#♡: my creations! *

[aedearly]

✎ . . . 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑴𝑬 𝑨 𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑹.

₊˚⊹ a collection of loose poem verses, quotes or lyrics from various books and chansons. most were written originally in portuguese or french, and were translated to english by me. some are extracted from personal poems, as well! they all have some type of religious reference/motif. writing/roleplaying prompts. from fluff to angst and suggestive! feel free to edit as you see fit.

❝ i never felt more alive than when you called me your angel. ❞ ❝ saints above help me… don’t look at me like that. ❞ ❝ admit it, you’d have taken a bite out of eden, too. ❞ ❝ what are you waiting for? pray. ❞ ❝ confess. repent. repeat. ❞ ❝ for you? i will be any believer you want me to be. ❞ ❝ run away with me, where no gods can find us. ❞ ❝ i begged for a miracle. instead, i got you. ❞ ❝ you smell like the devil. ❞ ❝ where is your faith now? ❞ ❝ call me a sinner. ❞ ❝ the way you call my name sounds like heresy. ❞ ❝ in your gaze, i find my prayers answered. ❞ ❝ your lips are scriptures i long to memorise. ❞ ❝ even silence feels sanctified like this. ❞ ❝ when you embraced me, i felt like i was cradled by divinity. ❞ ❝ i do not wish for the stars to hear us now. ❞ ❝ meet me at our shared altar, where our ghosts can dance. ❞ ❝ kiss my hand. make me feel holy. ❞ ❝ your love feels like a fallen angel’s curse. ❞ ❝ please, can’t you be my sanctuary tonight? ❞ ❝ should i kneel and beg you to look at me again? as if you’re a saint? ❞ ❝ worship does not come cheap. ❞ ❝ must i pay for my sins? cry for forgiveness? ❞ ❝ hate me, blame me, crucify me; just please don’t walk away. ❞ ❝ i do not know how else to love you if not like a sinner. ❞ ❝ you were my redemption; now you are my ruin. ❞ ❝ the weight of your absence is my penance to bear. ❞ ❝ i built cathedrals of dreams, and you razed them to dust. ❞ ❝ you’re a hymn that haunts my mind at midnight. ❞ ❝ you left me bleeding for you, devoted—abandoned. ❞ ❝ i prayed to forget you, but even the heavens refused. ❞ ❝ do not tempt me with your promises. ❞ ❝ hellfire has nothing to your touch. ❞

[apheliia]

HEARTH FLAME. — In which the Knave's heir decides their fate.

— trigger & content warnings. depictions of injury (& the recovery following it), pain medications and slightly implied impairment of judgment because of them. it isn't really outright though and could honestly be ignored.

— pairings & notes. ambiguous genre; may be considered hurt/comfort. arlecchino & heir!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). reader is a member of the house of the hearth and is arlecchino's chosen heir. occurs after the events of arlecchino's story quest. 2.1k words.

— author's thoughts. i would say "i swear i'm very normal about arlecchino" but i feel as if we all know that is not true. anyways for those that care about the lore behind this series of fics, i perceive this as the "turning point" in arle & [name]'s relationship in which the latter begins to realize how serious being the knave's heir is. but rn they are delirious on pain meds and do not realize the fate that they have condemned themselves to. yeag

       Lightning struck their body at even the slightest of muscle twitches.

       The bruises on their skin hidden underneath gauze and bandages throbbed with agonizing heat, their insides twisted and churned as their body attempted to repair whatever manner of internal injuries that they had oh-so lovingly been gifted, and their mind begged for restful sleep.

       (No matter how tired they were, ever since they had awoken after being asleep for about a day, they had not been able to fall back asleep again... at least, not in a way that mattered. Their sleep was plagued by nightmares and worries that they could not shake, all concerning the very person who had put them in this condition in the first place. She hadn't come to see them yet. They were certain she would have, but she hadn't.

       Was father... upset? Did they upset her?)

       A soft sigh left their lips as they stared upwards at the ceiling from their bed—even the simple task turning over was nigh impossible, so they dared not attempt anything other than sleep. At least the admittedly rather laborious task of trying to fall asleep did not wrack their body with searing hurt.

       In their spar, Father was neither kind nor easy on them, and they had a sneaking suspicion that she was especially hard on them. Lyney was already standing again and on the move, meanwhile Lynette and Freminet ended up slipping by with relatively minimal injuries, but them? Bedridden, without the slightest hope of being able to stand in the coming hours... or even days, probably. Their legs pulsed at the thought alone.

