes, they were opportunity and freedom. They were truly mine, not something that was just mine now. Somehow, though, I lost track of them over the summer—I hardly ever wear actual shoes during the summer since it’s all flip flops and swimming. Then, when it was time to go back to school, there were more shoes in my closet, and I guess I just moved on. But now I’m 13, and I used to be 10, and I just want to find those old shoes.”

Jake looks at me for a while. My mom shifts positions, somehow able to tune out our conversation, aside from occasional comments about this traffic and how she had no idea it would take this long.

Finally, Jake’s eyes brighten, and he seems to have stumbled upon some kind of realization. “I’m sorry you can’t find your old shoes,” he says. “They sound very important to you. It is difficult growing up, leaving things behind, figuring out the new things.”

I look at him sideways, wondering how he jumped to that conclusion. I was talking about my shoes. I just want to find my old shoes. I wasn’t talking about growing up, or whatever.

Jake goes on. “I used to be 13, and the world fit inside my bedroom. One day I turned 14, then 15, then 16, and suddenly the world didn’t fit anymore. My world had gotten larger, but sometimes I’d think back on what it was like to be 13. I still do. Just like I think about what it was like to be 25 and 40. When I could run and not ache, or when I still had my mom, or when I still had dreams and goals. Now I look at the world rush by, as I sit on the side of the road. The only time I catch up to anyone is when they crash or break down. ‘Forced timeouts,’ I call them.”

He went on. “There are things, experiences, people even, that lock us into a time in our lives. It makes it easier to remember what it was like then after so much has changed. Our world moves on, but those things are locked in time. Like your old shoes.”

Jake pauses with that and lets his words drift through my mind. I was starting to think Jake was an important name for more reasons than I first assumed.

“I used to be 10,” I said, “and it was so much easier. Things made more sense to me, and now so much doesn’t. It was just me and my shoes. I just want to find them again.”

I wave goodbye to Jake as he pulls out of the repair shop parking lot. His is a name I will remember. My mom finishes speaking with the manager, working out the plan and cost of the repairs. It had taken so long for us to arrive that my dad is now able to swing by after finishing up at the office. My sister has been home for hours. I slide into the back seat next to a large garbage bag.

“Oh, just move that over, Honey. I forgot I still had that back there. I was supposed to drop it off at your cousin Ellie’s house last week,” explained Dad.

I stare at the bag as a thought begins to form. It is mixed with the story that Jake shared, the one about the bag of hand-me-downs he received from the people down the street from him. I untie the knot in the bag and peer inside. Just as I suspect, it is filled with clothes. My cousin is a few years younger than us, and since my younger brothers won’t be wearing my clothes, my parents often bag them up and drop them off for her to use. As I dig through the bag, I recognize shirts and dresses from years past. Some I remember liking, others I rarely wore.

Then my hand brushes against something hard under the stack of shorts. I have a rush of adrenaline as I reach in to grasp the item, pulling it into the light. “My old shoes!” I exclaim, apparently louder than intended, as my mom jumps at the sound.

“Yes, Honey, I put those in the giveaway bag months ago. You never wear them, and I don’t think they even fit you anymore,” explained Mom.

I hear her words, but they somehow don’t hit the mark she intends. Instead, I want to lash out, my anger stirred after such a difficult day. I am about to scream at her, tell her how she should never have thought to give away my favorite shoes, when something stops me.

I picture a 13-year old Jake, sitting in his room, playing. I used to be 10. I remember running to school in these shoes. I loved how I felt in them. They were mine, and the world made sense. But I’m not 10 anymore, just like Jake isn’t 13. Our worlds have grown, and for me 13 is scary, but it’s what I am. I need to stop looking for my old shoes, let someone else have them.

I slide them back in the bag and let it settle to the floorboard. “You’re right, I say to Mom. Ellie will love them. They are great shoes.”

After a few more minutes of driving, I ask, “Mom, can I go to a party next weekend? It’s a birthday party for my friend from Life Science class.”

“Probably,” says my mom. “What’s her name?” she asks.

“Shelby.”

[recordsfm]

╰   ☆  ◞ milo manheim / cis man / he/him  ———  no way is that dallon markham? you know they’re TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD and they’ve been in los angeles for THREE YEARS. they’re chillin’ as the OWNER of BLAZED. oh and they’re notoriously known for being CLOSED OFF but there are some people who have seen them be LOYAL. i heard they’re a part of a BAND called THE WALLETS, yeah they’re a VOCALIST/GUITARIST/BASSIST to be honest they sound a lot like WALLOWS. they’re actually RISING STAR.

PART ONE: STATISTICS. 

basic information:

FULL NAME: Dallon Fable Markham

NICKNAME(S): Dally boy

AGE: 26

DATE OF BIRTH: September 28th 1997

PLACE OF BIRTH: Chicago, Illinois

GENDER: cis man

PRONOUNS: he/him

ORIENTATION: hetrosexual

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English, some Spanish,

NEIGHBOURHOOD: Riviera Beach

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: Seaside oasis apartments

family ties:

MOTHER: Angela Anderson Bertuzzi

GRANDMOTHER: Abigail Anderson

FATHER: Brandon Markham Carmen Bertuzzi

SIBLINGS: Violet Bertuzzi, Michaela Bertuzzi (12)

SPOUSE / PARTNER: none

CHILDREN: none

PETS: none

occupational information:

OCCUPATION: Owner/chef at blazed

POSITION: Chef

SKILLSET OR SPECIALISATION:  Cooking, heat tolerance,

NAME OF THEIR ACT: Wallets

SO THEY PLAY INSTRUMENTS? IF SO WHAT?: Guitar and bass

HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN A PART OF THE ACT?: 10 years

ARTIST INFLUENCES: The wombats, the 1975, twenty one pilots

CURRENT MONTHLY SPOTIFY/APPLE MUSIC LISTENS ON AVERAGE: 510.2 K

personality:

WESTERN ZODIAC: Libra

CHINESE ZODIAC: Ox

POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, hard working, comical

NEGATIVE TRAITS: closed off, Independent, stubborn

HOBBIES: Smoking weed, playing around with his guitar, cooking, surfing, having sex

AESTHETICS: fading hickies, empty bottles of jack, grease stained aprons

PART TWO: QUESTIONNAIRE. 

IF YOUR MUSE IS A MUSICIAN:

start at the beginning, who are you and why are you important?

"Uh yeah, my name is Dallon Markham. I play the bass and sing for a band called The Wallets."

how long have you been making music?

"Oh Jesus, uh...", Dallon trailed off as he scratched his beard, trying to do math while currently stoned out of his mind. Fuck. Why did they wanna interview us all separately? What was I doing again? Or right. "Since I was like 18. That's when we really started to do the band seriously. But I was in music lessons ever since I was a kid."

how would you describe the kind of music you make?

"It's pretty much just three kids fucking around with their instruments really."

who are some of your biggest musical influences?

"Definitely Cartel, Peach pit, Jimmy Eat World, and Finch."

what is the first record you ever bought?

"Oh god. My step dad got me take off your pants and jacket, by Blink-182 for my 5th birthday, when he was still just dating my mom. We always were listening to The Rock Show"

what has working in the music industry meant to you thus far in your career?

"As bad as this is gonna sound, it's not really a career to me... It's just a hobby. Something that I do because it's fun and I love it. A career to me is a legacy, and for me, I hope that's my food and culinary career."

what are some stand out moments from your career so far?

"Well touring was pretty cool. But that didn't last very long at all."

how would you describe your style of performance? what makes your shows worth seeing?

There was a grimace that spread across the man's lips, quickly erasing his smile. In that moment, he really wished that Ash was there. Or hell his aunt. Anyone who could feed him lines. "I think we have a good energy", the man thought on his feet. "I try and interact with the crowd as much as possible, and I know Ash does too."

what are you still hoping to achieve in your career?