       ...But they did take the brunt of Father's attacks, so they supposed that was their own fault.

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "I will not sit idly by and watch you bring unfathomable harm to my siblings."

       Standing immovably in front of Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet with their weapon pointedly raised at the very woman who raised them was certainly not how they had anticipated their day going. Nevertheless, they were in that exact situation, and backing down was the last thing on their mind. Lyney seemed to want to say something—to tell them, to warn them, not to be stupid, maybe.

       ...But really, Lyney knew better, and as much as he worried for his sibling's safety, he also knew extremely well how Father was and how they were.

       She would want to see their display of strength, no matter how miniscule in comparison to hers.

       And them—they would not dare let Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet face this alone, even if it meant risking their safety and wellbeing.

       (He also happened to know that his sibling could be a tad too eager to show Father the display of strength she desired, but that was just his own opinion, muddled by his biases and his own desire to protect and care for his siblings. He knew and recognized how his desires played tricks on him, but it did not make him any less bothered by what he liked to think of as his sibling's 'recklessness.')

       Arlecchino's stare threatened to pry apart their soul at its very seams, but they failed to waver. Instead, they firmly returned her stare, albeit with less intensity. Their grip on their weapon tightened.

       The Knave was going to absolutely destroy them, though hopefully not beyond repair.

       They knew that, and they were fine with that. It was an inevitable truth; so be it.

       In the defense of their siblings, they would be more than happy to shed blood—someone else's, or theirs.

       "...I hope you can forgive me, Father."

       In this case, theirs.

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Destroy them, she most certainly did. It wasn't an unexpected outcome. They knew better than to think that they could actually beat her; at least their showing of strength (combined with that of their siblings' and the Traveler's) was enough to compel her to give a kinder execution.

       'Execution.' Hm.

       Execution.

       The word bounced around in their mind for some time as they pondered.

       They weren't quite sure if they saw it that way or not—on one hand, the mind was killed and reborn, but on the other, the body remained alive and unharmed.

       What kind of execution could be so... gentle? So forgiving? None that they had ever heard of. No executions were so tender and compassionate as to preserve the gift of life.

       ...Perhaps that was simply a different kind of execution than what they were used to.

       As their mind wandered, they absentmindedly mused about what their freed siblings were doing.

       'Filliol and Nanteuil... where are you two now?'

       Were they enjoying the sun?

       Hopefully.

       The soft click of a door opening and closing caught their attention, and for a moment they felt extreme relief—finally, someone had come to administer their pain medications... the ache sinking into their bones was about to finish what Arlecchino had begun at this point—but the click of heels that followed made their chest tighten nervously.

       They turned their head slightly to the side. At their bedside stood none other than the Knave herself, an unreadable expression crossing her face when she saw the state they were in.

       Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

       "Father..."

       "My child."

       Arlecchino was quick to drag the stool at the foot of their bed to the side and sit.

       "Father, I—"

       They tried to sit up, grimacing through the pain that clawed across the entirety of their body as they did. The Fourth did not allow them to get far, however, and placed a firm hand on their chest. They had no choice but to settle back down, as the strength she was exerting against them was far too great for them to combat.

       "Do not get up. You will only hurt yourself—"

       "Father—"

       "—And spare yourself the chore of speaking."

       Their mouth closed without another word. All they could do was stare up at her, eyes wide and bewildered and perfectly displaying all the questions they wished to ask (and a bit glazed over due to the combined factors of their exhaustion and the strength of the medication they had been on), though one in particular stood out the most:

       'Why are you here?'

       Maybe the Knave could read their mind.

       (She had no such ability. To know her children and what they were thinking was simply part of her responsibility as Father.)

       "My child," she mused again, this time not in greeting, though she did not continue. Perhaps she was looking for the words. Her fingers gingerly brushed the hair from their face, briefly brushing over the scratch across their forehead.

       Ah.

       One among the many wounds she bestowed upon them a day prior. One of the most mild of her gifts, actually.

       It wasn't regret that washed upon her upon realizing the severity of their wounds in particular—no, they made the choice to join the fight knowing well that she would not be gentle on them or their siblings, and she would argue that regret was a useless emotion only capable of holding one back. What's done was done. It was as simple as that. Regret, much like sorrow, does naught but hold a person back.

       ...Yet, she still felt something, though she struggled identifying what it was.

       Maybe...

       Maybe, now that the Fourth had seen them and the extent of the wounds she delivered, she felt that she had neglected her obligation as Father to visit their bedside in the midst of their healing.

       "I'm sorry."

       Their voice cut through her thoughts. Though they tried their very best to mask it, it wavered almost imperceptibly, the tremble only audible to trained ears—ears like hers. The Fourth Harbinger was not known for being obtruse. She noticed, and they could tell. Nothing ever slipped by her.

       "And what is it that you are apologizing for, exactly?"

       "I... I don't know. I just feel like you're disappointed in me somehow, and I don't know how else to remedy it at the moment."

       'At the moment,' she assumed, meant their current bedridden state.

       "I know not what has given you such an impression. I am not disappointed."

       "...You're not?"

       "Certainly not. If you are referring to your interception of our spar," she began, "defending your family is the most kingly action you could have taken in that moment. In fact, I expected no less of you."

       "I'm not kingly," they replied, offering a weak chuckle as they continued: "At least, I don't feel kingly right now..."

       "Then how is it that you feel?"

       "Pathetic, maybe." They turned their head fully to the side so that they were able to meet her gaze. "I know I can't and probably will never be able to triumph over you in a spar, but—"

       "Perish the thought," Arlecchino dismissed. "Immediately."

       "Huh?"

       Her eyes bore into theirs. This time, much unlike the time they stared at her in battle, they did not feel fear or nervous anticipation of what was to come.

       "You did not win the war," she affirmed, "but I would certainly say you won the battle."

       She leaned closer. With one hand, she brushed the framing hair that normally fell over her cheeks to the side.

       There, a long cut was scabbed over with dry crimson, and suddenly, their heart leapt—whether it was from an odd pride in having been able to actually hit her, or shame and embarrassment that they actually caused harm to Father of all people, they did not know.

       The Knave allowed her hair to fall back into place.

       "Though the odds were stacked against you and yours, you ultimately managed to wound me. This was something that not even your siblings managed to achieve."

       "I could argue that it's only because there were so many of us."

       "Perhaps, but it was still you who caused this wound. I lost track of you for only a moment and you took the opportunity. Progress does not happen overnight, child, and your strength is still growing. One day, you will be the king of this house. You will deliver these kinds of wounds to others, as I have delivered to you." Her gaze shifted to their bedside table. "...That is, if you so desire that life."

       The bottled flame swirled and flared in the vial under her gaze, as if it sought to melt through the glass and lunge, consuming everything in its wake and leaving nothing but ash behind.

       Ah. Right.

       They had almost forgotten that she had also allocated the resources needed to complete her 'execution' to them.

       Silence, heavy with the weight of implication, endured for what seemed to be an eternity.

       Then, they broke it:

       "I do not wish to leave the house."

       Arlecchino would have been perfectly content with letting them free—with snipping away at the webs they were so deeply entangled in, letting the flames cleanse the darkness from their veins, and thereby permitting them to step into the sun.

       And yet... that was not what they wanted.

       Perhaps it was a blend of bewilderment, pride, and annoyance that stirred in her chest.

       What a foolish child they were, refusing freedom when it was so readily within their grasp. They had earned it, and yet they chose to reject it? How foolish, indeed.

       The Fourth's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she gazed down at them.

       "Hm. Is that so?"

       "Yes."

       ...But that foolish child was hers—her child and her successor. Hers, and hers for a reason, for better or worse.

       If all of the Knaves who came before Peruere were not stubborn, then there would be no Knave to begin with. It was, therefore, only right that her heir be as much of a stubborn fool as she.

       Her eyes seemed to soften, if only by a miniscule amount. Arlecchino placed a warm hand over their own, resting idly across their torso, and they hummed, daring to shift and intertwine her fingers with theirs.

       Brief tender moments, always flickering like a dying flame, were rare in the House of the Hearth, especially when permitted or even initiated by Father.

       Thus, they had no problem taking advantage of the situation that they were in, eyes fluttering shut as her warmth oozed into their hand and slowly crawled up their arm. It would soon consume their entire being, but rather than being scorched by it, they were certain that they would be lulled to sleep by it.

       "So be it, then," she murmured, thumb absentmindedly running across their knuckle. "You are a fool."

       A smile. The first that Arlecchino had seen from them in days, in fact, and it seemed to soothe something within her. "I know."

       "Do not disappoint me."

       Her tone cut as sharply as a knife, but they did not appear to mind a single bit; all they could do was smile at her.

       Even when she was threatening them, all they could do was smile.

       "I won't."

please consider supporting me if you enjoyed! the best ways to do so are as follows: comments, asks, reblogs, and reblogs with tags.