"Honestly, I'm not wanting much more from my music career. Wallets was something I just did with my cousin. It's fun and all, but it's not my passion anymore." I just use being in a band to get laid really, the man silently added. Knowing more then enough not to let that thought slip past his lips.

what’s next for you?

"Uh well", Dallon paused to think. "My main goal right now is to actually focus on my business. About six months ago I officially opened a food truck called Blazed. We're the only food truck in LA that currently sells cannabis infused food. But we sell regular food too, because there is such thing as too many edibles."

PART TWO: BACKGROUND:

will be added

[curedestiny4]

I was cleaning the shelves at work yesterday while listening to my favorite childhood show “Crashbox” and I think to myself; “Self, I wonder if that demon family you know ever got around to watching the show and thought about what’s their most favorite game.” Welp, it’s a long shot but here I go.

Balthazor: Yep this one’s a no-brainer. According to episode 4 of “Neighbors From Hell”, he seems to really enjoy riddles quite a lot. And I thought “Hey! If he loves riddles, his favorite game should be “Riddle Snake!” He’ll have a blast at it!” Well, that’s only one of the two games I thought he would enjoy the most not because he’s a father that loves stuff like this but also alleviate grim situations. Next game I thought Balthazor would like the best is “Psycho Math.” It could just be me but I thought this would give him the thrill and excitement he wouldn’t normally see in Hell or Earth, I mean come on! The host of said game is Professor effin’ Rocket, for Satan’s sake!

Tina: Uhh yeah, I may be overthinking this one a little but I think she would dig either “Haunted House Party” for its atmosphere and having more than decent famous dead humans or “Mug Shots” for its female host and testing testimonies as well as jurisdiction. Hey just cuz she’s a housewife that doesn’t mean she can’t have fun. I mean really, let the succubus go at it!

Josh: No surprise here, his favorite games would be “Eddie Bull” or “Poop or Scoop” since they’re both animal-related games. Granted, he does like other stuff but I felt like this would be an appropriate answer for the little scalawag.

Mandy: I gotta be honest, this one’s probably a little tough since Mandy’s personality and interests weren’t all the way out there. At least not yet. Nevertheless I would say the games she would enjoy are “Sketch Pad” for the cool, hip vibes and “Paige and Sage” because of the valley girl theme.

Vlaartark: Oh boy, where to start with this? First off, he mentioned about something that involved his level with sophistication and elegance. I thought “Dirty Pictures” for its elderly hosts and paintings. (yes it’s called that but it’s not what you think, you sickos.) “Word Shake” for the host and the aforementioned premise of the game. Good luck trying to get through those games, old man.

Pazuzu: This one had to be easy and not because of the gobmutt having a rock-star look. I figured he would love “Radio Scramble” for its unique musical style and anagram puzzles. Oh my kami, if I could just hear him sing the songs the host would throw at us.

[misssakuramochi]

Hihi heres my info for the trade thx for trading for me

Persona 5 male matchup plz

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: heterosexual ally

Zodiac: Capricorn

Appearance: 5’2 African American hourglass body (although I’m more top heavy if you know what i mean) black curly wavy hair blackish brown eyes chubby cheeks wears glasses sometimes (im far sighted so it’s usually when driving in class or at the theater)

Mbti: infj

Enneagram: 2w1

Personality: kind smart funny motherly responsible empathetic anxious emotional moody perfectionist helpful people pleaser caring compassionate nerdy curious protective polite respectful indecisive fearful nervous introvert shy awkward clumsy low self esteem low confidence (more pertaining to my talents or personality then my looks) sassy sarcastic (I’m mainly these things with people i feel comfortable with like friends or family) soft spoken cute (my friends think im cute because i can be pretty innocent plus I’m small physically)

Likes: animals books reading writing fantasy magic sci fi anime music video games friends alone time learning personality quizzes sweets and bread helping being a part of something bigger than myself

Dislikes: spiders loud sounds people who harm others people who don’t take others into consideration (like make insensitive jokes or don’t consider the comfort of others or are mean just cause they can) people i care about not caring for themselves (im a hypocrite on this i take care of everyone else but not me) not being listened to weird holes and patterns math and tests (I’m being tested for a math disability and i have test anxiety)

Love language:

Giving: acts of service gift giving and physical affection (if they’re ok with it)

Receiving: words of affirmation and physical affection (although i can be shy about it)

Extra: i pace a lot i sing when im alone i talk to myself im a picky eater (mainly with textures) i have a cat i have minor ehlers danalos (a hyper mobility disorder) but it doesn’t hurt me like it does my sisters i get abdominal migraines which is basically like a migraine but instead of headaches it’s nausea

Thankie thankie

I match you with...

AKIRA

You two compliment each other so well!! On one hand, you're similar. On the other, you're balanced. I imagine you to be a driven person with a strong sense of justice - a quality the two of you share. It draws you together, and together there's nothing you can't accomplish. Both of you take care of each other when you forget to take care of yourselves and have a great support system in one another. While you can be a little scattered emotionally, Akira is more... stable I guess, if you're not offended by the term. He's your rock when things get too much, and you help him learn to express himself! Overall you're the scariest power couple out there tbh.

HEADCANONS

● Words of affirmation you say?? Akiras got you covered. He's quiet until you're alone, but he loves to smother you with compliments the second you are. Between making you blush and trying to boost your self esteem (he just wants you to see you the way he does) Akira never stops saying nice things to and about you.

● Phantom thief extraordinare, Akira WILL keep quiet and pretend not to be home when you are just to hear you sing. He loves hearing you habe fun. He also likes how flustered you get when you realize he's been there the whole time.

● Akira is normally really chill, but he turns into the most doting worry wart when you get an abdominal migraine! He's got water, the BRAT diet, buckets, meds, comfy blankets and pillows... he really goes over the top to make you even a little more comfortable. Basically turns into your personal servant tbh

● Don't like math tests? Akira's got you. He's very proficient with book learning and he's more than willing to put in a little extra work to help you. By which I DEFINITELY mean helping you cheat. He could tutor you, and would if you wanted, but why not get rid of the anxiety completely by just having Morgana signal the answers to you through the window?

[thisaintascenereviews]

Capstan - The Mosaic

Seeing a band grow before your eyes, let alone a relatively young one, is such a cool feeling. I don’t mean that in the “I knew who this band was before they got big” kind of way, but in a way to say that you witnessed an evolution of an artist or band. I feel this way with the Florida band Capstan, especially hearing their first two albums. I loved their last album, Separate, from 2021, but I didn’t listen to it until 2022. They started off as a generic post-hardcore band, only to move into a progressive rock, pop-punk, post-hardcore, and math-rock band. Separate was an album that had a lot of sounds running through it, but it shared a few common threads to tie it all together. Albums with a smorgasbord of sounds tend to become an overwhelming mess, let alone a slog to sit through for how unfocused they can be. That album was only 37 minutes, too, so it was a very quick listen but it was also a unique listen.

That’s why it pains me to say that the follow-up, The Mosaic, is the opposite. Capstan is still a very unique band, but this new album is very long, bloated, messy, and just plain overwhelming at times. I had no idea this album was even coming out until I saw it this past Friday, but I figured I’d check it out, just because there wasn’t much else coming out. I’ve listened to this thing a few times, and I wish I liked this a lot more, because there are a lot of things to really enjoy, but this album is more frustrating than anything at all. There are things that are great about it, but also things that I don’t like at least, ultimately pushing me back from enjoying this. This album is so messy when it comes to its sound, it’s almost a complete turnoff. This band has a unique sound, even more so now, but they throw out so many things, and nothing flows that well, or feels like it fits, versus just seeing what sticks. I can appreciate that to an extent, but this album is over an hour long.

I also just don’t quite think every song, as well as every sound, these guys employ here works extremely well. You have the standard progressive pop-punk thing they were mainly doing on the last album with some metalcore and mathcore riffs, but they try their hand at nu-metal, 80s pop (one of the couple songs has Broadside’s Ollie Baxxter on it, and he sounds great), folk-pop, and some other strange detours that don’t add anything to it. There’s a point where they utilize trap-metal, and I’ll be frank — it sounds bad. I think this is a case of doing whatever ideas they had, and ultimately seeing what they could do with them, because this thing feels self-indulgent beyond belief.

I applaud the creativity, but Separate was such a cool album because it stuck to a unique sound and didn’t try to be so much at once, let alone some of those ideas not sticking the landing. I think part of that is vocalist Anthony DeMario doesn’t have that great of a voice, at least for certain styles of music. When they operate the lane of pop-punk, and metalcore, his work is solid and it’s quite good, but when he tries to go for a more impressive range or style that requires more of a range, such as pop or folk, it just doesn’t sound good. His screams, if he is the one screaming, aren’t that great, either. They’re fine, but even on their last album, I thought the harsher moments were the least interesting stuff.

I wish I liked this more, because there is a lot to like, and there is a good album in here that’s focused, shorter, and more interesting, but some of these ideas needed to stay in their heads. I guess it’s cool that fellow progressive pop-punk and metalcore band Belmont appears on a track, and they dropped a new album a couple months back, but I didn’t care for that one, either, kind of opposite reasons. That album was too boring, because they were doing the same thing they did on their last album, just in a more refined way, whereas this is a more expansive version of what Capstan did on their last album. It’s worth a listen, especially if you’re a fan, but this is truly a mixed bag that I ultimately respect more than I like. I like parts of it, but as a whole, this album kind of ain’t it, Chief.

[dingus-on-stardust]

Oh heck Spotify Wrapped is here, you know (probably not but let’s roll with it anyway) what that means…

MUSIC RANT: 2022 WRAPPED EDITION

Let’s take a look at my stats this year, roast myself talk about it, and see how it compares to you!

Starting off with genres! Apparently I listened to 57 different music genres this year, but my top ones were:

1. Electro House

2. Modern Rock

3. Synthwave

4. Electro Swing

5. Pop

Honestly, it’s both surprising and not at all at the same time. Mainly because last year my top genre was “Gaming EDM”, and now it seems like it didn’t even make the top 5.

Next up, Spotify did this thing called “My Audio Day”. Which I think is supposed to represent like the different types of music you tend to listen to throughout the day? Anyway, it’s pretty interesting, so here’s what I got!

My Mornings: “Fancy Exciting Silly”

My Afternoon: “Gothic Chill Love”

My Nights: “Comforting Calm Intense”

Afterwards, I was presented with my listening stats. Like my top genres, I’m both surprised and not at the same time.

Total Minutes Listened: 63,023

More than 95% of other listeners in the US

Doing some quick math, that’s over 1,050 hours or nearly 44 days straight!

And now, onto top songs! Continuing to hold its title as number 1:

My Demons - STARSET

112 plays

Followed by the other top 5:

2. Down With The Fallen - STARSET

3. Everything Black - Unlike Pluto, Mike Taylor

4. Missing - Orax

5. Lay Down - Caravan Palace

Personally, I’m shocked that “Missing” isn’t higher on the list. I listened to that song a stupid amount of times cause it’s one of my favorites, but it couldn’t crack STARSET. I’m also surprised “Everything Black” got onto the top 5. It’s a bop, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t know I listened to it that much.

Now, to top artists! Unsurprisingly, the new champion taking the number 1 spot from Caravan Palace…

STARSET, with 6,521 minutes listened

Top 0.1% of listeners

Followed by the rest of the top 5:

2. Caravan Palace

3. Set It Off

4. Toby Fox

5. Måneskin

I think Spotify nailed it on the head tbh, I’m not thrown for a loop with any of these choices.

For the penultimate topic on wrapped, Spotify judged your “Music Personality” based on the songs you listened to. I’m guessing because of the amount of genres I’ve listened to this year, I was given the title of:

The Adventurer - “Seeker of Sound”

• ENVU • Exploration, Newness, Variety, Uniqueness

One last thing I want to talk about is the “personalized” Artist messages. Honestly they’re really goddamn cool, but I’ll talk about it in a separate post, because this one is getting a little too long. Keep an eye out for it though!!

And now, to close out this really long Music Rant, here’s the rundown of my stats. A TL;DR if you will:

Thanks for making it to the end! Can’t wait to see what next year will bring. I’m curious if it’ll be drastically different, or basically the same. Anyways, that was a music rant, I’ll see y’all later ✌🏼

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1F0sijgNaJdgit?si=l9s2qReHS_Sb5XsoyILnjg

[bazmichaels]

Junior High School - Part Two

So, when school started back up, I went to Studebaker Junior High. With a broken arm and arriving in the middle of the winter sports season, I had to deal with a new school without my crutch of athletics. It was a rough semester.

The academics went ok, I think, although I had different textbooks and the courses picked up in different places than my previous school. It was the social aspect of school that was the worst. I stepped into a world in which I was not born, but everyone else around me was. If we’ve ever met, you would know I’m very much an introvert. Sports provided a bypass mechanism for my shyness. My first semester in Ohio was very lonely. Everyone at my new school had grown up with each other and had already had years to form their cliques and forge their friendships. I had no business busting in on any of these longtime relationships, and I didn’t have the desire or social skills to try. I honestly think there was some racism going on there with some of the people, even though a lot of them couldn’t even tell what races I was made of. When I went to school in Texas, Hispanic kids, White kids, and even a few black kids were all used to going to school together. It was no big deal (except for that one time the Mexican kids were going to get into a massive brawl with the Jocks, except those of us who were both Mexican and a Jock and both Mexican and White, talked both sides down.) The beauty part of being an introvert, though, is that I didn’t particularly mind being by myself. It was just strange walking around like an invisible person in the midst of all those people my own age.

I was also starting to really like girls in a more intense way, and I couldn’t talk to girls if I didn’t talk to anyone; moreover, with my hormones going nuts, my broken arm still healing, the first Winter I ever spent being cold, and a completely new set of Spring pollens and sinus-stuffing particulates, my second semester of 8th grade sucked. I even started staying home sick from school because my sinuses always made me feel crappy, and I didn’t feel like I was missing anything in school (although I do think I was running into trouble in math for the first time – proofs – yuck). My mom had to start dropping me off at school even though it was just a couple of blocks away. I started spending time in my room listening to music and doing a lot of reading, particularly about science with an emphasis on Astronomy. I enjoyed that time to myself. The only other good part about 8th grade I can remember is that I had science lab, which I enjoyed, and the teacher would play Doobie Brothers music during lab time. Memorable songs were “Black Water” and “Another Park, Another Sunday”. I also remember that my desk was right behind Kim and Kelley Deal, who were twins. That was a novelty to me, and they were cute and athletic. But there also was something extra cool about them, although I had no idea what it was at the time.

Kim would go on to be in the influential ‘80s/‘90s alternative rock band Pixies (“Here Comes Your Man”), and would later team with Kelley in the band The Breeders (“Cannonball”). So, yeah, they were cool. Still are, although I heard they have each had to overcome problems with addiction, and they had to care for their mother who lost a long struggle with Alzheimer's. I hope they’re doing well.

My arm was pretty much healed by the time the school year ended, although too late for the school track and field team. I was really hoping to find a place to play ping pong in the Summer, but I couldn’t find any place for that. I did, however, see an ad for cheap tennis lessons through the parks and rec department. I signed up and got my mom to buy me a cheap aluminum tennis racquet from K-Mart.