[lunentity]

𓉸✙ cruirestic ┈ a gender that feels a tame sense of bloodthirst. it feels a yearning for blood but without any desire for violence, it may simply desire satisfaction for its hunger in non-violent ways.

𐔌 a request by my beloved gorefriend ... lets waltz under a blood moon, shall we?

[cesareeborgia]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: * HAPPY NEW YEAR * :☆ﾟ. ───

[maybxlle]

IT’S OKAY TO BE ROUGH, I CAN HANDLE THIS STUFF —

𝑴𝑨𝒀 🪩 she/her. minor. desi. april aries. can be found on my porch, watching the sunset, with a book and cup of tea, headphones in. probably procrastinating something. currently living in delusion. boaf obsessed. in love with greek mythology. click to help palestine ✩

i want a love like the movies ♡ gilmore girls dear reader ♡ nothing :( deleted the playlist ♡ what a shame (lizzy mcalpine)

DNI: over 30 unless i interact first (current mutuals exempt), basic dni, minors dni blogs (then don’t interact with me???)

ONLY IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE ₊˚ପ ⊹

[lale-txt]

heartbreaking! one of your favorite artists makes fun of y/n fics!

[seraphwires]

・ANGELiDOLTHiNG﹕✦ ⋯ a gender related to being a thing who is an angelic idol , an idol who is an angelic thing , an angel idol thing , or any similar combination !

╰╮ ✦ coined by The Eternal Maiden , Alouette ｡

requested by no one !

⋯ coined for day 10 of @haunted-thing ’ s coining event !

[dejwrld]

˚₊𓆩༺🎸༻𓆪₊˚ — summer of 22', choso kamo

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈. — WHO THE HELL LISTENS TO CLASSICAL MUSIC?

ᩍ before reading please be advised of the following warnings — female reader, written with black reader in mind, humor/crack, noritoshi & choso are cousins in this cause i said so, profanity, this is quite self indulgent and kinda my own assumption & characterization of modern day choso, mentions of choso having a scar, mentions of character death (reader's mom), record shop boss!geto lol, two idiots that bond over music | mdni, taglist, masterlist, other creations

chapter playlist | are you with that by vince staples, wait a minute by willo, the less i know the better by tame impala

JAPAN WAS VERY DIFFERENT FROM THE STATES. A huge cultural shock compared to your busy lifestyle in New York City. You still could remember your father’s long lecture about being aware of your surroundings, don’t talk to strangers, going with your instincts in some locations, and so much more. You would think you were still that young sixteen-year-old girl who was raised by their single dad after the death of her mother, but you were of age. In the fall you would be a graduating senior at Julliard, living alone in a lovely apartment in New York City, teaching dance classes when you had free time, and doing many adult types of activities. You were a functioning young adult whose father still wanted to shelter you away from the world as if you were a hopeless Rapunzel. 

It took some convincing for your father to let you go to a ballet convention in Japan for the summer, especially if he was going to be funding it. You planned to rent out a room, get as much knowledge as possible at this convention so you could be prepared for your senior year at Julliard, and then return home. Your father didn’t agree with that plan. He only agreed when your godmother Utahime Iori agreed to keep an eye on you. 

Utahime Iori was an international ballet superstar and your late mom’s best friend. They met when they both were competing for the lead in Swan Lake, which was given to your mom. But your mother stepped down from the role when she became pregnant with you. The friendship between the two still blossomed from your mom being in the front row on the opening night to cheer Utahime on to your mom even keying Utahime’s boyfriend's car while six months pregnant with you. Utahime would always admit to you that your mom felt like she was her twin flame. They were insufferable when they were apart and together. Such a close bond and your mom’s death took a toll on Utahime. It hit her like a truck hitting a concrete wall at full speed. It sucked Utahime’s love for ballet right away, but the woman still stuck by your side during the journey of your ballet career.

She held your hand as the people around you threw pity your way during the funeral. She defended your passion for dance to your father as if she was defending an important law case. She did your hair for recitals. She stayed up late helping you come up with your Juilliard audition piece. She played the role of your godmother so well that you knew deep down your mom was smiling down on the both of you. 

You were so excited to spend the summer in Utahime’s home country. You knew she was going to want you to practice for the ballet convention because every summer—a dancer is chosen to dance an original piece in front of many known people. From choreographers, dance tour coordinators, and of course, famous ballet royalty. You didn’t want this spot to be given to you considering who your mother was and the fact that Utahime helped fund the convention in the first place. She told you specifically that you won’t get special privileges, that if it’s a better dancer—they will not think twice about replacing you. That’s just how wicked the world of ballet was. When it came to ballet, you didn’t have time to cry about not getting the lead in a dance when the time you were feeling pity for yourself—you could be using it to make yourself better. Those were the words your former ballet instructor explicitly told you and those were the words you kept in your head up to this day. 