The lessons were at the Community Park, which was directly across the street from my future high school, Wayne High School, and in between Studebaker Junior High School and Wayne High School. Everyone knew Community Park as the place where all the burnouts went to smoke lots and lots of weed, but on the Studebaker side of the park was pair of crummy asphalt tennis courts. I showed up with a couple of adult comrades, and we met the tennis instructor, who happened to be a very lovely young lady. I mean, not nearly as young as me, but it was still nice to be around her. So, it turns out if you take the same athletic skills necessary to play ping pong, play defense in basketball, and throw a ball, you can probably pick up tennis rather quickly. Before long, I would stay after the formal class and play sets with the instructor, and by the end of the Summer I was beating her – respectfully, of course. Things were looking up as I entered 9th grade. I was ready to play football once again, and I basically picked up right where I left off in Texas. I played both sides of the ball, fullback on offense and linebacker on defense. Since I played football, I had a large group of guys that I knew, and I made some friends. Playing football and being friends with other football players should have been a great way for me to meet some ladies, in theory, but I think many of them were turned off by my ethnicity, even if they didn’t quite know what it was. I also was still socially awkward and shy, so I messed up any chances I may have had. That was ok, though, because I was playing football and school was going smoothly.

Toward the end of football season that year, I had a teacher come up to me, look me over, and ask me how much I weighed. I told him I weighed around 175 pounds. He said, “great – you can wrestle 167 for me!” I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, and I thought wrestling was fake. He briefly explained how scholastic wrestling worked and told me he needed me to wrestle in the 167-pound weight class. I told him I played basketball and planned on going out for that team, but he somehow convinced me that wrestling was a better companion sport to football – that I would get tough and strong and get in great shape. So, I gave it a try, and, sure enough, he was right about the tough/strong/in-shape part. The only problem is that I was terrible at it.

There are a lot of moves and countermoves you need to know, and I had to learn all of that from scratch. But the biggest problem was my body. A prototypical wrestler has a very strong upper body and thin, if wiry, legs. I was the exact opposite of that in 9th grade – I’ve always had tree trunk legs and, back in the day, I had almost no upper body strength. My training sessions were bad. We had to do pullups, climb ropes, and do those climbing peg things. Some of the little guys were even doing handstand pushups. I could barely do two pullups, and none of that other crap. When I started wrestling kids from other schools, these muscle-bound fools would tie me up in knots. We had an assistant coach who was a judo instructor, and he taught us the legal moves we could use in wrestling, so that’s all I had so I could use my lower body more. Overall, I was not a good wrestler, but it was the toughest workout I’ve ever had. Other thoughts on 9th grade wrestling: How gay was the dude that designed the wrestling singlet (not that there’s anything wrong with that)? The only time my mom ever took off from work to watch an afternoon sporting event, I got taken down and pinned almost instantly. At the season-ending championship tournament, I upset the number 4 seed with one of my judo-wrestling moves. Of course, I lost my next match, and I was thankfully done for the year. I should have rolled right into Track and Field after Wrestling, but I didn’t. I guess I figured I wasn’t one of the fastest couple of sprinters in the school, and the throwers were actual big dudes now, so I chose to do Spring workouts for High School Football. I enjoyed that, and that continued through the Summer.

#memoir

[mhdiaries]

Wave 3 Meowlody & Purrsephone Diary

*kindly sent in by @fedorasquidwithglasses*

7.26

Spending part of the summer at math camp was so boring I could almost…fall…asleep…writing…about…it. Of course my sister liked it. She was a total teacher’s pet.

You like to complain but math camp wasn’t that bad. There were lots of monsters to prank, I liked some of the classes, and I was not a teacher’s pet. We were simply stuck in the middle of no-where with nothing else to do so why not learn something?

I did learn something. I learned that there are worse things than being locked out of the house in the rain. Things like listening to never ending arguments about who was the greatest monster mathematician and having every geek in the camp tell me that the chance of twins being born is 1 in 31 or 3.125%. It’s an interesting fact the first time you hear it but the novelty wears off, at a factor of 10 to the power of infinity, after every monster in camp acts like they’re the first one to give you that information.

So it wasn’t a total waste of time for you after all?

Whatever.

 7.29

Every monster thinks that just because we are twins we must think and act alike every moment of the day. It’s like they think we share the same brain. I have my own personality, my own likes and dislikes, and even though we don’t have the same color of hair, monsters treat us like we’re interchangeable. I even thought about learning a dead language just so some monster could say, “Oh they’re not the same at all, the one with the dark hair speaks Manticore.”

I like the chaos that being a twin sometimes causes. I think it’s awfully awesome and who cares if other monsters get us mixed up? We know who we are and if they can’t tell the difference between us that’s their problem. Learning a dead language is fine but why choose Manticore? They’re the crankiest monsters ever.

You miss the whole point. It doesn’t matter what the language is, it’s about… nevermind.

We may not think alike but no monster knows how to push a twin sister’s buttons like her twin sister.

Push!

 8.10

We went to the maul today and some thing asked us if we were werewolves! I said, “Do you live under a rock or something?” Turns out this thing did live under a rock, but that’s no excuse for making such a mistake. It happens a lot though I’m not sure why.

Me either! We have different shaped ears, our claws are retractable, we have tails, we don’t feel the need to run in packs, we have far better table manners and we are much neater in appearance. Werecats have been around far longer than werewolves too like all the way back to Ancient Egypt and India! We’re also more curious about the world around us – I mean we practically invented the Law of Claws and Effect.

Werewolves are so…common…werecats are much more rare and mysterious. We are perfectly mysterious aren’t we?

Purrrfectly.

 8.14

Do you feel a draft? I sure do – oh wait it’s not a draft, it’s the wind blowing on a patch of skin that is normally covered with fur. Sister, you will say that you’re missing fur too but it’s really just a few hairs. I had to be shaved down to THE SKIN! I can’t believe you thought pranking Headless Headmistress Bloodgood by dying her nightmare white was a good idea.

It wasn’t a good idea it was a great idea – and it wasn’t the idea that was the problem it was the execution of the idea that was at issue. Sometimes a plan doesn’t always come together and how many times do I need to say, “I’m sorry?”

I’m counting the “I’m sorry’s” and I will let you know when you get to the magic number. I told you that beast was a fraidy cat and sneaking around her stall was bound to make the nightmare nervous. Oh and what did I also tell you nightmares do when they get nervous? THEY BREATHE FIRE! Fortunately for me, you were holding a bucket of permanent white dye when I got breathed on so you were able to… put everything right. Unfortunately, I ended up looking like a roasted marshmallow and a large patch of my fur had to be shaved off because that dye wouldn’t wash out. It’s a fabulous look for me…not.

Your fur will grow back in a few days and no monster will ever know unless they happen to show up to watch us clean HHB’s stables for the next week. At least she’s letting us work off the mess instead of telling mom and dad. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.

Not even close to the number.

 8.25 

We bought Toralei’s pet sabertooth tiger, Sweet Fangs, a little present and took it over to them. Being in the pet store made us miss our pet canary. He used to sing us awake every morning – but we had to give him away because someone… was allergic. I’m not blaming her but you have to admit it’s a little odd for a werecat to have a bird allergy.

I know you blame me for having to get rid of him. It was really hard cause I loved him to you know, but just try waking up every morning with an itchy tail, watery eyes, dry nose and a hacking cough. It was really miserable.

You always blame your hacking cough on the canary but the real reason for you cough was because you didn’t take your hairball medicine like mom told you to. She’s really sensitive about it though, so I try not to bring it up.

I am not so sensitive, but if you keep talking about it one day you’re going to slip and say something about it in public and then I will be embarrassed. Lots of werecats get hairballs you know. Just because you and Toralei have never had one you both look at me like I’ve grown a second tail. Besides, we were like kittens when that happened anyway. It probably wouldn’t bother me if there were not a picture of me in the “cone of shame” which my mom thinks is cute and won’t let me throw away. I just know this is going to haunt me forever.

 8.27

Totally pranked Ghoulia Yelps today… Okay maybe not totally but it would have been totally if that annoying gargoyle ghoul hadn’t interfered and completely spoiled the milk. It was purrfectly planned and so clever on our part.

We noticed – we notice everything – that little miss know-it-all has been riding her scooter down the same street at the same time every day. It’s the street that goes past library – she’s so predictable. All we did was slightly tweak a detour sign that would have pointed her down a street that was closed for repairs – it had lots of enormous pot holes filled with rain from last night’s storm.