“We need to lay down some ground rules,” Utahime stated as she placed a plate of food in front of you.

“Please don’t tell me, my dad gave you some rules.” You whined.

“No, these are my own rules,” Utahime said. She sat down at the table clearing her throat. “Practice comes first. I don’t care what you’re doing, I text you to come practice…come! This is not like the states, the dancers here sleep, eat, and breathe dance.”

“Okay.” 

“No big distractions. I understand you most likely will want to mingle, you’re my very beautiful goddaughter—but please remember what you’re originally here for.” Utahime adds.

“No Summer flings, gotcha!” 

“Okay, I didn’t say that. Just be mindful of who you are flinging with.” Utahime corrected.

“During your free time, please don’t associate yourself with the wrong crowd,” Utahime adds. “A ballerina with a criminal record isn’t cute no matter how good you look in your mugshot.”

“Don’t get arrested, noted. Any other rules?” You took a bite out of your food.

“Enjoy your summer, but please be mindful of what you’re here for. If you get to dance an original piece, it will look wonderful in your portfolio for when you graduate next Spring and that’s the endgame.” 

“Of course! So, can I go exploring?” You eagerly asked. You gave your godmother those innocent puppy dog eyes that she has seen so many times since you were younger.

“Fine, but please be safe. I will be stopping at the dance studio, so when you’re done exploring—meet me there.” Utahime says.

You pushed yourself out of your seat and would go over to Utahime pulling her into a hug. Mumbling many thank yous and even kissing her cheek. “Thank you! I promise I’ll be at the studio at a reasonable time!” You yelled as you were going to leave. 

You didn’t even let Utahime get a word out before you’re heading out of Utahime’s apartment and essentially you're home for the summer. You walked towards the elevator as you were walking, your face was buried in your phone updating your father on how you were doing. Even though he was most likely sleeping soundly back in New York, you still didn’t want to have him so worried during your three months here. You never understood the protectiveness your father had over you. Although it was a duty for fathers to protect their children as if their life depended on it—your father took it a little too far. Especially after your mother’s death, he once tried to take your love of ballet away from you. Arguing that it was the reason that broke your mom down and he refused to let you follow your mother’s dark path. Whatever that meant. Your mother’s death was a hushed secret that no one wanted to talk about. No one talked about what pushed her to do it, not even Utahime. 

So what exactly did your father mean by ballet being why your mother took a dark path?

When you made it to the street, you opened Google and decided to search if any record shops were nearby. In the guest room, you were staying in, Utahime mentioned it being a record player a close friend gave to her and you were eager to use it during your time here. However, she didn’t have any vinyl records at all. She claimed that her career pushed her away from home quite often, so what was the point of buying vinyl records for a record player that only was collecting dust in her guest bedroom? 

The first record shop that popped up was Suguru Records. You clicked on how far it was and wasn’t much of a walk. You placed your earbuds in your ear and soon Jazmine Sullivan was blasting through your ears. You took in everything around you as you were walking. From the architect of each building to the locals that are out and about. You enjoyed this atmosphere so much better than the busy streets of New York City during the rush hour of going to work or coming home from work. It was a soothing atmosphere and it made you even more excited to spend a summer here. Granted, the stares you were receiving as you were walking to your destination—it wasn’t anything new from the stares you received when you went to different ballet events around the world. 

When you finally got to the record shop, you entered it with a smile. The scent in the store was comforting, homely at most. The first thing you noticed when you entered it was empty. To you, that wasn’t good considering that anyone could come in and take what they wanted and leave. You figured that the familiar bell that would annoyingly ring when the record shop door would push open would cause the employees to hurriedly run to the front of the store. You let your fingers brush against the records as you walk down a random aisle specifically looking for the classical section. You can already imagine how beautiful the tune of a popular classical song humming out the record player while you practice in the living room of Utahime’s place. But as you walk around the record shop, you didn’t even see a section for classical music. However, you did pick up a couple of your favorite R&B albums as you were snooping around.

You heard the familiar bell and your eyes darted to the door and you saw a man with long black hair carrying a box into the shop. He had gauges in his ears and if you were being honest, if you looked closely—he looked familiar. As if you saw him on a magazine cover or something. When his eyes met yours and then scanned over the shop, he let out a sigh before slowly dropping the box he was carrying near the register. “Welcome to Suguru Records, I’ll be right back.” He flashed you a kind smile before disappearing in the back. 

You heard some ruckus in the back and what you assumed was the guy who greeted you voice, “I told you two gremlins to stop leaving the front end unattended!” 

Soon the gentleman returned with two guys. He had a grip on the back of their work uniform shirts as if he was a father pitbull lifting his pups by their fur to help them get around better. One of the guys looked at the long-haired gentleman and gave him a deadpan smile, “It’s a slow day and it looks like the customer doesn't even need help. You said it yourself, if it’s slow—Choso and I can work on our music.” One said.

The man let go of the back of the two guys' shirts and he would push one of them towards you. “Noritoshi, you start unloading that box near the register. Choso, you go help the customer before I fire both of you.” 

Noritoshi was near the register mumbling something under his breath before his boss glanced in his direction. “Do you have anything to say, Noritoshi?” The long-haired gentleman asked. 

Noritoshi shook his head, “Oh no, just asking if you were stepping out again, Geto?” He forced a fake smile.

“Yes, an old friend is in town. So please be sure to lock up when we close.” Geto pointed his finger at him and then at Choso before he exited again. 

You went back to looking through the records before you could hear someone clear your throat. When you glanced up, there he stood. The one who the guy called Choso, stood right in front of you. His hair was tugged into two ponytails. But it was one unique thing about him that caused you to stare at him as if he was the most attractive guy you’ve seen. A birthmark decorated his face that imprinted from his cheeks across his nose and on his other cheek. It was quite a unique birthmark, something you had never seen before. “Since that guy that just left signs my checks, I am here to ask if you need help with anything.” His monotone voice trailed off as he was avoiding as much eye contact as possible. 

“Oh yes—do you guys have anything from any classical composers?” You asked and you watched Choso’s face scrunched up in pure disgust. 

“Classical?” Choso asked. 

“Yes, I’ll take anything at this moment.” You said. “My godmother has this record player and I just know a classical record would sound so good on it.” 

“Classical?” Choso repeated just to make sure you understand what you just said. 

“Yes, did I not say it loud enough?” You asked in a frustrated manner. 

Choso held up his hand in a defensive mood and would glance over at Noritoshi who was unloading the box of new vinyl records they received. “Hey, check in the back to see if we have anything for the classical genre!” 

“Classical?” Noritoshi looked up and you wanted to question if the two were related with the way Noritoshi mimicked the exact face of disgust that Choso did. “I think we have some stuff in the back though.” 

Noritoshi waltzed into the back to search for the small number of vinyl records they did have. They weren’t selling, so Geto simply thought they were taking up space from other vinyl records. 

You felt the vinyl records that were once in your arms getting gently pulled from your arm. Choso would flip through your options and you watched as he was looking at your vinyl records quite impressed. He held up the vinyl record for Lucky Daye’s Painted, he had a sly grin on his face. If you were bold enough, you would admit that sly grin on his face was cute. 

“I have this one.” He said. “You have nice music taste, minus the classical thing.” He snickered before he handed you the records back.

“You don’t look like the type to like—“ Your words were cut off by him.

“Lucky Daye music?” 

“Yes.” You admitted as you pulled your records closer to your chest.

“Music is something so magical and versatile. It’s a bit insane to stick to one genre isn’t it?” Choso asked as his back leaned against the record case behind him. His arms folded over his chest and you instantly noticed that his broad arms flexed in his black uniform shirt that had Suguru Records on it. 

“But doesn't that contradict you making that face when I mentioned classical music?” You asked, your perfectly arched eyebrows raised at him.

He chuckles at your statement, “I guess it does…” His voice trails off as his dark-colored eyes gloss over your plump lip gloss-covered lips while he is searching for your name. 

“Y/N.” You answered. 

“I’m just curious as to why you would be interested in classical music?” Choso walked towards the register with you not too far behind him. “You don’t look like the type of girl who-“ 

Now it was your time to interrupt him, “See, you’re contradicting yourself again. You just said that music is such a special thing that you can’t just stick to one genre. Judging a book by its cover, something I did a few minutes ago.” You said.

Choso chuckled as he was beginning to ring up your vinyl records. “I guess we judged each other then.” Choso's eyes met with yours. 

“Yup.” You answered before immediately breaking eye contact. Your cheeks felt so hot at the moment like you were standing outside in ninety-degree weather without water.