We were watching from a rooftop with our camera and when she got to the detour sign she stopped and was completely confused; but she always follows the rules because she’s such a little do-gooder. So she was just about to turn down the street for a little “bump and wash” when this gargoyle and her pet gryphon glided down from the roof of another building – it was the library – and landing in front of Ghoulia.

We couldn’t hear what she was saying but she pointed to the sign and then pointed up to where we were hiding. We ducked of course and escaped – sort of escaped. This gargoyle, who wouldn’t tell us her name, caught up to us on the street and blocked our way – so rude. She had this horrible French accent and she said “Zat was a vary mean thing you tried to do to zat poor ghoul.” It was the perfect opportunity to practice the third “D” in Toralei’s formula for the successful prankster – Demure.

We told her that we had no idea what she was talking about but she ignored us and kept on talking – we have it all on camera. “She is vary nice and you are vary mean and I am going to tell all zee other gargoyles to watch for you now so you do not do such a thing again!” Talk about a monster with a chip on her shoulder and that gryphon of hers was ill behaved as well.

It screamed at me and I told her that if she couldn’t control her pet it should be on a leash. I should add monsters who can’t take a joke to my list of pet peeves and while I’m at it, that gryphon as well.

 8.31

We were supposed to meet up with Toralei tonight for some Claws and Effect practice during the meteor shower but some monster made us late.

I said go on without me and I would catch up cause I forgot my camera and had to go back and get it. Good thing I did too cause I got some purrfect pictures of the falling stars.

Even though we didn’t get to practice Toralei’s 3 D’s we got to all hang out at the coffee shop together listen to music and watch something better than any fireworks show.

Much, much better sister.

[iwannabeyourman]

Lovejoy said they wanted to change up their sound in 2022. currently they’re considered an indie rock band by Spotify so here’s my predictions for possible genres they could start embracing:

indie pop/pure indie (pretty much what they have now, they’re just a bit more rough around the edges with the rock influences. I think this is what they’re trying to stray from tbh. They don’t wanna be more poppy)

math rock (I still don’t know wtf this is. Los Campesinos! influences? Heavier sound and rougher vocals PLEASE)

Ska (this is a pipe dream but if they got someone to do trumpet I KNOW THEY COULD DO IT. @sootings bring back ska in 2022)

Shoegaze (worst timeline imo (sorry shoegaze fans) I don’t even think any of the members listen to shoegaze but we don’t really know what music they listen to other than Wilbur and Ash. The layering in IAFIAP and the way they mix their music to make Wilbur’s vocals quieter makes me think they’d be able to do it if they weren’t cowards who cared about their ear drums.)

[2-cute-4-school]

𝚗𝚌𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚢, 𝚎𝚡𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜/𝚘

a/n: hiiiii so i decided to make this a 2in1 reaction; basically i just put together 2 of my requests that were *in my opinion* closely related. hope y’all don’t mind and enjoy!! ( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅

requested by annonies: ‘Hey.. could you please do nct dream reaction to s/o having high fever and just wants cuddls? 🥺 like how would they take care of them.. make it fluffy please.’ & ‘nct dream reaction to their s/o being EXTREMELY tired and then like ummmmm cuddling and stuff maybe?? *uwuing in the distance*’

Mark Lee

okay but just imagine this (๑◕︵◕๑)

cuddle sessions when you’re both stretched thin and overworked

even though we all know he isn’t big on skinship i think he would throw all reticence out the window when it’s crystal clear that you both NEED each other ꒰๑˃͈꒳˂͈๑꒱ﾉ*ﾞ̥

so you just crawl under the bankets into his arms and you both just lay together in silence just enjoying each other’s presence

bonus points if he runs his hand through your hair and you trace shapes with the pads of your fingers on his skin (´,,•ω•,,)♡

it would probaby take a couple of lazy kisses and if you’re really really soft he might just hum some song lowly in your ear

just a lil heads up:

you ain’t getting out of his arms ‘til next morning so better hope you peed beforehand and have a bottle of water in reach (ಠ‿↼)

the only thing that would make him get up without a second thought?

if you’re feverish because of your exhaustion

his worry wouldn’t allow him to settle down until he’s 110% sure he made everything in his power to keep you comfortable 

“cold towels, water, painkillers just in case, is there anything i’m forgetting? babe, should i make you some tea-”

“mark, you know what would make me feel SO much better?”

“huh?” ｢(ﾟ<ﾟ)ﾞ??

“CUDDLES, BABE, CUDDLES!!” (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)

you don’t have to say that twice, your man is tucking you into his side in an instant flash ain’t got nothing on mark, he’s a man on a mission

he’ll try to stay awake long enough to make sure you’ve fallen asleep properly since he knows your fever won’t go away without proper rest

might hover over you the next morning too!! ( ≧Д≦)

Huang Renjun

this boy would FRET like CONSTANTLY

especially if you develop a fever 

he keeps piling up a lot of stuff in your room, anything he deems would be potentially helpful at some point is surrounding your bed

“jun, why tf is a cactus on my nightstand?” Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

“what if haechan walks through the door?”

“... understandable” ¯\_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

your room looks like a deposit at this point and you’ve tried to drag him to bed more times than you can count

but he’s restless ༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽

until your frustration topples over and you’re on the verge of tears as you ask him for ✨cuddles ✨

he might actually feel bad for not joining you earlier so he’s gonna be EXTRA soft with you enjoy it while you can

he’s gonna pepper kisses all over you as he encases you in his lil arms and nuzzles his face into the crown of your head (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )

he’s ready to offer free massages or head scratches!!!! LIMITED OFFER DON’T MISS OUT!!!

also he’s ready for literally anything

fever? medicine and wet towels nearby. thirst? 4 bottles of water AND gatorade. hunger? your favourite take out is waiting. any intruders? cactus is right by his hand. cuddles? CUDDLES!!!!! (۶* ‘ꆚ’)۶”

i think he’ll probably stay up even after you fell asleep, reading about how exhaustion affects one’s body and how to help i just think he’s a really wholesome person despite his all ‘don’t talk to him he angy’ character

but he’s still SO attentive to you!!

he’s down to anything that would make you feel better and if that means 20 hours of non stop cuddling so be it (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Lee Jeno

i think he’d be REALLY clingy with you even in normal circumstances kind of like how he’s with mark ya know

so your affected well-being will just give him an extra reason to evolve to his ULTIMATE LEVEL OF PHYSICAL AFFECTION◝( ′ㅂ`)و ̑̑

he won’t let you lift A FINGER

my man is cuddling you even while standing up (灬 ♡ ω ♡ 灬)

he’s also going to insist on carrying you anywhere even if it’s just from the bed to the bathroom this boi is strong you have no excuse to shy away from him he won’t let you

you have no chance at escaping him btw his arms are made of iron when it comes to cuddles good luck prying them off you

and even though he’s clearly focusing on your requested cuddles, he’ll ask you from time to time if you need anything, how you’re feeling, if you’re comfortable

lowkey uses the excuse of checking your temperature to give you endless forehead kithes cuz he can (*＾∀ﾟ)ъ

he also becomes kind of hyperaware of every little move you make

you shiver? he’s cocooning you in yet another blanket. you’re becoming restless? he adjusts your cuddling position until you’re fully comfortable.

NOTHING gets past him ┌༼ σ ‸ σ ༽┐

idk why but i have a hunch that jeno sleeps like a rock

so if he happens to fall asleep too and you need to get up? pfft yeah sure better call for a crane to lift you up from the bed  ૮( ᵒ̌ૢꇴᵒ̌ૢ )ა｡

he’s also going to be EXTREMELY cranky if anyone dares interrupt your extended cuddle session this is strictly ‘only y/n and jeno time’

he might also entertain you with a few pictures of his cats if you’re feeling soft or ugly pictures of his members if you need a good laugh

would totally recommend leaving yourself in jeno’s care!! ♡(.◜ω◝.)♡

Lee Haechan

he would LIVE for your cuddle sessions (●♡∀♡))

despite that, he WOULDN’T STAND you being uncomfortable for a single second if he can do something against that

i think he’s the type of person who wouldn’t leave even the smallest of papercuts untreated when it comes to his partner so exhaustion? fever? yeah no. frickin. way. ┐(;Ծ⌓Ծ;)┌

and after he’s absolutely sure he has everything you might need nearby and put a cold cloth on your forehead and made sure you were hydrated and well fed

he finally climbs into bed with you and just SMOTHERS the shite outta you i’m not even kidding ꒰๑*´ᗜ`*꒱*›◡‹꒱꒱

he’s full on *leech mode*, kisses and nuzzles and gentle caresses

and best part of the package? this man is a walking spotify premium!!

you get to choose whatever song you want and switch with no ads and he has no complaints since his payment is already made in cuddles

you thought this was the end of it?? SIKE

also an entertainment king!!  ୧༼✿ ͡◕ д ◕͡ ༽୨

we all know he probably has shit on all of the members and he’s not shy to do some harmless story telling to put you in a good mood

so just imagine and try coming up with anything better

sleepy you engulfed in the sunshine himself’s arms, tightly cradled against him with his soothing honey voice murmuring and humming to you and only you ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰

his protective side might surface too btw

no one is allowed near you and if someone somehow managed to bother you? oh hell naw  🙃

now they’re on hyuck’s black list good luck mate

his babie gets the royalty treatment in those times guaranteed

Na Jaemin

he’s a doting boyfriend either way i think we can all agree on that

but you clinging to him and asking for cuddles? you not feeling well?

yeah not on his watch mother hen in action part the sea (ﾉ･ｪ･)ﾉ

i don’t think he’d panic tho, his only struggle would be postponing the cuddles you’re asking for while he prepares something to eat and a tea and fluffs up the pillows and blankets he’s gathered (oꆤ︵ꆤo)

but once he’s done?

yeah you’re bundled in a mountain of softness and most importantly? our cuddle bug jaemin (♡ >ω< ♡)

he’ll keep you propped up against his chest while he feeds you himself, proper care is something unskippable in his agenda

but after that any cuddling position is FREE REAL ESTATE!!

anything his baby wants, his baby gets ෆ╹ .̮ ╹ෆ

but for the sake of his mental stability he’d prefer to be in a position from where he can see you

boi is too worried to let you out of his sight so he’s aiming to be the big spoon or facing you directly 三 ( ◜◡‾)っ)⁰▿⁰)

he’ll help you fall asleep in any way he can

he’ll caress your back, your arms, he’ll softly massage your neck and shoulders, he has a playlist ready for sleepy moods

he is PREPARED ٩(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

he checks your temperature every so often and he grumbles with a pout if it doesn’t seem to be going down

but if it comes down to it he won’t hesitate to ask someone to bring some medicine and if your exhaustion and/or fever doesn’t relent he’ll insist on getting checked by a doctor

it would break his heart to see you so weak and no ammount of cuddles could repair it until he sees you up and healthy again (◕⌓◕;)

but he’ll do all the pampering in the world so don’t worry

Zhong Chenle

i think he would hesitate at first but only because he’s kinda scared he’ll only make it worse and he WOULDN’T want that ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

eventually i guess he’d step out to call his mum for help before he pulls some bull like ‘let’s do some math it’s gonna be fun’ and you lose your shit like no thanks fam i wanna live (┛ಠДಠ)┛彡┻━┻

he’ll listen RELIGIOUSLY to his mum’s advice 

makes you some chamomile exactly how you like it, probably pulls together something small to eat but won’t force you

what he will force you to take is some medicine you ain’t dying on his watch (๑･`▱´･๑)

and most importantly... DAEGAL CUDDLES!!!! imagine getting to cuddle every nctzen’s bias

he might get *a little* jelly tho if you pay too much attention to her tho

so he makes up some dumb excuse about dog hair aggravating your fever or some dubious other reason why you have to let go of his puppy and cuddle HIM!! ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́)

he’ll do that cute thing where he leans his forehead against yours to check your temperature he has to be extra until the end

and before you go to sleep he’ll  try to prod at you to tell him what caused you to be so exhausted that you developed a fever might nag at you too about how unheathy it is to let it get to that point

he just wants to help okay? baby is worried in his own way ( •́ ∧ •̀ )

if there’s ANYTHING he can do to help consider it done by the time you wake up he’ll ALWAYS go an extra mile for you

and chenle wants to make sure you are aware of that and can lean on him so it never gets to this point again

but for the time being... it’s cuddles and relaxation time!! ✧(๑✪д✪)۶

better believe he’s already preparing a spa day for both of you to enjoy like the  ✨spicy ✨ bitches you are

Park Jisung

his heartbeat accelerates

and unfortunately it’s not because he’s flustered shame (#ﾟﾛﾟ#)

his only thought when he sees you with bag under your eyes and a cold wet cloth on your forehead is ‘shit, they’re dying wait no censor the first part i can’t get my mouth washed with soap but... poop, they’re dying’

ONE step away from calling for an ambulance or morgue in his mind

he SWEARS he’ll let you teach him how to ride a bycicle as long as you get out of this safe and sound (╬⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾ Д ⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾)

he’s a bit of a mess, but he’s your cute mess

it would take *quite* a bit of reassurance that you’re going to be fine after a good night’s sleep and some jisung time for him to somewhat relax

his cheeks will flush once he curls himself around your form no matter how many times you’ve cuddled before

but once you sigh blissfully once he wraps his arms around you, it’s game over for him ε=(｡♡ˇд ˇ♡｡）

he MELTS against you

he’ll caress your head and gently scratch your scalp, lays kisses on your cheeks/forehead/crown of your head

but he will also fret every time you toss and turn or you make any sound that seems ‘distressed’ to him

we all know he can sleep anywhere under a frickin carpet so he won’t have any problems adjusting to whatever works for you since all that matters to him atm is that you’re comfortable (♡ >ω< ♡)

he just wants you to get better faster

he’ll talk to you in a hushed voice, encouraging and praising you and assuring you that once you’re all better he’ll help you with whatever you need and EVERYTHING will be well in the end ٩(ó｡ò۶ ♡)

he’s a senstitive person so he just wants to be there for you in any shape and form he can be

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

Okay okay okay

Hear me out

41. you know what, maybe they ARE tired of being nice. maybe they DO wanna go apeshit. And Davenport lol

He should be able to go a little apeshit, as a treat :)

He does deserve to go apeshit!!! From this prompt list! (still accepting!!)

Working in academia for a while tends to earn you a reputation. You could be known as the hard ass, the professor who’s little more than a brick wall that reads off of powerpoint slides, the professor who’s entirely too willing to spill every single detail on why their marriage failed, or even the professor who is abysmally unhelpful to anyone not interested in their research. Through no active attempts of his own, Dr. Davenport has earned the reputation of having the patience of a saint. Even students who’ve never had a class with him, who would have no reason to have a class with him, sing his praises; Rockport University’s a small campus, word gets around.

Davenport never intended to be put upon a pedestal like that, he was just doing his job and doing what he could for his students. He wasn’t one to balk at an assignment turned in a day late, wouldn’t demand a litany of excuses and documentation for a missed class, just an email to let him know the student was doing okay. He was notorious for bringing in snacks on midterm and final days. If his lectures bordered on dry, students never faulted him too much. “He just drones on after a while,” some of his online reviews would begin, “but at least he seems into what he’s teaching.” Holistically, Davenport was one hell of a professor.

But everyone has their limits.

Usually as math department chair, Davenport was able to dodge teaching introductory courses for students who didn’t want to be there and for students who absolutely didn’t belong there. (Even the best professor couldn’t help but occasionally dash the med school hopes of students who failed cal 1). This year though, the department was facing a number of staffing issues which is how he found himself leading a class of non math majors into the fray of finite math. A finite math class that met Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 8 am. What could go wrong?