Noritoshi came back with a box of vinyl records. “These are the only ones we have. I’m pretty sure Geto put them at a discontinued price also.” He placed the box on the counter. “If we were the managers, we would give you this box for free.” 

You giggled at his comment before flipping through the box. “It’s okay.” You picked three random types of vinyl and placed them on the counter. “I’m sure I’ll  probably buy them all by the time the summer is over with.”

You paid for the records and Choso gave you the bag with all of them on it. It was a cute black reusable bag with the store’s logo on it. Choso leaned against the counter and placed his head in the palm of his hand, never actually taking his eyes off of you. There you were completely avoiding his eye contact. 

Noritoshi was looking through the box of classical music vinyl records. “So, are you saying you actually enjoy this stuff?” He asked while flipping through the box of classical records. 

“I’ve listened to that genre since I was in my mother’s stomach. It’s practically imprinted in my brain,” You admitted as you could feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

You quickly looked at the text and saw Utahime’s S.O.S text message. She must have needed you at the dance studio. “But I have to run, godmother needs me. I think I’ll see you guys around.” You began to walk towards the exit but Choso’s voice stopped you & caused you to turn to look in his direction.

“Yes, you will.” He admitted with a smile.

Your cheeks burnt, your words got stuck in your throat, and your brain turned into complete mush. You couldn’t say much, but you returned the smile before eventually leaving the record shop as flustered as a teenager in a cliche Netflix-produced romance movie. 

“No distractions this summer, Y/N. No distractions this summer, Y/N.” You repeat to yourself as you are walking back towards Utahime’s place. 

But as you continued to walk, you could hear someone yelling your name. When you turned around, Choso was jogging up to you to catch up to you. 

“You should come out and see me perform,” Choso was fishing in his jeans pockets until he pulled out a tiny folded-up piece of paper.

“You’re a singer? You continue to shock me, but then again that’s me judging you by your looks again,” You admitted.

“I’m in a band. Well, it’s only Noritoshi and me right now. We’re still looking for other members, but I would love for you to come.” He finally unfolded the paper to reveal a flyer. He extended the paper for you to grab.

“I’ll see if I can make it. I’m going to be quite a busy girl this summer, so I don’t want to get your hopes up.”  You said as you took the flyer from him. Your eyes scan over the flyer that looked like he kept it as a souvenir more than to promote that he was performing. 

“You’re only going to be here for a summer?” Choso's eyebrows raised at you.

“Yeah.” You folded the paper back up to give back to him, but he motioned for you to keep it just in case you could make it.

Choso heard Noritoshi calling him from the front door of the record shop and he would slowly walk backward with a smile. His eyes you couldn’t read just yet never looked away from you before he’s parting his lips to speak.

“That gives us three months!” Choso says as he was walking backward.

“Three months to do what?” You asked out loud.

“Three months to get to know each. I’m kinda intrigued on why you’re a classical music fan in this year of 2022.” He yells back at you before giving you a sly wave and heading back into the record shop.

You turned around once again, flustered as ever. You couldn’t even hide the foolish smile on your face at the moment. 

This was going to be an interesting summer.

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tags. @maydayaisha + @spiderpunkfien @bbytamaki @honeybleed @luvliv4lifexoxo @smileyy-cakee

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[rosekasa]

people need to understand it is entirely possible to objectively dislike a ship while at the same time frothing at the mouth over fanart/fanfic about it because you love the person who made it

[lilacerull0]

thinking about how lila is probably one of the, if not thee luminous point in alfonso's life and she's never stopped believing that she was his damnation

[aedearly]

✎ㅤ. . .ㅤ𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺.

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of loose quotes taken from various characters from hades (supergiant games). these quotes are from the first game of the series. writing/roleplaying prompts. from fluff to angst! feel free to edit as you see fit, especially since some are gendered.