Besides about half the class choosing absenteeism over attendance, the class had gone well for much of the semester. Test grades were decent, the students who did show up usually did their best to not be obviously on their phones the entire time, and none of his dry erase markers had gone missing. Truthfully, Davenport couldn’t complain too much.

--

Davenport shuffled into the classroom and kicked snow off his boots, unwinding his scarf as he did. “Sorry I’m a little late, folks. Spilled coffee all over some books from the library so please please please do not tell Mrs. Istus at circulation about that, I’m hoping she won’t notice. Also, car door was quite literally frozen shut this morning so that was a whole other debacle to deal with. But I’m here, you’re here, it’s Friday, let’s rock and roll through some probability, maybe some introductory stats stuff too.” He stacked his cold weather gear onto the chair before looking out at the blank faces of his students. Great start. He glanced at his outline for a moment before pacing to the center of the classroom. “I always like starting off with independent events, I think they’re useful and can even be fun at parties if you’ve got that one friend who always says ‘now what are the odds of that?’ because now you can let them know!” He laughed a little to himself before walking towards the whiteboard. Looking around the room, he pointed at the twins slouching in the middle row. “Let’s say Taako and Lup over there are getting their nerd on and are playing Dungeons and Dragons later tonight.” Lup blinked heavily and nodded absently while Taako snorted, attempting to hide the fact that he was absolutely checking Twitter instead of listening. “And let’s say they’re both just rolling like crap. They’re trying to kill some evil wizard or something and both whiff it, bad. What are the odds that, using a twenty-sided die, they both roll a natural one?”

Fifteen blank faces stared back at him. He looked around the room, trying to catch the eye of any of his students; they were all pointedly avoiding eye contact, hoping to skirt any attention. Davenport hesitated. He hated cold calling but sometimes he had no other choice.

“Magnus?”

Magnus Burnsides jerked his head up from his hand where it was previously propped up for the world’s least comfortable nap. “Yeah?”

“What are the odds that Taako and Lup both roll a one on a twenty-sided die?”

He scratched his sideburns thoughtfully, genuinely contemplating the question. “Uh, one in ten, right?”

Davenport’s smile wavered for a moment. “Not quite! Let’s try someone else. Sloane? Any ideas?” Davenport looked at her expectantly.

Sloane blinked and stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “One in twenty?”

Davenport grimaced a little. “Okay, let’s take it back a step. Who can tell me what the textbook called independent events?” He looked out into the room and saw fifteen scalps; everyone had upped their avoidance tactics. “Taako?”

Taako set his phone down in surprise and sent Davenport a tight smile. “Hmm?”

“Did you catch my question?”

“See, I want to say yes because I feel like you’ll be disappointed if I say no. But no.”

He nodded tiredly. “I appreciate the honesty. Avi? Remember what the book said about independent events?”

Avi shook his head slowly as he smiled apologetically.

Davenport took a deep breath and clasped his hands together. “Okay, did anyone actually do the reading?” Once again, fifteen pairs of eyes declined to meet his. Davenport could feel his blood pressure rising by the minute. “Folks, I really don’t think I ask for a lot. I know most you really don’t care about this class and that’s your business. But you have got to help me help you. You know, I-I really don’t love having my inbox flooded with questions that are answered in the first two pages of the chapter we’re on. But that happens every time an assignment goes out. You’re all smart but you’re not acting like it. And frankly, I don’t know how much more I can take! Those of you that actually come to class spend most of your time daydreaming or checking your socials or just outright sleeping and I’m a little sick of it!”

All his students looked around at each other, saying nothing. Nobody had ever seen Davenport get flustered. Truthfully, nobody had thought it possible.

“And listen, I know nobody wants to spend their time reading a math textbook but I really don’t wanna spend my time trying to get some very basic concepts through your skulls when we could be spending our time more wisely. I know damn well I’m going to stand up here and explain the lesson for today, assign some problems, and get no fewer than ten emails I’ll have to attend to. My differential equations class has been waiting for test grades for three weeks because I’ve been having to spoon-feed this class APR! I’m not trying to be a dick this morning but you’ve got to give me something. You’ve gotta start doing your readings, give me a little bit of feedback in class, and stay off your damn phones. You think you can handle that?” Davenport was a little red in the face. He hated having to go on a tirade sometimes the situation called for it.

The class nodded mutely. Davenport smiled warmly at them. “Okay great. I’m sorry about that, I really am but I do hope you all understand where I’m—”

He was cut off by perhaps the single loudest rendition of the chorus of “Call Me Maybe” coming from a phone in the classroom. Ever head in the room turned to look at Kravitz, who was frantically trying to shut his phone off. He looked back at Davenport sheepishly. “Sorry, I thought it was on silent.”

Davenport silently walked back to the chair where he had stacked his winter gear and started bundling back up. “Uh, happy Friday, everyone. Go home or go somewhere else, I think we’ve all had enough today.”

[blxetsi]

I was curious if you’d be up for headcanon of adopting Gabi Braun, or what it’s like being her older sibling?

If not maybe just Pieck relationship headcanons

Please and thank you

im so sorry im getting to this so late 😭🤚 ty for requesting ‼️

‼️CONTENT WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 AND CHAPTER 139‼️

adopting gabi braun headcanons (canonverse)

characters: gf!sasha braus x gn!reader, platonic!gabi braun x gn!reader, fatherly!levi ackerman x gn!reader, platonic!falco grice x gn!reader

warnings: death, angst, hatred for kids (fuck them kids‼️), peepaw levi 😁👍

- uhhhhhh,, your relationship w gabi had a very rocky start. Lol !

- it all started when your friend eren jaeger decided to run away to infiltrate marley causing the survey corps to go get him just as a war was declared between your countries, and then two kids snuck onto the airship you were using to escape and shot your girlfriend. and she died. Lol !

- you had a lot of hatred for gabi in the beginning, and it was understandable

- you blamed her for shooting sasha, but you also blamed yourself for not being able to save her.

- you were a trained medic, you were supposed to save people, and yet you couldnt even save the woman you loved. it was like a slap in the face, like god was playing some cruel joke on you

- you remember sitting against the wall with sasha's blood staining your hands. you could barely process what happened at the time, and then levi came

- he sat next to you, taking a handkerchief out of nowhere seemingly, and just wordlessly wiped your hands down.

- your relationship with the older man was never defined, even today, but you both cared for each other

- the next time you saw gabi, was in that restaurant, niccolo had attacked gabi and falco, injuring them both, and said she killed sasha

- your blood went cold, you felt so many things, the grief you had pushed down in favour of your job, anger, fear, among other things

- niccolo had said there needed to be justice, he said that gabi should die for what she did, he tried to get sasha's father to kill her, and all you did was stand there.

- your body went on autopilot, barely listening to mr. braus' speech, you watched as kaya pointed a knife at gabi, and you listened to her wails of agony as you blindly led mikasa, armin, and gabi to a different room

- you were scared of yourself, for what you were thinking. did you really want a kid to die ? she did kill your girlfriend, the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, the woman that shared her food with you, the woman that held you when you got scared at night, the woman that promised you that after the war you two would live on a farm together, and have a family of your own.

- but she was still a child. she didnt know any better. you were conflicted in your feelings, especially after hearing what niccolo had said, but it all just emphasized what was already known to you. she was a child

- your blood was pounding in your ears, and you could faintly hear gabi asking your comrades if they wanted to kill her. when armin reassured her they didnt, she looked to you and asked "what about them ?"

- you didnt answer her, and continued to lead them down where eren would be meeting you all. you were supposed to drop them off, but eren made you stay, and then a fight broke out

- you dont remember when you did it, but you held gabi in your arms, shielding her from the fight. you think you needed to be held more than she did

- things got more complicated after that, and slowly the hatred you had for sasha's killer went away, until all you had left was a hole in your chest from guilt and sadness.

- at fort salta, you thought you were going to die there, next to your friends. you thought you'd become a mindless titan, like connie's family

- but you didnt, well you did, but only for a short time, and when you turned back, you reunited with your friends

- looking around for gabi, you saw her tackle falco into a hug, which made you smile

- "y/n !" jean called, you remember looking behind you in confusion, he sounded distressed, but you understood why when you saw sasha saluting the three of you

- you felt your legs move on your own, and you ran closer to her, before stopping about a meter away. she was dead, you knew she was dead, but she was there, wearing that goofy smile on her face and looking at you as if you'd hung the stars in the sky

- she looked at you. "you did good." hearing her voice felt like a dream. your mouth felt dry, and your jaw opened and closed like a fish before you felt tears sting your eyes. "i love you."

- she nodded, before looking at the sky. "i know." she replied. sasha looked back at you before giving you a soft smile. "you know what to do now." before she disappeared in the debris

- you knew what to do, so you did it

- you found levi sitting against a rock, and when you leaned down next to him he muttered something. "i saw erwin again. and hange. all of them." you nodded. "i saw sasha." he looked at you, and gave you the closest thing to a smile. "i guess we're both at peace now."

*****

- three years later, you've become a school teacher in paradis, teaching young children how to read, to write, and basic math. you teach them about art and music, and nature. its nice being surrounded by children all day, kids are lovely.

- you live with gabi, falco and levi, in a small house inside wall sina. levi's legs have gotten weaker with time, causing him to use a wheelchair and crutches. he's given up on his dream of a tea shop, but is content with the life he has now.

- gabi and falco have gotten more rowdy with age, but they've both matured quite a bit. they make you proud

- you send letters to sasha's family. kaya is growing up, and has taken over archery just like her sister. niccolo is living with them now.

- you'll never be able to let go of sasha, or what happened to her, but the pain in your chest has dulled immensely. you think about her sometimes, when youre in bed alone, wanting to feel the warmth of her body in your arms, you know you should move on, you get teased about not having a new girlfriend, even levi has made comments about there being "plenty of fish in the sea"

it was a late night, on a friday. you were grading spelling tests at the dining room table, one lone candle being your source of light. your pen moves swiftly across the different pieces of paper, adding check marks or x marks when needed, adding a note at the bottom of each test, before adding a smiley face on all of your students' hard work. it was tedious, but it needed to be done, and you had to remember to bring them in on monday, you couldn't forget like last time.

you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. they were soft, and slow, and at first you thought it was levi but realized it couldn't be since you couldn't hear the soft tapping of his crutches on the stairs. they came down to the bottom and stood there, it was gabi, dressed in a light pink nightgown that came down to her knees, and her disheveled hair in the braid you did for her before bed.

you pushed your reading glasses to the top of your head. "what are you doing up ? it's late."

she shrugged, and walked over to sit across from you at the table. gabi grabbed the stack of papers that you already graded and shuffled through them, giggling when she found a misspelling.

you rolled her eyes. "don't laugh, they're six."

she shook her head. "i was spelling ten times better than this when i was their age."

"uh huh."

"are you calling my bluff ?"

you chuckled. "maybe. you should be in bed though."

"why ? it's not like we have school tomorrow."

you shrugged. "i was thinking we could go on a picnic outside the walls. it gets stuffy in here."

she nodded. "that would be fun."

the silence came back for a while, until you finished grading and set your papers aside.

"you know, i hear you sometimes." she whispered.

you looked at the brunette in confusion. "how do you mean ?"

"when your in bed, sometimes you cry."

you scoffed, and leaned back in your chair. "yeah well, i try to muffle it."

"i don't think ive ever apologized to you," she started. her eyes welled up with tears and her hands shook on the table. her cheeks and nose became pink as she held herself back from crying. "i know i feel bad, and i regret killing her but, i've never actually apologized to you for-"

"don't." you said. you kept your eyes on your lap, you felt your throat growing tight. "please gabi, don't say anything."

"i need to apologize-"

"you don't. you killed her. she's dead, the war is over. it's done. just let it go." you said, your voice wavering.

"have you let it go ?"

your head shot up to her. "i lost the woman i was going to spend the rest of my life with. she promised me a safe home, a farm, and a family. and she promised we'd grow old together. and that didn't happen. i grew up with her, i've known her since i was twelve, we started dating when i was sixteen. of course i haven't let it go, gabi."

gabi looked shocked by your outburst, but nodded. she understood how you felt, and she felt so guilty. "you don't forgive me do you ? i get it, i really do. i'm sorry."

you shook your head. "gabi no, i do. i do forgive you. i just, i can't forget it." you whimpered, tears started streaming down your face and you choked back a sob. "i loved her with all of my heart, i still do, but i don't hate you-"

gabi rolled her eyes, tears coming out uncontrollably now. "you should. i killed her, i ruined your chance of a happy life ! she was your family and i-"

"gabi no !" you exclaimed, cutting her off. at this point you both looked like a mess, and you were worried you woke up the boys. you grabbed her shaking hands in your own and held them to you. "you are my family. you are. so is falco, and so is levi. i forgive you, and i love you with all of my heart." you said, a sad smile on your face. her eyes widened at your words, before she started sobbing.

you got up from the table to come to her side, and held her in your arms as she cried. her arms wrapped around your shoulders while she dug her head into your neck, tickling you with her hair.

you rubbed her back and cradled her head while shushing her. she sobbed out a muffled "i love you so much y/n." that you chuckled at.

"i love you too so much." you whispered back.

it took a long time for gabi to calm down, but when she did you still held her, rocking her and yourself back and forth slightly. you two moved from the chairs down to the floor, funny enough.

you kissed the top of her head before talking, the only noise in the room being your whispers, her sniffles and the living room clock. "you know reiner's coming home soon. are you excited ?" she nodded against your skin and sniffled again, clearing her throat too.

"i hope he brings me a gift or something." she whispered back, her voice hoarse. it made you laugh, and you had to cover your mouth to keep quiet.

"they're going to shiganshina district for a couple of days, to visit mikasa and eren, and then mikasa will come with them to the capital."

"do you miss her ?" she asked.

"so much. i miss all of them, but mikasa is a close friend of mine, she holds a special place in my heart."

"do you think you and levi will go to the meetings between the marley ambassadors and the jaegerists ?" she asked.

"maybe, if they feel as though they really need us."

you sighed through your nose, which was a bit stuffy from crying. "after we turned back into humans, i saw sasha again."

gabi lifted her head up from where it was resting on your shoulder. "what ?"

"yeah, i saw her ghost i think." you looked down on her with a smile on your face. "she told me i knew what i needed to do, and then i went and got levi and you and falco." you paused for a moment, thinking about how you would word what you were thinking. "i did what i needed to do, i got my family together." gabi's eyes widened. "sasha promised me a family, and although this wasn't the family i had envisioned, it's still a family nonetheless. i believe her last gift to me was you, falco, and levi. and i am so grateful to have you all in my life."

gabi smiled before hugging you. she opened her mouth to say something-

"oi !" a deep voice came from the top of the stairs. "you two woke me up with all of your crying. go to bed." before your heard the creaking of the floorboards and the closing of a door.

you chuckled before standing up, pulling gabi with you. you walked her to her room, and even tucked her in, you both exchanged 'i love yous' and 'goodnights' before you retreated from her bedroom, closing the door behind you.

across the hall, levi stood leaned on his doorway with his arms crossed together. "that family speech, that was cute." he commented. you rolled your eyes at the older man. "were you listening in on a private conversation ?" you teased.

the ex-captain scoffed and looked away. "go to bed y/n. we have a picnic to go on tomorrow." before closing his door.

you chuckled to yourself, remembering how you brought up the idea to him that morning, and he only replied with a curt "we'll see" before sipping on his morning tea.

you went back to your own room, and got into your bed. you turned on your side, and looked at the space you always left open for sasha, and brushed your hand against the pillow.

"goodnight love."

uhhhhh doesnt feel like my best work but whatevs 😁👍 enjoy my comeback to tumblr 🤩🙏

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