❝ i’m leaving. try and stop me. ❞ ❝ that could have gone better. ❞ ❝ why can’t you just stay? ❞ ❝ i wish you could come with me. ❞ ❝ you’re coming with me. ❞ ❝ i have to take you back. ❞ ❝ but for you, i will be making an exception. ❞ ❝ whew… they’re gone. ❞ ❝ now, come on, we got places to be! ❞ ❝ may the fates favour your journey. ❞ ❝ oh you know, i’d rather have my eyes put out, but thanks for offering! ❞ ❝ if only… ❞ ❝ you should be ashamed of yourself, and learn your place. ❞ ❝ ahh, so you are taking pity on me, then? ❞ ❝ i’m sorry that it has to be this way. ❞ ❝ you’re late. ❞ ❝ will i see you soon? ❞ ❝ did you miss me? ❞ ❝ i’m home. ❞ ❝ we’re heading home. ❞ ❝ you… came back? ❞ ❝ i hope i didn’t keep you waiting very long, did i? ❞ ❝ is something wrong? ❞ ❝ i can’t believe this. ❞ ❝ i’m in your debt. ❞ ❝ there’s going to be payback, you know. ❞ ❝ … damn you. ❞ ❝ this is for you. ❞ ❝ do you remember me? my name is—ah, nevermind. ❞ ❝ i’m not who you think i am. ❞ ❝ keep following that heart of yours. ❞ ❝ to hell with this place! ❞ ❝ fear is for the weak. ❞ ❝ oh, look at you, you poor, poor thing, you’re hurt! ❞ ❝ you’re such a sweetheart. ❞ ❝ you brought this on yourself. ❞ ❝ no need to thank me, mate. ❞ ❝ please, i don’t want to do this… ❞ ❝ you don’t have to do this… ❞ ❝ only the best for you. ❞ ❝ i hope you’re right. ❞ ❝ gods grant me strength… ❞ ❝ that is the worst idea i think i’ve ever heard. ❞ ❝ do you understand how little sense that makes? ❞ ❝ look what i found! ❞ ❝ something’s changed about the beating of your heart. ❞ ❝ no wonder they don’t like you. ❞ ❝ wish i could be there to see your face. ❞ ❝ i’ll earn your favour yet. ❞ ❝ how bad could it be? ❞ ❝ hello there, handsome. ❞ ❝ … this is the cheesiest thing i’ve heard from you. ❞ ❝ what has gotten into you? ❞ ❝ blood and darkness! ❞ ❝ lucky for you, i’ve no pride like many others here. ❞ ❝ it’s over. i’m sorry. ❞ ❝ go. away. i won’t repeat myself. ❞ ❝ i knew your heart was true. ❞ ❝ let’s kiss and make up! ❞ ❝ mischief, me? oh please! ❞ ❝ i don’t know how you can stand this kind of thing… ❞ ❝ you tried. that’s what matters. ❞ ❝ a man after my own heart… ❞ ❝ why won’t you give up? ❞ ❝ ever so stubborn, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ life and death, one and the same. ❞ ❝ you’re running from yourself. again. ❞ ❝ what do you want from me? leave me alone. we’ve nothing to discuss anymore. ❞ ❝ i cannot bring myself to stay upset with you forever. ❞ ❝ the truth is i’m a lover, not a fighter. ❞ ❝ i have to see her! ❞ ❝ so how goes wilful disobedience of late? ❞ ❝ you think all these gifts will make things go back to the way they were? ❞ ❝ we’re older now—i’d hope we’re wiser, too. ❞ ❝ i have to go. ❞ ❝ we were having such a good time! ❞ ❝ time is up. ❞ ❝ you’re so reckless. ❞ ❝ thank you for always keeping me on my toes. ❞ ❝ your luck’s run out. ❞ ❝ i don’t know why i bother with you, honestly. ❞ ❝ may i call you my friend? ❞ ❝ i’d like to make a toast, to you! ❞ ❝ no need for special thanks. ❞ ❝ i’ve some memories i’m not quite ready to give up on yet. ❞ ❝ i’ll break your heart. ❞

[europarph]

#IN_THE_NAME_OF_HADES. a free psd based on hades ii's melinoë that focuses on oranges    &.    turquoises.    like/reblog if using,    credit is absolutely necessary.    download here. ⤷ love my work? here's my tip jar.

[ramtio-moved]

late night study session ♡ (guess who isn't actually studying...)

some trivia about this art: - they are both about 17/18 here, studying in university - because of their age they are both pre-top surgery. don't be weird they are both trans men! - veritas has generally stayed the same in appearance throughout his life. rem used to have a much different haircut (pictured) to the one he has in the present day! - they both had piercings back then! they mutually went through somewhat of an alternative phase i Guess. for veritas it was more a rebellion thing. he took his out after their breakup. rem took his out over the years and kept the industrial, and got angel fangs instead. background is not by me, it's a stock image! you're also obligated to ignore the hands. thanks

[crescentmp3]

hi, have this

[inspotlight]

NINI + watching ricky play the guitar ↳ ft. ricky bowen | @melodyplucked ↳ do not interact if you're not tagged.

[tamrielf]

made a crochet rose💜🥀🪡✨